Hey guys! I'd love to get your thoughts on the story below. You can get hold of me through my email, jordanstales@hotmail.com.
All the usual warnings apply. This story will contain sex between males and will include a few kinks and fetishes, particularly fetishes linked with feet, socks and trainers. If any of that offends you, or you shouldn't be reading about them because of your age, then you really should stop here.
If you're still there then please note that all of these events are fictitious and any resemblance to real life is entirely coincidental. All of the roles in this story are played by experienced actors over the age of 18 so, please, only try what you read about here if you know what you're getting yourself into.
Escaping from James' bedroom without him realising that my boxers were stained with the huge load of teen cum that I'd flooded into my underwear as he slept was not the easiest thing I've ever done. It didn't help that he decided to stay in bed for a little while when we both awoke and spent the entire time teasing me with his bare soles. At least, that's what it felt like. I realise that James didn't really have any idea what I was thinking or about what I had done last night while staring at his wide feet but, to me, every movement of his feet or wiggle of his toes was pulling my attention and my eyes. He sat back against the headboard, playing on his phone and chatting with me, but, for the entire time, I could barely concentrate on what he was saying to me. Luckily, I managed to get myself dressed when James disappeared into the shower and stashed my dirty boxers in my bag. The weekend was a really confusing time for me. I understood that I'd been attracted to James' feet and even the memory of them was enough to make me hard again but I had no idea what this meant or even that it was possible to have a fetish for feet. I struggled with it: a big part of me felt like there was something wrong with me. Given how I'd found it difficult to come to terms with being gay in the first place, it became hard to avoid falling back into that mindset. Fortunately for me, I have something available to me that I hadn't had the first time around: my own laptop and full access to the internet. The two days were spent googling being attracted to feet and, oh my goodness, I felt like a hole opened up and I fell straight into it. There were blog posts, pictures, videos and each one of them became more and more adventurous - some much more so than I'd ever imagined were possible - but each one of them held an element of intrigue. Every time I found a shared image or comment from someone, it made me feel so much better about what I'd experienced when I looked at the soft, pale soles of my friend's feet. I was... normal. I mean, a little kinky of course but, overall, normal. After a weekend of looking at feet-based porn, I'm kind of embarrassed to say that my balls were completely empty. I shot so many loads over the couple of days that my sack actually started to ache. When school started up again on the Monday, I was completely knackered. I'm a decent student. I'm not at the top of the pile by any means but I score highly enough that I don't have to worry about failing. To be truthful with you, studying is just something I have to do at the moment and I'm kind of fed up with it. I'm not sure whether I want to go to uni or not: I'd always planned on but I just feel a little burnt out right now. I passed through the day putting the minimal level of effort in that I possibly could. To be fair, that was generous given how tired I was but school did do one thing for me: it was the first time in two days that I'd not been thinking about guys' feet. That is, at least, until we got to the end of the day and I had footy practice. Don't get me wrong, I'd always checked out the other guys while getting changed, while being as discreet as I could be, and I'd definitely seen things that turned me on: their bulges in their boxers; the exposed torsos with toned 6-packs and the sexy hairy legs in footy shorts. However, today took that to an all new level. Of course, I'd seen the bare feet of my team mates before; there was no way that I could have missed them when there are 15 of us getting changed in one small space. I'd always seen them but never really noticed them. After the night spent at James', I couldn't help but only see them. Feet of all different shapes and sizes were on view while the guys were getting changed and I had to be very careful to hide myself given that I, once again, was rock hard at seeing this exposed flesh. Now, they didn't all have attractive feet and I was beginning to realise that feet, like faces, had different levels of attractiveness. There were some, like James', that I'd have loved to have seen up close but there were also others, like my friend Ant's, that didn't do it for me at all! In fact, I nearly lost my boner looking at his toes. I didn't get to see the pair that I really wanted to though: Matty had already been down and sorted himself out before I arrived at the changing rooms. It was surprising to me to realise quite how disappointed I was that I had missed out on the opportunity to see them. Training was hard. It always is with Coach Dawson: he pushes us to our limits and there have been many a time that I've finished a session and every fibre of my being has ached because of how hard I've had to work. It was worth it though - I mean, that's why we win so many of our matches. It didn't help that the weather was shit. The skies were overcast with dark clouds at the beginning of the session and, not five minutes into it, they opened and rained down on us. Training continued, of course, but we were getting absolutely soaked. In theory, I should like it when it rained because everyone's kits clung closer to their bodies and revealed their tight arses, impressive bulges and toned bodies but, when I'm playing a match or training, I kind of zone out of all that. I'm focused on the game and getting better. At least, I am normally. In my tired state today, I couldn't help but falter and stare at some of the guys. I missed a series of passes and it was clear to Coach that I was just having a complete off day. He called me over. "Liam, what is going on?" he asked me in his gruff no-nonsense tone, "This sort of play isn't what you usually bring to the table." "I know coach, I'm really sorry." "Never mind sorry," he said to me, "I asked what was going on - why are you playing as if this is your first time on a ball?" Shit, I needed to come up with something to cover for the fact I'd been crap out on the field: "I think I'm just ill Coach. I can't focus - it's like my head is all fuzzy." "Well, I'm not having you on the field like this. You'll end up injuring yourself or someone else. Go home and we'll see how you are in Wednesday's session. You need to take care of yourself, Liam. We can't have you off ill at this point in the season." Normally, I'd have been pissed if Coach had done that to me but, honestly, I was just relieved. He was right: if I stayed on the field playing as I was then I was just going to get hurt. I headed in to get out of the rain, change and go home. That was my plan, at least, and I didn't intend to do what happened next. After showering off, and heating back up to a nice normal temperature, I found myself alone in the changing rooms surrounded by all of my fellow teammates discarded clothes and bags. I opened up my towel and sat down, bare-arse naked, on one of the benches at the side of the room. I'd never been tempted to do what I was about to do before but, after watching all of the different things people did when they were into feet like I had realised I was, I simply became lost on the naughty and kinky thoughts that I was having. With James, I hadn't really smelled his soles - it was more about the look of them - but, online, people were doing it all the time! I had to no why and this was the perfect opportunity: I was alone with all of these sweaty socks and shoes. Upon realising this, I really wished that I'd seen Matty getting changed and I'd have been able to pick out which were his but I hadn't. Instead, I just went for the nearest pair: a chavy looking pair of Nike Air Maxs. I picked them up and just looked at them for a minute, unsure as to whether this was the best thing to do in the open changing room but, with the fact my dick was already starting to harden, I thought 'Fuck it, let's just do it.' It was like the lad had prepared for me. Inside his Nikes, he'd already stuffed his sweaty white socks. Slowly, I brought the whole thing up towards my face. I knew that this was going to go one of two ways. Either I was going to hate it or I was going to love it. The stiffening slab of meat between my legs suggested the later but I still had to force myself to bring it up those last few centimetres. Fucking hell. I cannot describe what happened to my dick as soon as I inhaled. I'd been cautious and not taken a deep breath but the scent was fucking luscious. Immediately, electric pulses started to fire around my body and precum was already forming on the end of my throbbing uncut cock. If there had been any doubt that I was into feet, this erased it. The scent of sweaty feet coming from out of this lad's socks and trainers was intoxicating. It was like it reached into me and lit up every sexual centre in my body. I needed more and I wasted no time pushing the stinking treasure right up against my nose and mouth. Relaxing back on the bench, I continued to breathe deeply, taking in every bit of foot sweat and scent from this unknown footy player's dirty white socks and beaten up Nikes, and moved my right hand to my dick. It was as hard as rock and dripping with precum now so I began to play with it. Over years of experimenting with different techniques, I'd discovered how to make myself feel as good as I possibly could and spent the majority of my time working the head of my cock - that's what always gets me moaning. And I really was moaning! You'd think that I'd have a little more discretion given that I wasn't out and really didn't want to be but no. Right there and then, I didn't care that someone could come into the changing rooms and find me behaving like a dirty little foot slut and wanking my big teen dick. All that matter was the pleasure that I was getting. I pulled the socks out and let them fall at the side of me; curiosity had taken a further hold of me and I needed to know what just the trainer itself would smell like. I wasn't disappointed: the mixture of a teenage boy's sweaty feet and the beaten-up material giving off its own scent had me throbbing and already getting close to the edge. It didn't take much more. Moaning and groaning out in the school changing rooms, I pulled the trainer from my face as my balls tightened up towards my body. I was about to cum and I suddenly had an idea. Honestly, I have no idea where this came from or why I did it but I quickly lowered the trainer down my leaking cock and let out an almighty moan as I started to shoot my thick twink load directly into the inside of it. Fuck! I was here flooding the sweaty trainer of one of my team mates with my huge load of spunk and loving every second of it. Unfortunately, it'd taken longer than I'd thought and the sound of voices approaching the changing rooms broke me out of my post-orgasmic high. Shit! The lads were on their way back in and here I was, naked and holding a spunk-filled trainer that belonged to one of them. With as much haste as I could manage, I stuffed the socks back into the trainer, hoping that they would soak up some of my spunk, and put it back with its partner on the floor. Part of me wanted to take the socks home so that I could enjoy the scent again but I didn't dare do it. Lady Luck was smiling on me and the boys headed straight into the showers which gave me time to get dressed. I was about to leave when I realised: if I stay, I'll know whose trainers they were. The answer surprised, disgusted and turned me on at the same time. They were Ant's. Out of the entire group, he was the one who I'd have said had the feet that turned me on the least. Part of me hated that it'd been his trainers and socks I'd been sniffing but, at the same time, part of me knew that if his had been able to drive me as wild as I had been then someone else's would be even better.Thank you so much for reading the second chapter of my story. I hope that you enjoyed it and that it entertained or excited you. I'm hoping to write a lot more and I'd love to hear from you as to what you thought and any suggestions you might have for further chapters. Remember, you can email me at jordanstales@hotmail.com.
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