I thought I'd share a couple of past experiences with like-minded guys, times when I've been lucky enough to find myself with a hot guy's white-socked feet on my face.

The most recent of these two experiences occurred about a year ago. My boyfriend and I had just moved in together in an apartment near one of the universities in the city. I've been lucky – he's a great guy, and is also willing to indulge my craving for white socks. He gets home from work a few hours before me every evening, and changes into his track shoes and white socks, whether or not he's heading to the gym. He leaves his shoes on for me until I get home, so that his feet are nice and sweaty for me. When I get home, I take his shoes off for him, and spend several minutes with my face buried in his feet. It doesn't matter what kind of day I've had – having his feet on my face always gets me hard, and makes me feel completely content.

Although we had only been living in the apartment for about a month, I had already had my boyfriend's feet in my face a number of times. Often, he'll be sitting on a bar stool at the dining room counter when I get home. I'll put my briefcase down, and kneel before him, still in my suit and tie, taking one shoe off at a time. I love it when his socks are hot and sweaty, when they've just come out of his shoes. Often, the blinds are open when I come home, and I don't always bother to close them before I kneel down to show my appreciation to my boyfriend and his feet. Only one or two apartments at a building across the street even have windows from which someone could see into our dining room. And even from that apartment, someone would have to make a concerted effort in order to get a clear view of our dining room. I figured anyone who was trying that hard to see what was going on in our dining room wouldn't have much room to complain, even if they did see me kneeling down with my boyfriend's feet on my face.

One advantage of living near the university is the constant stream of hot guys who are always nearby. Although our building is nice and new, several of the buildings around it are inhabited mainly or exclusively by students. Several of our neighbors are athletic guys, and because we live only a few blocks from campus, many of them head home between classes. In warm weather, they'll often be wearing shorts and athletic shoes with white socks – and nothing else, which is fine by me.

Anyway, one evening as I got home from work, I noticed one of the college guys sitting on the stairs of the building across from ours. My boyfriend was out of town for a few days for work, and I was looking forward to a quiet evening. As I climbed the exterior stairs up to the apartment, I noticed the college guy stand up. He was cute – in good shape, but not too bulky. I guessed that he was probably of Italian background. I  definitely have a weakness for darker men.

As I put my key into the lock, I heard someone on the stairs below me. Soon, the college boy rounded the corner and came into sight. From that distance, I recognized him as someone that I'd said hello to in passing on a couple of occasions as I walked to my car and he walked to class. He was sweaty, had obviously exercised not too long before.

He apologized for bothering me, and asked if he could use my phone. He explained that he was locked out of his apartment. He had gone for a run, leaving his front door unlocked so that he didn't have to take his keys, but that his roommate must have come home while he was gone, and locked the door behind him when he left. As a result, he was locked out of his place, and needed to try to track his roommate down. Of course, I said yes. I figured that while he was preoccupied with using my phone, I'd have an opportunity to check him out without him even noticing.

I showed him the phone in the dining room, and sat down in the living room to watch some TV. I could see him in the next room, making several phone calls. His t-shirt was still plastered to him with sweat. As he sat on one of the bar stools, his running shorts rode up a bit. All the way around, he turned me on. But the biggest turn on was his socks. He was wearing white crew socks with Nike running shoes. Given how sweaty his torso was, I could only imagine how sweaty his feet were, trapped in those shoes. I started to get hard just thinking about the college guy's feet. I adjusted my erection, and left my hand in my pants for several seconds too long. He wasn't paying attention to me, too wrapped up in his unsuccessful quest for his roommate, so there wasn't any risk of him catching me. I'd see him hang up before he'd ever turn toward me and see me.

I was thirsty, so I walked by him and poured myself some water. I poured him a glass, too, and handed it to him as I returned to the living room. He smiled his thanks, and gulped it down. He smelled incredibly good, sweaty but not too ripe. I sat back down in the living room and kept watching him out of the corner of my eye.

After a few minutes, he came into the living room and told me that he had found his roommate, but that the roommate wouldn't be home for at least another hour. I told him that he was welcome to sit and watch TV with me until the roommate returned. He accepted the offer, and sat down on the chair next to the sofa I was sitting on.

I introduced myself, and he said his name was Pete. We made some small talk. I found out he was a senior at the university. He found out that I'm an attorney with one of the biggest law firms in the city. He asked about my roommate, and I said that I lived with my boyfriend. Pete asked if my "friend" would be coming home soon, and I said that he was gone for the night.

After a couple of minutes, Pete put his feet up on my coffee table, such that they were directly in my line of sight as I looked toward the TV. I had a hard time not looking at his hot feet. He caught me looking, but misinterpreted my attention. He apologized for putting his shoes on my table, and then kicked his shoes off. He put his socked feet up on the table, directly in front of me. I was going crazy. I was really turned on, and wondered whether I would manage to behave. I honestly wasn't sure whether I could avoid touching his feet. They were making me so hot that it was almost out of my control. But I was determined to keep my hands to myself, because I didn't really need a college boy getting pissed off at me in my own home. I'm only 32, and I'm in good shape, but I would have been no match for him. He seemed nice, not the crazy jock type, but you never know.

I could see him flexing his toes, rubbing his feet against each other like he had an itch. It was all I could do not to touch his feet. I looked over at his face, and I saw that he was watching me. My eyes had been glued to his feet for at least a few minutes, so he almost certainly had seen my interest. Still, even knowing he was watching me, I couldn't stop looking at his feet. I've never reacted that strongly to any man's feet before.

He got a little smile on his face, and asked what I liked so much about his smelly feet. I didn't even try to deny that he was right about me liking them. I told him that I thought he had really sexy feet. "What does that mean?" He was toying with me, but there really wasn't much to do but answer him.

"It means that I can smell them a little from here, and I can see that they're sweaty, and it turns me on."

"What do you do with feet that turn you on?" He was still smiling, so I relaxed a little.

"If I can, I bury my face in them."

"That's weird," he laughed.

"It may be kind of weird, but it turns me on like nothing else." He just kept smiling.

"Go ahead", he said, motioning to his feet with his eyes.

I knew I should pause to see what he was up to, to figure out what he was planning, but I didn't. I didn't want to give him the chance to change his mind. I kneeled down next to the table, leaned over, and put my face lightly against his feet. I inhaled deeply, my dick hard as a rock. He pushed his feet up so that they covered my face, were firmly against it. I couldn't breathe, except through his socks, and that's my favorite place to be. I came up for air, briefly, to make sure that he was still smiling, and he was. "Lay down here", he directed, and I lay down with my head against the front of his chair. He lifted his feet up off the coffee table so that they were directly over my face. He brought them down close to my face, but stopped a few inches short. He was clearly testing me, seeing how shameless I was, whether I would restrain myself. I didn't hesitate – I sat up a few inches so that his feet were on my face again. He gently pushed down with his feet on my face until I was laying flat on my back. He kept them in place for several seconds, with me breathing through his socks. After that, he rubbed his feet all over my face, slowly, for awhile, before letting them come to a rest again.

"I can't believe you like this", he said.

"I love it", I mumbled.

"I saw you through the window a few days ago, with that other guy's feet on your face", he admitted. "I couldn't stop watching. I didn't believe you were doing it." He pressed his feet down forcefully on my face. "I'm not gay", he said, "but it's turning me on to have you laying there on the floor, hot shot lawyer, wearing a suit like my dad, wanting to smell my feet. You like being a college boy's footstool?"

I mumbled an affirmative response. "Cool", he said, and kept his feet on my face.

I could have lay there all night. It was my ultimate fantasy come true. I love my boyfriend, and I love his socks, but there's just an added element when you're at the feet of a man who could physically overpower you. It was completely erotic to just lay there, submitting to him. His hot, wet feet were a little smelly, but not too ripe, which is just the level of smell that I prefer, so I really wasn't in any hurry to get up. I was hard and dripping, but didn't want to touch myself. I knew I would blow my load quickly if I did, and I wanted this to last as long as possible.

After several minutes, he raised his feet up off my face, and said "Kneel down".

I did as he said, kneeling in front of the chair. He placed one foot on each of my shoulders. "Tell me how much you want my feet."

I didn't hold anything back. I told him that his feet turned me on more than anyone's feet ever had. I told him that I could probably come without touching myself if he kept his feet on my face. I told him that I would jack off remembering this for years to come, that I would love to have his feet on my face every night. I could tell that he was digging the power he had over me. His dick was hard, poking out the leg of his shorts. He pulled back the material of his shorts, showing me his dickhead. "Blow me – it's the least you can do".

I leaned forward and licked the head of his dick. I reached into the waistband of his shorts and freed his dick, took it into my mouth. I don't think he'd ever been given good head before, because he almost came as I took his dick into my throat, "Jesus! That feels so fucking good."

I looked up at him as my nose was pressed against his pubes, having taken his entire dick into my mouth/throat. I contracted my throat muscles while I held still, causing him to swear again. He grabbed the back of my head and began to fuck my face. His dick was a little larger than average, but not so big that he was going to choke me with it, so I let him go to town. Within only a couple of minutes he came, grunting and swearing. He let go of my head, but I continued to work his dick, swallowing his whole load.

"Good boy", he said, and pushed me back down onto the floor. He put his feet back on my face, and held them tightly over my nose. "Go ahead and jack off".

I quickly complied, unzipping my suit pants and pushing my dress shirt up to my chest. Although it's a cliché, the smell truly was intoxicating. So firmly were his feet on my face that I thought I was going to pass out, because I really wasn't getting enough oxygen. I didn't move, however, or push his feet away. He was giving me exactly what I wanted, and I took advantage of it. After only a couple of minutes, I blew a load all over my stomach. I don't think I had ever come that much in my life.

Once I came, he moved his feet up to my chest. We both were quiet for a few minutes, catching our breath. Then he put his feet back up in the air, directly over my face – "Want `em again?"

I started to get hard again, "Oh yeah, please stick them back on my face." He laughed, and did so.

"It's fucking crazy that you get off on this… but then again, I'm getting off on doing it to you." His feet worked my face for several minutes while he told me that we'd be needing to this again soon. He told me that he'd let me "borrow" his feet as often as I wanted, so long as I sucked him off as part of the deal. I grunted my agreement. He told me that he'd never had such good head before, and he was glad that I lived across the street.

"Shoot it again, time for me to go home". I was on the edge anyway, and quickly shot my second load. "Your turn", he said – "Open up."

I got back to my knees, and took his dick in my mouth again. As soon as I took him all the way in, he shot in my throat. Thankful that my dick sucking skills had paid off in a way that I'd never imagined, I nursed his dick for a couple of minutes to clean it up, then kissed it on the head, and put it back in his shorts. Still kneeling, I placed his feet on my face and inhaled.

"Don't worry, dude, we'll do this again soon", he chuckled. "But my buddy's gonna be back soon, and I should be waiting outside the apartment when he gets there."

I put his shoes back on for him, which he liked. As I put the left one on, he kept his right foot over my nose. To a guy his age, it must have been a big power trip having a grown up, still in his suit, contentedly worshiping his feet and dick. As Pete left, he still had a big grin on his face, knowing that I would be at his feet, and on his dick, anytime he wanted. I was already looking forward to the next time. "Your friend still gone tomorrow night?" I nodded.

My boyfriend was not going to be happy, but he would just have to understand. I would be needing Pete's feet on a regular basis. There was no way around it. I would suck him every night if he wanted, as long as I got to cum with his feet on my face.

I was lucky enough to have those sweaty socked feet on my face several more times. Pete was always nice and respectful, but we both knew that he was in charge when he came over, and we both liked that. A few times, Pete came over and watched a movie while I lay on the floor with his feet on my face. I would lose track of time when his feet were on my face, like nothing else mattered.

My boyfriend wasn't happy at first, but when he saw that Pete wasn't a threat to our relationship, and actually made our sex life even hotter, he decided it was okay. Pete was even cool with letting him watch. I think that turned Pete on even more, having an audience to my submission. Graduation came far too soon…but I've got my memories.

Hope you guys enjoyed this. I love reading material like this, so guys, share your own experiences! ~ Rob K.

The End