Madly In Lust With His Best Friend - The Agony of De Feet - Part 1
1778 Words
College senior Warren Delaney had a problem. He'd been madly in lust with his best friend Connor since they met in freshman year. He hadn't told Connor about his feelings.
He never mentioned to the hot jock how he felt a twitch in his c**k every time he slapped him on the back or how his heart beat faster every time Connor entered the room. He had neglected to explain how much he wished he could chow down on Connor's c**k whenever he saw the shapely bulge stick out through Connor's tight jeans.
Most of all, Connor had no idea how it drove Warren insane to be so close to his hot feet whenever he would kick his shoes off when he stopped by his best friend's off-campus apartment after soccer practice.
All that represented only half of Warren's problem. The other half was that studly Connor Harkins being one hundred percent straight!
Connor texted Warren on a Thursday afternoon saying that soccer practice was running late. Warren was glad to have more time to straighten up the apartment so it would look perfect when Connor arrived.
Warren knew that straight guys don't care about stuff like that. However, it made him feel good to know he was doing something extra special just for Connor even if Connor didn't know about it or even notice it.
Warren filled a fancy glass candy dish with covered nuts. He'd read somewhere that the protein was good for the body after a strenuous workout. Looking at the snack food, he laughed to himself thinking there were other kinds of nuts and protein he wished he would be feeding Connor in a little while.
Warren put the magazines in neat piles on the coffee table and closed his tablet PC case. He hardly needed to see the look on his friend's face if he got a glimpse of the gay foot fetish websites that Warren had been surfing earlier.
Of course, Connor was well aware that Warren was into dudes, but knowing that and seeing a guy spraying c*m all over another guy's soles were two different things.
The irony wasn't lost on Warren that it was his birthday and he was the one doing something nice for someone else. He didn't expect his friend to even remember it was his twenty-second birthday.
Heterosexual men are pretty much guaranteed to forget birthdays and anniversaries. Sure, he would love it if Connor showed up at the door wearing nothing but a Spandex jock strap and carrying a bouquet of helium balloons, but he wasn't going to hold his breath waiting for that to happen!
As soon as he heard the forceful knock on the door, Warren got that familiar light feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried to swallow, but realized his mouth was too dry. He always experienced those physical reactions when he was about to see Connor for the first time in a couple days.
He rushed to the door and tripped over his own two feet on the way. Warren tried to temper the smile on his face as he turned the doorknob.
However, it was practically impossible to reign it in. Thank goodness straight guys were so clueless about reading other people's feelings!
"Hey, bro!" Warren said as he opened the door. It always amazed him that Connor's blond hair looked perfect even after a grueling practice.
"S'up, man?" Connor returned as they high-fived each other and locked hands for a second.
Warren exercised great restraint as he always did during their usual greeting. For that one second when their hands were intertwined, he wanted to close his eyes and get lost in his jock buddy's strong grip.
He could imagine just letting Connor take control and do whatever he wanted to his body. He would serve his friend and pleasure him any way the jock desired. He would start by removing the sweaty, dirty soccer uniform...
"Where did you go?" Connor asked.
"What do you mean?" Warren said, coming out of his mini-daydream.
"Just now, you were like a million miles away."
"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about a paper I have due for that British literature class I'm taking," Warren lied. The perfect opportunity to change the subject presented itself. "What happened to your leg?" he asked with genuine concern as he noticed his friend limping into his apartment.
"It's not my leg. It's actually my ankle. One of my teammates hip checked me in practice. I ended up twisting my ankle and putting too much weight on it at the same time as I moved away from him. I thought the pain kind of went away earlier, but I guess walking up the stairs to your apartment made it worse."
Warren winced sympathetically. "That sucks. Let me help you to the couch." Despite the fact that it was only a few steps away, Connor accepted the offer. He put his arm around Warren's back - leaning, limping, and hopping his way to the couch.
Warren enjoyed the feel of the uniform's tight-fitting material rubbing against him. He loved the way that soccer uniform hugged Connor's muscular frame.
His broad shoulders filled out the top nicely. The colored ring at the end of each sleeve clung to the middle of his biceps.
It allowed just enough room for the tribal tat on his left arm to really pop in contrast to the shirt. The rest of the shirt was tight around the pecs and tapered on the sides as it followed the downward V shape of the athlete's body.
Connor plopped his body down heavily onto the cushions, the way only a tired jock can do it. His arm hung lazily over the arm of the couch and he put his head against the back. "What's a guy got to do to get a drink around here?"
Despite how tempted he was to answer that with some sort of s****l "joke," Warren simply headed to the kitchen and quickly returned with a glass. "Here's some aspirin for your foot. I also got that sports drink stuff you like for after practice."
"Thanks, man," Connor said before downing the aspirin and liquid all in one gulp.
"I don't know how you can drink that crap. It looks like a sugar sweetened lemonade, but it tastes like piss."
The blond god ran his fingers through his hair. He c****d an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? How do you know what piss tastes like?"
Warren decided to call the stud's bluff. "You really want me to answer that?"
"f**k no!" Connor said. He laughed as he threw one of the small couch pillows at his friend's head.
Warren picked it up and sent it flying back. It hit the hot jock square in the face.
"Good aim for a gay boy," Connor teased.
"No, you didn't..." Warren said in an overly dramatic fashion on purpose.
"Yeah, I did. And I'll do this too." Warren pulled off his grass-stained soccer uniform top. He balled it up in his hand and tossed it. The light material opened as it whisked through the air.
The dirty shirt landed on Warren's face like a sheet covering a piece of furniture. Warren got a full whiff of the jock sweat embedded in the material before he yanked it away from his face.
If he had left it there for one more microsecond breathing in that amazing manly scent, he wouldn't have been able to control the urge to grab his prick through his pants and jack off right there in front of his straight best friend.
The only thing that distracted him from that thought was the smooth skin around the jock's nips which contrasted nicely with the lightly hairy trail running down the middle of his pecs. It continued over his abs all the way down his upper torso until it disappeared beneath the waistband of his soccer shorts.
Connor shifted his muscular body around on the couch. "Ouch," he said as he lifted his leg and brought it down in another position.
"You might have sprained your ankle. I can check it for you," Warren offered genuinely thinking of his friend's injury and discomfort as opposed to wishing he could get off on his friend's bare feet.
"I don't know," Connor hesitated. "My feet are probably really gross. Practice was brutal today. I've been running around and sweating in these socks and sneakers for two hours."
Warren bit his lip as the thought of having access to his friend's filthy feet turned him on instantly. "I don't mind," he practically squeaked out with his voice on the verge of cracking like a teenager going through puberty.
"Well, that would be nice of you to check. The coach looked at it right after practice and said it was fine, but he's always all like 'no pain, no gain' and 'don't be a wuss, get your ass back out on the field' whenever someone on the team gets hurt. A second opinion is probably a good idea."
Warren silently got on his knees in front of his friend. He had to keep telling himself over and over that he was only going to look quickly and make sure it wasn't turning black and blue or wasn't swelling up out of control.
No more, no less. He wasn't going down near those hot jock feet for anything other than official medical business!
From his kneeling position on the floor, Warren looked up. Connor's stayed sprawled back on the couch. His loose soccer shorts provided a peek at the ample bulge contained within his jockstrap.
Warren looked at his friend's face. The stunning example of male perfection smiled down at him. Warren was almost ashamed to imagine what Connor would think of him if the jock stud only knew what was running through his best friend's mind.
Warren carefully lifted Connor's foot from the floor and rested it on his own knee. He managed to slyly caress the leather a couple times as he positioned the foot carefully.
A little dirt from the bottom of the sneaker got on his jeans. He decided he would never wash them again. That would be his physical keepsake and tangible link to this unforgettable moment.
The foot worshipper's hands trembled as he fumbled to untie the laces. He finally undid the knot. He pulled on the edges of the eyelets and loosened the tongue.
Warren gripped the heel and pulled down while simultaneously sliding the sneaker forward with the other hand. The sneaker slipped off effortlessly.
Warren glanced at the number on the shoe's tongue. Size thirteen jock feet!
- Writer
