Ten Little Piggies

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: General Erotica  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

Nobody in this story has a car. Nonetheless, somebody's going to get towed.

This is a first draft copy. Spell check done, and that's about it. Caveat emptor!

I’d started going to a gym owned by a friend right after the cast came off. The leg that had been broken (several serious fractures - that’s another story)was reveled to be an almost comical mismatch when the cast came off. Generally, gyms aren’t my thing. I’ve got a naturally slim physique, and I had no interest in bulking up. Now, though, I was in there five days a week. Before you tell me that’s too much to work legs, I only worked out three of those. The other two were spent in trying to get my knee and ankle to bend normally. So, I’d be on the mats with a stretching strap, gently working on improving my range of motion. This allowed me a lot of time to watch the routines of my fellow patrons. I’m not a really social person, so I’d be surprised if I’d said more than five words to anyone during the month I’d been going, so who these people were was a mystery to me. I filled in the gaps with some judicious eavesdropping, a bit of stealthy surveillance, and a healthy portion of imagination.

My favorite two were tagged, “Superman” and “Captain America.” This was because the first times I saw them, each wore a graphic tee from the respective character franchise. Even though they didn’t always wear those shirts, their labels were firmly affixed in my mind. Most of the time they worked out together, but it wasn’t always the case. I suspected that Supes was Cap’s dad. Their personal dynamic usually had Supes in charge, deciding how much and how hard they should push themselves. Cap…he was a hard one to get a handle on. Even without the big guy to egg him on, he worked out until he was soaked in sweat. At times his shirt would soddenly cling to his body. I really enjoyed those times.

After two months of this, I had made some major progress on my own goals. I was nearly back to normal, but instead of going back to my old routine, I found that I was hooked on my people watching. Those two weren’t the only interesting people coming in, and I’d gotten too deeply involved in their stories. Even if they were ones I’d made up in my own head. My favorite two, though, remained Superman and the Captain. I’d become so fascinated by the two that I even went so far as to corner my friend, the owner, and pump him for information.

“I really can’t give you any information about clients,” he protested, as he closed his office door. I sat in the seat before his desk, and waited. Naturally, he did not fail to deliver. “I thought you’d notice Adam - that’s the son. You were right in that guess, as it happens. His father, is Pastor Avery Printer (names have been changed to avoid lawsuits - Ed.) has the big church downtown. My face must have revealed the question that bit of information brought up. “Yes; the one with the marquee out front, “We proudly stand by our brethren of the Westboro Baptist Church,” he said with a sour grin.

And that should have been the end of that. I certainly couldn’t see Supes in the same light. I even stopped thinking of him as Supes. His new nickname became “Asshole.” I’m sure that the Captain would have been given a new nickname, if it weren’t for the fact that he had an uncanny resemblance to a certain movie star. Well, a younger version of him - Captain appeared to be close to my own age of twenty.

I guess it was inevitable that I’d somehow strike up a conversation with him on one of his solo visits to the gym. I honestly can’t recall precisely what was said. I must have made a comment about some of the more intolerant things that the Westboro Baptist Church had done. And by some, I may have said ‘everything’. He got defensive, or offended anyway, and he snapped at me, “Well you can suck my toes!” It was kind of weirdly adorable that he couldn’t bring himself to swear, even when he was greatly provoked and I just grinned and quipped, “Well, at the very least.”

His eyes narrowed, and he gave me a critical look. In a very quiet voice he said, “You’re one of those homosexuals, aren’t you?”

“As advertised!”

“You’re the first I’ve met face to face. So, are you so devoid of principal that you’d actually consider sucking on a man’s toes?”

“Well,” I admitted, “it’s hard to say. Hypothetical questions are too vague sometimes. Now, if you meant would I suck your toes, I guess it would depend upon whether it meant that I’d get a chance of sucking some other things, too.” I grinned wickedly, thinking that I’d pretty much shocked him speechless. He was certainly silent for a long time, just staring at me, frowning. Like he was turning something over in his mind.

“Okay,” he suddenly said.

I tried to think what he was okaying.

“Are you saying that if I’m willing to suck your toes, you’d be cool with me…” I trailed off. I began to wonder who was messing with whom.

“I’m not sure. I think so. I won’t know for sure until after.”

I felt like I was tripping, and decided I’d had enough of the gym for the day. But, I couldn’t leave him with the last word, and lose the. . . argument? Or maybe it was some weird contest. In any case, I picked up my gym bag, told him my house was the yellow one a mile down the road. “Go ahead and drop by when you’re done with the gym,” I laughed.


I have to admit to being pole axed when Adam turned up on my doorstep. I didn’t really believe that he’d follow up on my invitation. I’m not even entirely sure that I was serious when I extended the invitation. But, there he was. Large as life, and twice as handsome. If you are thinking that I was regretting my promise, you couldn’t be more mistaken. If the price to pay for getting into his pants was indulging a little fetish, count me in!
I did take the opportunity to indulge in a bit of passive aggressive stage play. After welcoming him into my home and seeing that he had a comfortable seat on the couch, I excused myself for a moment. When I returned, I had a basin with warm water and several wash cloths. I sat the basin to one side and knelt before him, and said, “Let me welcome you into my home, traveler, and make you welcome.” Frankly, at that point I would not have been surprised had he bolted out the door. I was playing with some pretty heavy symbolism, after all. But, instead, he surprised me by remaining. Even more; I would have expected nervousness, considering his upbringing. But he sat there, with a slight smile, and allowed me to remove his shoes and socks, and then place them in the water. None of which was necessary, of course. He’d obviously showered upon leaving the gym, and I’d have had no second thoughts about just diving in without any preparation. But, I was gratified that I had chosen this for a beginning, because as I washed and dried his feet, his shorts failed to conceal how powerful an effect this had on him.

It was maddening to me at the time. His cock was hidden, but making itself known, and I ached to slide his shots down and cram it in my mouth.
I finished bathing his feet and placed them on a hassock. I positioned myself where I could look up to see his face, and massaged the sole of his foot. Then I lifted it to my lips and kissed the pad of his big toe. Adam let out a choked grunt, and ran his hand over his face and shifted his ass, slouching down on his spine. His foot pressed against my mouth, and I licked the arch of his foot. He moaned, flexing his foot, the skin wrinkling. The ridges and furrows reminding me of sand dunes in the desert. My tongue became Lawrence of Arabia, exploring up one ridge, and down another. I felt that I knew this foot better than I knew my own. The shape of it. The smooth curve of his instep. The hollow of the arch. The salty taste of his skin. The scent of him. I read once that a study found that humans can scent-track another human. Adam’s scent was a bit like cabbage. A bit like vinegar. But, not precisely like either. It was a clean, light smell and as I focused more and more upon evoking a response from Adam, I began to feel that I would never forget his smell. The same study demonstrated that someone could track a barefoot human across a field.

In that moment, I would have sworn that I could have tracked Adam across a continent.

While I was showering attention upon his feet, Adam’s hand was rubbing his chest. I could see that his nipples were erect. There was a dark spot beginning to show on the front of his shorts as his cock grew ever more eager. As demanding as his cock must have been, Adam didn’t bother unwrapping it and jacking - his eyes were locked on his feet, and what I was doing. I accepted then that Adam wasn’t a closeted gay. He was all about feet, and gender wasn’t a consideration. I became determined at that moment to make this moment memorable.

When I took his big toe into my mouth, he shuddered. When I sucked on it, he gasped. By the time I’d visited each toe, and the canyons between, of his right foot, he was softly moaning and grinding his ass from side to side on the couch. When I shifted attention to his virgin foot, he had to choke back a cry. The arching of his back thrust his pelvis into the air, his cock straining the fabric of his shorts. “Adam,” I begged, “Get your cock out. Let me see it, please!” Adam blinked. I think he’d forgotten for a moment where he was. I could have kicked myself for risking ruining the moment for him. I think, though, that there was little chance of that by this point, and without a word he shucked his shorts down. His proud flesh sprang free, a thin string of precum training from the head to a patch of moist hair under his navel. I began to suck his big toe, fantasizing his was his cock. I became convinced that the harder I sucked on his toe, the stronger his cock responded. I had him bring his feet together, touching sole to sole, and I both big toes at once. Adam failed to suppress his cry that time, not that I cared, or that he noticed. I had eyes only for the upwelling of cum that came in response. It wasn’t a full orgasm by any means, but I’m sure it relieved the pressure that had been building up. I hoped it had. I didn’t want this to end anytime soon.

But I worried that it may have been a precursor to the big event. If that was so, I thought that my mouth was better employed elsewhere. A very specific elsewhere, and being as he was at a peak of excitement, I hoped to have success. “Adam,” I said, “It would mean the world to me if you were to allow me to suck your cock now. Adam shifted his gaze from his feet and met my eyes. It was unexpected, honestly, but he held my gaze and seemed to measure the extent of my desire. I felt like he judged the depth of my need and, finding it equal to his own, he respected it. He bobbed his head in agreement, and before he had a chance to change his mind, I was by his side licking the track of cum that trailed down his shaft. His cum had a mild flavor, and after I cleaned his cock, I drank down the puddle that had run into his navel. After that, I brought my lips over the head of his cock, and pulled him into my mouth until my chin touched his balls. He had begun to soften in the meantime, and I worked up and down the length of his organ in steady, practiced stokes. But, while I halted the retreat of his manhood, I failed to bring him back to the former peak of glory.

It’s not that he wasn’t enjoying my ministrations. By now it seemed that his shyness was forgotten, and I felt encouraged by his verbal appreciation of my efforts. But, I could see that I fell short somehow. Before, he had no words, but he didn’t need them. His body shouted out loud how effective my efforts were. The sad fact was that I had to recall and admit that, as before, Adam was all about feet.
Reluctantly, oh so very reluctantly, I withdrew from his cock, and wrapped a hand around the shaft. I stroked him contemplatively, and met his eyes. I think that, as before, he’d never taken them off me. “Thank you, Adam. I enjoyed that, and I happy you enjoyed it, too. But, I think that now I should get serious.”

Continuing to fondle his cock, I covered his feet in kisses, from his ankle, over the bridge of his foot, and down to the toes. Upon arrival, I nibbled at the tips and along the border of each toenail. This new approach elicited a deep moan, and I could feel his cock harden completely in my hand. I gave each toe loving attention, then took as much of his foot into my mouth as I could. I saw Adam close his eyes as I engulfed all ten toes, and the muscles in his neck stood out as his body strained. All it took at that point was one more stroke of his cock, running all the way up and clasping the head tightly, and when my down stroke began, his shout echoed through the house as he shot cum across his belly. My hand rode back up the shaft, and I sucked madly at his toes. The next stream of cum was propelled over his should, and hit the curtain behind the couch, where it clung before dropping to the ground. The tension fled his body as the final week dribbles of cum were released.

Without asking permission this time, I removed every drop of cum, except for that which had escaped. I savored the last drops that beaded at the end of his cock, then took him entirely into my mouth again, where I held him until he had completely softened.

Adam returned to my place several times after that. Maybe too many times. I think I began to fall a little bit in love with him. I’m not sure why, really. Then again, since when has love ever made sense? It all ended, of course. You can’t completely leave behind the lessons you are taught from early on. You may try, and you may even make a big break, but sooner or later, you return to your roots. Maybe not as deeply planted as once before, maybe a little more flexible in beliefs. But, you’ll inevitably pull back to some of your old ways, because they are comfortable.

My own life returned to normal. I didn’t find feet any more exciting than before. If I’m honest, it may have been a bit opposite of that. Except I would always find thinking about Adam’s feet would make my heart pound faster. I believe I could have drawn them from memory, had I any talent in that direction. Every line. Every ridge in the cupped hollow of his arch. And that odd, but not at all unpleasant, scent. A bit like vinegar. A bit like cabbage.

To this day, I’m not been able to explain to my friends why a month later I burst into tears when I had a hot dog with coleslaw.

They just wouldn’t have understood.

Submitted: February 03, 2020

© Copyright 2021 T. R. Kaley. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



I love sucking toes as part of foreplay. I'm glad you got to suck his cock to. Toes can't cum. I find that doing that to a woman has a similar effect causing their pussy lips to swell and get coated with the wetnss from within.
This was a very well told erotic story and I really enjoyed reading it.

Mon, February 3rd, 2020 11:31am


Thank you for your kind words. I'm slowly working my way through every fetish I can wrap my head around. LOL
Also, thanks for the insight about female physiological response. My experience in this area is woefully limited, as I am far more attracted to outies rather than innies. A sad flaw that I've often felt I should correct. But, there's just so many cocks, so little time... ????

Mon, February 3rd, 2020 4:22am

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