Spring had finally returned. The snow had melted, the ground had thawed, and green leaves were budding in the trees. Now that the pandemic was nearing an end, we felt like things outside our house were going to get back to normal.
Inside our house, our own new normal had taken hold. I had quite gratefully become my wife's foot slave. Our home gym adventure where I tongue-cleaned my cum off her sexy sweaty feet had been the beginning of a new sexual era for us.
She enjoyed the power she had, where the promise of her feet could get me to do anything she ordered, my mouth ready to explore the familiar curves of her feet, my tongue ready to clean up any mess I made. And, the more often we played, the deeper my devotion and addiction to my submission to her became who I was.
I had also gotten extraordinarily used to the taste of my own cum. In fact, as taboo as I still felt that it was, I had grown to actually enjoy it. I didn't want to go jack off in a cup and enjoy it in my morning cup of coffee. But, the taste, the warmth, the silky sticky feeling of it from her skin... I quite often craved it. .
—
We were finally going to hang out with our best friends, Stephanie and Matt. They had moved a couple hours away from us a few years before COVID struck and, pre-lockdowns, had gotten into the habit of often vacationing together. Unfortunately, that had to fall by the wayside last year. And now, with most businesses still subject to mask mandates, stadiums limiting capacity, and tourist destinations not wanting people showing up, it limited our options. But, that was all okay - we preferred to get away from people and spend time out in nature. We wanted to be outdoors, to camp and spend our days hiking mountain trails and exploring the surrounding forests and lakes. Our nights around a campfire, socializing with friends.
We agreed on a location and dates and, when the day arrived, loaded up our car to head out for some much needed rest and recreation.
The four of us found a nice secluded spot with ease; the campsite was large but pretty rustic, well-shaded, and away from other campsites. Plus, the entire campground was sparsely populated. Aside from Rangers and ground squirrels, we essentially had the place to ourselves.
We set up the site pretty quickly - tents up, mattresses inflated - and still had plenty of light left in the day to do some exploring. We changed our clothes, put on our trail shoes, filled up our water bottles, and headed out. Spending the next couple of hours hiking around seeing what was nearby.
As the light quickly began to fade, we found ourselves back at camp. The wife and I got some dinner started, Stephanie and Matt got a fire going, and we all grabbed some drinks before catching up, telling stories, and reminiscing on past friends and experiences.
It wasn't too long and my wife, still wearing her hiking shoes, decided to prop her feet up in my lap. She gave me a look and a knowing nod toward her feet. I knew exactly what to do and began to unlace her boots as she continued in the conversation.
In all the years that we've been together, this was actually pretty out of character. She never would have previously entertained the thought of any sort of public display, never once resting her feet on me with others around. As tame a gesture as it was, it just wasn't her nature.
I slipped the first boot off and was instantly hit with the smell of warm sweat from our short hike. I wanted to bring the boot to my nose and inhale deeply, but resisted the urge due to the company we currently shared while knowing I might get the opportunity in the tent later. Then the second boot came off and both were set down on the ground beside me.
Both socked feet now rested in my lap, my thumb exploring and finding the knot in the arch of her left foot. I looked up and noticed that both Stephanie and Matt's gaze had shifted to me. Apparently, as transfixed and I was, I had missed a question that was directed my way.
I looked to my wife, who smiled at me, and told them that I must have been sleepy from the drive and the alcohol. I stumbled through some sort of response, saying that, yes, that must be it. And, that I was just comfortable and dazed sitting next to the fire with good friends and good alcohol.
Stephanie's gaze didn't leave me, though. She watched as I massaged my wife's feet. There was obviously some envy there; she looked at Matt, but made no motion to ask him for similar treatment. .
Through all of that, I hadn't even noticed that Stephanie had put on navy blue flip flops. Her thin size six feet propped up warming next to the fire, toes painted a light purple, faint lines from her socks still etched in her skin, and a threaded purple and blue anklet tied in a knot around her left ankle.
Out of all the women friends in our lives, Stephanie's feet were second only to my wife. I've noticed that she's always taken very good care of them and have imagined what they must feel like to hold, to smell, and to taste. I considered Matt to be a lucky guy, though I didn't even know if he had a fetish.
As I massaged, I snuck my finger inside my wife's sock and met her eyes. A subtle nod of approval and I gently removed it, the cotton peeling away from her soles. I removed the second and shoved both socks into the pocket of my shorts and returned to massaging. Through it all, I could feel that Stephanie's eyes hadn't really looked away from the job my hands were doing.
Finally, all tired and warm with booze, we said our goodnights and moved toward our tents. "Carry me," my wife said, "I don't want to walk barefoot through the rocks." So, I did as I was told and carried her to the tent, putting her down at the edge. We unzipped the door and ducked inside.
I zipped the door back up and turned around and she was already laying down on the mattress. It was dark, but I could see her looking up at me. She lifted her foot up and grazed the front of my shorts, "how's this guy doing?" She whispered.
"Oh yeah, he's good," I said.
"Well, don't think you're going to get to use him tonight," she whispered with dominance in her voice. "But, you're not done taking care of my feet yet."
Initially disheartened, thinking that I might get some cummy footplay out here in the wild, I perked right up knowing that I still got to play with her feet some more.
"You did a great job rubbing them, but I need these feet clean for tomorrow's hike," she ordered. "Now, get down here and do you job, my obedient foot boy."
I jumped at the opportunity, wanting to please her. Kneeling and then taking her feet in my hands, I laid at the end of the bed and began worshipping them deeply. My nose pressed into her toes, my lips kissing her sole. I inhaled the smell of her feet. Sweet but sharp with sweat.
I took each toe individually into my mouth, sucked on it, twirled my tongue around it to ensure that it had total attention paid to it. My tongue exploring the space between each toe and the umami taste it presented, her arch, every single inch of skin from ankle to the tips of her toes, her foot tops and soles.
My cock was raging hard by this point, eager to be released to feel these feet wrapped around it. To unload streams of sticky sperm on them. My mouth watering even more in anticipation of that second foot cleaning.
"May I please cum on your feet, my goddess?"
"Oh slave, no. No, I don't think so. Not tonight." She responded. "I told you that you weren't going to get to use your cock tonight. Besides, I saw you ogling Stephanie's feet. I won't reward you for that. Now, thank you for cleaning my feet. Take your shorts off and come to bed. For your punishment, under no circumstances can you touch that cock."
Defeated was how I felt. And a little embarrassed. But, I wouldn't dare defy her, and I slid my shorts down. My erection emerging from my boxer briefs.
"And, before you lay down, do you still have my socks?"
I reached down to my shorts on the floor of the tent, "I do," I said and went to hand them to her.
"Good. I want you to sleep with them. Cuddle up with them and smell my sweaty feet all night."
