A true story.
Early in my teen years, I discovered I loved guy's feet. I even judged a guy by how good looking I thought his feet were. If they smelled, that upped my interest. In high school gym class, I loved to linger in the locker room so I could look at guy's feet. There were some that, to me anyhow, were exquisite. A couple of times, I sneaked the socks of one of my favorites into my gym bag and took them home. Later, I'd masturbate smelling and sucking the stench out of them as I fantasized having his actual feet in my mouth and would get off two or three times. I always made sure some of my cum was on them when I finished, because the next morning I'd sneak them back into the locker room and place them near the boy's locker from whom I'd stolen them. It gave me a real thrill thinking he may wear them with my cum on them. At least one did, and I was in heaven. I tried to get one guy to do a sleep over at my house hoping I could kiss and lick his feet while he slept. He never did. Damn!
Flash forward some ten years later when I worked for a tv repair service. I drove a truck and went to people's homes. One afternoon, on my second to the last call of the day, I was in Genoa. I drove out to this country road, and had a bit of a problem finding this guy's address. But I finally did. It was on the second floor of a duplex, out by itself with nothing much near it. I stopped, grabbed the tube caddy and headed up the steps.
An older, heavy set guy opened the door. He, in blue jeans, a work shirt and work boots, stood staring at me for a moment.
It kind of took me aback, and I dropped the truck keys. I bent down to retrieve them, and noticed foot odor coming from his work boots.
Wow
, I thought,
his feet must really have a strong smell to be able to penetrate his work boots.
I lingered for a moment, my groin began to stir a little as I moved a little closer to them, enjoying the experience. I think I might even have uttered a quiet moan as I stood up.
He had a kind of wry smile, a look of approval.
"So, what seems to be the problem with the TV?"
He pointed to it, and said, "It just went dead. Nothing."
The TV sat on a low swivel stand that had four short legs with about a six inch opening from the floor to the bottom of the set. I noticed nothing unusual at that moment. I turned it on and verified the trouble, and pulled the set out so I could get behind it. I opened my tube caddy and took a quarter inch nutdriver, and walked behind the set. As I knelt down, I saw a pair of sweat socks on the floor under the set, they were bunched inside themselves showing they had been worn. I looked to see where the customer was, I could seem him through the kitchen door, sitting at the kitchen table and reading a newspaper. Making sure he didn't see me, I picked one of the socks up and sniffed it. It had a strong stench that gave me a roaring hard-on. I rubbed my fingers in the stench and sucked on them. I was really turned on. As I tried to work, I couldn't get my mind of those very smelly socks. I picked them up and kissed them. I became so obsessed with them, I could hardly work. There had to be some way I could just take them. I kept sneaking sniffs as I took the back off the set, got a cheater chord from my tube caddy and connected the set. Luckily, it was an easy fix. The low voltage rectifier tube was out, so I replaced it. I connected the set and it came on. I put the set back together, threw the old tube in my tube caddy, my nut driver, and the cheater chord. I kept wondering if I should, sort of accidently on purpose, plop his wonderful smelly socks into my tube caddy. I really wanted them badly.
Finally, I gathered my courage, and just tossed them into the tube caddy and closed it quickly. At that point the customer startled me. I looked up and he was staring at me.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"All set, just a tube."
As I wrote out the bill, he kept looking at me oddly. I gave him the bill and he paid me with no problem. Then he stunned me.
"Open your case," he demanded.
My heart sunk. He'd see his smelly socks in there. I felt my face go red. "Why?"
"Just open it," he demanded more intently.
I was about to crap my pants. I thought,
just tell him you grabbed them by mistake
.
He opened the case and he pulled out the socks and held them up. "You're blushing. I could see, beneath the set, you were doing something with them."
I was speechless. My mind went completely blank.
"What would your boss would say if I told him about one of his workers stealing my stinky socks?"
I had been caught with the goods, and couldn't even speak. "I'm sorry," was all I could manage. After all these years, someone finally figured out what a pervert I was. I could feel tears rolling down my cheeks. "Fuck!"
"You must have really wanted them."
All I could manage was, "I'm so sorry. Please don't tell my boss."
"Sit on the sofa," he demanded.
"I have to get to my next call."
"Right now, you have to sit your
stinky feet loving ass
on that sofa, or I'll call your boss and tell him you stole my socks."
Feeling totally disgusting, so completely humiliated that someone finally found out about me, I had to do as he said. If I didn't, I knew he could ruin my life. As I sat on the sofa, all I could do was sob. I was so completely humiliated, I figured that when I finally left his house, I'd drive my truck at high speed into a tree at high speed to end it all. He kept staring at me, I had no idea of what he was thinking. He turned and walked into the kitchen. When he came back, he handed me a paper towel.
"Blow your nose. It's not as bad as you think."
As I blew my nose, and wiped my eyes, he ran his hand through my hair. He said very tenderly, "Don't worry, I'm not calling your boss. It's okay. It really is."
"I'm so sorry," I kept repeating. "I can't help it. You probably think I'm a real sicko."
"Then that makes two of us," he said softly.
"What?!"
"I'm really glad I found a guy who loves sweaty feet and socks, and the way they smell. Am I right?"
