Lifting his foot, Carey runs the damp side of the slipper down my cheek. Then he tells me to, “Kiss it,” and I turn my face to press my lips into the slightly scratchy fabric.
A wave of euphoria washes through me.
If I can do this, I can tell my parents.
When my lips linger too long, Carey barks at me to stop, and forces my head back against the wall.
He flicks the slipper off his foot then rams it back against my chest, his heel jabbing into my sternum.
His foot drags down.
I watch his toes curl as he mashes his sole into my abs. Then, just as the pain starts to wane, he drops lower until he’s grinding on my cock.
The pressure is like a see-saw oftoo muchandnot enoughas he rocks his foot against me.
My fingers claw at the carpet.
My head slams back against the drywall.
A full-bodied, ugly and involuntary sound rattles out of me.
I feel so fucking small.
He increases the pressure until I’m seeing stars, until I’m almost frightened he’ll actually hurt me. Then he lifts his foot, and, for a moment, I’m weightless.
I breathe in deep.
My head spins.
His foot comes crashing back down again, this time on my face.
The smell that has seeped into the thick cotton of his sock is salty sweat.
I let out another wretched sound, one that saysthank you, more,andfuck,all at once.
He slides his foot down, his toe tracing the ridge of my jaw before hooking behind my neck to drag me closer.
“You want this?” he asks, looking down his nose at me.
I nod, then quickly correct myself. “Yes, Sir.”
“Tongue out,” he instructs. I comply, and he drags this whole foot, from heel to toe, over my tongue.
Shameless and desperate, I reach for his ankle, but he pulls it back out of reach. “Not yet.”
I cower.
My balls ache.
This is pure bliss.
“More?” he asks, rotating his foot right in front of my face.
“Yes… Yes, Sir.”
Carey peels off his sock and drops it on my cheek like a used condom.
Leaning forward, he spits on his own foot then brings it to my mouth.
