After a long week of work and then a whole weekend of picking up the house, throwing crap out, fighting over stupid shit, and general tidying up it’s nice to find out a pal you hooked up awhile back has come back to town again all the way from the Czech Republic. He’s one of those friends who like to kick off their sneakers and get right down to business – each other’s hot, sweaty socked feet!

I hooked up with this guy a couple of months after I moved here in San Diego and we both promised that if I was in Prague or if he came back to San Diego, we’d call the other one for some sweaty foot play. I always like a man of his word – especially one with hot, musky, meaty dawgs who likes ‘em just as much as I do.

I wore my tubesocks for the last 5 days, in my boots and sneakers, just to get a good funk going. He surprised me with some sexy, tight Nike rugby reds that had me stiff as soon as he pressed them to my face! He’s got these amazing, thick legs and he pulled his socks tight over his calves and showed off his thick toes and gorgeous arches. His big feet are a fucking work of art! Slurping, kissing, sucking, sniffing each other’s feet and mumbling affirmations under each other’s breath was all we both needed to beat our meat until we exploded.

Well within character, at one point I stood over him when he peeled off one of my socks and stuffed my entire size 8 to the back of his mouth repeatedly, watching the drool dribble out of the corners of his mouth.

I almost made him leave his socks behind, but I thought he probably wants to keep them, so I kept those thoughts to myself. After a little snooze, I woke him up to my bare feet in his face and made him blast off another round of hot white spunk.

I’m such a bastard.

All I know is when I’m back east again, somebody’s going to be literally on the ground as my foot rest, because I didn’t get to do that like I wanted to.