CONFESSIONS OF A RURAL STATE WHORE
Author's Note: Special thanks for Gary and Terry for their suggestions and proof-reading. Any inconsistencies, spelling errors, typos, or grammatical mistakes are therefore their fault.
Further note: While I only recently discovered nifty.org, the site has been around and archiving gay stories for more than 30 years. Running a website costs money, and nifty.org does not rely on ad revenue. If you enjoy this or other stories on this site, please consider making a donation of any size at https://donate.nifty.org.
CHAPTER 6
THE NEW MILLENNIUM AND A FOOT FETISHIST
As the years changed from the 1990s to the 2000s, technology began taking off. While the internet had been around for years, it started becoming more accessible to the home user. While Compuserve and America Online had been getting people online for years, those companies largely steered their customers to their own little segregated corners and chat rooms. More and more options for internet service started popping up, and websites started becoming more sophisticated.
This being the internet, of course, there were plenty of opportunities to look for sex online, even during the early 2000s. Several websites catering to gay men looking for quick sex started popping up, and I had accounts on several of them. With careful wording and choice of characters in a screen name or written profile, it was not difficult to make it clear that you were looking to be paid. I usually would create multiple accounts: one for when I was hooking and another when I was just looking to get laid.
At the same time, cellular phones were becoming more accessible and useful to the everyday consumer. Smartphones were still years away from being readily available, but basic phones could be had for a reasonable price. Cell phone plans also began being worthwhile. Early plans were restricted geographically to a "home area" Ð- often a state or piece thereof Ð- and then would begin incurring expensive roaming charges. Sometimes you would get hit with roaming fees if you were just calling someone or receiving a call from someone outside of your "home area."
Cellular phone companies started expanding their services so that "home area" included everything east of the Mississippi River. This made the phones and plans them much more reasonable for the average consumer or for the business traveler. Now you could travel a couple of states over and use your cell phone to call home without having to cough up more than a dollar per minute. Since New England was made up of the smallest states (geographically speaking) in the United States, this was a big deal.
In 2001, my "day job" became much more "respectable," and it meant that I would be traveling for business regularly Ð- about 1 month out of every 3 would be spent on the road in Connecticut. I got my first cellular phone for my day job. I also got a second cell phone for my night job so that I could retire my beeper.
Soon I was driving from my home to points all over the state of Connecticut. Usually, I'd be stationed in one of the larger metropolitan areas during the week and then drive home for the weekend. I'd do my laundry, run whatever errands I could, and then I'd be on the road again either Sunday evening or Monday morning, driving the 4-7 hours to get to wherever in The Constitution State that I needed to be for the next week.
Early in my travels for my new job, I found myself in New Haven for a week. While it is famous for Yale University, the city was largely a rundown urban area at the time. The streets were littered with trash that no one bothered to clear, and there were parts of the city where it was dangerous to wear certain colors of clothing because they could get you shot when you crossed into the wrong street gang's territory. Crime was a problem for large swaths of the city.
I set myself up in my hotel room (at my employer's expense, of course), and went online. A few deft edits to a couple of online profiles, and I soon had guys making inquiries. As I started weeding out the people who were just browsing, I ended up reaching out to a middle-aged, dark-skinned doctor to talk business. He was more than happy to spend $350 to come over to my hotel room for a while.
He arrived shortly thereafter, and I welcomed him in. He was obviously nervous, so we chatted a bit first. He was, indeed, a doctor: a proctologist dealing mostly with geriatrics, to be precise. I wondered briefly if his having to examine the butts of 70-year-olds all day long might have had something to do with his contacting a 28-year-old hustler, but I did not ask about this.
He eventually clued me in on why he was so nervous: he had a secret love for men's feet, and he needed a stranger who would let him touch, caress, feel, kiss, and do anything else to their feet and toes. He was too ashamed of his inclinations to try to explore them with someone he knew personally. He was also afraid that I was going to throw him out of the hotel room for being too perverted.
By this time in my career, I had seen and done things much crazier than letting a guy worship my feet. Even if he didn't want to actually screw, I wasn't going to turn down his money. That would have been impolite and a bad business decision.
I kicked off my shoes (size 12) and peeled off the sock on my right foot. Walking over to where he sat in a chair, I raised my leg and set my foot in his lap. Holding onto an end table to help keep my balance, I slowly moved my toes delicately across his crotch.
My poor client's eyes got wide, and his mouth opened slightly. He got a glazed look on his face as a little drool escaped from the corner of his mouth. I could feel his cock getting harder beneath my foot, and it only took about 5 seconds before he was straining at his zipper. Gingerly, he raised a trembling hand from the arm of the chair and stroked the top of my foot. A small strangled sound came from the back of his throat.
"Are you all right?" I asked. This was a much stronger reaction than I was anticipating. I was worried that I had given the guy a heart attack or something. I was already trying to come up with a story to tell the paramedics if I had to call them.
His lips moved, but no sound came out. His face contorted as he tried to regain some sort of control over himself. It took him four attempts before he could whisper in a barely audible voice, "Yes."
I removed my foot from his lap, and he seemed to come out of his trance, panting slightly. I waved off his apologies with a small smile as I walked over to the bed. I removed my pants, leaving on my black Calvin Klein underwear. I laid face down on the bed, bending my legs at the knees so that my feet were the highest point of my body. I waved at him with the foot that still had a sock on it. "Would you like to take this off?"
I could feel his fingers on my calf almost before I could finish speaking. Taking great care, he used both hands to roll it down my calf to the ankle as if they were hose. He paused at the ankle, and I reached blindly back with my bare foot until it touched him.
The outside of my big toe touched stubble, and he inhaled sharply. I could feel him leaning against the bed as his knees weakened. He released the foot with the rolled-down sock with one hand and clutched at the bare foot, pulling it into his face in a tight hug. He turned his face into it, brushing the corner of his mouth against the sole. His five-o'clock shadow tickled slightly as he gently kissed the underside of my foot with the corner of his mouth.
With an orgasmic-sounding trembling groan, my client groped for the foot he had just released. He slid fingers under my rolled-up sock and removed it quickly while continuing to nuzzle my bare foot. Tossing the sock aside, he wrapped his hand around my now-bare ankle and brought my other foot to his face. Alternating between the two, he rubbed his cheeks across the soles. As his face slid between them to the heels, I reached with my toes to try to stroke his hair.
My client stiffened and then whined. My toes were somewhat flexible and reasonably strong. While his hair was not long, I was still able to feel it slipping between them as he began kissing the sole of my right foot. He then quietly lowered my legs until they were laying flat on the mattress, with my feet hanging over the end of the bed.
I lay on my stomach in my shirt and underpants, letting him take the lead. I didn't want to push him any further than he wanted to go, but I also wanted to be clear that I was willing to go as far as he needed to. I flexed my ass through the fabric at him, and I stretched one foot out backwards to him. I heard him loosen his belt, undo his pants, and remove them.
"CanÐ Can we Ð " he asked haltingly.
"It's O.K.," I said reassuringly. "You can ask me anything you need to. And we can do as much or as little as you want. This is your party. My feet and the rest of my body are yours tonight. What do you want to do?"
"Can we not have sex?" he asked, blurting it out. "I mean, I just want these feet. I kind of think I'd be happy just jerking off on them."
I raised up to my elbows, turned my head, and looked at him. "Honey," I began, "if that's what you want to do, then that's what we can do. You let me know what you want, and I'll do my best to do that."
He sighed in relief, looking less embarrassed. This poor guy had obviously repressed these feelings for a long time.
"How do you want me?" I asked.
"Just like that," he answered. "Head down, and on your belly." He paused before adding in a quiet voice, "Please don't look. I don't think I could handle that right now."
"If that's what you want, then that's what you'll get," I said soothingly. "But you don't have to be embarrassed. I've seen and done a lot of crazier shit than this." I turned my head back around, folded my arms, and laid my head down on them, closing my eyes.
I heard him kneel down behind me on the floor. He then took my right foot in both hands and began fondling it gently, as if it were a fragile prize. I felt his warm breath as he gently kissed just the very tip of each of the toes. The warmth of his lips then pressed against the arch as he pulled his face into it. His tongue was not involved Ð only his lips were used in the somewhat chaste embrace.
He gently lowered my right foot and repeated the ritual with the left. I stayed as relaxed as I could letting him take the lead.
"Can you, I don't know, spread your toes for me?" he asked tentatively. Wordlessly, I flared them out as far as I could. "Aw, fuuuuck," he intoned, sliding his fingers in the spaces between the toes as if he were trying to hold my hand. I flexed my toes inward, grasping at his fingers and holding them briefly before I flared them again.
He released my left foot and took my right into his hand again as he stood. I could feel him running his stiffness against my foot as he masturbated himself. I reached back with my left foot as far as I could so he could feel it with his hand as he jerked slowly back and forth. I felt a blob of wetness as he rubbed his precum against the side of my foot.
"Holy fuck," he moaned. "I've never done this before. I love this."
He continued to pump, and he began flexing his hips as he fucked his hand. Soon the sole of my right foot was slick with his precum, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps. Then his cock was no longer touching me as I felt him bend down as his tongue started licking slowly and deliberately at his liquid on my toes. I spread them out for him again to give him as much room to explore them orally as I could.
He stood again and lifted the same foot up to his face again, rubbing the remnants of his leakage all over his face and tickling me slightly with his stubble again. He pressed his cock against my left foot as he continued to himself. His cock leaked against these toes as well as I rubbed it against him as best I could.
Then he lowered my right foot down to the bed again. There was a shocked grunt, and he braced his free hand on the bed. The first jet of his cum shot all the way to my briefs as he released himself. Soon a narrow trail of jizz traced all the down my right leg as he gaspingly finished his ejaculations on my right foot and toes.
Breathing heavily, he sank to his knees below the foot of my bed. I remained face down on the bed, but I began rubbing my feet together to coat them more equally with his cum. I heard him groaning again, partly in desire and partly in exhaustion as he watched me doing this. After a few moments, he used his hands to massage his seed into my feet, accompanied by the occasional gentle kiss with his lips.
Several minutes later, he appeared to have collected himself a bit and recovered from his experience. "Wow," he breathed. From the look on his face, he could have just had a religious experience of some sort.
I rolled over and scooted down to the foot of the bed to sit so we could face each other. He looked stunned Ð as if he had just found out he had won the lottery. "Wow" he repeated. His lips worked like the wanted to say more but his brain was just not letting much through.
I leaned over and kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth. "I think this is what you wanted with me tonight. I hope you thought it was worth it."
"Oh, my Jesus. Yes!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around me in a hug. His physical and emotional relief were palpable. I wondered how long this desire had been building up before he had a chance to explore and release it.
For the next few years, I would reach out to him whenever I was going to be in the New Haven area. We would not always be able to connect, but he was always very generous when we did.