Toyboys

Toyboy by Peter de Ruthyn

"Please...no," he whispered.

He was experiencing a last moment of hesitancy.

I shook my head and smiled at him as I continued to caress the front of his shorts, which bulged out toward me even more than they had earlier. One of my hands cupped his bulge. The other one traced the stitched outline of the Hollister logo on the fabric before slipping up underneath it, rubbing higher and higher on his thigh. My fingers brushed against something tight and slick and shiny.

"Ahh," I murmured, taking a tiny step forward so that my body was closer to his. "Now I'm finally going to see what you wear under these short shorts of yours."

He looked at me pleadingly but didn't resist.

The button at his waistband slipped out of its hole and the zipper gave way slowly as I dragged it down. Not too fast, I wanted to prolong the moment. More of the smooth, toned skin of his abs emerged from the gap - then disappeared again to reveal dark blue spandex stretched tightly across it. I gave the lime-green shorts a final tug and they fell off all the way.

Under them he had been wearing a small and very tight speedo trunk, navy with white stripes down the sides. It had an inseam, but a ridiculously short one, and legs of a sort, even though the back of the suit didn't come up high enough to hide the gap between the round globes of his bubble butt.

"So that's what you've been hiding," I whispered between planting gentle kisses on his soft lips. "Why don't you ever wear just that to the beach, nothing over it? You look stunning."

"I guess I'm shy in front of most people," he breathed back into my mouth.

"I'm glad you're not around me." With that I gave the front of his suit a firm squeeze. He thrust his hips forward to meet me. I pulled away from him.

Ordinarily I would have stopped to tease his cock through the material until I forced him to cum right through it with excitement, but he and I had other plans. I grasped his suit by the leg openings, dragging it off him as slowly as possible so the skintight fabric would trap his erection and stimulate it more. It worked. His breathing grew heavier as the material stretched and gave way. I crouched in front of him for better leverage, and for a better view. His cock twisted down towards his thigh under the consistent pressure. The V of his crotch narrowed to a point, still blissfully smooth. A tiny dusting of dark hairs came into view, then the base of the hairless shaft. The suit was almost down to his knees before his six and a half inches finally sprang free. His cock bounced off his tight stomach and he made a sound that was half groan, half squeal at the simultaneous stimulation and denial the gesture caused.

I worked the shorts and the speedo all the way off his ankles, then stood up again. In my hand was one of the Havaianas he had kicked off a few minutes ago.

"You teased me with this," I said.

He nodded, barely, his eyes fixed on mine.

"You've been teasing me with this for weeks."

Again he nodded.

"You know just how hot your feet look framed in these thin rubber straps. You know it turns me on to see you kick them off for a moment in public. You know how it makes me stare when we're at the beach or just sitting in Starbucks and you rub one bare sole against the other while staring at me."

"And you've done it right back," he retorted, suddenly bold. "And you were the first one to start rubbing yours against mine!"

"But you started the teasing," I reminded him. "And by being so fucking hot, you deserve this."

With thumb and forefinger I grasped his smooth ballsac around the base and pulled it down slightly. His cock responded by coming away from his body enough to give me room to work. His cockhead glistened with precum, which was lucky. I turned the flip-flop over and began to rub the inside of the sole in small circles across the tip of his erection, polishing the flesh with the smooth, indented rubber.

"Oh...oh..." he cried out softly.

My grip on his balls meant he could not escape the stimulation. He had to submit to the pleasure, no matter how intense it grew. His cock began to twitch. In spite of how wet the sole of his flip-flop was becoming from his own juices, there was enough left over for a rivulet of it to pour down the front of his shaft and onto my hand.

His body strained, first adjusting to the sensations, then embracing them. I chose that moment to deny him again. I halted my movements and raised the sandal to my lips. Carefully, I dabbed at the wetness on it with my tongue, savoring the sweetness of a Miami beachboy combined with the just perceptible flavor of a clean, smooth twink sole.

"Try it," I said, holding his own sandal out to him.

Without hesitation, he lapped at the sole, licking up his own precum. I felt his cock swell noticeably. "I like it," he said, grinning at me.

"I bet that's not the first time you've done that."

"Nope." His eyes sparkled with naughtiness. "I do it all the time. I'd rather try yours, though."

And with that he snatched his flip-flop away from me and grabbed at my pale blue squarecut speedo. He only managed to pull it halfway down my thighs, but that was enough. I tried to react, stumbled, and fell over, half on my side and half on my knees. I rolled onto all fours before pushing myself back up, but stopped abruptly.

The warmth of his naked sole was on the back of my neck, pushing me down and to the side.

I humored him. I let him guide me a foot or two away, where one of my own flip-flops was lying.

"Lick it," he said. I could hear his smile. I smiled myself as I followed his directions. Now it was the taste of my own feet that aroused me. My flip-flops were the same kind of Havaianas as his, except that they were green and white instead of royal blue. The sole glistened wet, as the little depressions my bare foot had left in the rubber trapped the moisture and reflected the surrounding light.

"Fuck, you look hot doing that," I heard him say.

I slid out from under his no longer insistent foot and stood up. He had been keeping busy by tonguing his own sandal, a look of absolute lust on his face as he enjoyed it and watched me. I couldn't help drawing him to me and kissing him again.

"How did it taste?" he gasped indistinctly as our lips slipped apart for a moment.

"Good. Not as good as yours though. Another boy always tastes better."

"Yeah, especially when that boy has beautiful feet."

"Your feet are pretty great."

"You like them?"

"I've jerked off every day since we met thinking about making love to you and them."

"And my flip-flops?"

"And your flip-flops. You have good taste."

"Well duh, I'm a designer. Don't you mean I taste good?"

"You're delicious."

"Here, have another taste." He held his flip-flop up between us and our tongues attacked each other across it, sliding over one another and the area where his toes had once rested. His cock leaked against mine. Remembering I was still holding my own sandal, I began to rub it over the heads of our shafts, making us both squirm from the renewed molestation.

By unspoken consent, we took a step apart. I held his cock at the base, and he held mine. I stroked him with my flip-flop, and he stroked me with his. The hollow where my big toe normally rested fit neatly over his cockhead. I let my wrist oscillate, using the sole to polish his cock again. Precum poured out of it. He hissed, drawing a deep breath, and began to imitate my movements. I winced. My cocktip wept natural lube onto the rubber, but that only delayed the feelings that he was giving me. They built up to an almost intolerable level. And yet - in spite of the overstimulation - I felt his hard shaft stiffening a trifle more in my hand. He was crying out with the excess of his feelings - but at the same time he loved them. And so did I.

I realized, through my lust, that his balls were tightening. I couldn't let him cum just yet. Slowly, I relaxed the pressure on the head of his cock and began sliding the sole up and down the front of his shaft instead. He sighed and followed my lead. The relief, and the increase in arousal I felt as the potential for orgasm receded, made me dizzy for a second. We rocked back and forth, letting our twink erections wet each other's flip-flops even more than they already had. Our bodies closed the gap again and we frotted together, our boy bits separated by two layers of rubber, fucking each other with our tongues ever so gently.

This time, he was first to break the kiss. "I think it's time I tasted you directly," he whispered.

He stepped away from me and collapsed back onto his bed. I paused to glance admiringly at his now-visible soles, then crawled onto the mattress beside him. We kissed again, but briefly. Our mouths had better things to do, things they'd been waiting nearly a month to try.

I turned around and lay down next to him again. Our bodies were still parallel, but reversed. His feet lay next to my head now, and mine next to his. I extended my tongue and ran it gently down one of his soles just as he did the same thing to me.

Instantly I felt my cock jerk wildly as it gushed another drop of precum. It didn't just feel like he was touching my feet. It felt like he was licking my feet and my cock both at the same time and setting up a current of arousal between them. And then there was the way I was turning myself on even more by doing his feet in return.

There isn't a word in the English language to describe what a pair of clean, athletic, youthful feet taste like. Nothing like what the dirtier echelons of gay society seem to believe. The skin is smoother there than anywhere else on the body, and there is powerful muscle beneath it, the perfect combination of boyishness and manliness. And his were fantastic. His toes were soft and plump, so I sucked each one individually. His arches were nicely curved, and the outside of them thick and powerful, but not so much so that his feet appeared thick when seen from the side. In fact, they normally appeared slim and finely-veined. But now I was less than an inch from the soles, staring directly at them, and realized they were broader than I'd expected.

Wonderful, I thought. More to kiss. And I did kiss them. Gently, repeatedly, and all over. It wasn't greedy, just a fair way of showing my fascination with them and my appreciation of his letting me play with them. The kisses blended into one another, then into a tongue bath, then into a long series of French kisses interspersed with sucking on toes and soles alike. Whichever of his feet I wasn't worshiping at the time I kept pressed up against my face where I could feel its availability.

At that moment he shifted his position to get his own face closer to my feet, which he had been caressing in a way that drove me crazy. Our bodies had been separated except at top and toe until then. Now they touched. His cock pressed into mine without anything to stop it.

That little touch was too much. I let out a yell that was muffled by his sole and shot my cum all over his cock. I felt his body quiver and freeze. Down at the other end of the bed, he grabbed my ankles and rubbed my feet over as much of his face as he could reach. I felt the hot spurts of his orgasm splatter me and mix with my own juices.

His gasps tickled my wet soles and stirred my cock again even as I was coming down from my explosion. It was impossible not to stay hard, lying next to this handsome twink who had made me cum without touching my cock, just from the stimulation he gave my feet. He kept right on kissing them, resting his head on the lower one while attending to the upper. I paid him the same attention. His sensitized soles were all too susceptible to renewed attacks from my tongue.

Finally he let my feet slip out of his grasp and sat up. He was glowing. His eyes were bright and his smile beautiful. "Thanks," he said, and gave me a quick peck on the lips before disappearing into the bathroom.

He was back almost at once with a warm, wet cloth. "I should clean you up for the next part," he said roguishly, beginning to fondle my swollen genitals.

"The next part? And what does the next part involve?"

"You'll see. I like keeping you in suspense. Want to help me out?" He handed me a second washcloth.

"I could clean this up properly," I said, admiring the layers of both our cum that coated his semi-erect cock.

"Not just yet," he replied, batting me playfully with the cloth.

"Why not? I like cum, and I like your cock."

"Because I think you'll enjoy it better if you wait."

"Tease."

"You already called me that. I thought you liked it."

For answer I grabbed him and pinned him down on the bed while I tongue-fucked his mouth passionately.

"You do like it!" he exclaimed when I let him up again.

"You're a fantastic lover. Yes, I do like your teasing. I'll admit it!"

He smiled and gave me one more kiss. "I'll be right back."

When he reentered the room, he was carrying a small box with a lid on it. He set it down on the bed and knelt opposite to me.

"If you're as sexual as I am - and after cumming all over me just from having your feet licked I think you are - then I think this will send you through the roof," he said quietly, looking deep into my eyes with an expression on his face that was both tender and serious. "I've fantasized about trying this for years. I've never gotten to do it with anyone else. I've never found anyone else who was so into the teasing and foreplay and who wanted to stretch out the road to orgasm to make it as intense as possible. Would you like to try this together?"

"Yes," I said. And there went his smile again.

"Okay. Just follow along." He took the lid off the box and reached inside it. "You trust me, right?"

"Yes, I trust you."

"Okay, then put your hands behind your head. And don't flinch."

I followed his instructions. His hand emerged from the box holding an ice cube partly wrapped in a towel. The part that was not wrapped in a towel touched my cock.

"Oh fuck!" I shouted.

"Shhhh." He placed a finger on my lips. "It's necessary for the next step."

"But that's cold!"

"I know. You're going to have to do it to me in a minute."

I locked eyes with him and waited, shuddering. The touch of the ice reduced the size of my erection to less than flaccid in no time.

He set the ice cube aside and took something else out of the box. A triple cock ring made of stainless steel.

"Ever tried one of these before?" he wanted to know.

"No."

"But you'd like to. I can see it in your face."

I didn't protest as he began fitting the ring on to me. My balls hadn't shrunk as much as my cock had, but they were still tighter than before, and he had to wiggle them very carefully to get them first through the large ring that formed the base of the device and then through the medium-sized ring that held them away from my body. My cock posed no problem and slipped right through both the largest and smallest rings easily. The confinement and the handling had an immediate effect on it, though, and it began to inflate again.

"You look great," he said, caressing my member. "I'm glad you're a smooth boy too." He sighed. "My turn now." His own cock was at full mast from the excitement of handling me.

I picked up the ice cube. It was melting, but there was plenty of it left to shrink his cock down to a size that would fit through the stainless circles. His cock ring went on easier than mine had. His balls were smaller than mine, so I didn't have to struggle to work them through either of the rings. Consequently, the fit was a little looser on him, but not loose enough to keep the contraption from having its expected effect. I gave his member a gentle squeeze. It responded well.

"Let's take a look," he said, jumping off the bed and pulling me after him.

We stood in front of the mirror and admired the view. Two college boys, slim, smooth, toned without being overly muscular, naked and erect, our cocks pointing straight up and standing out from our crotches because of the silver rings that glittered there. As usual, looking led to stroking and stroking led to kissing, but when our shafts touched again, he shivered and pulled back.

"Not yet," he said. "There's much more. Can you go all the way?"

"You have me greedier for you than I've been for anyone in a very long time," I answered, grabbing his cock and chafing it in spite of his protests, "but that only makes this more worth experiencing. I can wait." I let go of him.

"Good." He turned away from the mirror. "Pretend I'm going to fuck you on all fours."

I purposefully swayed my hips as I crossed the short distance separating us from his bed. "But you're not, are you?"

His eyes raked over me. "Maybe..."

I heard him fumbling around in the box, then the unmistakable sound of a plastic bottle opening. I craned my neck to watch him. As I looked, I saw him drizzle a stream of coconut oil onto his palm. He put the bottle down, and picked up a stainless butt plug instead, a little over six inches long - just barely shorter than either of our erections.

With a practiced motion, he worked the oil on his hand onto the plug, stroking and polishing it as if he were masturbating a real lover instead of an imitation one. He licked his lips, his whole expression betraying the sensual nature which I was allowing him to give free rein to. When he was satisfied that it was thoroughly coated, he moved behind me, and I felt him touch my hole with two fingers. He lubricated the outside, then worked them into it an inch or so, enough for the plug to gain easy purchase.

The cool steel began to enter me. Five minutes later, it was all the way in, and my muscles tightened on the depression at its base, trapping it in place.

He wiped his hands on a cloth. "You're leaking," he observed slyly.

I looked underneath me in surprise. My ringed cock had poured out a slow stream of precum that linked me to the bedspread with a nearly invisible but nevertheless tangible chain. "Damn."

"I love being stimulated back there without actually being fucked. I knew you would, too, from the way you play."

"Now I get to do it to you too?"

He climbed onto the bed next to me and bent over, knees spread widely. "I hope you will."

I moved behind him slowly, being careful of the way the plug massaged my insides. "Oh shit...I can't possibly stop being hard like this."

"Good! I don't want you to be! I do want you to stop being selfish though!" he complained, his voice muffled by his position. "Do me now!"

I ran an appreciative hand over his ass before picking up the other plug, though. "You have such a nice butt. I love how it peeks out of your shorts at the beach. So round. So neatly divided. And this distinct tanline...I could kiss it." I suited the action to the words. "I hope this makes you leak as much as it did me."

By the time that I had fed the entire plug into him and he let out a sigh of relief, the wet spot beneath him on his covers was nearly twice the size of the one I had left.

I helped him to his feet. "I think if you felt any hornier than you are right now you'd explode," I said, tapping his cock.

"I'm going to feel hornier in a few minutes. And so are you."

"I guess you're still not done then."

"Watch and learn." He maneuvered me over to the mirror again. "I have a few more things I want to see you in. And myself."

First he added leather cuffs to our wrists and ankles. They weren't attached to anything, but the look and feel of them strangely increased how aroused I was. It was like the extent of my nakedness was somehow enlarged by having boundaries placed on it.

Then he strapped a lightweight, X-shaped harness across my chest. Again, it wasn't for anything but show. It didn't even connect to my cockring. But the straps rubbed my skin and reminded me how exposed nearly all of it was.

"We're wearing so much...and it doesn't hide us at all," I said as I fastened his harness for him.

"That's the idea," he said. "These things remind us that we're bare to each other, and by reminding us, they get us even more excited."

He reached into the box one last time and produced two half-masks. Brushing back my hair, he carefully tied one onto me, hiding the upper part of my face. I did the same for him.

"Now we're ready," he whispered. "Just the way I've wanted it to be."

We lay down again and made out for a little while, toes and cocktips touching, wiggling against each other.

"I don't think I can wait any longer," he finally said.

He sat back on his heels, uttering a moan as the motion drove the steel plug deeper into him. I rolled onto my back to make his task easier.

He took my right ankle in his hands and lifted my foot to his lips. He gave a blowjob to each individual toe, licked the heel like an ice cream cone, and covered the sole with kisses. It was a long process, because he kept interrupting it to caress my naked foot, press it to his cheeks, rub it over his hairless toned chest. The experience was so thrilling that I closed my eyes and lay back, trying not to grow too overstimulated from what he was doing.

The strain on my leg suddenly increased. He was pushing it back, folding me on myself. I opened my eyes to find him guiding my foot back towards my face.

"Lick it," he instructed me. "Taste yourself."

So we made love to my foot together, our tongues meeting and crossing on my instep and between my toes. For all the separation it involved, it was amazingly intimate.

And then he lowered my right foot to the bed again and repeated the process with my left one until it glistened from both of us spit-polishing it.

He slid back a little further on the bed, his cock jerking and dripping precum every time the plug stabbed at his prostate. The move gave him room to grab both of my feet at once and hold them up in front of him, sole to sole. Rising to his knees, he plunged his cock between them.

I clenched the covers as tightly as I could to avoid grabbing at my own throbbing cock, but I could not take my eyes off him as he fucked my feet. He was so slick from his own precum that he slid back and forth across my soles with barely any resistance at all. And he was hard and hot beyond belief. My fingers and lips could not have told me at that moment how much he was in lust for me as well as my feet did. The restraints he was wearing only accentuated how bare, how smooth his body was, how pure a sexual object he had become. Every time he moved, the plug inside him fucked him. Every time he moved, his shaft fucked me. I was dizzy with my closeness to orgasm just from watching him, and yet somehow he resisted even as he cried out loudly for it. He held it off.

And held it off a little longer.

And a little longer still while the precum dripped down from my heels in a long iridescent strand.

And then he couldn't resist it anymore.

His cock, which had been thrusting almost horizontally between my feet, suddenly paused and turned upward between them, pointing to the ceiling. I felt his cockhead touch my toes. I stroked it once with a single twitch of my big toe.

He screamed, a yell that was nothing but an expulsion of breath and strain. His eyes glazed over. Cum poured from his cock in a steady flow and shot out of it in an arc simultaneously, the pressure in his balls was so great. It filled every crevice between my toes and coated my soles and started to trickle down my ankles, and still he kept cumming.

"Ah. Ah. Ah," he kept moaning, over and over until his hardon stopped dripping. Restrained by the rings, it couldn't deflate all the way, but it dropped more than ninety degrees away from his body for the first time in hours.

I stared back at him as he refocused his gaze on me. He said nothing. He merely lifted one of my feet to his mouth and devoured his own cum from it, licking or sucking up every drop. When it was clean of his essence, he pushed the other one towards me and we cleaned its surface together. And then he forced his tongue into my mouth and we shared what we had collected in a burst of eager passion.

When we broke the kiss, he collapsed onto his back, chest heaving.

"You were incredible," he murmured. "Now please...please..."

"Please?" I demanded, rising. The plug drove all other thoughts but those soft feet of his out of my mind. "Not so long ago you were using that same word to beg me not to strip you."

"Please..."

"Please what?"

"Please make love to me! Please fuck my feet! I need to taste you on them! Please!"

"Only when you have endured what I have," I declared melodramatically.

I lifted up one of his feet. They were larger than mine. More to love. More to stimulate me. The fine tendons on the top of them quivered at my touch. Longer toes, finer lines, but without lack of fullness. Sensitive feet. The feet of an artist, who was also an artist with them. I placed his sole against my cheek and embraced it, then let my kisses build rapidly to a full oral exploration.

In a few minutes, I screamed out his name so anyone listening would know how he had pleased me, and then I shared my cum with him, my erection never fading as I watched him greedily lick his own toes clean of it.

I held him in my arms, spooning him. We drowsed together.

"All this excitement and I still haven't tasted your cock yet," I said in his ear.

"Mmmm. Do you regret it?"

"Not even a little." I nibbled on his earlobe. His mouth twitched in a smile.

"In that case..."

"Yes?"

"I want to kiss your feet again later on."

"I like that idea."

"While you kiss mine."

"Even better."

"But with one difference."

"What's that?"

"I think we should wear our Havaianas while doing it. Or better yet, each other's."

I moaned and pressed my erect cock into the small of his back. It began to leak again.

This tale is part of my upcoming collection "Toyboys and Other Stories". Comments and feedback welcomed at peterderuthyn@gmail.com!