"I soaked his socks with my spit."

Before I went to college, I was radioman in the Navy, and one of my duties as to take important messages that came over the radio around to the senior officers in their cabins. Important messages could come any hour of the day or night, and the officers were quite often not fully dressed when off duty.

One day I took a message to the Executive Officers cabin. When I entered I found him lying on his bunk wearing only his boxer shorts, black garters and thin black socks. It was hot that day. Sweat was beading off of his receding, close-cropped hair and rolling down his sloping brow. His bare torso slick, the fur matted down by his man-sweat. He was a damn handsome man, well-built. Probably in his early forties. His feet were size 13 or larger. I could see the pools of sweat that had soaked through parts of his socks. I was hard in the blink of an eye.

He sat up on his bunk, read the message, and signed for it. He then started to rub his feet and told me that they were "fucking sore" and he wished his wife was there to massage them. Before I knew what I was saying, I had offered to do it. My offer, not seeming to phase him, got a green light: he told me to go ahead.

I asked if he wanted me to take his socks off. He laughed. "Naw, leave 'em on." he said. Damn.

I began to massage those big, sweaty socked feet. And already my boner was about to burst through my fucking pants. A shit-eating grin spread across his face, and he told me that it felt "fucking amazing." He sighed deep and closed his eyes.

I looked down and saw his that his egg-sized low hanging balls were peaking out of his boxer leg. I quickly looked back up, not wanting to get caught: too late, though. His eyes were open and looking right back at me. He saw me staring, but said nothing. I returned my gaze to his socked feet, face burning. A few seconds later he sat forward and took my head in his big hand, pushing my face against his balls. "Kiss 'em, fucker." he muttered.

He wanted me to kiss them? Shit. Fuck that! I swallowed them whole. The salt and musk was so heavy I could have gotten drunk of 'em. He asked me if I wanted to suck his cock and I, mouth full of balls, mumbled "Yes Sir." Laughing and releasing my head, he slipped off his shorts and lay back on the bunk and said "It's all yours, sweetheart." His cock was at least nine inches, circumcised. I slide his big mushroom head past my lips and rammed the remainder down my queer cock luvin' gullet. With as much force as I could muster, I repeatedly slammed that cock down my throat all the way. Each thrust sent his body upwards slightly, grunting with my every swallow.

Within a couple of minutes, he was shooting deep inside my throat. His load was thick and bitter-sweet and I gagged on the force of the spurts, but didn't release his cock not wanting to waste a single drop.

He flopped back on the bunk, breathing hard. I relaxed my throat and slowly let him loose.

I waited, looking at him. Again our eyes met.

"Go ahead." He muttered, laughing again. "I know what you really wanna suck."

Finally. I slid off the bunk to my knees and brought his foot straight to my nostrils. The man scent was almost as intense as his nut sack had been, his sweaty socked feet better than a popper. Took a couple of good hits off those dawgs, then opened my mouth and went to work on those black-socked stud feet, tonguing and chewing the balls of his foot and his covered toes. I took my time, working one foot then the other. I soaked his socks with my spit.

Finally, he ordered me to take off his socks and suck his toes. And I did. But I couldn't help myself and left his garters on his bulging calves. Yeah, that looked amazing. Savoring each second he was allowing me to do this, I went down on those sweaty Executive Officer toes, licking between each one, treating his big toe with more tenderness than I had showed his cock. I could feel him jerking it again. I looked up at him and his mouth was slack, cock rock hard again in his fist. He raised his left foot and pushed my face back down. As I put my mouth around his right big toe, I could feel his left foot press against the back of my head, forcing me further down on his sweaty toes. This time I gagged. He laughed. "Come on, you can do better than that." He pressed me down further with his foot, and before I knew it I had half of it in my mouth.

We did this for a while. Soon, there was a large puddle of spit surrounding his foot, soaking though the sheets on the bunk. Whenever he wanted me to switch, he smack me in the forehead with whatever foot I didn't have crammed in my mouth. I wanted to touch myself, but I didn't dare.

I could hear his breathing intensify and I knew I was about to get him off again. I jumped back up on the bunk and got my mouth around his cock as he was still jerking it, his clenched fist mashing hard against my lips. With the first spurt he took his hand away and I slide that monster back down my throat, letting his load bypass my mouth and go straight down my stomach.

He fell back on the bunk and laughed, telling me I was "the best cock sucker he's found in the Navy."

"Just cock, Sir?"

"Well, my cock's just your frosting." he chuckled, propping both spit-slick feet in my lap and crossing them. "My barking dawgs? They're fucking DESERT."