This is a fictional story containing a celebrity. At no time is this characters sexual orientation claimed to be truthful. It is used merely to fulfil the dreams of the men reading it.
The door to the palatial apartment opened, revealing the big, muscular tennis player. He had just returned from a big match down at Melbourne Park, and was still fired up from his win over Mardy Fish. He dropped his tennis bag at the door, encasing his sweaty towel, shirt and socks. He flopped down on the couch, flipped on the TV and rested his large, sweat laden feet on his footrest. It sagged under the pressure, and he dug his heel into it's back. It immediately straightened, holding its masters legs up horizontal to his firm butt.
Dave never thought he would see himself in this position; under the feet of one of the hottest guys on the circuit, enslaved to him, a tool of pleasure and dominance. Andy Roddick was not into the gay scene, but how could he pass up a personal lacky that would offer to serve his big sweaty body, feet and dick? Under the rules, Andy's footstool was not allowed to talk, would do anything he said to do, and wouldn't hesitate. In return, Andy took Dave everywhere with him, and allowed him to wrap his mouth around him almost everyday.
The routine today followed much the same as always. This was Andy's time to cool down, relax and watch his opponent for the next day. The time period differed each time; sometimes it was 1-2 hours, sometimes Andy would want to get straight into it. A womens doubles match was on TV this time, and Andy quickly lost interest. He turned off the TV, and placed his feet on the ground.
Dave knew exactly what to do.
He crawled over to Andy's feet and begged Andy to allow him to clean his tennis shoes. Andy turned and looked out over the Melbourne skyline, in a distracted measure. He liked to play with Dave, make him work for it; just like he did on court. Again Dave begged to have his unworthy tongue polish the shoes of the great champion. Andy slowly turned to him and nodded his approval.
Dave immediately dove in to the opportunity. He stuck his tongue out, and stroked the toe of Andy's size 12 tennis shoe. The taste was sensational. Andy's scent was the strong smell of man with the athletic sweat he produced on the tennis court. With each stroke, Dave became harder and harder. He licked around the edges of Andy's shoe, taking in each ounce of sweat, each scent of Andy. He repeated the process on the other shoe, licking the salty goodness of Andy's match. Dave stole a glance up at his master, his god. As he cleaned the enormous shoe of his master, he pictured his firm body inch by inch. He started with the well-defined face. The eyes that had captured his attention the first time he saw him, so inviting; then the mouth and the cute stubble around the base of his face. It formed the perfect, sexy man that Dave had always dreamed to serve. Then there was the body. When Andy took off his shirt, it was like revealing a work of art. The arms were enormous. The large, meat mallet hands splayed from the strong and toned forearms, which in turn sprouted from the largest and strongest biceps that Dave had ever seen. Then there were his pits. Only slightly hairy, they tasted oh so sweet after a game of tennis. Dave would elongate the strokes of his tongue, ensuring he took in every drop of sweat and every bit of musk that emanated from his powerful arms.
Then came the chest. Oh boy, was it impressive. His pecs were huge and impressive, like rock hard pillows that you could lose yourself in. But it was his nipples that Dave savoured. They were slightly pert, but soft, tender and succulent. If Dave could, he would lick, suck and massage them all day.
Then came what was sure to be Andy's pride and joy. His 8 inch cock; a thick and uncut beauty that tasted so sweet. And that was before he even became aroused. Dave loved to tickle the bulb with his tongue, lapping up the precum that oozed from the large instrument. Dave would slowly move his mouth up and down the shaft, engulfing a little bit more and more at a time, teasing the man that owned him. Andy would always give his moans of pleasure at this action, but that wasn't all that Dave got out of him. His load was the biggest Dave experienced. It was powerful, it was consistent and it was so sweet and salty, Dave would sit there for 15 mins afterwards tying to bring more out till the rod went down.
The second best part of Andy was his balls. Dave would always try to end on them. They collected the sweat from the days play, and felt so good in Dave's mouth. He'd massage it with his tongue, and would lick them till Andy was about to shoot another load, at which he would engulf the rod again.
But no doubt was this bit of the job the best.
Dave continued licking the casing of Andy's delicious feet till he couldn't hold on. He looked up again at his master, and begged, pleaded for his approval to continue without the shoes. Andy this time approved immediately. Dave moved his head slowly down to the laces of Andy's now clean shoes, sniffing the inch of sock stick out through the ankle guard. He pulled the laces undone with his teeth, and repeated the process again on the other shoe. Then came the hard part. He positioned his head around under the muscular leg of Andy, and gently tugged the left shoe off with his teeth. This was the only time that Andy aided Dave in his operations, but it was essential for the pair to get what they both wanted. Slowly, the shoes came off, revealing the slightly yellowed socks that Andy had worn that day, and the intoxicating smell that Dave had come to enjoy so much. He licked the top of Andy's right foot tasting the sweat and scent of his master. It was so good! The mix of lint, sweat and knowing what lay beneath stirred Dave further. He licked the top of both Andy's feet, feeling the dips and curves of his enormous toes beneath the prison that was the delicious sock. He slightly nibbled on his toes, tickling him ever so slightly. As his licks became longer, Andy dropped his head back in pleasure, pulling out is massive cock and stroking it. Dave continued to extract every trace of Andy out of those socks, but it was becoming desperate. He needed to get to those luscious feet he had dreamt about and longed for everyday. Then came the sight he prayed for. Andy lifted his feet, the order to remove his socks. Dave gripped the socks and stripped them off Andy's feet. With one last sniff, he discarded the socks, and turned to the true art of God. There were the two most beautiful images in Dave's life. Resting back down on the floor, the monsters, the creatures that protruded from the toned legs of Andy Roddick, were his tantalizing feet. On top, a slight garnish of curled hair trapped the sweat of the days play, and begged to be sucked and licked. Then came the underside. The heel was bigger than Dave's mouth, and was always so hard from the days play, that Dave always treated it to a bath in his mouth and a nibble by his teeth till they were soft and tender, just like his arches. Oh they were glorious. Dave always wrapped his mouth around these beautiful areas, taking in the taste, the smell and skin of his idol. It always nearly drew Andy to an orgasm, the way that Dave lightly tickled in the arch, sucked the soul out of them, and nibbled the skin. Then came the balls of his feet. Again, Dave repeated the process of bathing them in his saliva, licking and absorbing the skin and salt of his sweat, nibbling away at the tough bits until they were smooth.
But nothing in the world could invite Dave like the toes of Andy Roddick. They were big, they were round, and they held the sweat, toe jam and lint that Dave's taste bud's craved for. Dave lightly licked the bottom of Andy's toes, caressing every crevasse, and tickling the skin on the base of his meal. Then he moved on top, and repeated the process, dashing his tongue across the little hairs. He moved his head back slightly to take in the beautiful sight, and then moved back in. He opened his mouth wide and engulfed Andy's big delicious right big toe in his mouth. He sucked it and licked it and massaged it for 5 mins, absorbing the sweat and lint and toe jam he pined for. He clipped his toe nails with his teeth, and tickled his tongue in between the big and second toes. Then he repeated the process on the left foot. Finally, he sucked and polished the remaining toes and gaps that held the sauces of delight. Finally, Roddick lifted his feet off the ground, and replaced them back on his footstool. He continued to rub himself as Maria Sharapova came onto the screen. All Dave could do was kneel there, and savour the taste of his god.