Feet are It (Patreon)

Armando didn’t know his real name. Like everybody in town, he only knew him as “El Gitano”. They would meet every now and then – El Gitano was rather unpredictable. Sometimes, Armando wouldn’t hear from him in months. Sometimes, he’d call him ten times in two months. And Armando could never say no. He daren’t say no. He would have to go and meet El Gitano.

The meeting place was almost always different, somebody’s house, obviously, that also didn’t belong to El Gitano, just as obviously. Armando was always a bit nervous about going to those strange places. He sort of suspected that El Gitano “borrowed” them from their rightful owners, and what if those people turned up while they were here? But that never happened and anyway, as soon as he was in the place, Armando would forget his qualms.

El Gitano would tie him up, gag him with a roll of tape, and then, he’d take Armando’s shoes and socks off and start working on his feet. That was all he did but he did it long and very, very well. The tickling was agony and ecstasy for Armando. Sometimes, he thought that he just couldn’t stand it and then, ten minutes later, he wanted it to last forever. He would often cum just from the extreme sensations, which was both wonderful and awful because El Gitano would not touch any part of Armando’s body except his feet.

They never spoke a lot, either before of after their meets. Once, Armando had felt daring enough to ask El Gitano what he got out of those sessions. “Feet are it,” the man had replied without even looking at Armando. But then, just before Armando left, he had looked him in the eye and said: “And your feet are beautiful.”