The Cobbler
By
LaloGS
By
LaloGS
My feet were killing me. My job made me have to pound cold hard pavement for hours on end in Manhattan, and my feet were finally beginning to complain. I mulled over what to do about it, and even talked to my boss, who had been promoted from my position up the ladder, and knew of why I was complaining.
He gave me a business card for a small specialty shoe shop on Lexington Avenue in the 30s. It took me less than an hour to beat a path to the door of the dim little shop. Inside, the place smelled of leather and glue. A few displayed shoes told me I’d come to place that dealt with horrible foot problems. One shoe had a heel and sole at least seven inches thick. Another had a heel lower than the built up sole, and there were several that had been designed to have open holes obviously to relieve pain and suffering from various corns and spurs a person might develop. I guessed I’d come to the right place.
I could see behind the glass counter, was a small work room. Bent over a cobbler’s bench there was a man with thinning hair, wearing an apron and working on a shoe mounted upside down on a form. He looked over his shoulder at me, the light from the glass door I’d just walked through played across his glasses, obscuring his eyes.
He nodded at me, and finished driving a tack into the heel of the mounted shoe. He carefully wiped his hands on a rag, and stood up to come to the front. He was a man in his late forties, and after he pulled his apron off over his head, I saw he was well built, strong even. His thinning hair made me think of the actor Ed Harris.
“What can I do for you?” He stood behind the counter, while I explained my problem.
“So do you think you can help me?” He nodded, and asked me to step into the back room so he could examine my feet. I don’t know why, but I guess I hadn’t thought about how this would work. Playing with my feet was a turn on for me, and I just knew if he touched my feet, I’d throw a bone.
He walked to the front door of the shop, and flipped a card from open to closed, and slid the deadbolt home. “We wouldn’t want to be disturbed during the examination,” he explained. He led me through the opening to the side of the counter, and I followed him into the back room.
Not visible from the counter, and out of sight of the entrance, was a comfortable leather chair, with a small stool sitting on the floor in front of it. “Have a seat please, and take off your shoes and socks.”
After I seated myself in the chair, he pulled the little stool around and lowered himself onto it in front of me. I pulled the second sock over my pale and tender left foot, and leaned back in the chair with my hands in my lap to hide my growing concern. He leaned over my feet where they rested on the carpeted floor, and gave them a thorough visual examination without touching them. At last, he sat back, and looked up at me.
“I think you are on the verge of developing some problems in your arches. If we proceed, I think I can make some corrective shoes that will halt the problem.”
“Yeah?” I let out a deep breath, glad he’d reached his diagnosis without touching my feet.
“Yes. But if you don’t mind, I need to perform a more through examination.” I pulled in a deep breath, and knew what was coming. I just nodded and closed my eyes.
His hands were warm and smooth. He lifted my right foot, and placed it on his thigh. My dick got hard in an instant. Embarrassed, I did my best to hide it with my hands. He gently probed my foot with his fingers, sometimes prodding deeply into the muscles to feel the bones, and other times just stroking my skin softly. After a moment, I opened my eyes just a crack when he asked me if something he was doing caused me any pain. I just grunted, he was bent closely over my foot, apparently smelling my skin,
He leaned back finally, and placed my foot back on the carpet. Taking my left foot, he placed it on his right thigh. I tried to adjust myself in the seat, and my foot slipped off his thigh into his crotch. My eyes flew open. I stammered an apology because, my foot had slipped onto what I could feel was a substantial hardon in his lap.
“Don’t apologize, sir. I always get a thrill from touching feet. I see that you like to have your feet touched as well.” He nodded at my erection, exposed after my hands hiding it had flown to the arms of the leather chair.
“I. . . uh. . .” I decided to let things take their course. “Well yes. I do like to have my feet played with.”
“Good. May I proceed sir?”
“Please do.”
He lifted my left foot to his face, and rubbed his beard stubble over the sensitive skin. I felt my cock throb as the sensations coursed through my body. “Aaahhh,” I let out a sigh, and squirmed a bit in the chair.
“You like that sir?”
“Oh yes.” I raised my right foot, and placed it on his swollen cock. He smiled up at me. I wear a size twelve shoe, and his cock felt like it was bigger than the length of my foot. The tube of flesh I played footsy with was thick like a big cucumber. I was harder than I think I’d ever been before. It’s hard to find people for sex that are into feet like I am.
I felt his hot breath over my arch, and then his hot wet tongue licking the inside of my arch. It sent shivers up my spine, and I felt like I might cum in my pants.
“Uh. . . Uh. . .,” I moaned a little, and lifted my foot away from his tongue. “Do you mind if I take off my pants? I wouldn’t want to ruin them with an accident.”
“Of course not. Do you mind if I remove mine as well?”
“Please.” I wanted to get a look at his substantial cock. He stood momentarily, and dropped his pants. He wasn’t wearing underwear, and his big piece of meat flopped out straight away from his pubes a good thirteen inches. I just sucked in my breath.
He stepped out of his pants, and laid them across the end of his work bench. “Can I take yours so they won’t wrinkle?”
“Please.” I seemed to be reduced to one word responses. He laid my pants across his, and resumed his seat on the little stool. This time, his big cock was standing straight pointing at my face between his legs. He smiled up at me again, and lifted my right foot, and placed it firmly on his thickness. I wiggled my toes in his pubic hair, and felt him flex his dick under my sole.
He lifted my left foot again, and resumed licking it everywhere he could reach with his tongue. My cock was throbbing, and I realized I was moaning softly while he ran his tongue between each of my toes. I could also feel his big cock throbbing under my right foot as well. We were both enjoying this to the max.
After several minutes of licking, he suddenly began to suck my toes, my nuts started to tighten up, and I gasped that I was about to cum. He let go of my middle toe with his mouth, and leaned up and took my cock into his mouth. Instantly, he started pumping his head on me like a machine, and after a few deep strokes I felt myself throb and start shooting rope after rope into his mouth. When he had it all, he swallowed my cum, and leaned back onto his stool, letting my spit slick cock slip out of his mouth. He grinned at me, but said nothing as an ooze of my cum dripped down his chin.
He went on as if nothing had happened, and placed my left foot where my right one had been on top of his throbbing meat, and then began to lick and suck as he’d done to my left. I just laid back in the chair and let him do his thing. He was good, and I wondered how much practice he got given that he was a cobbler. How many guys had he had in his leather chair and played with their feet until they shot a load for him? I really didn’t care much because his talented mouth had my dick growing again.
I picked it up with my right hand and gave it a few strokes until it was back to its former glory. He was busy with my sole and heel, and I was starting to feel that same ole shiver. After a few more hot wet licks, he started sucking my toes again, sliding his long hot tongue between my digits making me raise my butt off the seat. I couldn’t believe he was going to make me cum again. My cock was throbbing and I gripped it hard to slow it down, but it was no use.
“A… ahhh…again man!!!” I felt him drop my foot, and his hot mouth went down on me to the base, and I filled him with more than I thought I could work up on short notice, but I think I came more the second time than I did the first.
He swallowed like a starving man, and then he was suddenly standing up with his huge piece of meat hovering in front of my face. I opened my eyes, sensing the heat of his cock head on my cheek, and just opened wide and took him in as deep as I could. He wasted no time, but thrust a time or two, and then filled my mouth with his spunk.
After he finished, and I spent a few minutes cleaning his glorious cock with my tongue, I sat back in the chair, and smiled up at him. He smiled back at me, and then handed me my pants. We dressed, and he had me step onto a piece of warm foam, to take an impression of my feet.
I asked him if he was into anything but feet, and he said he liked to fuck, but had trouble finding guys that would let him put his big dick up their asses. I allowed I’d like to try sometime, and he smiled.
“I’d like you to come in next Tuesday for a fitting. I always like to make sure I don’t remember a guy’s feet wrong when I’m making him a pair of shoes. If you come at closing time, we just might go up stairs where I live, and try to fit something else on you. He grinned wide and handsome, and we shook on it.
I left the little shop, with my feet tingling, feeling better than they had when I entered, and my step had a spring in it, which I always get when my balls get drained as well as he’d managed. I was looking forward to the following Tuesday, and stopped into a Korean vegetable stand to pick up a substantial cucumber. I planned to be ready.
The End
