He kissed Francesco’s left foot, right on the toes — he wore loose-fitting prison slippers, his knobbly hairy toes protruding because the slippers were too small for him, just like his pants. He had crude feet like an ogre, just like his face, which Miles adored. There was visible dirt on his toes, and his nails were disgusting — again, that was something Miles adored.
“Oh… Okay.” Francesco chuckled nervously. “You into my feet?”
Miles nodded. Those slippers tasted like steel and soil, with a little foot funkiness underneath all that. Miles pulled them both off. Francesco plopped down on the staircase. He stretched his long legs to give Miles easy access.
Category: Footplay
Shovelwork
He opened his mouth to say more but caught eye of Buck’s club-like dick resting on the floor between Buck’s legs — Buck was sitting splay-legged to air out his balls, which was disgusting.
“You feelin’ okay about ya work, Igo?” Lem asked once they got into it. He had a bottle of wine in hand — he kept wine in a cold box outside their heated area and saved it for special occasions. He drank from it, then pushed it upon Igo. “I seen you keepin’ up with them in the shovel room.”
“It is hard work! My shoulders are very tired,” Igo said. He opened his mouth to say more but caught eye of Buck’s club-like dick resting on the floor between Buck’s legs — Buck was sitting splay-legged to air out his balls, which was disgusting, Igo thought — as Lem’s foot ventured to it and Lem picked it up with his toes. He tried gripping the skin on the top of it, but he couldn’t get it up more than a few inches before it slipped out.
“Yeah, man, shovelwork is fuckin’ awful,” Lem said. His eyes were trained on his toes trying to pick up Buck’s shaft. “I did that on my first contract. You nevuh done shovelwork, Buck?”
Buck shook his head. “When I gots here-” He paused as Lem almost got his dick up with his toes, then it slipped out of his foot-grasp again. “Mistuh Chow said he ain’t want me doin’ shovel stuff on account of my ass bein’ tall and big and shit, and he say he need tall guys in the access chamber, and plus I prolly get hit in the head wit’ them shovels.”
“Oh yeah, yeah, they hit me couple times, hurts like hell,” Lem said. He was focused on picking up Buck’s dick with his toes, which distracted him from what he was saying. “And you… taller ‘an me… Buckums.”
Igo couldn’t tear his eyes away from that. Buck’s dong jiggled like jello as Lem slowly perfected curling his toes around the skin atop it. He finally got it up, slowly, gripping the skin tightly. Buck and Igo both sucked in their breath, Buck exuberantly but Igo with shock and disgust.
Lem finally had it up as high as he could, and then he made to sort of bump it in the air — making Igo shy away — and move his foot to the underside of it, so it landed like a flabby sausage on the top of his off-brown foot.
All three cheered, as all three realized they had gotten distracted from the game. Buck and Lem held cards in their hands, and more were spread out on the blanket in front of them.
Lem didn’t keep Buck’s dong on his foot. The whole reason he had started doing that was to see if he could get his foot close to Buck’s balls, so he could yell “balltap!” and kick him in the cojones. He did so and got Buck harder than he meant to. Buck yowled in pain and laughed, leaning back and gripping his balls to protect them from his foot.
“Owwwww, fuck, Lem, fuck-!” He kicked in the direction of Lem but didn’t really aim it. In this tiny space, it was hard to miss, but it was only a glancing blow to the meat of Lem’s hip, as he twisted away. “Makin’ my… balls achin’! Aw, fuck!”
Buck jumped up, and his dick flopped near Igo’s face. He backed off quietly. Buck paced in the tiny space — he could only take a few steps back and forth — as he held his sore balls. “Ow, shit! Lem, I nevuh hit ya balls that hard!”
Lem laughed. “I ain’t mean it, I ain’t mean to hit ’em that hard-” He held his hands up then went back to protecting his own balls. “Don’t — I ain’t mean to-“
“Fuck!” Buck roared and stamped his feet.
“I ain’t mean to kick that hard, sorry, sorry,” Lem said. He was still laughing too hard to sound genuine. “I ain’t mean to.” Then he did a horsey version of Buck’s Appalachian drawl. “Leeeeehm-uh, you’s mayahkin’ muh bawwwhhhls buh ayahkin! Ayahkin!”
“I don’t say it like that-! Fuck you, Lem!”
“Mah baaaaaaawwwhls iz ayahkin like baaaayahkin-“
Buck was laughing too now, as the pain in his balls eased. He had to admit that was funny — he had a comedic soft spot for guys getting hit in the balls. He still held them in his hand, his dong still dangling free. He bent over a little, realizing only too late that that put his hairy ass near Igo’s face. “Oh, my bad, Igo-“
“Shove somethin’ in there, Igo!” Lem said with a howl. “Just grab whatevuh you got ovuh there. He always used ta put his ass in my face till I jammed a handheld radio in his booty.” He made a little psst sound. “Went right up there. Nevuh came out.”From Buck the Roughneck
Footplay on rig
Lem walked up and down Buck’s body, almost slipping off a couple times cuz Buck was soaked in sweat. But Buck was hairy nuff upon his chest and shoulders that Lem got some traction.
All them rules applied on rig, and Mistah Chow did enforce ’em. He said he got to. He said it with a staccato accent so shrill it made bats explode and without distinguishing ‘tween his Rs and his Ls, but he enfolced it stlict-rike.
Buck sighed under Lem’s old-homeboy feet, which be kneading his belly-flesh. He was horny too. T’was why he worked out, it helped him get his stiffies down without women ’round. Now he smelled the stank of his own armpits and Lem’s feet, and that got his meat softening up. T’was hard to think of gals with that smell lingering in his nose.
Lem walked up and down Buck’s body, almost slipping off a couple times cuz Buck was soaked in sweat. But Buck was hairy nuff upon his chest and shoulders that Lem got some traction.
“They’ll be here, Lem, relax,” Buck said. He ain’t mind Lem’s knuckle-stacked old feet upon his belly and his chest. But it did stop him from doing more sit-ups.
“Indonesians is always late.” Lem exhaled a long plume of smoke. Then he flexed his bicep like he was intimidating invisible Indonesians. “Fuck ’em! Fuck that shit! They said eight o’clock.”
“A black feller got no business goin’ aftuh anybody fer bein’ late, Lem-“
“That don’t count! Nuh-uh!” Lem looked down at him. “Fuck you, Buckums!”