Understanding the role, the actions, the reactions. Being told to crawl to him on my hands and knees,once I undressed nude upon entering the hotel room. The crawling alone on the rough hotel carpet, the harsh touch on my knees, while anticipating the crawl to him, cowering between his legs, between his feet. The way to a dominants soul and is heart takes place in many areas, his feet, that is where it all begins. Undressing his feet as if they were as delicate as his dress shirt. Untying the shoes with my teeth, being careful not to drool over the tops of his shoes. Slowly sliding them off, then taking his socks off, my hands lightly caressing the top of his feet…then it begins, the kissing, sucking of every toe, the licking up the sides of his ankles. Running my hands up his legs, all while cleaning each and every toe, sucking on it like it was a sign of my oral gratification to come. The feel of his hand on the top of my head while I steady clean his feet after a long hard day,. There were faggots in town; older guys, boyfriends apparently, who owned a house on Spring Street—Clitter Schreve, their townie friend and fellow gearhead, had pointed it out.At first Britt had thrown a lot of fag-talk around, but that ebbed, mainly because Cody didn't play up to it. Cody may have been confused but as far as he was concerned what he and Britt did was their business, and what the faggots did was theirs. As long as Britt thought the 'twain should never meet, he'd think the same.It got a little tricky once they started blowing each other. It began as a natural progression from feeding each other loads of cum—Cody would sit on Britt's scrawny chest, his dick close to Britt's open lips, and it was only natural that his cock head should bump against them. So Britt started wrapping his lips around the head of Cody's cock—made it easier to catch his cum, anyway, and it wasn't like you were chugging a cock past your gag reflex like some gutter whore.Cody did it in turn, just.
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