Allured, by his elegant feet.

So well, I'm just a normal plain old dude who, for a while, have had this pal of mine, whose a great guy and a good friend. He's naturally very attractive with sculpted features, black eyes and a nice slim twink like build (kinda similar to mine). Now here's the catch. He AND I are muslim. Yup you heard it! But before you hear "muslim" and are put off in anyway and think he's some ugly bearded baboon (ha ha) let me assure you my friend was FAR from that. Trust me. This dude was a shaped, clean shaved chiseled BEAUTIFUL freshly turned 18 year old and I was his buddy.

Back then I had no plans to admit to myself I was bisexual in anyway as I tried to maintain a thuggish hard-body persona. You see, where I come from it is INCREDIBLY taboo to reveal feelings such as this therefore any desires were (forgive the pun) swallowed . Now, me and him had built a good spiritual routine of hitting the mosque for a while now. I would love his company, because to be honest he was one of those guys who EVERYONE liked. Seriously....everyone back in school wanted to be this dudes friend, including myself. He was so cool that someone like me spending time with someone of his status was a blessing in and of itself.

Now here's the rev to the engine. I'm a foot FETISHIST. Since I was born I have been HEAVILY attracted to feet, female feet in general, and have been completely drained out of any physical energy when a beautifully crafted pair of feet have been put in-front of me. To this day, if I as much see feet in a TV ad I have to rush upstairs and ahem....'sacrifice some fluids'. But my pal...my buddy...was a guy. So no problem, huh?

Whenever we'd hit the mosque, there would be a point where you have to take your shoes off. You would then go inside and sit down and talk and then later pray. This would be a regular thing to do for us and like I said, I had 0 sexual interest in him or his feet. I was straight. So it was always the usual you know... talk, pray, go outside and maybe even play football. However, slowly I started realizing a gradual change in my body's hormonal system.

Whenever we'd pray, there would come this part where he would have to kneel all the way down, leaving the soles of his both his feet, exposed. It was a sight that made me feel very funny yet I would ignore it and proceed with my prayer. There was however a catch and that was that this guy wore socks. Like ALWAYS had his feet wrapped in socks. I would go home and sometimes rethink the view in a photographic state and think...hmmm...was I turned on? And then kick the thought quickly to the curb and move on.

But the "funny feeling" stayed.

Now onto the summer months, days became longer and nights became shorter. This meant I could play sports with my buddies for extended periods of time, at parks and stuff. So we met up....me, him and my other friends. It was the usual, a game of football where we all enjoyed and had a great time. The teams were even and I was really kicking it until a problem occurred. For him. It looked like his shoes had become loose. Meaning he wasn't able to run and do the usual kicking and scoring. His eyes darted around until he approached me. I looked him in his eyes as he made a pretty bizarre request.

He requested to SWAP shoes. Simple..he gives me his to wear and I give him mine. I felt that 'funny' feeling again... but I had to answer his request. So I did....in an outwardly stubborn NO! I said I was 'grossed out' at the thought of such a request...where infact the feeling inside was...hmmm....pretty different. A LOT different. So he graciously respected my denial and proceeded to switch shoes with his friend. At this point, I was rethinking the decision as I caught a peak of his woolen feet emerging from his kicks. Something definitely was up.

As summer progressed my hormonal levels were at the evermore high as they would be for a typical 18 year old you know? Now... he would come into the mosque....wearing paper thin ANKLE socks. God, The feeling was back and it proved to be stronger. The ankle socks barely concealing his feet, his tight crafted socked soles bulging through the thin black linen fabric....ughh. But once again I ignored it. I'm straight... (right?) I continued with the prayer, his feet sending my hormonal system in a bi-curious teenage frenzy. The feeling was ongoing and I was in a battle with myself...am I attracted to another male or is this just an anonymity? I still payed it little thought and decided to stop worrying. It was probably only a phase I was going through...right?

Another routine me and my friend had devised was to go and pray the early prayers. I would simply go to his place, call for him and we'd make our way to the mosque like we had been doing. So I went out, and did just that. Only see....I caught him off guard. Meaning he was actually asleep when I called for him and we were running late so we would have to go straight to the mosque. As people may, or may not be aware people generally like to wash and stuff before going into the mosque but we didn't have the time. I met up with him in person in all his alluring beauty and we went there.

As we went inside...the usual. He slipped his shoes off and went inside...as did I. But remember what I said about us running late? Yeah, we were so late that we had to wash INSIDE the mosque. Well...no problem right? Only problem? He NEVER washed inside the mosque. He just didn't...he liked to do it at home. So I head on downstairs to do the usual and wash myself, thinking 'man....he probably is clean and I'm here looking like an idiot'. I head over to the sink, and proceed to clean my hands, face and mouth when I see the breathtaking sight.....of him...downstairs.

Now let me explain as you may all be confused to the significance of this...he was washing himself downstairs. He would be right there next to me, revealing his arms, legs and well... another part of his body. But hey what does that matter, I'm straight right? Who cares? So we were side by side, getting clean and stuff but...wait a second. I was feeling nerves. I tried holding steady but the overwhelming new-found anxiousness was present. Anxious he wouldn't do it. No...he just wouldn't....he wouldn't take his SOCKS OFF will he? In deadheat anticipation, I continued to wash myself (my mind locked on him the whole way through), my heart pounding, my testosterone peaking at wrestler level. At this point I was just pretending to be preoccupied....after all who cares right? And then. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him reach towards down...and...*PEEL*. I almost caught my heart in my mouth.

His golden sculpted boy feet BARE & EXPOSED RIGHT THERE NEXT TO ME.

My testosterone would have fueled an entire football team as my heart pumped adrenaline throughout my body. I saw the water dripping off the end of his delicate boy toes as he washed, finished and walked outside towards a sexually weakened me. The smell, the touch, the sight of his flesh of his warm soles wrapped around my pulsating penis, squeezing every last drop of sperm out....ughh... I wanted to lick his toes, rub my cock up and down the arches of his feet as he pressed his feet against my face as I urghhh UGHHH....but the whole thing couldn't have been shorter as he retrieved and wrapped on his socks after the ordeal. However, the seed was planted.

I had finally seen his BARE feet which drove me to the point of an episode of the most intense sexual crave as I mumbled some second rate excuse to race home whereupon I drained my entire ballsack through repeated furious orgasms, every last one of them figuratively landing on his cupped golden soles with me standing in a Thor like stance above him :)