Brandon had barely stepped out of his SUV before he started getting hard. Anthony was waiting for him on the steps of the front porch. He was wearing the exact same outfit he had worn so many months ago when Brandon had decided he could no longer deny his fetish. The long sleeve t, the faded camo pants, and—of course—the black Vans slip-ons, though they were obviously a bit more broken in since the day of their debut. One obvious difference, however, was with the wearer himself. This time, Anthony was well-aware of what he was doing. If the forbidden act of lusting after Anthony had been hot enough for the first time, the knowledge that this time was a deliberate manipulation only heightened Brandon’s arousal.
“And we get started right out of the gate, I see,” Brandon said, grinning as he strode up the front walk. Anthony flashed a grin, but it wasn’t quite the same as his normal good-humored, lopsided one. This one had a smug undertone.
“I could say the same,” Anthony replied, nodding at Brandon’s growing protrusion.
Brandon stopped short of the porch steps. He and Anthony had reached an awkward place, where they were still technically friends, although sexually intimate ones. Yet Anthony hesitated in characterizing his behavior toward Brandon as attraction. So where did that leave them in the matter of their greeting? Hugging seemed too much. A handshake? A high-five? The two sidestepped the issue in concert. Anthony casually leaned against the porch post as Brandon rested a foot on the bottom step and placed an arm on the handrail.
“What do you expect me to do when I show up with you looking like that?” Brandon cried. “Clearly, it was a deliberate choice, given the exactness of your outfit.” Brandon swept his eyes from Anthony’s head to toe, which Anthony observed in satisfaction.
“You are indeed correct, bro. This was a calculated wardrobe selection today. You are being punished.”
Brandon allowed his eyes to pop dramatically. “Punished?! For what?”
“As if you don’t know!” Anthony scoffed.
Brandon narrowed his eyes in mock concentration. “Did I forget your birthday?” he said in a stage whisper. Anthony arched an eyebrow, nonplussed. “What?” Brandon put his hands up in surrender.
“Your little phone call to my office the other day?” Anthony watched as Brandon flushed at the recall. “Yeah, that one. The one that kept me tethered to my desk for the next half hour and wearing a buttoned jacket for the rest of the day.”
Brandon blinked slowly and innocently. “You didn’t seem to mind too much at the time.”
Anthony chuckled. “Yeah, well, upon further reflection, I decided there need to be consequences.” Anthony came down the steps and headed around the side of the house. “What are you waiting for? Let’s move!” he called over his shoulder.
“I follow you willingly!” Brandon exclaimed, trotting after the waffle soles of Anthony’s shoes as they crunched up the drive.
“How is this punishment, again?” Brandon asked as Anthony brought the jeep to a stop. They had pulled off to the side of a windy country road. No buildings were immediately nearby, but the peaks of a housing development could be glimpsed over the crest of a hill that swelled up from one side of the road. Off to the other was a large swath of land that had recently been excavated. The clumpy soil was more or less level, having been pushed in place by the bucket of an earth mover and then tamped down in the heavy rains from a few nights before. Here and there, small depressions in the clay still held pools of water that rippled in the spring breezes.
Anthony cut the engine and glanced at his phone before sliding it into his pants pocket. “I never said this was the punishment,” he said simply, giving him a sidelong glance. “See that mud over there?” Brandon glanced out the window and nodded. “They just did a pipeline repair. Huge trench was sitting open for weeks in all the rain we had. Just got filled back in.”
Brandon was impressed. “How do you find out about this stuff?”
Anthony flashed a smile. “Trade secrets, bro.”
Brandon rolled his eyes as the two made their way to the back of the Jeep. Anthony opened the tailgate and sat in the back, twisting around to pull out the pair of black Hunter boots, which he stood next to him. Brandon didn’t know where to look—at the sexy Vans that were swinging above the grass, or the Hunter boots that he didn’t recognize.
“Those are new,” he commented as Anthony slid off his first sneaker.
“Yep. Just got ‘em. Today they get christened.” Anthony glanced at Brandon when he said this, as if looking for a reaction. But Brandon watched stolidly as Anthony picked up the right boot and slid it over his white sock. “Well, damn,” Anthony said in an over-affected voice. “That boot didn’t go on right.” He looked squarely at Brandon. “Could you help me?”
“Your punishment is cruel,” Brandon said softly, stepping before Anthony. “What seems to be the trouble?”
“For one thing, my foot isn’t in all the way,” Anthony complained in his stage voice, looking down at the black Hunter. Brandon bent down and grasped the sole of the boot. The smell of the fresh vulcanized rubber was intoxicating. He gave the boot a quick upward tug, feeling Anthony’s foot find home with a satisfying thud.
“How’s that?” Brandon asked, asking a step back.
Anthony pulled his mouth into a tight-lipped grin. “Still isn’t quite right. Hang on,” he said, placing the boot on Brandon’s thigh. Brandon could feel Anthony twist and roll his foot in the boot, slowly working its way off of his leg and drifting over to his very stiff cock. Brandon felt his breath catch in his throat. Anthony smiled. “There we go.” He pulled his foot away, then removed his left Van and put that boot on. When he stood, he looked again at Brandon, who was staring at the new, unblemished matte black rubber as it rippled around his legs. “Can you tuck my pants into my boots for me?”
Brandon looked at Anthony with a smirk. He was beginning to see what Anthony’s punishment was really about. He bent down and slid his hands down Anthony’s pant legs, driving the fabric down inside the rubber boot shafts. He was sure to let his hand roam down to the thick ribbed socks that stretched around his ankles. His cock wept with joy at the warmth of Anthony’s foot, the softness of the sock against his fingertips, and the sensual feel of the rubber against his arm.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Anthony announced, sensing that Brandon was enjoying himself too much. “Let’s get on with it.”
Not having brought any rubber boots himself—indeed, not having even been aware that they would be making a video that day—Brandon stood in the position he had become accustomed to in his tenure at Anthony’s assistant—at the mud’s edge. He held the camera aloft in one hand and adjusted his underwear with the other as Anthony entered the freshly turned earth.
Though they were matte boots, they glowed with a blue sheen under the bright spring sky, showing every undulation of the rubber as it contorted and bent around Anthony’s gait. He tentatively stepped across the churned soil, the treads of his boots sinking barely an inch. He had made it to the center of what Brandon could only assume had been the pipeline trench. Anthony turned announce that this site was a dud, when the unassuming mud suddenly collapsed beneath his right boot. Anthony’s arms shot out for balance as he was instantly up to the crotch of his knee in a very runny sludge. The rim of his boot was gone—under the opaque surface.
Swearing, Anthony extracted the Hunter, which came up with ease, sheets of the slurry cascading down the no longer pristine rubber. Brandon quivered with the realization that there was just as much ooze cascading down the inside of the boot. Anthony backed away from the treacherous hole and moved onto what seemed to be a firmer crust before examining his saturated boot. He tucked his camera away and grinned in Brandon’s direction.
“You’re going to love this,” he announced, moving in his direction. Brandon could hear the slosh of the muck in his boot with each step he took. He was hard as a rock when Anthony brought his right Hunter right up to Brandon’s toes. “Take a look in there,” he invited him, his eyes shining.
Brandon inserted his left pointer and middle fingers behind the boot shaft, just above the Hunter tag. The cold ooze coated his finger tips as it transferred from both Anthony’s pants and the inside of his boot to his skin. Brandon pulled back and parted the rubber from Anthony’s leg, letting the high April sun illuminate the mess inside. He could see where the sludge had formed rivulets along the folds and creases in his camo pants, dripping and snaking in three distinct places down to his ankle, where it then branched on either side of his foot. Brandon could just see the top of a brilliant white sock, but it sat a half inch or more of the silty slurry that sloshed in the bottom of the boot, climbing up and painting the sides of his foot as he moved.
Anthony flexed his foot as Brandon peered into the boot. Brandon sighed shakily and released the Hunter, which snapped back wetly against Anthony’s leg. Anthony studied Brandon’s face, and his crotch.
“Mind a little mud on your pants?” he said softly.
Brandon swallowed hard. “Not in the least.”
“Sit,” Anthony said. His tone was gentle, but commanding. He indicated the soft, dense patch nearest them along the road. Brandon backed into the space, keeping his eyes locked on Anthony as he lowered himself among the tender blades. He sat with his legs before him, and bent, as if preparing a frame to welcome Anthony’s boot. His jeans grew dark over his crotch as the denim stretched tight around it in his position.
Anthony stepped forward, bringing his Hunter—globules of sticky clay still sliding down its shining walls—to rest just just below Brandon, his toe just barely brushing his jeans below the bulge. Brandon exhaled loudly and wrapped both arms around Anthony’s leg, drawing the rubber boot against his cock and sliding up onto the top of his foot until he was essentially sitting on it, the sticky rubber shaft grinding against him.
Anthony licked his lips and watched, mesmerized, and Brandon muddied his jeans and the front of his shirt as he embraced his leg. He could feel Brandon’s cock pressing through the supple rubber that wrapped over his shin. Brandon looked up into the sunlight and closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in the deep concentration of pleasure he was experiencing.
Anthony felt himself stirring at the sights and sensations of this man making love to his leg. There was an electric thrill in knowing he possessed this power over Brandon. Anthony extracted his foot from under Brandon and placed his boot directly on his balls. Brandon moaned as Anthony began to rock and pivot the Hunter boot over the jeans, further grinding mud into the denim.
“How’s that feel?” he teased, applying pressure as though squeezing the gas pedal of the Jeep.
Brandon could scarcely form words. “So…so fucking great,” he rasped.
“Cool,” said Anthony, suddenly withdrawing his foot and walking away. Brandon blinked in confusion. What the hell had just happened? His pleasure and erection dissolved under a wave of bewilderment.
Brandon stood, brushing as much of the damp earth from his clothes as possible, and followed Anthony to the back of the Jeep, where he was tugging furiously at his flooded boot.
“What just happened?” he demanded. Anthony glanced over at Brandon as he wrenched his soggy pant leg free.
“What do you mean?” He shoved his mud slick sock into a Van, brown liquid squeegeeing out and running down at the heel of the sneaker. If Brandon was so infuriated, he would have found this intensely hot.
“Don’t play dumb, Anthony. Why would you just walk away in the middle of something like that?” He watched as Anthony put his dry white sock in the other slip-on.
“I told you,” he said as he tipped the left Hunter over the road and emptied it of the muddy water, “you’re being punished.” He chucked the boots unceremoniously into the Jeep and slammed the door. He shot Brandon a quick wink before heading to the driver’s door and climbing in.
The ride was quiet on the way back. Brandon stared out the window, not wanting to catch a glimpse of Anthony’s dirty camo pant leg and mud smeared Van as it bore down on the accelerator or retreated with a gear change.
It was a startling break in the constant whine of the Jeep’s engine when Anthony’s phone clattered on the rubber mat of his floor. Brandon turned to see Anthony grinning at him. “Damn. Dropped my phone. Would you get it for me?”
Brandon glared. “What is this about?”
Anthony shrugged. “I just thought I would replay some of your greatest hits.”
Brandon narrowed his eyes. “Greatest hits?”
“Yeah. The phone in the mud thing. Remember that?”
“Obviously.”
“You didn’t actually drop your phone in the mud, did you?” Anthony glanced from the road to Brandon, searching for an answer.
“No,” Brandon admitted sullenly. Anthony nodded in triumph at his deduction.
“So…you’ve had your little manipulation. Now it’s my turn. Humor me. Phone, please.”
Brandon stared at Anthony. There was no apparent malice. But it wasn’t the same it’s-all-good Anthony he had fallen for, either. This one was capable of cruelty, it seemed, and Brandon was left with an uneasy feeling that maybe he didn’t know him after all. He hesitated, the complied, unbuckling his seat belt and leaning behind the gear shifter…and not for the first time.
Anthony’s phone was just on the other side of his right foot. Brandon could see the mud on his pants was beginning to coagulate into a crust. The heel of his white sock showed almost black as it disappeared into his shoe. As he groped for the phone, Anthony suddenly moved his foot off the gas pedal and clapped his heel over the phone.
“What are you doing?” cried Brandon, his voice muffled in the close confines of the footwell.
Anthony chuckled. “It just occurred to me—this has happened before! You, down there like that. Can you get my phone, please?”
Brandon snorted in sudden resentment. Anthony was making this a game, and him the object of ridicule. He grasped Anthony’s sticky heel and lifted it to release the pressure of the phone. He was dismayed to find that even in his irritation, however, his previously unresolved arousal came surging back as he did this. He slid the phone from under the sole of Anthony’s shoe, and withdrew, sitting back up in his seat, red faced from having leaned over for so long.
Anthony looked over at Brandon and, in seeing in his face, grew serious. “Hey, bro. Relax. It’s all good.” The two remained in silence for the rest of the journey.
When the Jeep squeaked to a halt by the garage, Brandon hopped out and immediately started for his car. He could hear Anthony’s door squawked open, followed by his Vans pounding after him down the driveway.
“Brandon, wait up!” Anthony caught his arm. “Don’t go.”
Brandon wheeled around. “Why the hell would I stay?” he spat. Anthony was clearly shocked by the intensity of his anger. He kept go of Brandon’s arm and stepped back.
“Wow. You really are pissed, aren’t you?” Anthony’s tone was sincere. Concerned, even.
“What the fuck kind of cruelty was that?” Brandon pointed at the Jeep, but indicating the fullness of the afternoon. Anthony studied him, his eyebrows knit.
“Cruelty, huh? Funny you should think that. I was going for manipulation, but I guess I really hit a nerve, didn’t I?” Anthony kept his voice calm and even.
“What are you talking about?” Brandon exploded. “I get it—you’re pissed about the phone call. I’m sorry! God, why is it all about you?”
Anthony shook his head in disbelief. “That’s just it, Brandon. It never was about me, was it? It was not just the phone call, though that is a perfect example.” The anger in Brandon’s face was slowly replaced with puzzlement. Anthony pushed on. “It was your phone in the mud. Your jizz in my shoes. How many other deceptions? How many other scenarios did you orchestrate to satisfy a fantasy with me at the center?”
Brandon was suddenly speechless. It sounded fucked up. And it rang with truth.
“If you felt toyed with today…if you felt manipulated…used…” Anthony trailed off, looking at the ground, his head shaking again. “Bro, that’s how I’m feeling now that I’m playing it all back in my head. Retracing our steps for the past few months.”
Brandon pressed his hand to his mouth and slowly walked to the porch, sinking onto the first step. He stared out toward the freshly filled fields as Anthony sank down next to him.
“You’re right,” he finally admitted. “I’ve definitely used you. There’s no doubt.” He looked down at his left hand and pried some of the dried mud from under his fingernails. “And I can see how that stunt I pulled in calling your office would really underscore that.”
Anthony looked at his feet. “Brandon…your thing for me? Well, it’s not for me. It’s for this.” He pulled his dirty Van off and held it in front of Brandon.
It was time for Brandon to shake his head. “I get why you would think that. That I have a fetish, so just anyone can turn me on with the right footwear, right? No. Anthony, I never had these urges until I met you.” He turned and looked at him. “I am deeply attracted to you. And I’m starting to see that I’ve treated you like shit.“
Anthony looked away, sliding his shoe back on. “Not total shit,” he said after a long pause. Have you seen my house lately?” Brandon broke into a smile. “Look. I’ve already told you that this is crazy new for me. And honestly?” he looked Brandon in the eye. “I want to see where this goes. I feel things with you that….well, I don’t think I’ve ever felt them before. It’s fucking insane,” he said with a chuckle. “But let’s layer some mutual respect on top of things. Okay? Honesty would be a great start.”
Brandon nodded. He hated that his eyes were wet. “So you’re not kicking me out yet?”
“Hell, no. I don’t have end tables yet!” The two laughed.
“Well then I need to start by being honest,” Brandon said, wiping his eyes. Anthony raised his eyebrows in expectation. “I’m shoe horny as fuck after what you did to me. You gotta finish me off.” Anthony cracked a smile.
He stood and faced Brandon, who was already unzipping his dusty jeans. Anthony extended his right foot underneath his underwear bulge, letting the canvas on his shoe rub against it. Brandon gasped and peeled away his underwear. Anthony started to tease his sensitive cock with the waffle pattern on the gum sole of the shoe. Brandon squealed slightly as he pushed upward against the shaft.
“You know,” Anthony said as Brandon began to rhythmically grind against the shoe, “the day after you told me this was the shoe you went crazy for, I came home and busted a nut in it myself. Brandon moaned at hearing this. Anthony grabbed his own hardening cock. “It’s true,” he said, his breath quickening. “I wanted to cum where you had.” Brandon was whimpering now. He grabbed Anthony’s Van and held it against his cock, letting his semen erupt over the top of it. One jet pulsed onto Anthony’s mud-stained sock.
“Fuck,” hissed Anthony, fumbling with his own fly. He ripped his pants down. Brandon had never seen his bare cock before. It was just like Anthony—rugged and perfect. Anthony spat on his hand and started feverishly massaging his member, his smart watch jostling on his wrist in the movements. In about ten long strokes, he clenched his jaw and groaned slightly as his creamy seed shot clean onto Brandon’s shirt.
Brandon glanced down at the nearly iridescent dribbles on his chest. “That certainly didn’t take long,” he panted. Anthony collapsed on the porch next to him.
“Of course not. Teasing you all afternoon has been hot as fuck.”
Shoe Horny 