Bastian has a surprise for his lover, who does many jobs. One of them is to keep Bastian comfortable when his feet ache.
I heard Bastian park our car in the garage. I was happy. I had waited for him all day, and a good part of the night. It was 3 am.
When he opened the door of the living room, his grey eyes met mine. He was exhausted, but he smiled to me nonetheless. We hugged. He smelled of lavander. He always showered after a long day of work a the racing track. He did it for me. He wanted to be clean and good-smelling when arriving home. He did it despite the showers at the racing track being terribly uncomfortable and cold. I did not mind him being just a little dirty, but after 12 hours of work or driving, it was not exciting to welcome him home stinking and his hands full of grease. Still, he could shower at home, but he did not want to.
“How was the car today?” I asked.
“It's fixed.” he said with pride.
“Come on” I said, inviting him to the sofa.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“No” he said while laying down on the sofa, his white cotton socks on my lap. I smiled with delight. I caressed his feet and massaged them. First with the socks, them I pulled them off. They were clean, he changed them after his shower. His feet were clean and also smelled of lavander, but they were sore and tired. I did massage them for a long time, and he smiled, closing his eyes. He was home at last. He sighed in bliss.
He was soon asleep. He was too heavy for me to carry him upstairs, so I gently asked him if he wanted to go to bed. I pushed him up the stairs, and soon we were in our pajamas rolling under the thick blanket. We were soon asleep, hugging.
I let him sleep longer in the morning. I knew he had to be at the racing track at 10 am, so I woke up at 7 am and I started washing his clothes from the bag he brought home. He would need his racing suit again today. He had a second one but he preferred this one, the red one, so it needed to be clean and dry before he left at 9:30.
Then, while the racing suit was rolling around in soap in the washing machine, I made the 100 sandwiches needed for the team at the racetrack. Then only, I made breakfast. I pressed some orange juice, prepared the toaster and put on the table his favorite morning cereals. I made the coffee like he wanted it. I was myself in my briefs and socks and T-shirt. I felt my penis going hard thinking about the sight of Bastian when he would come downstairs. I knew he would be barefoot. This was the first light of my day: waiting for Bastian coming barefoot to the breakfast table, in his pajamas, with his sleepy eyes. And as always, he did.
He paused at the kitchen door and exposed his feet for me, but without being too obvious. Then he went to my back and started massaging my elbows. I shrugged in pleasure.
“What do you like?” he asked me. I could not see his face, but I knew he got a smirk.
“You...” I started.
“You don't just like me right?”
“I love you.”
“Good”, he said while massaging harder.
“And what else do you love?”
“Your feet.” I said. Despite repeating this ritual every morning, I still felt ashamed.
“And how do you like them?”
“Bare.” I had to admit as always.
“No, also when you wear socks.”
“Which socks?” he continued, unsatisfied.
“The white tennis socks, and the blue socks for trekking.”
“Well, well....” he said in an impatient tone. “But the socks are not enough right? What do you need more?”
I did not answer. He knew the answer, and I did not want to speak it aloud.
“Right.” he said, surrendering.
He stopped massaging my elbows and sat on the table, his feet on my lap.
“You may. Go ahead.”
I stripped out of my briefs and I started jerking off, while kissing and touching his bare feet. It did not last long and I came hard. Then he sat at the table and I crawled under the table, kneeling in front of him. He freed his cock for me to suck on. I grasped his shaft and unceremoniously I put the head in my mouth. He lasted a little longer than me, but not so long. I swallowed every rope of jizz he sent into my mouth.
I wiped his feet and the floor with a towel. We hid our softening penises under our underpants and tried to settle as if nothing had just happened. Be despite doing this nearly every day we were a little ashamed as always, and we looked down for a few minutes. I served orange juice and coffee for the both of us.
Then during breakfast we discussed about the day of work ahead. I was in charge of the meals of the whole team, and the administrative paperwork. It was a painful and difficult work, but Bastian needed someone he could trust for these tasks. Today the second free practice session would take place. I was happy to spend many of my days with him at his workplace. Sometimes it was too hard and I wished to be just home with him or going on holiday, but his work was very demanding and often we spent a month with barely two days at home. The working hours were horrendous. It was not exceptional for me to be at the racetrack with him at 1 am in the morning, after starting work at 8 am, and crying in a corner, exhausted and longing to go home.
I dried his suit and prepared everything we needed for the day. I finished loading the car and we departed.
I had finished putting the 100 sandwiches in the frigde at the garage when they ambushed me.
All the team was there singing for ME. There was a pie and I was so happy.
“Meet Peter” said Bastian. Peter was a pilot like Bastian. He was only 20 years old and looked motivated.
“Peter will replace me for this race.” Bastian said. It's time we have some vacation together. He kissed me and hugged me, and I cried in his arms in delight.
“Where?” I asked him when driving home. I could still not believe we had a full week-end for ourselves. When he told me it was a week, I nearly fainted.
“We got a week. I know you like trekking in the mountains, right?”
“I like looking at YOU trekking in the mountains.” I replied.
“With my blue trekking socks?”
“Yes, with your blue trekking socks.” I replied.
“Let see how dirty they can get there.” he concluded.