Familiar Sneakers And Socks

A familiar pair of sneakers and socks approach me from down the corridor. They belong to divine Ms Mukta madam – local goddess and resident of the sink estate. I pay my respects to the superior shoes and socks in a manner befitting a humble, sink-estate footslave – by kissing them.

In amongst the other sink-estate corridor garbage, I await my next esteemed customer

A familiar pair of sneakers and socks - belonging to local resident Ms Mukta madam - stop in front of me

The right sneaker is unceremoniously shoved in front of my menial mouth...

...along with an echoing, female order to kiss it!

I humbly obey. I kiss the dirty toe of the familiar, proffered sneaker

I simultaneously admire the equally familiar plain, grey anklesock that accompanies the sneaker

I particularly admire the elasticated stitching at the top of the sock

It feels as though I am kissing sneakers through the bars of a cage!

The sneakers are switched in front of my confined face

Another SOCK to admire!

'Haha, that's right sockieboy - kiss my feet and admire my socks!'

Ms Mukta's mocking words echo through the empty corridor

She knows me well. She knows that I adore my customers' SOCKS - and especially her SOCKS!

I'm queer like that!

All too soon, she turns her back on me and continues on her way...

...heading back, no doubt, to her nearby flat and the loving, manly arms of her husband

I ponder how I have oftentimes been required to kiss his feet too!

But, for now, it is the residual taste of Ms Mukta's sneaker dirt that lingers on my lowly sink-estate lips!


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