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Captured Yaki – Finally I Caught My Own Skater Boy
1:08:24
1
19 min. ago
Every day, like clockwork, I'd watch him roll . Yaki, the skater boy with that carefree smile and those beaten-up sneakers. I could almost smell with my imagination his sweaty feet from here. I'd imagine how delicious his feet must be after a long day at the skate park, the scent of his socks, the taste of his skin. I'd been watching him for months, my obsession growing with each passing day.
One scorching afternoon, as I was lost in my usual fantasies, he surprised me. He stopped at my doorstep, his breath ragged, forehead glistening with sweat. "Hey, could I bother you for a glass of water?" he panted, wiping his brow. I could barely contain my excitement. This was my chance.
I invited him in, my heart pounding in my chest. As he gulped down the water, I could feel my powers surging. I'd been preparing for this moment, honing my dark arts. I whispered an incantation under my breath, and as he finished his drink, I could see his eyes glaze over. He was mine now.
I led him to my secret room, his movements jerky and puppet-like under my control. The spell was working perfectly but i need to act quickly before im out of energy. I could feel my cock throbbing with anticipation as I began to bind his wrists, his ankles, his entire body mine to control. I was finally going to have those sweaty feet all to myself.
With no much ropes on hand, I improvised. I grabbed the extra-strong packing tape, sticking his wrists firm against the wall of my room. Yaki, still entranced, could only watch as I began to bind his feet to his own skateboard. His mind, still stuck in his hetero norms, had no clue what I was about to do to him.
There was something almost artistic about how he looked, bound to his own board. The very thing that gave him freedom was now his shackle. I took a moment to admire my work, the way his ankles were secured to the deck, his feet helplessly fastened. It was a beautiful paradox.
I leaned in, slowly untying his laces, his dirty, worn-out sneakers finally revealing their treasure. As I pulled them off, a wave of his scent hit me. It was strong, a pungent mix of sweat and warm shoes, like the locker room after a intense game. But it wasn't repulsive; it was alluring. I could almost taste his youth, his masculinity, his raw energy. His feet, now only covered in his dirty white socks, were finally at my mercy.
I pressed my nose against his socks, inhaling deeply. The smell was overwhelming, just like I'd imagined. The stench of his sweat-soaked feet filled my lungs, a heady mix of his testosterone and the grime of the skate park. I could see the dirt toes marked from hours on the board, embedded into the softening white fabric of his skater socks. It was the scent of his strength, his adrenaline. I rubbed a thumb over his sole, watching as the filthy cotton stretched over his skin. He was finally mine.
