Those three-packs of socks aren’t mispackaged, dude. They’re meant for guys that need three socks, if you get what I mean. (Or guys that, deep down, want to need three socks.)
After a couple hours of Brad showing me his three new legs and three beautifully white-socked size 13s, I went home to share my new enthusiasm with Brian. Well when I got home, I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised that Brian had taken my sudden departure as a rejection of his gift of the three-pack, and since the three-pack represented his attraction to me and love for me, he took it as a rejection of his love, and he had taken it pretty hard.
It was out of character for him, since he didn't have any vices, but when I got home I was surprised when Brian met me at the door with a huge swaying hardon, drunk and teary-eyed, leaning out the door off-balance, with his arms hidden inside behind the half-open door and the door jamb. His physical beauty struck me, especially when I noticed the change, half-hidden by the wobbling door as he leaned his sweet drunken body against it, swaying. His beautiful lips numbly tried to form the words, his tongue heavy and slurred as his sweet, tear-reddened eyes tried to focus on me.
“I wwwentt firs' for youu,” he said, his voice oddly musical in his drunken state, his highlighted hair disheveled and hanging down over his tear-reddened eyes, and his beautiful naked long-legged drunken body swaying and pitching this way and that on its three big new clumsy bare feet.
“See?” he said, sounding stupid as his drunken three-legged body swayed against the half-open door and the door jamb, his three beautiful feet unsure of themselves, stepping on themselves or clumsily knocking into the door.
“Three of'em,” he said, blinking drunkenly, trying to raise a couple of his three beautiful large drunken feet to show me and almost falling over as a result. His voice was still sexy, maybe even sexier since it was so slow and stupid sounding, although he was drunkenly sincere. And he was so beautiful and handsome, and he was the kind of guy who becomes strangely more erotic and oddly sexier when he's drunk, even more so with three legs.
“Three legs, long legs, three long legs for you,” Brian's sweet lips numbly said in that slurred, oddly melodic drunken voice.
“'N I got three of my big bare feet, big bare feet, all three of'em, I put on my three-pack and grew'em for you 'cause you'd like me this way, with three legs and three feet, 'cause you like my legs and my bare feet, so I grew three of'em for you,” he slurred. He swayed, seeming to forget what he had been talking about, and his eyes tried to focus on the three beautiful bare feet that were stupidly standing on each other, trying to keep his tall, handsome drunk nude body balanced.
I felt bad to have upset him, and I felt horrible that even in his helpless condition he was turning me on and I wanted to make love to his drunken three-legged body in the worst way.
“Brian, you look so sexy like this, and I'd love to see you in the three white socks,” I had to admit. “I love your three legs and the three bare feet you grew for me. Thanks for going first for me.”
His beautiful, drunkenly flushed face swung up heavily to look at me, from where he had been staring at his three beautiful big feet, which obviously aroused him, judging by the size of his stiff penis. His three legs swayed among each other, bringing the last leg into full view from behind the half-open door. I felt my own hardon stiffen to see that Brian had a second huge penis on the other side of his new middle leg, giving him one set of large male genitals between each leg. The second aroused penis had a white sock over it, still gluey with come.
He laughed drunkenly, both penises further enlarging aroused at seeing me aroused by him with two huge penises.
“You weren't here'n'I had to jack off so bad,” he slurred, a drunken smile on his beautiful lips. “'Cept afterwards my hands changed and I couldn't get the sock off my boner an' I couldn't put the other two socks back on any of my three feet. Shhh-hhh, don' tell anyone, but I don’ think you're s'posed to grow three legs when you're drunk,” he said in an unintentionally loud drunken whisper, “'Cause it makes you wristfooted.”
In his drunken forgetfulness he had intended to bring his hand from behind the half-open door and put a finger to his lips. But instead of a finger, it was a big toe, the big toe of a large beautiful white-socked foot, as big as his other three feet, but way out of proportion as it grew from his wrist where his hand used to be.
“See?” he said, bringing his other arm out, with its own beautifully huge white-socked foot hanging heavily from its wrist.
Without bracing his wrist feet against the wall and door as he had been doing all this time, Brian's naked three-legged body toppled drunkenly into my arms. Oh, did he feel good to touch, his beautiful muscular supple body warm and relaxed, drunk in my arms. I kissed his sweet-breathed lips, feeling him swaying and stupid against me, and I could feel his three big naked legs interlaced with both my legs, his two huge boners hot, one giant against each of my legs. His outer naked legs straddled my legs and his new long-muscled naked middle leg snuggled warmly between my legs, my boner hot against it.
He laughed drunkenly, his breath sweet in my face, and brought his white-socked wrist feet up to rest on my chest. They were huge. “Whoops,” he said in a slight rush of warm sweet breath. “I'm wrist footed.” He clumsily bit one of the socks and managed to slide it off his wrist foot. I felt its warmth radiating on my lips and face, so I kissed it. It was beautiful. I got boned thinking of my drunken Brian and his five beautiful big feet, on his three legs and two wrists. I was going to put socks on all five of them, and leave him naked. For now.
His sweet lips kissed mine again, and in a rush of sweet warm breath he said, tears forming in his eyes, “You like me this way, don't you?”
Before he could start to cry, I kissed both his beautiful huge wrist feet again and kissed him on his sweet, drunken, beautiful lips, gave my drunken five-footed Brian a really good kiss.
“I love you this way, Brian.” And I kept my lips on his as I turned and held his big beautiful drunken three legged body next to mine, feeling his three big beautiful drunken feet clumsily trying to walk with me. I kept our lips together, his sweet breath pouring over me, his eyes closed blissfully, as I walked him back to our room, my arm around his beautiful drunken body, my other arm pressing his big wrist feet to me, one of them white-socked and the other still naked. We would make love and then find enough socks for him. And then we would open my three-pack.
“You dance like you have two left feet,” I smiled at Brian as I held him close, slow-dancing with him. He was still getting used to having three feet, and so was I.
He looked down, just to make sure.
“That's because I do have two left feet.” he said. He didn't add the expected “silly” at the end of his sentence, but his look said it.
But I got him back: “Well, you've got three left feet if you count your left wrist foot,” I said, giving the large wrist foot a squeeze. I could feel his giant boners hot against either side of my giant boner. We both grew boners easily, we found, even at the mention of our extra feet, the mention of Brian's wrist feet, or if we touched or squeezed any of our feet or if I did anything with Brian's wrist feet. They were like erogenous zones.
We'd noticed that earlier with all the three-legged guys at the shopping club that day, as they were buying more three-packs of white socks for their friends. Like us, they were turned on all the time, it seemed, flushed and aroused, quite taken with their threesomes of legs as well as of those of every three-legged guy they saw. No doubt because of the novelty of being three-legged, every three-legged guy, including Brian and I, were in our white socks, shoeless, just wearing those sexy white socks that made the three feet that much hotter-looking. It was cool that all the guys who worked at the shopping club were now three-legged as well, also hot in their three white-socked feet.
As we'd stood in the endless checkout line among all the other throngs of three-legged guys, talking with them about being three-footed and about guys we'd like to see three-footed, we'd noticed a few guys who, like Brian, had been drunk at the time they became three-legged. You could tell because they were attractively wrist footed as well, just like Brian. And they all had interesting stories of how they'd been partying or whatever when they'd put on their new three-packs of socks, and of the wildly erotic reactions they and their friends felt when they became not only three-legged but wrist footed as well.
It turned out that Brian was rare for having grown two penises; from talking to the few other guys who'd become double-dicked, it meant that they were basically so in love with a guy that they had no choice but to become double-dicked. But it was cool if you didn't become double dicked, because when you fell in love with a guy you would. Even the thought of that turned me on, and I could see how I could easily become double dicked over Brian. I loved him, with a newly discovered love that he had brought out in me, and I was in a frame of mind where I felt that I could really fall for him any moment. He liked that, and he definitely got his two dicks huge and aroused over me, which turned me on, too.
And when we noticed in the crowd our pal Barefoot Stoner, a friend of ours from the Three and Four Legged Guys club online, he introduced us to his stoner buddies and showed us another surprise—his four bare feet. Never mind that it was a three-pack of white socks, if you were stoned when you put them on, you grew four legs, not three. But he liked that, which was cool because he looked good with four bare feet. Some of his stoner buddies had the double dicks and the wrist feet too, from partying stoned and drunk and being in love with a guy at the same time. Everyone got so boned looking at them that they felt double dicked whether they were or weren't. It was so hot.
And there was were few stoners who kept their four feet bare compared to those that wore four white socks, basically because they were so cool to each other that they shared the three packs among themselves, so three of the four-footed stoners would share four of the three packs to come up with twelve white-socked feet. That's why Barefoot Stoner was the only barefoot one among three of his closest stoner pals, which was cool because he not only liked being barefoot but it made all four guys feel closer to each other to work out their sock sharing that way.
And Brian and I had a feeling that it wouldn't be long until all three of Barefoot Stoner's white-socked pals were double dicked over him as well.
We'd talked about them as we were slow dancing, before we went upstairs to make love. Then he stopped slow dancing, so I did too, wondering why. It was because he had a question to ask me.
“Did you want me four-legged?” Brian asked, gently holding both sides of my neck with the soles of his huge wrist feet and locking my eyes with his.
“Nice of you to ask,” I smiled, turning my face left and right to kiss each of his wrist feet, “but I like you three-legged. Something about you in three white socks.”
“Me, too,” he smiled, and I could feel his three white-socked feet placing themselves against mine. The feel of his three white-socked feet against the three of my white-socked feet made his two hardons huge. It made mine huge, too, and sure enough, I grew a second giant hardon for him right then as we kissed.
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