Feet Model Novels & Stories

Honey was rubbing her sister's back. I was enough of a pervert to look from Heather's bare feet up to her perfect ass, clad only in a pair of black panties. Heather was my athlete. She had inherited my height, and stood at five-eight, with strong legs and a ripped midsection from playing endless games of soccer for her high school team. Despite her lack of nearly all unnecessary fat, Heather also had a perfect set of c-cup breasts that absolutely defied gravity. Honey was the older sister, but Heather had more of a woman's body. A body that a lot of playboy models would have been jealous of.

Katrina asks, hopeful Simone was ready to teach her. Tiffany had already interviewed a few ladies who thought they could try a modelling career who isn’t quite the minimum height of 5 foot 10. They had anticipated women of all heights would try to become a model because of Simone. Several of them will fail as they won’t be able to master walking in a bodysuit. To get them to start; Simone and Tiffany ordered special shoes made with a wedged heel.

Hunter calls me fat, and my agent says I don't eat enough. Freddie, my agent, nicknamed Red by his lady friends, is understanding of my thyroid issues. Hunter thinks it's a made-up issue. A scar on my neck could ruin my life and my model career. The magazine that sponsors me as their poster child is called Model Perfect. They get my image, and I get their merchandise. They sponsor my college fund and own me. I'm only in it for the college money.

I would have honestly accepted it. "Found it," I sighed as I finally found the business card I was fishing for so long in my purse. It was the card that the camera man at the charity event offered me before I went inside the hall. I remembered that the company he was working for wanted a model. Well I'm 5 feet 5 inches. It's not too tall for a model but I look taller with heels so I guess it could work. And I think I was just a little above average looking. Well the people say otherwise. I've got comments on my beauty which are very hard to believe for some reason. I plopped down on the couch with my phone in my hand. Punching in the company's number, I gave it a call.

Because they belonged to Josie, the hot helpful subject of his photo session, not his sister, no, not that girl. 'Josie the model' was moaning above him, moving side to side to let him pay equal attention to each perfect breast, her ass swaying seductively behind her. She eased up, and with a sly smile, mouthed the words "My turn." She slid back down the bed, letting her now wet nipples caress his body on the way. Josie kept going until she settled down on her stomach between his legs. She bent her legs at the knees, and crossed them at the ankles, showing off the smooth soles of her feet, and tips of her toes which she'd curled inward.

Others are eating and drinking. We walk to the green couch on the corner and take a seat. I swiftly take off my silver heels and let my feet breathe. How the fùck do people walk in heels for hours? My feet were starting to break. Maybe it's the baby. Maybe my feet are fat and they can't fit in these tiny heels anymore. Screw pregnancy. That's when Stella approaches me. She's dressed in a stunning black dress that hugs her curves perfectly. She has the kind of body that women spend thousands of dollars to get. If she wasn't a fashion designer, she would easily be a supermodel.

The flat that she had shared with two girlfriends since she completed university was perfect. She had not even made drastic changes to her physical appearance, at five foot ten in bare feet she would have stood out in a crowd, even without the flaming red hair that fell half way down her back or the freckles that covered almost every single inch of her body. Of course, the break-up had motivated her to join the gym and six months later her curvy figure had never been in better shape. She might not make Vogue, but she could have done well moonlighting as a plus size model.

I don't even know where I stand with him anymore. I sighed and looked at myself in the mirror. I could clearly see that I’m not as sexy as Madison; I’m tall but voluptuous. I don't really gain weight even though I eat a lot, and because of my work on the farm, I’ve managed to maintain this kind of body. I touched my large breasts and then my curvy backside. Madison has these, too, but hers are smaller. Now I'm worried if features like this are okay for a model. I do have a figure, but I'm not as slender as their incredibly thin childhood friend. Does she even eat anything? Do I need to be as skinny as her?

Miss Cindy shouted on, I believe, the electrical staff. “And, Cherry, can you ramp your final walk, please?” she commanded. I quickly did what she said. I was not afraid to walk in a pose. My legs no longer hurt because my feet had become used to wearing stilettos. I walk as if I were a model. Every glance I made appears to elicit a lot of emotion from my face.

Lee said as he reached out and pulled my panties to the side. I heard the camera click, and I giggled as I pushed Lee's hand away and held my panties to the side myself. Sitting on Lee's bed with my tits out and my legs spread, I felt so glamorous. I felt just like a real model. I had dreams of making it big modelling. My fingers trembled as I pulled my neat slit apart with two fingers. I shook my blonde hair over my shoulders, Lee pulled my top down so my big 34DD breasts sprang out of my bra.