Foot Smelling Stories Novels & Stories

It has been a week since I found those weird bare foot prints. I broke over and called my mom, but she acted like I was insane and just accused me of wanting the neighbor. She said the prints must have been some lady's walk of shame as she left his cabin. Why in the Hell would she could barefoot out this way and into my flowerbed, if it was even a female. It could've been a man. I do not know. I mentioned reporting it and she nearly died laughing. She went on to try to guilt me into going back to Dallas, which I vehemently refused.

I can’t really expect myself to beat a professional assassin give or take. I groaned when I felt both of my feet stings from the murky solution. I don’t know why every single time I entered The Flesh, my boots or shoes would disappear like the gust of wind. I would only relive that encasing sensation on my feet when I left this membraneous region.

I cut him off and left him speechless. I feel sorry I did that. He was an average man who had his mother's nose. He seemed nice, but I had to leave. Big extravagant parties are not my idea of hanging out; dressing up in fancy clothes and saying hi to everyone is exhausting. The worst of it all is wearing these murder heels that have been killing my feet every second I walk. I'm not too fond of heels. If only I could wear boots, everyone would be better. Nestor wasn't the only man who asked me to dance with them. Nestor makes number thirty, and all of them were rejected.

Jayden smiled. "I've gotta go now, bye Jayden." She took the broken heels and walked away with her oversized flip-flops. Stacey went in to meet the stylists; she was surprised as to why Stacey was putting on flip-flops and holding the heels in her hands. "What happened to you, Stacey?" She asked. "The heels got broken," Stacey told the stylist. "What! This shoe is of great quality, maybe it was tampered with." She muttered. "I don't think so, ma'am; who would want to do that? It might just be a coincidence. I don't know how to walk in heels. Maybe it was all my fault." Stacey mumbled.

I then joined her on the couch, sat cross legged and facing her, grabbed her by the ankles, and rested her soles on my thighs. "Oh shit!" I gasped in excitement. "Your soles are fucking amazing!" They looked like a wide pair of size 8 1/2s with a ring of fat around each toe, and the bottom of each toe having a very puffy appearance. Her arches were fairly low. The skin was somewhat dry and flaky, but she seemed to do a great job keeping them clean. I was about to start the worshipping when suddenly I noticed that she was sniffing a lot. "Do you do weed?" she asked.

The bottle he was holding was almost empty and I knew that he wouldn’t even be able to stand up on his feet if I were to run. Plus, I needed to hear what he was talking about Hayden. Thus, I pushed my hair behind my ears and walked out of the door completely. “That’s a good slave. Now, take off my shoes and start with the massage. I am feeling too tired.” Hesitating a little, I walked near him and did as he asked. Keeping one eye on him, I untied the shoelaces and placed the shoes on the floor one after the other. His feet were smelly but so was his entire being. I was horrified to think that I was touching his feet. Trying to distract myself from the growing disgust, I asked him in what I a

he nearly shouted. “Toenails like a wolf?” She guessed with all sincerity. “I had a friend who had horrid looking toenails. Black and crusty. The dead skin on his heels was white and hard. Don’t worry. I won’t look even though it wouldn’t be something I haven’t seen before.” “I have you know I do not have ugly feet – or wolf toenails, thank you,” Blake said, insulted. “Oh. Then . . . what’s the problem?” “Nothing,” he said quickly and began kicking off his shoes. Then he bent down and began to quickly remove his socks. “See?” he said as he pointed to his large, yet clean and ash free feet. “My feet are fine.”

Judging by how pungent it was, it wasn't coming from far away. My stomach grumbled and my eyes darted everywhere hoping to spot where the smell was coming from. In doing so I had managed to walk into a puddle. I shriek softly, feeling my sock now wet and cold from the dirty water. I pulled my feet out, shaking them softly in a feeble way of trying to get out some water. I managed to look like a complete idiot and got stares from the people that were passing by.

DAMN, her feet hurt. GERRI knew better than to hike the three-level mall in four-inch heels. But birthday presents must be bought, torture shoes or not. She’d just wear flip-flops the rest of the week—as long as she wasn’t meeting clients, anyway.

My hot wet ass rubbed on the wet, soggy, warm carpet. I felt the first load fly across my feet which was a very strange indeed. No one has ever cummed on my feet before and it was a strange and exciting sensation. It wasn't long before more loads flew across my naked body. They were hot. They were slimy. There were everywhere. It just seemed to keep coming. Eventually none of my flesh was visible. I looked like a melted snowman. I felt amazing. The store went silent as everyone left.