Foot Smelling Stories Novels & Stories

His dick just kept popping back up, ready for more. “Bloody hell, I’m going to cum all over your feet.” Ford warned me. “Do it…” I said, applying even more pressure. “I want to see your cum between my toes.” I am not very good at dirty talk, but it seemed to do the trick. He came, and soon my feet and his stomach were covered in cum. I would have thought my mate, who has some undiagnosed OCD if you ask me, would have a problem being this dirty, but instead he just stared at my feet in awe.

The smell of burnt skin and vomit wafted through the room caking us in the depravity that lay beyond the threshold. “Oh my god the smell.” Emmy gagged urging as she covered her nose and mouth with the back of her hand. I warned her. Stepping into the room I held my hand out for Emmy wanting to guide her through the mess I had already witnessed. But being the stubborn madam she was she pushed past me, those ridiculous shoes she wore clattering on the floor. A groan escaped into the room as the clattering stopped, followed by the ear-splitting shriek of heels sliding on the floor, a body sliding and slamming on the cold bloodied floor.

Lolchan and Ray finished up with my loads, I marched forward with my strong bolt having a mental at the tip. Such shoes were go for wolves who frequent the woods, looking for innocent wolves as a target. And well, this time around the target was not in the wood, but a pack. Haha.. As I walked into the cabin, a strange smell engulf my nose and no other person than Ray would cause that smell. Smell of dirty clothes like drags. Smells like cow dung. “ What is that Smell?” my deep voice made him shivered as if he had just seen a ghost, he knew the question was directed to him, but I didn’t say one more word before he ran to do the needful.

Alex was exhausted. Her feet ached. She just wanted to scream and kick off the shoes. She blamed the four-inch high heels or stilettos or whatever they were called for this because she was unaccustomed to them. Sneakers and slippers were her best friends. When she had no one to talk to during their long dinner party, she dreamt of her thick, fluffy Sylvester the Cat slippers. She dreamt of how warm and cozy and soft they’d be on her feet.

“There's a small creek over there that should attract them.” I lifted my dress to cross the wooden footbridge that connected two grassy areas. “Wait, you changed your shoes,” Freddie said, noticing my footwear. “You think I could have danced in heels?” I said with a laugh. “I can't even walk in heels. Dancing could be deadly.” “Those do look more comfortable,” he agreed. “Heels will be my downfall,” I told him. “I can feel it.” “Death by shoe... sounds terrible,” Freddie agreed with a soft laugh.

Manik sneered while opening the head on his cool chilled bear bottle and sip it illustriously. Nandini couldn't do anything except for crying when his shoes just pressed her soft finger underneath them, pressing them harshly. A loud wail escape from her mouth when she felt the tearing sensation in her palm. She tried to push off his shoe but it was gripping her hand hardly under his feet.

I’m not used to moving the extra weight. Scurrying along the side of it before tucked beneath it. Finding myself getting stuck when my belly wouldn’t quite go under the side. I sucked in a breath and tried to flex my stomach muscles beneath the extra skin to tuck it in. Then roughly scooted sideways. Jerking underneath and sliding sideways some. I stilled. Watching the feet of the footman and hoping he didn’t turn. He seemed oblivious. Shuffling side to side. I caught a horrible, metallic odor that made me wrinkle my nose. I reached up to physically plug it to try to block out the reek that was tainting my over-sensitized nose.

Didn’t Big Foot have a reputation for smelling like a trash can? His hands—paws—whatever you wanted to call them, snaked around me and tossed me over his shoulder like a rag-doll. My survival mode kicked in—better late than never—and I began to swing my limbs wildly. Tears built in my eyes, and my limbs grew tired as I watched the gravel turn to dirt underneath his feet. Where was he taking me? “Please, let me go!” He stalled at my voice. Nerves skittered down my body. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if I’d rather have him stalking away or stopping. “Please,” I whispered into the wind.

I shot her the same look from head to toe, holding my nose as I stepped back. "Lady, please, stay away. Even if you bathe in perfume, you can't hide your old-lady stench. What can you possibly compare to me? I used to be confident in my looks, but now that you say I look like you, I feel like tearing this face off." Before I could even finish my retort, the woman who had been standing there with her arms crossed, calm and composed, suddenly lunged at me, claws out. I sidestepped quickly and, with one smooth motion, kicked her square in the backside, sending her flying to the ground.