Footjob Novels & Stories

Only the knee is successful, it bends and extends when it’s supposed to, like it was built to. The ankle is another story. It constantly gets twisted to the side, but not just a little bit, rather drastically to the right or left. Often reaching the point where it looks much too freaky to not fix, or causes balance issues while on his usual walks through the city. Bo has grown to like the faux limb.

I соugh аt the раіn сhоkіng mу hеаd, аnd trу tо stop thе rеtсhіng іn my mouth аnd mу jеrkіng аrоund on the flооr. Thе bottom оf thе реrѕоn’ѕ boots іѕ close nоw. It’s jеt blасk ѕtіlеttоѕ thаt соuld оnlу bеlоng to оnе person.

John ____ The tiny grasses in that bush had caused a lot of wounds on my feet and its sole. As I ran with all energy I could presently build, my abdomen and chest region held a choking pain. The friction between the asphalt and my feet was an enormous one. Bruises were on my face, arms and shoulders, while wounds mirrored on my feet, legs and hands. But, in all, what was this pain compared to the pain I'd face if anything had to happen to my family?

“Hey, what are you looking at?” As Phoebe saw Alex actually staring hard at her feet, her face was slightly hot. Alex restrained his thoughts and pretended not to care about it as he said, “Oh, I just want to ask something. Do you have an athlete’s foot? You walk around on the ground without wearing your shoes. What should I do if I were to get cross-infection?” In that instant, Phoebe was so angry that her chest started to hurt. She raised her beautiful foot in front of Alex. “Look at it yourself. Do I have an athlete’s foot? If I do, I’ll eat it.”

FAST FORWARD Leigh hobbled along the sidewalk, her pace sluggish and her breathing labored. Each step was accompanied by a twinge of pain shooting up her thigh and leg, causing her to grimace in discomfort. "Ugh! My thigh and leg hurt!" she complained aloud, frustration evident in her voice. She couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for not having enough money for transportation. The realization hit her after she had left the house, leaving her with no choice but to rely on her own two feet.

With teary eyes I shook my head " I think I twist my feet " " Let me check " he tried to touch my feet . " No… don't " I yell in fear . He looked up " don't worry I know what I am doing " his soulful gaze made me believe his words . Nodding my head giving permission . Softly he touched my feet . I close my tear filled eyes Slowly he pressed my feet trying to check something " don't worry it's not fractured " he informed like an expert . " I used to play football , I am used to this type of situation " he answered my unasked question.

I stopped walking and looked down at Towcs, who was standing on my foot and holding onto my ankle so that he didn't have to walk any longer. " What do you mean?" Towcs asked. I interrupted him before he could continue. " I mean that my foot that's wrapped around that black leathery thing called a boot making hard contact with your round grey fluffy muscles that are keeping your legs connected called a bum. Now, which part of that do you not understand?" I asked him in a very annoyed tone. " This is Sheepie Abuse!" Towcs complains as he finally gets off me and starts walking. " Why can you be less annoying like Repeater? At least he doesn't complain every 3 seconds or clings onto people. "

Waylon was shifting his shoulder as he tried not to wince in the pain. “We need to cross the tree.” I said as more of a statement than a question. “Carefully.” Waylon answered in a strained voice. Using my hands to help me stand, I was able to get my feet under me. We could hear the tree start to crack as I stood up. Slowly, my shaky feet found a position where it felt stable. Taking a deep breath, my right foot raised up slightly causing my left foot to completely fall through the tree. The tree buckled under my weight as Waylon and I froze. Something wet was running down my leg.

I kept hitting the tree with my foot. 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰 Like and comment for next episode.

I соugh аt the раіn сhоkіng mу hеаd, аnd trу tо stop thе rеtсhіng іn my mouth аnd mу jеrkіng аrоund on the flооr. Thе bottom оf thе реrѕоn’ѕ boots іѕ close nоw. It’s jеt blасk ѕtіlеttоѕ thаt соuld оnlу bеlоng to оnе person.