“I’ll pre-warn you, my feet are sweaty”

Oh. Good.

This didn’t bother me. She knew it didn’t bother me. It was said to excite me.

But, in saying this before I removed Her boots… this did present a challenge.

My heart beat rapidly as I reached for the zip. I obviously wanted to get these boots unzipped as quickly as possible – to get to Her feet – whilst also not wanting to seem too desperate, or, more importantly not damaging the boots.

I took a hand and started to slowly unzip.

“Ah!”, She stopped me.

My head was racing, why was I being stopped?

“Two hands!”

Of course.

Using a second hand to help guide the zip did in turn make this process both quicker and easier.

I ran the zip down, past the knee, along the side of Her legs.

Wearing jeans today, I was of course careful and mindful of catching the denim on the zip.

It felt like the zip ran for hours, until eventually it was down to the ankle – and then stopped.

She invited me to then remove the boot. She didn’t need to remind me, two hands – from the heel.

It felt like there was an almighty tug as the boot came off – and there – barefeet – radiating the heat as they wriggled free from the boot.

Wait. She’d been in those boots barefoot.

“Would you like to smell?” she asked.
I didn’t answer but motioned to go across.
“Ah,” She stopped me, “I asked if you would like to smell”

I nodded enthusiastically.

“You may”

I went – my noes to Her feet and took an almighty sniff. The fragrent smell filled my nostrils – it was strong.

I felt that She had made specific effort to get Her feet sweaty.
For me.
For a treat or reward.

That filled me with even more joy than what was about to come next.

Of course, we know what is coming next.

The sweet, sweet taste of Her divine, size 4.5, feet.


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