The Therapist with Giant Feet Ch. 02

I walked into the waiting room and the first thing that caught my eye was a basket full of shoes underneath a little sign that read, "bare feet welcome." Inside was a well-worn, leather sandal with toe prints that seemed quite round and lump. They were a size 6, but looked pretty wide. Then, I noticed a chubby Latina woman in her late twenties with the cutest, plumpest toes I had ever seen in my life. She had kind of a bitchy, "I don't care if my feet stink" attitude. I loved it. She had on the tightest pair of faded jeans that wrapped down and around her ankles, forming a beautiful line between blue denim, and tan feet. She was scrolling through her phone chewing gum loudly, curling and uncurling her toes like she fucking owned the place.

Then she propped up her feet. I was hard. Instantly. Big, warm, soft, meaty, wrinkly latina soles were staring at me. How long had she had those sandals on? Did she know how irresistible her feet looked?

Does she let her feet get stinky by wearing her shoes without socks?

How badly I wanted to sniff and lick her soles was not even explainable. I don't care if she treats me like shit. I would do anything for those feet. Let her bitch and complain to me when she comes home from work. Kicking off a pair of sweat-drenched tennis shoes. "I'm a boss bitch, we don't wear socks. Get used to the stink, loser." I don't even want to get used to the smell, I want that pungent aroma to surprise me every time she wears a different pair of shoes, every night she's been out dancing drunk with friends, filling up her pumps with sweat. I would even let her fuck other guys as long as she gave me those feeeeeet."

Then came the familiar sound of pumps walking down the hall.

...

"You did what?"

"They were just laying there on the floor, so warm, so stinky. I didn't know she was right behind me. And it was such a quick whiff, I thought nobody would notice."

"You didn't think anyone would notice a sick foot freak underneath his coworkers desk sniffing out her running shoes like a fucking dog?"

"She had been talking about them all day. How she needs to take a break from running because her feet are starting to get calloused. I lost it when she said her feet get really soft in the winter when its too cold to run. But its summer so I knew those shoes were hot, fresh and stinky. I was was trying to forget about it, but when I ran into her in the break room, I overheard her talking about how she stopped wearing socks on her runs, and instead is just wrapping up her feet."

"Running with no socks on? Hard to resist."

"I could basically see the shoes steaming when I walked over."

"How was the smell?"

"Gross. At first. And then, and then. Something changed, all of a sudden, I wanted them to be stinkier. I wanted her shoes to reeek. And they were already sour and musty. But I wanted more. I wanted the pumps she changed into. I wanted to inhale the intoxicating aroma of stinky running shoes mixed with worn, sweaty pumps. I wanted to get in between, really in between her toes and take a deep whiff as she spreads them, releasing that foul stench into the air."

"It seems like these big feet have created quite the foot fiend. You really crave feet. Well, then. Did you get my flip flops?" Her pumps that were dangling, were no longer dangling. They were off. "Hand them over." She started putting on her flip flops, wiggling her toes, studying the way they dangle and slide on so easily with just the right toe point. "The goal was never to cure you."

"What"

The sound of her giant flip flops slapping against her soles were filling the room with a sexual tension that was making me want her toes in my mouth.

"Don't you see your condition is getting worse?" She kick off her flip flop and bent her long legs towards her face so that her foot was right at face-level. Then she went in for a sniff. She wrinkled her nose and scrunched her toes. I couldn't tell if she liked the smell or not. Until her big toe slipped in her mouth. "You've never seen a therapist give her own toes a fucking blowjob?"

I shook my head.

"Well I can't clean these big sweaty feet myself. You're gonna help. Lick. My. Fucking. Filthy. Giant. Feet. My husband haaates smelly feet. And I haven't gotten fucked in a while now."

I couldn't believe it.

"And you better get started. Because, if they're clean enough, I might let you clean them while I'm getting fucked."

"Please."

"And don't expect me to be curling my toes all the time like some cheap foot fetish porn star. You have to really please me. The cleaner my feet are, the harder my husband can probably fuck me. And when he fucks me good... my soles scrunch up so much... they stay wrinkly for days.

I put my tongue to her salty, oily, greasy, sweaty toes, and got to work.

(Thank you again for reading! Any comments or feedback is appreciated. Let me know if there's any interest for another part. I hope you enjoyed the story!)