AllFreeNovel
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I figured she’d found me on the page that featured all the new accounts. And maybe she just had a biker fetish. Or maybe she actually remembered me from the meeting. I had no idea.
I just knew that I found myself subscribing back. Even though I didn’t have a foot fetish. I mean, I had nothing against feet. Hers were definitely pretty. And I wouldn’t mind giving them a rub or something like that. But I wasn’t like her other subscribers who were drooling at the thought of her stepping on their faces, or smelling her feet after she went to the gym, or even, yeah, imagining getting jacked off by herfeet.
She had very carefully curated content. Not a single bad shot. Unique ideas. Flawlessly edited videos that featured shit like pouring chocolate sauce over her feet, letting the viewer watch as it dripped all the way down, then smearing it by rubbing her feet together.
And it seemed like her viewers were eating that shit up.
The site didn’t show us exactly what other creators made per month, but judging by her tier system and the number of subscribers she had, I figured she had to be clearing a solid twenty grand a month.
Twenty grand.
For never showinganythingbut her feet.
Hell, it didn’t seem like she ever even took pictures or videos outside of one room in her home.
She had a sweet thing going on.
Admittedly, because I actually knew who she was, I found myself imagining her in her room, bent over her leg, painting her toes, her glasses sliding down her nose little by little over time, her light blonde hair tucked behind her ears.
The whole picture did a lot more for me than simply the image of her feet.
I don’t know why I kept coming back to her. Maybe it was simply because she, like me, seemed like an outlier. Notsomeone who was doing adult content because they got off on it, per se, but because it filled a void. Me, with my ego. Her, I imagined, with a home-based income.
When I saw the little green dot next to her profile picture—of her feet, of course—letting me know she was online now, available to be contacted by certain higher tier members, I found my finger clicking on the chat request button.
Why?
I had no idea.
Just… connection, I guess.
I couldn’t talk about this work with anyone else.
Maybe I was just seeking that outlet.
Though I could have easily contacted her through the creator hub, not the chat feature on her profile.
I wanted to pretend I didn’t know why I did it.
But as soon as the chat box opened up, allowing for communication, I found my finger sliding to another request.
Video chat.
The status bar on that pulsed seemingly endlessly, making me sure she was trying to figure out what to say to me when she denied it.
But then, the little video popped up in the corner.
Showing me only a set of feet set against a pink velvet couch. Toes wiggling.
I remembered only then to unblock the camera on my phone—the one I bought specifically for this site, that I kept at home buried in a drawer when I left.
I had my phone aimed down at my stomach, my abs showing on the screen, then found myself slowly panning down.
What the fuck was I doing?
And why the hell was my cock suddenly straining against my thin gray pajama pants?
Her mic was on, and I could hear some bluesy folk music in the distance, but it didn’t stop me from hearing the way her breath sucked in as my phone camera suddenly shifted down far enough to see the outline of my hard-on on the screen.
