title gives it all.
On the spring morning of 1958, the flowers were in full bloom and smelled like heaven in the air of passersby. But only one scent brought you in... smelly feet.
NO SMUT YOU WHORES
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Warm rays of sunlight invaded the stained windows of the cottage nestled amongst the rustling trees. The vegetables had only recently begun to poke through their haven beneath their plush dirt home. The small wildlife gathered food for their families unbeknownst to the beautiful activities behind the closed doors. Its long toes wormed their way up your inner thighs, landing against the folds of your pussy — teasing the slick that dripped.
Lewd moans erupted through the once silent room, your own toesies digging into the soft mattress below your seductive form. Your voluptuous asscheeks jiggling as the other foot spanked you repeatedly.
TBC...
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