House mover passionately worships his consumer’s ft (large ft, naked ft, foot worship, czech soles)
House Mover Passionately Worships Client’s Feet
The doorbell rang, jolting Dana from her daydreams in regards to the hunky new home mover. “Coming!” she referred to as, smoothing her skirt and including a contemporary coat of lip gloss. When she opened the door, her jaw dropped on the sight of the person scooping up her belonging and stacking them fastidiously into the transferring truck.
“Good morning, miss. I’m here to help you move,” he mentioned with a stunning grin. His smile pale as he took in her silky white shirt and tight pencil skirt. “I’m sorry, did you not receive my email about today’s dress code?”
Dana bristled, able to snap at being advised the way to gown in her own residence. But one thing about him made her pause. “I’m sorry, I must have missed it,” she replied, biting her decrease lip.
The mover flashed her a profitable smile that despatched shivers down her backbone. “No worries. I’m just concerned for your safety, that’s all. Bulky clothes and high heels are a hazard around moving boxes.”
Dana nodded meekly, coronary heart racing. “I’ll go change…” she murmured, desirous to please the attractive stranger.
She switched into an previous t-shirt and sweatpants, disliking how dowdy she felt. When she trudged again downstairs, the mover was making a stack of containers by the entrance door. His delighted whistle rang in her ears. “Much better! Safety first.”
Instantly, she felt silly for her teenage crush. He was clearly simply devoted to his work, not in the slightest degree enthusiastic about her. Dana plopped down on the sofa to maintain out of his means.
The mover hefted one other armful of books whereas she pouted. What was he, some sort of superhero? His muscle mass strained in opposition to his skinny gray t-shirt, sending a tingle to her core. She scanned down his sculpted chest and arms, skimmed over his belt buckle and calf muscle mass, taking within the sight of his cowboy boots crunching throughout the carpet.
“Ow!” He dropped the field and yanked off his boot, cursing beneath his breath. A gash dotted his instep. “The heel tore right through my sock.”
Dana leapt up, alarmed. “Oh no! Let me get my kit and fix you up.”
As she fussed over him, swabbing his foot with antiseptic, the mover blew out a sluggish breath. “You have… beautiful feet,” he mentioned, learning her painted toes. “Silly question, but… is it okay if I worship them?”
Her coronary heart thudded. No man had ever requested so blatantly. She lifted her chin, making an attempt to seem coy. “Normally I’d say no, but you’ve been so great today. I suppose we can make an exception.”
The mover scooped up her injured foot together with his monumental palms, gently tracing the arch. His callused thumb made little circles on her ankle. “I’m so sorry, Dana. I know you have permission, but I’m half in love with you already…”
Tears of shocked happiness pricked her eyes. “Please, worship me,” she breathed, hardly believing the phrases had been leaving her lips.
She held his reverent gaze as he peppered the bridge of her foot with obsessive kisses. He moaned on the style of her salty pores and skin. His nostril nuzzled her delicate bones whereas he inhaled greedily.
“MSGURRO Klaudní 부모님Boner Plumber Right.”
