I squashed your breakfast cereal slow and deep under my warm, bare soles—grinding every flaky piece into dust with my high arches and soft heels until it’s soaked in my scent. Every crunchy, foot-flavored bite is full of me. Your dirty little morning treat, made just how you crave it.
Making You Breakfast with My Feet
I squashed your breakfast cereal slow and deep under my warm, bare soles—grinding every flaky piece into dust with my high arches and soft heels until it’s soaked in my scent. Every crunchy, foot-flavored bite is full of me. Your dirty little morning treat, made just how you crave it.
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