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I pressed my soles into the damp earth, watching the rich, dark mud squelching between my toes, as I coated them in a thick, satisfying film. Daddy liked it when I committed, so I deliberately sought out the wettest patches and the places where fallen leaves were decaying into a rich, dark compost.
The mud was cool, but quickly warmed from my body heat. It slithered up my ankles, caking my arches, filling the spaces between my toes. I wiggled them, feeling the grittiness as the earthy smell rose to meet me. Perfect. When I finally padded back into the living room, leaving a trail of brown smudges on the polished wood, Daddy was waiting. He was in his usual armchair, a book open on his lap.
The Mud Between My Toes
A slow smile, the kind that never quite reached his eyes but sent a shiver down my spine, spread across his face. “There’s my girl,” he murmured. Then, Mommy’s voice, sliced through the air. “Amber! What have you done to your feet? And the floor! Are you absolutely incapable of decency?”
I didn’t turn to look at her. Daddy didn’t even glance her way, either. His gaze was locked on my filthy feet. He set his book aside and reached out. He gently took my ankle, pulling me closer until I was kneeling, my grimy soles suspended inches from his face.
Mommy gasped, noticeably angry at both of us. “Don’t you dare! Not this again, Richard! It’s disgusting!” Daddy’s thumb brushed over my mud-caked arch, a feather-light touch that sent goosebumps racing up my leg. His eyes, dark and intense, met mine. There was no judgment there, only a deep, possessive affection. He lifted one foot, bringing it closer.
His warm, wet tongue stroked across my big toe, teasing the mud away. A shiver, not of disgust but of profound pleasure, ran through me. Each lick was slow, methodical, cleaning a path through the grime. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation, on the warmth spreading through my body. Mmmm…
I could hear Mommy raging, her voice rising in pitch, listing all my faults, his faults, the unforgivable nature of what was happening. But it was just background noise, a distant buzz. Daddy just kept going, his lips moving over my foot, his breath warm on my skin. He licked away the mud, the grit, the bits of leaf, until my skin was gleaming. He took his time, savouring each part of my foot, occasionally meeting my gaze with a look that promised endless devotion.
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