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Rated: 13+ · Interactive · Adult · #2266153
Out of school, foot fetish encounter
This choice: Marge; Next Door Neighbor  •  Go Back...
Chapter #3

Marge Older Neighbor

    by: OrangePoet Author IconMail Icon
Your next door neighbor of the apartment was an older jaded woman who seemed stuck in the past. All her appliances were from a time that things lasted and her clothes were the same from prior decades.

You struck up a deal to smell her socks or be her footstool while she relaxed. Being a tomboy all her life, Marge wasn't afraid of getting dirty or applying some elbow grease.

Aside from school, you were around all the time.

Once Marge got home, she'd give your door a specific knock combination that'd tell you to head on over.

Your routine was to enter her house and kneel to peel off her boots. Marge kept in excellent shape and her wit could cut through a tree.

"Hoo hoo my favorite part of the day. Whew can't wait to unwind". She toggled the TV with her remote to a rerun of an old sitcom as you began taking off the laces of her shoes.

"Guess we're getting to your favorite part of the day" she let out a laugh before sipping her ice tea.

Taking off the boot, you place your nose in the insole and inhale.

"Good boy" Marge said swirling her drink.

Repeating the process for the other boot, you then place them aside.

You begin massaging her socked feet and placing lots of pressure on her hotspots like the ball of her foot.

Getting tired of massaging her feet, you move the leg rest extension and lay on your back. Picking up her soles your place them on your face as you smell them.

Marge gets more comfy in her chair and says, "oh yeah you enjoy this part. C'mon footboy really smell those soles".

You fought against gravity as your pressed your nose hard into her feet and inhaled.

In the dimly lit apartment Marge had her young neighbor clamoring for her feet, dreaming every second of having her feet.

For reference Marge was a former collegiate athlete, specializing in women's basketball before any WNBA or Caitlin Clarke. She was tall, around 6'1 and you had to look up to make eye contact. Her shoe size had to be anywhere from 11-13 as her toes often went past your head.

You peeled off the socks and tossed them by her boots.

You ask if you can lick her feet and she tells you to kiss them first.

After a few pecks on her sole, a sudden pop occurs.

DARKNESS

"Seems like the power went out. Damn c'mon off my feet, I need em to walk right now".

You worriedly arch up and Marge went to check her breakers. Upon trying to restart them, that didn't do the trick.

Marge again commands you to stay put as she kicked on her old sandals to find the manager.
(Fun Fact she let you lick the insoles relatively clean earlier in the month. The streaks of your saliva could still be seen)

Sitting patiently yet anxious in the darkness, you began swinging your arms around to find something.

Alas you found her boots from earlier and began to smell them while she was away.

Hearing the door began to unlock, everything was obscured but Marge spoke to you.

"Seems like there's been a blackout on our block. There goes my favorite program. Hmm come to think of it, I do have some reading I can catch up on. Help me find my matches".

Springing into action, you both clatter around but eventually find some candles and she finds her book.

Upon lighting the candle and getting comfy in her chair she says, "Oh yeah, this works... this works nicely".

Marge sifted into her bookmark and held the book close to the light.

Using the extension as a back rest you placed your body in between that and Marge.

Feeling out the darkness with her feet, Marge comes across your thigh. She runs the ball of her foot up your thigh, causing you to spasm, until resting it on your groin.

Your breathing goes heavy as you ask Marge if she could do her dominant talk.

"You'd like that wouldn't you. Boy are you lucky you didn't grow up in my time. Sissy like you would've been easy pickings. Although I can't say you're really doing much better now. You spend your free time groveling to see my feet".

You love it. With your hands you begin stroking yourself with her foot. You profess how you're a loser simp that should be licking her feet.

"See your generation has no initiative. Yes lick my foot. I can't believe I have to tell you".

Marge grants you her other sole which you gladly begin licking.

In between licks, you ask her if she ever would have guessed that she'd have someone younger dedicated to licking her feet.

"Can't lie, it's a really nice feeling. Were you ever expecting to be licking my feet during a blackout".

You both share a laugh.

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