House Arrest: Like a Night at the Gala! 🎩

No you can't fucking touch! Na-A! No. Fuck off! Like, I literally don't know where all the camera's that are monitoring you're incarceration here with me are hidden, so even IF I wanted to let you worship my perfect fucking feet - My hot, sweaty soles, legit STILL moist from those really warm, fluffy Santa socks... I simply couldn't 🤷🏼‍♀️

You know, I think I have an idea that might help tho...

My husband 24/7 refers to my feet - Especially my soles as works of art, so why don't you just try to channel some of that? Some deep, infatuated appreciation for art!? See all the curves, all the crevices, plump contours and even visual sweat of my soles as like, an art masterpiece or something like he does!?

It might help the torment? Instead of spiralling into a destroyed, hungry, sole-teased mess, in ever blissful agony over your longing to lick my soles, pretend that each and every night at the mercy of my sole teasing is like a night out at a fancy gala!

... Only instead of a ton of paintings, portraits and pieces that you find mostly boring, you're being treated to the art of the sole. My soles. Soles that were made for your foot fetish. 😌

Now shut up, be a good boy and get lost in your private sole paradise gala!

I've also told him to rub your face in it when he comes to join me on the couch, so it's only gonna get worse 😬

xoxo
-Gwen 💋