

Double The Stink - What a day. Maleka and I have been out shopping all day—hours of walking around, sweating, making sure our feet got extra filthy just for you. And what were we wearing? Our old, beat-up Converse. No socks, of course. Bare feet inside the whole time, soaking up sweat, getting hotter, stickier, stinkier with every single step we took. And now? We’re finally home, kicking them off—and the smell is intense. Hot, humid, absolutely reeking of superiority. Exactly what you’ve been craving, you disgusting little foot freak.
We stretch out and shove our filthy soles right in your face. Wrinkled, damp, toes spread wide, little bits of lint and dirt stuck all over. It’s gross. And you love it. You’re so weak for our dirty, sweaty feet that you don’t even care how nasty they are—you just need them. And we’re going to make you prove it. Start licking, loser. Every inch. Between the toes, under the arches—clean them. And don’t even think about touching yourself yet. That’s not your choice. That’s ours.
You’re going to stroke when we tell you to. Slow, desperate, aching while you lap up the taste of two superior, sweaty goddesses. Your one job? Worship harder. Savor every single drop of that dirty foot sweat like it’s your favorite thing in the world—because it is.
Dirty, sweaty, used Converse. No socks. Just pure pleasure, and humiliation… And two bratty girls who know they own you, of course.
We love turning you into a mess.