It's only getting worse, the constant fantasies flowing through your head of being underneath my feet. Your tongue and mouth to be used as a rag. Perhaps your face as my front door mat, eagerly waiting for my trampling return each time I'm out and about. You have grown so weak for my feet over the months and even years you've admired them. Every scrunch of my wrickles and wiggling of my toes making you fall harder for them. Desperate for the sub space you sink into when they're propped up in these various positions. Completely under their spell. It truly, is only getting worse. The fantasie... Show more