Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
It was a classic old bungalow style house—rectangular, with a center pitched roof, and a steep overhang of a front porch.
The white fence in the front was missing pickets. And the remaining ones were either crooked, cracked, or rotted.
It was on my list.
So were the loose penny bricks that made up the front step and the base of the porch.
The house itself was a blue color that was in desperate need of a power wash and a fresh coat of paint.
But it had some nice, mature palm trees out front that lent a little shade to it.
The backyard, though, was almost completely overrun with weeds and invasive shit like ardisia, reeds, and leatherleaf. Shit I only recognized because I’d downloaded a fucking app that identified plants for me.
I parked my bike in the driveway, then grabbed some tools out of the dilapidated shed, cursing when a glass snake slithered out as I grabbed the shears and an ax.
I’d been in Florida all my life.
I was no stranger to the wildlife.
But it seemed like my backyard was home to a thousand native and invasive types of reptiles.
I’d found a fucking chameleon chilling on my garbage can one morning.
I was expecting to startle a few dozen anoles and geckos as I started hacking away at the greenery.
I hadn’t expected what had me dropping my fucking ax as something knocked against my shoe.
Not just something.
Something fucking huge.
A damn Burmese python as thick as my fucking thigh.
“Christ,” I hissed, raking a hand through my hair.
These guys had become a serious problem thanks to careless pet owners setting them free. Just as invasive as the iguanas everywhere, but I figured they were worse since they ate fucking anything they came across. Including people’s pets. Iguanas were worse for the crops, but they weren’t going to consume your damn dog.
This fucker was enormous. Likely living unbothered in this yard for years. Unfortunately for him, though, the government wasn’t going to let him continue to live. We even had a number to text to report sightings of them. And while they encouraged citizens to humanely euthanize them when you saw them, it wasn’t something I was willing to do.
Deciding I was done for the day, I reported the sighting, then made my way inside.
After a shower, I decided that content creation wasn’t going to happen today, so I hopped on the site just to interact with subscribers instead.
I wasn’t one of the most popular creators, since, thus far, I didn’t do anything explicit.
I had nothing against that, but it hadn’t ever been something I was interested in. When I danced, yeah, I was as close to naked as you could get without overstepping that line. So… it left very little to the imagination, but no one was seeing my cock on stage or anything like that.
It wasn’t about the thrill of the forbidden for me. At least, I didn’t think that was it.
It was, I guess, the attention.
A drug I’d gotten addicted to at a really young age.
One I was clearly having an issue trying to shake.
Until I could work through that shit, though, having this profile was providing those daily “hits” that I was craving.
After responding to comments and requests, I clicked on her profile.
The girl with the feet.
Siana.
From the meeting.
Oddly, she’d been my first subscriber when I set up my account.
I figured she’d found me on the page that featured all the new accounts. And maybe she just had a biker fetish. Or maybe she actually remembered me from the meeting. I had no idea.
I just knew that I found myself subscribing back. Even though I didn’t have a foot fetish. I mean, I had nothing against feet. Hers were definitely pretty. And I wouldn’t mind giving them a rub or something like that. But I wasn’t like her other subscribers who were drooling at the thought of her stepping on their faces, or smelling her feet after she went to the gym, or even, yeah, imagining getting jacked off by her feet.
She had very carefully curated content. Not a single bad shot. Unique ideas. Flawlessly edited videos that featured shit like pouring chocolate sauce over her feet, letting the viewer watch as it dripped all the way down, then smearing it by rubbing her feet together.
And it seemed like her viewers were eating that shit up.
The site didn’t show us exactly what other creators made per month, but judging by her tier system and the number of subscribers she had, I figured she had to be clearing a solid twenty grand a month.
Twenty grand.
For never showing anything but her feet.
Hell, it didn’t seem like she ever even took pictures or videos outside of one room in her home.
She had a sweet thing going on.
Admittedly, because I actually knew who she was, I found myself imagining her in her room, bent over her leg, painting her toes, her glasses sliding down her nose little by little over time, her light blonde hair tucked behind her ears.