u/milaflesh

Today I ran a full marathon. 26.2 miles. The whole time the only thing that kept me moving through the last ten was the thought of what I was going to do when I got home.

My feet were wrecked by the end. Hot, swollen, aching, still in my socks and shoes when I walked through the door. He was waiting on the couch like last time. I didn’t say anything at first. I just sat down, peeled the shoes off slowly, then the socks, and put both bare feet on the coffee table in front of him.

They looked used. Dirty from the road, red in places, shiny with sweat. I flexed my toes and watched his face change the same way it did before.

“You can start,” I told him. “But you’re going to take your time. I earned this.”

He dropped to his knees. He started with the soles, long slow licks from heel to toe, then focused on the arches where they hurt the most. I kept talking to him in the same soft voice — telling him how many miles these feet had just carried me, how much they ached, how he was going to clean every inch properly. He licked between every toe, sucked them, pressed his mouth into the softest parts like he was trying to apologize for every step I’d taken.

When I finally put one foot against the front of his pants he was already leaking through the fabric. I rubbed slow, deliberate circles with the ball of my foot while he kept worshipping the other one. He didn’t last long. He came hard in his pants again, moaning against my sole, hands gripping my ankle like he needed it to stay upright.

I made him stay there afterward, mouth still on my feet, thanking me for every mile.

I ran 26.2 just for this.
And I’d do it again.

Update from the girl who made him come in his pants from nothing but her feet after a regular run.

Today I ran a full marathon. 26.2 miles. The whole time the only thing that kept me moving through the last ten was the thought of what I was going to do when I got home.

My feet were wrecked by the end. Hot, swollen, aching, still in my socks and shoes when I walked through the door. He was waiting on the couch like last time. I didn’t say anything at first. I just sat down, peeled the shoes off slowly, then the socks, and put both bare feet on the coffee table in front of him.

They looked used. Dirty from the road, red in places, shiny with sweat. I flexed my toes and watched his face change the same way it did before.

“You can start,” I told him. “But you’re going to take your time. I earned this.”

He dropped to his knees. He started with the soles, long slow licks from heel to toe, then focused on the arches where they hurt the most. I kept talking to him in the same soft voice — telling him how many miles these feet had just carried me, how much they ached, how he was going to clean every inch properly. He licked between every toe, sucked them, pressed his mouth into the softest parts like he was trying to apologize for every step I’d taken.

When I finally put one foot against the front of his pants he was already leaking through the fabric. I rubbed slow, deliberate circles with the ball of my foot while he kept worshipping the other one. He didn’t last long. He came hard in his pants again, moaning against my sole, hands gripping my ankle like he needed it to stay upright.

I made him stay there afterward, mouth still on my feet, thanking me for every mile.

I ran 26.2 just for this.
And I’d do it again.

I got home from my river path run still in my socks and running shoes, legs a little tired, feet warm. He was already on the couch. I sat across from him, peeled the shoes off slowly, then the socks, and just left my bare feet on the coffee table. He stared. I flexed my toes once and watched his face change.

I told him he could touch if he asked nicely. He did. He started with light strokes along the arches, then the soles, then took one foot in both hands and started kissing from the heel up to the toes. I kept talking to him the whole time, soft and a little mean, telling him how sweaty they still were from the run and how he was going to clean them properly. He licked between every toe like it was the only thing that mattered.

When I finally pressed the ball of my foot against the front of his shorts he was already hard. I rubbed slow circles while he kept licking the other foot. He came in his pants without me ever touching him with my hands. Just the pressure of my sole and the way I kept flexing my toes against him. I made him thank me after. He did it with my toes still in his mouth.

I’ve been thinking about how easy it was to ruin him with just my feet ever since.