Jorund finds himself back at home, nestled comfortably in Florence's lap, the loft sitting on the couch while she is sketching. He is leaning up against her body, finding the loft to be a very comfortable place to rest. While listening to her sketch, the sound of the charcoal meeting with the pages of her book, his mind is playing through today's events.
Florence and Abigail had spent just about the entire day together. The two sisters catching up and swapping stories for hours on end. Jorund was listening to the two of them talk, having nothing better to do. If he wasn't sitting in the pocket which his wife carried him in, he was in her embrace. This isn't necessarily a bad thing; he loves being close to her and she shows him plenty of affection, but one can only remain idle for so long.
Jorund did find some entertainment with the stories that were being swapped. Abigail even reminisced on Florence's childhood, picking up on Jorund's boredom. This included several stories that his mate found to be very embarrassing and she pleaded for her sister to stop. One story he had a difficult time believing was an altercation Florence had gotten into with her mother, she had ruined the meal her mother was preparing by dumping an assortment of seasonings into it. He had to admire her resolve for the punishment she endured but laughed slightly at what got her to back down.
When Florence did have to make a quick run to the bathroom, she left Jorund with her sister. Jorund was quick to notice how gentle she was when compared to her younger sister. While he did appreciate how careful she was with him, it did feel off to him. When the two of them were alone, she confronted the vuln about his lie to Florence, the lie where he said he enjoys Florence's cooking. Instead of lecturing him and forcing him to tell his mate the truth, Abigail thanked him for making the claim and that she appreciates what he is doing for her.
As the day began to come to an end, Abigail had stated her intent to stay at the local inn for the night before catching her next train early in the morning. Florence was quick to invite her sister to stay for the night. Not only would it save her money, but it would allow them to spend more time together. Abigail had politely refused her sister's offer, saying that her home was too small for a large loft such as herself. She did not feel like dealing with the low ceilings and ducking through the doorways of her sister's small house.
"Are you looking forward to meeting my parents tomorrow?"
The sound of Florence's voice pulls Jorund back to the present. He looks up at his wife's smiling face, eager to hear his answer. "Of course," he answers simply. He has never met a loft family, but he can imagine that it wouldn't be that much different from a typical human family. While his father-in-law would be the same size as him, his mother-in-law would tower over him much like Florence does.
"Well, Mumsy is looking forward to meeting you. I have told her all about you in the letter I sent her and she is excited to meet you." Florence smiles, feeling like she is beginning to brag about her mate, and she essentially is. The only thing that would cause her smile to spread ear to ear is if another loft was listening to her. "I told her how sweet you are and how you love to cuddle with me. Most vulns look for some independence and alone time, but not you. You seem to be very happy being near me just waiting for me to show my affection for you."
Jorund is doing his best to listen to his wife, but he catches some movement out the corner of his eyes. He turns his head to look at the source of the motion he picked up on to find a pair of distractions.
Florence had propped her feet up on the coffee table. The movement he had noticed is her curling her toes, a subconscious movement from her excitement. He is only half hearing his wife as his eyes become fixated on what he considers to be a lovely view. A pair of beautiful feet. He is watching how her feet are swaying side to side, only stopping for a moment when she crosses her ankles. He begins to fantasize about the foot massage he will be giving her the next day they both work, the only time when he can be near her feet without her being wise about his love for the female foot.
Florence notices how Jorund is staring at her feet, he isn't being too subtle about it. His head is moving along with her feet, his gaze fixated on them. Wanting to prove herself wrong she crosses her ankles, only to see his eyes following the foot she is moving. This isn't the first time she has caught him looking at her feet. She can't help but feel self-conscious about the stares, and she has been doing her best to dismiss her worried thoughts as just that. But the constant glances and her mate quickly turning his head whenever she would call him is making this feeling hard to ignore. "Jorund," she pulls her feet off the coffee table and places them on the floor. Again she watches as his head follows her peds before he looks up at her, "is there something wrong with my feet? I mean, I catch you looking at them a lot. I know that they are big but that is something I just can't help. I can start wearing shoes if that would please you."
"NO!" Jorund blurts out. All his mind can think of is how footwear would hide her feet and long toes. The opportunities of seeing her wrinkled sole would disappear. It takes him a moment to see the confused look on his wife's face as though she is silently demanding an explanation from him. "What I mean is… That is you don't…" He continues to stutter and stammer, trying to think of some excuse he can give her. With nothing coming to mind and the guilt of lying to her, he sighs in defeat. "There is something I should tell you about myself. I just hope that you will be able to love and accept me.
"What is it?" Florence leans forward, eager to hear her mate's explanation.
"You see, there is nothing wrong with your feet. In fact, the reason I keep staring at them is because..." He pauses for a moment, flashing back to the only other woman who became aware of his fondness for the female foot. The laughter and the ridicule playing in his head as though she is right next to him. "I like your feet." He flinches, expecting to hear the same type of laughter from the woman who is supposed to love him unconditionally.
"You like my feet?" Florence repeats. "What do you mean by that?"
"It means that…" Jorund is finding it difficult to get the words out. His brain telling him what to say but his mouth refuses to articulate the words. He struggles to find his voice. "I find your beautiful feet to be very, very attractive."
"Attractive?" The more she repeats the word in her head the more it all begins to make sense. He is always looking at her feet and the foot massages he has been giving her when her feet are sore from working. It is all coming together. But she still wants to confirm her conclusion, "As in sexually?"
"Yes, sexually. I am sexually attracted to your feet," Jorund confirms. "I know, I know. It's weird to like feet, but I can't help it!" He closes his eyes and turns his head away from Florence, feeling ashamed. Then he feels something beneath his chin, lifting his head up and gently turning it. Opening his eyes he sees that his mate has a single, large finger beneath his chin, turning him so that he is looking her in the face. The smile on her face is warm and loving like it always is when she looks at her vuln.
"Is that all?" Her voice is calm as she speaks. She can see just how upset Jorund is, fearful of her reaction towards his little confession. She has never heard of a vuln having a preference for feet until now; though she has heard some rumors that there are vulns who like women with weight on them. "I don't think it is weird that you like my feet. Odd, yes, but I happen to find it cute."
"Cute?" Jorund feels some relief with Florence's reaction. "You're not going to ridicule and mock me?"
"No." Florence feels somewhat insulted that Jorund would even suggest that she would such a thing. With how he has been hiding this preference of his and how he confessed it, she feels more sympathetic. "What kind of mate would I be if I were to do such a horrid thing to you. So you like feet, my feet. It sounds pretty harmless to me." She props her bare feet back up on the coffee table while cupping her hand around the man she loves and pulls him close to her body.
Jorund feels at ease, Florence's soft body offering a level of comfort that nothing else can. He leans into her, allowing her hand to cradle him. "It is harmless." The movement of her legs catches his attention, prompting him to look down the length of her long legs until he is looking at her feet once again.
Florence can't help but giggle, witnessing Jorund's eyes moving to her feet almost immediately. "Dear, with your preference for my feet, does this mean that you love giving foot massages?"
"Yes," Jorund answers. He nuzzles himself against her body, any fears and worries he had about her discovering his foot fetish have melted away. He feels as though he can talk to her about it without having to worry about her judging him. "Any contact with your beautiful feet would be nice."
"Beautiful?" This is the second time she has heard him use that word to describe her feet. She never would have thought that her feet could be seen as beautiful, or that someone could even see them as attractive. A smile creeps across her face, confidence about her feet which she had never thought possible. "So you would love to be at my feet?"
Jorund nods his head, hoping that Florence can see his answer. "Whenever possible, yes. I would love to massage and caress them, maybe even kiss them."
The idea of having her feet kissed has never crossed the loft's mind, yet the idea of her vuln doing it because he enjoys it does have some appeal to her. "That sounds adorable," she coos.
"You realty have no problems with this?" Jorund asks.
Florence does not give an answer, instead, she closes her fingers around the small man and lifts him. She is unaware of how tight her grip is. She isn't hurting him, but her fingers are squeezing him to where Jorund is experiencing discomfort and having slight difficulty breathing. This grip does not last long as she begins to lean forward so that she can place him on the coffee table, right next to her feet. She smiles when Jorund realizes where he has been placed at, "Indulge yourself," she encourages, "I must admit that I am curious about your little preference."
Jorund looks over at the massive pair of feet, each one longer than he is tall. He slowly walks around the massive pair of peds, staring at his wife's soles. This is not the first time he has been at her feet, having been given multiple opportunities to massage them. But this time is different, Florence is aware of his love for her feet, encouraging him to indulge in his desires. He places both of his hands onto the wall of flesh that is before him. His breathing slows and his movements careful as if he is afraid that his wife could change her mind about this at any given moment. He slides his hands along her soft skin, caressing the object of beauty. He can feel the contours of the shallow wrinkles, which become more pronounced when Florence curls her toes. Jorund continues to stare, wanting to act on an old desire.
He brings his face closer to Florence's sole, still debating on if he should do this. The last time he performed this action he was met with ridicule, insulted for doing such a thing. But Florence said to indulge himself so what he is about to do should be okay, right? He closes his eyes when his nose is less than an inch away, puckering up his lips as he prepares to kiss the sole of the loft who loves him.
Florence can feel Jorund's small hands on the sole of her foot. While he isn't massaging it as he has done in the past, what he is doing still feels nice. She smiles, even curling her toes from what her mate is doing. She can tell that there is some hesitation in his motions. He was so hesitant to tell her about his preference for feet, she can imagine that he is still worried about her showing some form of discomfort or displeasure with what he is doing. She wants to encourage him, so he won't feel ashamed about admiring a part of her body. As she is contemplating what she can do, she feels his lips being pressed against her sole, planting a kiss on it.
Such an act does surprise her, having never thought that anyone would want to kiss her feet. Her smile widens, seeing how Jorund is slowly opening up with his fetish. Just as she is about to open her mouth so that she can offer some positive words, she feels another kiss, then another. There are some slight pauses between each kiss, indicating that each one has a loving nature behind it as opposed to being done out of passion.
She turns her other foot, bending it at the ankle as she goes to stroke her toes on Jorund's head. Her way of showing him that she is okay with what he is doing. Before she can move her foot, she feels his small hands grab onto her second toe, followed by the sensation of another kiss.
Florence wasn't too sure what to make of Jorund's odd preference. She only knew that it was harmless. Now that her mate is at her feet, she is now beginning to understand the nature of his fetish, it is a loving one. She smiles as she keeps her long toes within Jorund's reach, watching as he is kissing each of her toes, which is strangely relaxing for her.
Reaching for her sketchbook and taking her piece of charcoal in hand, she begins to start on a new sketch. For now, none of the lines make any particular sense as to what she could be sketching. Within times the seemingly random lines as shapes will begin to make sense and closely resemble the subject of her sketch. Once it is finished she will carry Jorund to the bedroom where they will enjoy some intimacy.