Forelle, She Deserves a Thanks (2024 Pear Butter foot fetish)


                                            A nice big checkered blanket, an abundance of sandwiches, and a large jug of pear cider. All ingredients for a wonderful time deep in the Pear family’s orchard. But there was one more ingredient, the most important of them all.


                                            Your secret lover, Pear Butter, who had taken you down to such a secluded area of the fields. Hills surrounded the two of you on all sides, a crystal-clear river flowed nearby, and there was nothing but pear trees for miles around. A perfect spot to relax after a hard day’s work.


                                            You had just finished your sandwiches, and were enjoying a glass of pear cider when your poofy-haired lover pulled out her acoustic guitar, crossing her legs.


                                            “Is it that time again? The sweet sounds of the Pears?” you asked.


                                            “Heh, just keepin’ up the skills. Y’all don’t mind, right? Just a couple random notes today?” she said.


                                            “What else could I ask for? I mean, you sneak over to me to help get my work done faster, prepared a whole picnic in secret from your old man, now you’re gonna play me your sweet sounds?”


                                            The pear farmer played with a bit of her hair, blushing and looking down. “C’mon, you, Ah’m just doin’ my best…”


                                            “If that’s you doing your best, I’m the luckiest guy in the world…I’m not just gonna let you do that for nothing. You gotta be exhausted, getting your work done as well as helping do mine,” you said.


                                            “Shucks, Anon, it ain’t a big deal…”


                                            “I insist,” you said, almost a little too quickly. You knew what you had in mind for her. Something that such a hard worker would really enjoy.


                                            She had, after all, been working on her feet all day…You had to DO something about that.


                                            While Pear Butter strummed her sweet guitar, you pushed a couple of plates out of the way so you could sit at her feet, while leaning on the nearby pear tree. She gave you a little knowing smirk and side-eye as you lifted her legs into your lap, saying, “Oh, alright…out here, sugar, though? Already?”


                                            Being the Pear-family music enjoyer that you were, you scoffed at her completely true, 100% founded accusation. “I would never stoop so low! I’m just helping you out after a long day, thanking you for your music, and your assistance, is all,” you replied, pulling off her comfortable boots one at a time.


                                            “Uhhhh-huh,” she mused, pulling each leg back to assist you. There were no socks to speak of covering up her creamy-orange goods. Those bare, shiny toes of hers splayed and flexed, enjoying the cool breeze flowing through them.


                                            Your Pear Butter was one to just kick ‘em off after work, and that was that. No time to lean down to peel off more stuff, she needed to let them breathe.


                                            You grabbed both of them, setting them gently between your legs. Because it was the easiest spot to rub her tired feet from.


                                            Yeah, that was it.


                                            “Then tell me, sugar, what else has ya gettin’ all riled up down there?” she finished.


                                            Your companion tossed away her boots, much more firmly pushing one of her feet between your legs. You gulped, body completely tense at the almost-threatening force of the bottom of her foot.


                                            Pear Butter had the strongest pair of legs you’d ever seen, and she knew how to put them to proper use. The thing straining against the inside of your jeans from the pressure told her all she needed to know.


                                            “Whooee, looks like ya got hungry for a lil’ something more than just givin’ my dogs a thank-you,” Pear giggled. She dragged a single toe down your bulge, collecting the tiniest amount of pre that was leaking through your pants.


                                            “N-nnghh…P-Pear, you can’t…I was gonna…” you stammered. Your thoughts were all over the place. What if you were seen out here? What if Grand Pear thought you were an Apple and peeled you?


                                            Truthfully, no one ever came out to your picnic spot, so there was very little danger of such things. But the thrill of Pear Butter pushing your buttons in such a place was too much for you to handle.


                                            “Y’all know darn well where yer head is at, hun,” Pear said, resting both her soles on your painfully-twitching bulge, “Or BOTH yer heads, Ah should say. Now ya want me to stop?”


                                            She folded her arms, her eyes going half-lidded and seductive. Two of her toes grasped tightly onto your zipper, tugging it downwards with an almost frightening amount of skill. The whole time, her sole dragged its way down your shaft and over your balls.


                                            Even through your garments, the work of her firm, curvy feet was becoming more and more difficult to handle. To resist. You took a deep breath, undoing the button on your jeans. Your companion pulled down your undergarments using her toes, allowing your raging boner to spring free into the air.


                                            “Lookin’ at things, it don’t look like you WANNA go back on this…” Pear continued. Her shining soles pressed up against one another, slowly lowering themselves until your leaking member slipped between them. The warmth of her feet, fresh from her boots, sent a surge of intense pleasure through your body.


                                            “Now, Ah bet ya want to just finish right up, don’tcha? How ‘bout ya keep it down for a spell instead, Ah’ll take care’a ya,” she giggled. Ever so slowly, her soles rubbed together as they pressed inwards onto the sides of your shaft.


                                            Even the lewd, deliberately sluggish pace her feet moved on you was like a religious experience to you. You leaned your head back on the tree while her soles slid towards herself, her strong toes taking their place on your cock.


                                            Both sets steadily applied pressure, as if they were forcing you to leak even more fluids. And leak you did, much of the sticky liquid dripping down her well-worked toes. When Pear was satisfied, her toes moved up and down your length in opposing directions. Left went up, right went down, and vice versa.


                                            “Nnngaahh…P-Pear, I’m gonna…” you groaned. You were already so close. Pear Butter’s feet weren’t just made for kicking, and you were being made acutely aware of that fact every time you met up with her. You were always at her mercy, and you loved every second of it.


                                            Just before you were pushed over the edge, the farmer’s feet halted their hypnotic motions, her toes no longer tightly wrapped around your shaft.


                                            “But I was…I was so close…” you whined, your entire body crying out for her touch.


                                            Pear Butter giggled, standing up on the picnic blanket. She loomed over you with a smug look in her eyes, responding, “Ah know it’s hard to handle a Pear, sugar, but y’all can let it go when Ah say so, y’hear?”


                                            Before you could protest, Pear’s curvy, hard-worked left foot came down between your legs with just the right amount of force to drive you wild, and not enough to cause any pain. The warm, sweating surface of her sole had pinned your member to your body.


                                            You would have let go at that very moment, but in addition to her ability to balance herself, she also knew the exact pace that her foot needed to move at to keep you on edge. So that’s precisely what Pear started doing, never taking her beautiful eyes off your own.


                                            Her firm, yet gentle sole picked up your pre while she ran the surface up and down the underside of your twitching cock. You sharply inhaled each time the sole rested over your tip, your hips bucking while you tried so desperately to keep your cool.


                                            “Almost there, sugar. Ah’m not gonna keep ya too long. Honest,” the farmer said. She playfully wiggled her toes, each one tapping against your tip, before gripping your shaft between two toes and running her foot all the way down to the hilt.


                                            When she sensed you were close once again, her skilled, precum-slickened foot applied just slightly more pressure to your member. Her pace quickened, her sole gliding all the way up, then all the way down your shaft with ease.


                                            “Don’t hold back, hun.”


                                            Her domineering position over you, and the smoothness of her strong, agile foot, proved to be too much for you. At her command, you let out a long, extremely pleased moan, unleashing a truly heavy load of thick seed under her foot.


                                            You could have sworn you blacked out for a moment from all the intense pleasure, and Pear Butter did not stop running her bare foot along your dick through your entire orgasm. When you finally returned to reality from your blissful high, you noticed that you had turned your shirt and jeans into a white-stained disaster.


                                            Pear Butter leaned down to kiss your head, sitting back down on the blanket and crossing her other foot over her splattered sole, coating it in your seed as well. “Hehe, Ah guess y’all had yer fun? Ain’t it nice to take yer time?”


                                            “G-gah, you’re too good a tease for me to handle,” you replied, grinning weakly and pointing at her sticky-looking soles.


                                            The farmer let out a chuckle, pointing out your stained clothes. “Y’all aren’t wrong there, Anon. Guess Ah did go a little too hard on ya there, huh?”


                                            “I…may have to go wash these in the river before we pack up and head back now…” you sheepishly admitted.


                                            Pear Butter placed both of her cum-dripping feet in your lap, picking up her guitar once again. With a knowing smirk, she curled and splayed her perfect toes to draw your attention.


                                            “Who said we’re just gonna get yer rocks off and go back, hun? Ah could still use that thank you ya promised…”


                                            Certainly, you and Pear Butter had nowhere to be for quite some time.