TheSolemnOne
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2008
- Messages
- 544
- Points
- 43
Andre had survived the chaos—barely. His boys had done Vegas to the fullest: clubs, strippers, bottle service, and mistakes they'd pretend never happened. Andre wasn’t built for that life. While they passed out in a heap upstairs, Andre slipped away to answer the call from his fiancée, Alexis.
“There’s a limo downstairs,” she said, low and calm. “This part’s just for you.”
The black stretch limo purred at the curb. No questions from the driver—just a silent nod and an open door.
Andre stepped in and paused. The cabin was cool, dim, and quiet—except for one vivid detail. A cushioned surrounding in the back of the limo with only two feet visible—relaxed, clad in quilted purple flats, propped elegantly across from him. Written across the soles of the shoes in playful script:
“Remove Me.”
Andre chuckled and knelt down. The moment he slipped the flats off, a warm, intimate aroma filled the air—faintly sweet, a hint of leather and lotion. Her bare soles were smooth, size 10, with baby-blue polish glinting under the soft light. Her toes wiggled in greeting.
Then the screen above flickered to life. A live feed appeared. A beautiful, brown-skinned woman, 23, smiled from her unseen lounge behind the seat.
Next to her empty shoes sat a tray—Andre's favorite rare bourbon, body oil, feathers, and brushes—and a note in his fiancée’s handwriting:
“See you at the alter in the morning. Have fun tonight!
Love,
Alexis ”
What followed was a blur of indulgence. He massaged those flawless soles, kneaded every inch until her laughter filled the cabin. Then came the teasing—feathers gliding across arches, brushes between her twitching toes. Her giggles turned into gasps. Every time she curled those toes or whispered his name through the speakers, he lost himself further.
All night, he tickled, pampered, worshipped. The limo cruised the Strip, but Andre barely noticed. When the first light of dawn kissed the windows, the driver’s voice came over the intercom.
“We’re back, sir.”
Andre exhaled, staring at her soft soles still resting in his lap.
He smiled.
“Yeah… I am marrying my soulmate. I'm ready."
“There’s a limo downstairs,” she said, low and calm. “This part’s just for you.”
The black stretch limo purred at the curb. No questions from the driver—just a silent nod and an open door.
Andre stepped in and paused. The cabin was cool, dim, and quiet—except for one vivid detail. A cushioned surrounding in the back of the limo with only two feet visible—relaxed, clad in quilted purple flats, propped elegantly across from him. Written across the soles of the shoes in playful script:
“Remove Me.”
Andre chuckled and knelt down. The moment he slipped the flats off, a warm, intimate aroma filled the air—faintly sweet, a hint of leather and lotion. Her bare soles were smooth, size 10, with baby-blue polish glinting under the soft light. Her toes wiggled in greeting.
Then the screen above flickered to life. A live feed appeared. A beautiful, brown-skinned woman, 23, smiled from her unseen lounge behind the seat.
Next to her empty shoes sat a tray—Andre's favorite rare bourbon, body oil, feathers, and brushes—and a note in his fiancée’s handwriting:
“See you at the alter in the morning. Have fun tonight!
Love,
Alexis ”
What followed was a blur of indulgence. He massaged those flawless soles, kneaded every inch until her laughter filled the cabin. Then came the teasing—feathers gliding across arches, brushes between her twitching toes. Her giggles turned into gasps. Every time she curled those toes or whispered his name through the speakers, he lost himself further.
All night, he tickled, pampered, worshipped. The limo cruised the Strip, but Andre barely noticed. When the first light of dawn kissed the windows, the driver’s voice came over the intercom.
“We’re back, sir.”
Andre exhaled, staring at her soft soles still resting in his lap.
He smiled.
“Yeah… I am marrying my soulmate. I'm ready."
