. if she could read my body language somehow? Oh those beautiful, perfectly manicured, tan skinned feet!Finally, she goes to the kitchen. She leaves the room but my girlfriend stays. Whatever, I casually fidgit around the carpet by her shoes and sneak my way to them with my back turned to her. I put my nose to the insole of her black slip on ballerina flat and inhale deeply the sweet pleasant greeting of her warm flowery chamomile like foot musk enhanced by the leather it was preserved in. I looked up over at my girlfriend. She's engulfed in her phone. All clear I dove back in savoring each sniff, knowing ill only be able to get a few in. They smelt sooo good. I heard her coming back so I pick myself up. I call the cat over which works to my advantage bc he shares my fondness of her shoes. So I'm able to lean in and sneak a quick sniff as I play with kitty right near the couch she's sitting on. After a lil while both Tiffany and my gf leave the room and go to the kitchen. They're. We hosted a major air force base and housing was at a premium. Where we ended up was a new double wide trailer. No sooner had I moved all my furniture and appliances in [Marge owned none], we set up housekeepingThe next sign of trouble began with Marge’s demand that she didn’t get married to do housework or cook. Fuck it, I was better cook than her. I soon learned why the girls had the Sunday dinner chores - none of them could cook a meal alone. Mom never taught them. I begged, then demanded she get off her recently married ass and take our clothes to a laundromat and hang them the fuck up when she was done. Damned good thing my work clothes were jeans and a T-shirt or denim shirt when it was colder.Add to this, Marge decided she really wasn’t ‘into’ sex anymore. What? We’d been married less than a month! About this time, we got a call from Marge’s sister Kat. It seems she couldn’t get along with the restrictions her parents set for her, so she was leaving home. Could she stay with.
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