Tiny Feet - Part 03 (Patreon)

The stranger in the steam room is getting a little frisky. Enjoy the full story up to now on AlienEtiquette's site. Password here.

You suppose that it could still be a keychain that you’re looking at, some funny, novelty keychain made from the legs of a plastic doll. This seems more plausible than the alternative: that the man had brought a Barbie into the sauna with him and had sat on it.

"Looks like you’ve got something under that towel that wants out," the man says. The steam feels incredibly soothing on your skin and in your lungs, even more-so than usual. For the first time you notice a subtle scent to it, something plant-like or medicinal, probably eucalyptus or some other essential oil that some people like to drop onto the hot rocks. You take in a deep breath of the hot humidity and enjoy the calming, almost hypnotic sensation that follows.

“He’s been eager to say hello,” you reply, un-tucking the towel around your waist and letting it fall to the side. The man smiles at your nudity and you blush. You’ve been in scenarios like this one before, but they’ve never gone much farther than open flirting and towel-covered boners. A part of you is shocked by your sudden exhibitionism, but the rest of you is glad to be along for the ride, and before you know it your hand is wrapped around your cock.

“Lucky for me he’s not shy,” the man remarks. You stroke yourself, compelled by a sudden and inexplicable compulsion to perform for this total stranger. “I like watching you have a good time,” he adds, as if reading your thoughts. The steam mingles with your sweat and beads down your skin in tingling rivulets of hot and cold. More than just tingling, there’s a pins-and-needles sensation all over your body that’s oddly pleasurable. Your skin feels tight, like you’re being squeezed in a gentle hug.

“Fuck,” you mutter, “this is so hot . . . why is this so hot?”

“You tell me.” The man replies, his smile widening to a grin. You watch him start to touch himself, playfully massaging his balls with his thumb and massaging the soles of one of the tiny exposed feet with his index finger. Through the fog of both the room and your mind you swear that you see the foot push back against the finger, but you know that it must be an illusion of the dim light and poor visibility.