Big Big Love

By Foxxi Smolder

Clinton Campbell isn't really that interested in Bigfoot - he just joined the hunting lodge to make friends, maybe take a few photos. But when he's left behind by his fellow hunters and accidentally stumbles upon the Sasquatch himself, he'll find out just how friendly the hairy, gargantuan cryptid can be!

To Clinton's surprise, Bigfoot isn't as scary as the legends make him out to be. In fact, he's a gentle giant named Chiye, and he's happy to let Clinton get close to him... very close indeed. Now Clinton has a chance to study the cryptid in the flesh, and see if the old adage about "men with big feet" is true!

Read on for 7000 words of sweaty Sasquatch smut!

Excerpt:

He continued to knead and roll first one of Chiye's feet, then the other, watching his newfound discovery all the while. Not only did Chiye seem fully blissed out, but the act of massaging - he almost thought the word "worshipping" - these colossal feet was having an effect on Clinton as well. For one, the fire in his belly had been banked into an inferno, and the heat was spreading through him, making his hands sweaty and his face flushed. For another - and if he hadn't been so attentive to Chiye, he would have noticed this earlier and shrank away in shame - he was getting hard. Painfully so.

Clinton's methodical mind noted this and was surprisingly calm about it. Somehow, this far from civilization (or the rowdy men who tried to recreate their noisy homes in a pristine forest), the things that would normally have caused him burning embarrassment seemed totally insignificant.

Or perhaps not totally, because now that he was aware of what the heat in his body and the growing weight at his groin were doing to him, he knew exactly what he wanted to do next.

Ever so slowly, Clinton hefted Chiye's left foot in his hands, raising it up to the level of his mouth. It took no little effort for him to hold it up - big feet were heavy, in addition to being long and wide. Chiye's eyes blinked open as he came out of his daze. He seemed about to open his mouth and ask Clinton what he was doing, so Clinton decided to show him instead.

He opened his mouth and covered Chiye's big toe with it, then began to suck.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Foxxi Smolder
• Release date: Oct 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463021323

Foxxi Smolder

Confirmed bacheloress by day and scribbler of indecent material by night, Foxxi Smolder has been writing sweet, smutty short stories since 2015. She is dedicated to bringing her readers works that embrace kink without sacrificing sex positivity or a sense of humor. When not writing, she enjoys tending her rose garden, doing Tarot readings for her cats, and adding to her collection of fainting couches.

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Big Big Love

© 2019 Foxxi Smolder

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Big Big Love

By Foxxi Smolder

The firs of the Pacific Northwest were called grand for a reason: they towered over huge swathes of land like benevolent lords, deigning to scatter largesse to their subjects below all year round. Squirrels made their homes in the lower branches, elk fed on their dry pine needles and young seedlings, and bears sharpened their claws against their bark. Right now, a youngish human was bracing himself against just this type of fir trunk, using it as support while he tried to remove the lens cap from his camera one-handed. He succeeded, only to have it drop to the ground and go rolling; he spent another five minutes looking for it amidst the dead leaves and other debris on the forest floor, squinting through thin wire-rimmed glasses as he did so.

The human's name was Clinton Campbell, and it was clear he didn't belong in the forest. Clinton didn't belong much of anywhere, really - he was habitually uncomfortable, tended to walk around looking hunched and hunted as if someone, at any moment, was about to throw a wadded-up paper ball at him. This was a strange look for him, since appearance-wise nothing about Clinton was particularly objectionable. Quite the opposite: he was slender but not stick-thin, showing well-proportioned arms and lightly muscled chest, his face was clean-shaven and his hair tousled but not greasy or over-styled. Even with the glasses, he could easily be compared to a young Ryan Phillipe by a kindly observer. 

But therein lay the problem: Clinton hated to be observed, and the people who did so