You always liked to play games. Sometimes sweet. Sometimes spicy.
One day, we stood in the kitchen talking about your kink for tasty toes. You often joked that you would love to set my feet on fire. I thought you were just being a bit creative.
One evening, as we sat in the lounge room, you bring the toaster to me. There’s a weird look on your face. I ask you ever so casually, “What are you doing?”
“I’m understanding the fire of feet…”
“What the…? You better not turn it on! No! Wait! Don’t put my toes in there! I shall kill you!”
“I won’t turn it on, I promise.”
“…You’re so weird…My poor feet. They cry in terror at the thought…”
“I would roast my toes for you baby.”
“No, you won’t.”
Suddenly, his toes are in the toaster.
“Please don’t turn it on!