“Well? What do you think, little bro?” Carly questions from above. “How does my shoe taste?”

            “You don’t wear these as much,” you comment, smacking your jaws with the taste of her footwear’s interior still fresh on your breath.

            “They’re kinda uncomfortable, but hot damn, they’re cute on me,” your sister says, resting her chin on a gently closed fist. “Even if they do look more like little girl shoes.”

            “Yes,” you answer resolutely as you crouch inside her Mary Janes.

            Shaking her head as she cracks another smile, your giant sister’s hand suddenly blots out the dorm room’s glow, her fingers dipping back into the shoe to retrieve you.

            “Would you like that, Jackie-poo?” Carly queries as her digits wrap around you. “If your big sissy put on her little girl shoes for you sometime?”

            Not quite sure of how to answer that, you realize that it would be just about nigh-impossible to actually imagine your goddess-keeper-sister as anything resembling “little,” let alone someone younger when she’s had the non-chronological mantle of “big sister” for so long.

            “What am I saying? Of course you would,” she concludes for you. Her firm fingers shift around you, dangling you between the tips as she deposits you over another set. “I need to wear them more often anyway. Make sure there’s a little more of… me in them, you know?”

            “Uh-huh,” you agree, not at all conflicted on this particular point.

            “I want you to be able to know what shoe you’re in with your eyes closed as soon as I put you in, little bro,” Carly says as she at last releases her grip on your, allowing you to plop cautiously into the leathery maw of a navy blue high heel. “Will you try to do that for big sissy?”

            “Yes,” you say.

            “Good,” she relents. “That would make me so happy.”

            “I want to make you happy,” you feed her back. You grasp at the edge of the shoe, meekly making an attempt to poke your head out the top and be seen, rather than sliding down the insole to the tip.

            “Glad to hear it, cutie,” she giggles, raising an eyebrow. Her fingers arch back toward you as she gently presses a fleshy thumb pad into your face, pushing you backward and easily breaking your grip on the top of the footwear. “Now be a good little brother and start licking the inside of sissy’s shoe.”

            “S-Sure!” you cry with some feigned surprise, tumbling awkwardly down the slope of the heel. Plunking against the squishy curve of the inner pointed toe, you greedily set to work lapping on the walls. As is immediately evidenced by the sour flavors accosting your tongue within three licks of the leathery cave, Carly jams her feet into these fashionable towers far more often than the Mary Janes. Moreover, the general lack of stockings while doing so is clear, as the taste is only the purest, acrid zest of Carly’s heel-baked skin grinding continually against the leather.

            At this realization, your mouth can’t help but water in earnest, making it easier to continue sampling. Personally, your preference has always been for whatever puts you in the closest proximity to Carly’s body, especially the twin altars upon which you so often prostrate yourself.

            “Somebody’s hungry, huh?” the girl observes from above, casting a fresh shadow into the heel. “Lap it up, little bro.”

            “Okay,” you gasp, pulling your jaws away from the sloping line only long enough to respond before you plaster your mouth back against the noisome leather.

            “Wait. I wanna make a note on this one, too,” Carly says, perking up as she picks up her cell phone from the carpet, where it’s been lying for the past few minutes. Clicking it on and pulling up her note-taking app, she glances back in your pathetic direction. “Describe how this one smells and tastes, Jackie-poo. I want your exact words.”

            “Sure…” you repeat, wiping your mouth as you slink back onto your haunches. After a moment, Carly’s fingers surround you again for collection. “It’s… it’s, um, stronger than a lot of the others, um… more like… sour, I guess? But… but not a in a bad way, um… but also kind of flatter on the end, like plastic.”

            “Good to know,” Carly mumbles, a savagely self-serving grin creasing her lips as she types. “Stronger than the last ones?”

            “Definitely,” you assert immediately.

            “Uh-huh. Good, good… and the flats?”

            “Maybe a… little bit stronger than the flats. Those are, um… more like… foods or something. I don’t know, they’re… wetter, down… in the… stuff, so like… your skin, mixed with, like, pickle juice or something…”

            “Vinegar,” Carly finishes for you, wrinkling her nose cutely, another grin broadening over her cheeks. “And my skin. Perfect.”

            “I know,” you repeat back in utter earnest.

            Carly stops dead, blinking in the glow of her phone screen and finally setting it down before she casts her gaze back down to you, and the way those baby-blues of hers are flickering like little flames, you can see the lust rising up inside her skull. Her tongue plays against the corner of her lip as she brandishes you in her fingers.

            “You know,” she sighs, cocking her head to the side. “You’re getting to do so much tasting this morning, it’s… kinda making me want a turn, you know?”

            “Uh-huh,” you mumble breathlessly, arrested by the sight of your gigantic sibling’s lips flushing and plumping as her tongue does laps around the rim, slicking it with saliva.

            “After all, it’s just about breakfast time… and you know what they say about breakfast time, right, little bro?”

            “Y-Yeah.”

            “What do they say?” she demands sultrily. She draws her hand in closer toward her face, zeroing in your gaze onto her bulging blue eyes and purring lips. Her tongue slithers out, flicking at your bare chest.

            “T-That it’s the most important meal of the day.”

            “That sounds about right,” she murmurs, licking a single track up the length of your body with such precision it instantly sends a shudder through your marrow like a bolt of lightning. “I gave you a nice tasty breakfast of my shoes… your favorite.”

            “Thank y-you.”

            “You’re welcome, Jackie-poo. But you’re not the only one here who needs to eat, right?”

            “N-No.”

            “We wouldn’t want little ol’ me to go hungry, right?”

            “No, Carly.” Your whole body is aching so hard for those pulsating lips and glistening tongue you can barely hold still in her powerful fingers.

            “Thought so,” she breathes, at last giving in to your obvious loss of willpower. “Try not to cum too fast.”

            Her lips curl open and thrust against your body, just flattening the broadest segment of her dappled tongue against your lower body and charming a squeal of arousal out of you when her phone alarm chirps from the floor.

            “Shit,” she groans, pulling you away from her sopping lips and nearly causing you to burst into tears from the teasing torture of it all. She loosens her grip on her sides, letting you flop down into the center of her palm again as the saliva congeals on your hips. “Class is in like ten minutes. We need to get going.”

            “Okay,” you sigh regretfully, stretching your arms out and willing yourself not to catch blue balls, though it’s probably too late.

            “I think I’m going with the flats today,” she announces, snatching them up with her free hand as she ascends back to her full height of five-eleven with hardly a wobble in balance or shift in her fingers.

            She folds her thumb over your naked torso, which you happily embrace, despite how difficult it is to cool off when your sister’s enormous digit is laid, warm and soft, across your lustful form. Especially given how often she finds excuses to brush the tip of her finger across your spit-moistened crotch without making it look like it was done on purpose, playing gentle whack-a-mole with your all-too-eager dick. It’s a game you can’t imagine you’d ever get tired of.

            As Carly sits on the edge of the bed, donning her shoes with a rustle of her toes and an appealing flex of her mighty calves, which you witness through the crack between her fingers, you watch her still-fiery eyes swiveling between the carpet below and the miniature naked slave clasped in her palm. She brushes a dishwater-blonde lock of hair away from her forehead and lets her smile slide nearer to one cheek.

            “Sorry I got you all worked up for nothing, little bro,” she muses, tickling between your legs again with her thumb. Like the shrunken puppy dog you are, you respond with another spasm of your limbs, hugging her finger in closer to your body until she can feel your heartbeat pounding hopefully through your chest cavity while the rest of her finger squeezes into your family jewels.

            “It’s okay…” you sigh, trying not to sound too pitifully disappointed.

            “Tell you what,” Carly says with a wink, licking her lips again. “We’ll compromise.”

            “Compro-” you mumble back questioningly, but before you can even tease out the full word, Carly’s lips are wrapped back around you, sucking your legs cleanly into her mouth like spaghetti noodles and centering the squirming drill of her flexing tongue onto your crotch. With another moan, you savor the feeling of her juices slopping against your skin, her punching bag-sized muscle continually sponging and bulging at your thighs, coaxing your member to rise within seconds.

            “There…” Carly drawls, pulling you away from her lips again. A strand of crystalline spit dangles from between her mouth and your now-seething junk, but she flicks it away with a pinky finger, her eyes glowing with delight at the sight of you marinating in her morning-breath-scented dampness. She wipes a knuckle over her mouth. “That should get you nice and lubed up.”

            “Oh…” you utter, suddenly putting the pieces together as gravity falls away and Carly’s fingers dip you down toward the carpet, blotting out the light and coolness in one stroke as she deposits you into her flat.

            Her long toes wriggling gleefully at your arrival, Carly peers down at you from the throne of her bed. You can’t help but cower onto your knees, waiting patiently as you gaze up at the tanned goddess above while she taunts you with her toes, splaying and popping at the joints.

            “I think we’ll start with these,” your enormous sister declares, nodding to herself as she examines you with a furrowed brow. “We’ll see how you’re feeling at lunchtime, after I’ve gotten through two classes. Then at noon, we’ll swap you out…”

            “Aww…” you can’t help but mumble.

            “…into a different shoe,” Carly adds quickly, raising an eyebrow at your appetite and smirking again. “We’ll just go off the list. You know, figure out what’ll work best for you for the rest of the afternoon.”

            “Okay.”

            “Try not to get too tired, though. We’ve got more work to do after class.”

            “Oh?”

            “Uh-huh. Especially because now that I’ve got down notes on smell and taste for some of these, we need to find out the rest. All of them. You’re gonna have to try out every single shoe in this closet, little bro,” Carly explains in her drollest tone, a simpering smirk on her lips. “Think you can handle that?”

            “I’ll try,” you joke back, offering her a wink.

            “Cuz you know I won’t be satisfied with, like, a couple words. I want some details.”

            “I know,” you answer. You can’t imagine anyone else in all of human history could ever possibly have enjoyed any form of note-taking as much as you are at this instant. “I can do that.”

            “Good. Because then we’ll have… something else to figure out. That I hope you’ll be able to help me with. And actually, you can start right now,” she says. With a final scrunch of her toes that suggestively nudge at your aching nethers, Carly shoves the rest of her foot into the flat, though there’s just enough of a sliver of light and oxygen remaining that her voice can reach you as well.

            “W-What is it?” you gasp, bowled instantly over as your sister’s mammoth toes set about wrestling you down into the insole of the filthy shoe, bathing you in its sour essence and grinding the grids of her toeprints over your face.

            “We’re gonna find out, mathematically, just how much you love being in each and every one of my shoes,” Carly calls out to you below. Suddenly, with a last pull, she manages to wedge your already bulging erection into the musky crevice of her third and fourth toes. “All you have to do is count and tell me later. Think you can handle your homework, Jackie-poo?”

            “Y-Yes!” you wheeze, shuddering as the girl’s toes expertly squirm around your vulnerable midsection. She rises from the bed and onto the balls of her feet, setting off at a brisk walk for the door after scooping up her backpack and purse from the dresser. All the while, with such care and patience you imagine Carly might’ve made a fine gymnast in another life, she manages to jerk your miniscule form off between her toes without even breaking her gait.

            The pair of you have barely made it halfway down the hall when an especially potent squeeze from Carly’s toes causes you to orgasm valiantly into the fleshy grooves between her toes. A booming chuckle from far above confirms she feels it, and the rapid continuing pumps of her toes suggest she isn’t planning on giving you a break yet, or ever, for that matter.

            This is probably going to be the easiest homework you’ve ever received in your life.