Irma, the free‑spirited hippie girl, hasn’t washed her feet for days, letting the earthy scent and natural grime build into something intoxicating. Her soles are darkened from barefoot walks, her toes dusted with nature’s filth, and she knows exactly how much you crave it. You kneel, inhaling deeply before your tongue traces every dirty crease. This is raw, unfiltered foot worship where Irma’s unwashed hippie feet become your ultimate devotion.
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