I start to lickher heel and the sole of her feet. She screams. I really begin to lickin earnest. She starts to thrash. I grab hold and hope I don't...getkicked by those very powerful legs. She continues to scream as Icontinue to lick her soles with my forked tongue, I especiallyconcentrate on using my tongue piercings to tickle her feet. Ismeraldayells, "Don't stop, keep it up." I redouble my efforts. Ismy explodesin her largest climax yet. She is bucking up in down like she has. Lost in the moment and losing myself in the beat, it takes me a few moments to sense that someone is behind me. The moment I do, my eyes shoot open and I’m just in time to see a flick of the blonde’s long hair. I look at you and your eyes grow wide with excitement as her hand gently caresses my hip. I watch you for approval, a Kitten is not to play without consent but your eyes tell me all that I need to know. I feel her body move closer against me and that caress at my hip becomes a needful. A few seconds sometimes. I suppose there may have been other girls who would have been on a slower fuse, but it was the fast ones who’d made something happen. Now the signals were here, out of the blue.I shuffled nervously, not able to move without doing something rejective like easing her away, but not ready to do whatever this inexperienced girl had in mind - if she had anything particular in mind, it wasn’t clear.Over the next few seconds, purely from past repetition, I allowed myself to. They became neither female ( nurturing givers of life ) nor male ( protective and overseeing fortresses of strength. ) Ironically, given the rhetoric and ideology of the era, men were objectified.Male and female as sex objects was nothing new, of course. In the Victorian Era fig leaves were placed on statues and even paintings to cover up the male genitals. The nude female figure, on the other hand, was considered the essence of human pulchritude and smooth shaven yoni were on display in public.