I stuck my tongue out and licked up the length of her soles to her toes. As I do so, Heather scrunches up her foot and starts to pull back. "What are ...ou doing?" "People with foot fetishes like to do this. We like how feet taste." I reply, which gives her a questioning look.She slowly starts to nod her head. "Oh, okay... I guess keep going."I didn't hesitate, and stuffed Heather's toes in my mouth. I lightly sucked on her toes, savoring the wonderful taste. I held up her other foot and ran my. ‘Love is stronger than death even though it can’t stop death from happening, but no matter how hard death tries, it can’t separate people from love. It can’t take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death.’ ~Author Unknown Again, there was still time for reflection before the funeral. I cursed the lapse of time. I hated it. I wanted closure, I wanted him to be buried, I wanted it over. My mom had given me a precious gift. I had lamented the night he died that I had. Those preferences for sensation can inhibit us, preventing us from being able to engage more fully in eroticism. Preference for sensation can prohibit us from recognizing the different parts of the penis and how to tickle their fancy in ways that do away with softness vs. hard intensity. It can even box us in: one acquaintance could only orgasm by rubbing against a pillow or by topping another guy; another gent could only orgasm if he used a specific type of lube; yet another gent could only. I just shrugged my shoulders and said I couldn’t provide any insight as to why Sandman was doing this. I secretly believed this was a twisted way of Sandman thanking me for fucking my wife. I sat with Doug for an hour while we waited for his father’s people to collect him. Doug didn’t want any more information he just wanted to quickly get out of the country. Soon enough a large black SUV turned up and took Doug away. I knew Sandman would be pissed not being able to find and frame Doug as.