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the magic of love...
A nasty ol' dragon
whose penis was saggin'
was beautiful when he got wood.
He poked it and shoved it
and oh, how I loved it
cuz dragon dick really feels good.
Not all manly creatures
have heavenly features,
but touched by the magical moon,
they'll pleasure your titty
and make you feel pretty
by humping you like a baboon!
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measuring love...
How do you measure love?. Quite simply put,
not by the inch, dear friend, but by the foot.
Cock size is helpful, but we must repeat
the joy of love begins with two bare feet.
alternate last line: the joy of love begins down at the feet.
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looking for love in the right places...
Visit FootBuddies. Use your friendly browsers.
Note the lump of joy inside your trousers.
Tell all who claim to seek a true romance,
"Take off your shoes and sox, not just your pants!"
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fetish confession...
I lived for feet and roses. I have plucked
blossoms in midnight gardens. I have kissed
princes' bare feet by dawnlight. I have sucked
wine from their lips and toes, deep in the mist
where hearts are deified
-----in love's most secret tryst...
Last edited by ftlaudft; 08-28-2015 at 05:35 PM.
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A friend of mine asked me just what I meant by living for feet and roses. Well, feet have been a central passionate interest throughout my life and roses for me are a symbol of beauty. The pursuit of beauty and reacting to fetish have played a major role in my life.
The idea of a mist in which we become aware of our divine connection refers to the deep love experience in which we become conscious of the divine spark within ourselves and our own connection with the divine. Our hearts are deified means that we see, as the Hindus believe, that we are all reflections of the One Light. For those of us with a fetish we will see feet as a legitimate part of this experience and celebrate it.
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the masseur
His face was fair. His manner was discreet.
"How may I please you in a special way?"
I smiled and said, "Massage me with your feet."
We stripped. His feet were passionate and gay.
Only orgasmic sweetness can compare
with barefoot ecstasy between two men.
His footstink lingers in my balls and hair.
I long for him to barefoot me again...
Last edited by ftlaudft; 09-25-2015 at 06:26 AM.
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confessions of a toe thief...
I longed to kiss his feet. Love seemed improbable
'til I discovered sleeping feet are robbable.
Thus as a thief of toes I turned to crime.
He sleeps. I suck. We have a lovely time...
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how do I love thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count your toes.
If there are ten, the answer's in my nose.
If less than ten, I think there's something wrong.
If more than ten, zip up! Don't oount your dong!
Last edited by ftlaudft; 09-06-2015 at 04:34 PM.
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brief encounter...
He curled his toes around my tongue and clasped.
It was the taste of ecstasy. I gasped.
My impulse was to thank with words. Instead
I knelt down on the floor and gave him head...
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09-04-2015, 11:30 AM
#100
love, the mystery...
Love is the living mystery -
the answer and the question.
Trying to understand can be
a cause for indigestion.
Love can't be put in human words.
I think you always knew it.
It's everywhere, like turds and birds,
so just relax and do it!
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