Mmmmm the sweet dreams of putting my feet up in your face. Listening to you tell me how divine my soles are. Stroking my feet and squeezing them with your soft hands. Kissing them. Pressing them into your face, your chest.
Pacing up and down your back and legs, balancing with Liberty Orchard fruit delight in one hand and a glass of ten year old Glenturret in the other, while I listen to something heavenly… maybe Lindsey Stirling’s classical crossover violin.
What would we do after I got tired of standing… I’d have to put my feet up somewhere.