Sense Of Triumph
A superb and intelligent young woman has me lickshine her loafer shoes late at night – a sense of triumph writ large all over her pretty face. And rightly so, for I am fit to look at her only in the SOCK. I’m just a sockieboy footslave!
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| The triumphant young woman has me lickshine her loafer shoes on a dark winter's night |
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| Her pretty face is writ large with her innate superiority! |
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| Not that I can see it |
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| I am fit only to look her in the SOCK! |
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| And a very fine SOCK it is too - grey, with immaculately neat STITCHING! |
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| The SOCK of a superior being to me - a bright, young woman! |
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| A SOCK whose air I am not fit to share! |
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| Such a shapely, feminine, SOCKED HEEL! |
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| And ANKLE! |
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| I stare at the SOCK |
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| I can't take my eyes off the SOCK... |
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...by LAW!
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| She knows I must not look at her above the SOCK... |
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| ...or even think of her above the SOCK! |
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| Her SOCK!... Her SOCK!... Her GLORIOUS SOCK! |
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| SOCK! |
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| Haha, that's right, sockieboy! Lick SHOE and admire SOCK - the SHOE and SOCK of your BETTER! |

















