A mad, hot rush. Did I mention I have a thing for feet? Not all feet, but some…not really a fetish. Well, maybe half a fetish.I put my hand in my la..., ran it over her foot. Massaged it. Felt her ankle and up her leg, enjoying the smoothness of her calf. Her toes kept squeezing, or pushing on my cock, making it harder and harder, until I was having trouble concentrating.And then suddenly Myra was standing up, apologizing to Wendy that she had to run, and how wonderful dinner was. She winked at. I had taken all the whipping and branding I could stand and had formed in my head a list of names I could give them, a list of several Tories, neutrals and dead patriots that would do no harm."Oh no," he said, "they'll soon be doing four or five an hour, at least a score a day if they want to eat, fifty if they crave a gin ration as well." You really are a foul coward," I said. "How can you do such a thing?" They're naught but colonials, like cattle. Besides I get six pence a day for each of. More

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