In the middle of the square platform stood the worshipped god on a pedestal of white sand-stone, but only the feet are left over from the surely lovel... statue - and the tiny toes seem to be webbed, just like mine! It must have been the memorial of Phibias, a pre-dynestial love-goddess, sometimes portrayed with the head of a frog with a crown! Leaning exhausted against the pedestal I try to relax. The soaring heat of the day made me dizzy and starts to play tricks on my imagination. And I get a. “Not yet,” she whispered. “I want to play.” Gazing at his face, she blew warm breath over his cockhead. He trembled, moaned, but she touched a finger to his lips, “Shh… relax.” She blew again; angel breaths dancing over the damp nylon.Shifting position, she exhaled across his abdomen, stirring the fine hairs trapped in the mesh. She watched, fascinated, as the dark hairs on his arms rose in sympathy and shivers coursed through him. On a whim, she lightly kissed his belly button. He shuddered as. More

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