It's not weird, or even semi-sexual, really, but this pic does turn me on just a bit. It's a tease...A taste of what awaits in the bubbly depths...
And as long as I'm posting this particular picture, I'll say that while I love women's feet (though it's not an outright fetish), I never cared for toe rings.
Master orator, A-1 flirt, table tennis champion, world class lover, known slacker, sinistral minstrel, funky drum machiner, actual guitar hero, hungry freak, radio disc jockey extraordinaire, Pope of Discordia, advanced sloganeer, licensed coffee drinker, authorized cat fancier, snow globe juggler, ice skating judge, bonsai superstar, published poet with an unpublished number, understander of Jazz, leader of men, follower of my mom, Oracle database user, part-time billboard liberator, full-time Grand Marquis handler, accomplished pipe smoker, dental floss tycoon, fully-certified celebrity impersonator, dues-paying snake-handler, hyphen-minister, soft-spoken carrier of big sticks, amateur sleuth, semi-professional haberdasher, professional lifestyle consultant, chronic inhaler, retired bartender, grower of beards, psychic to the stars, Mint Spy agent, Friend Of Flat Atom, action figure model, stunt double, former paperboy, previous drunk, perpetual teen, and Nobel Prize winner in Theoretical Etymology. I'm also mighty handy with very large axes, extremely small firearms, celery salt, and Derrida texts. Possibly fake references available upon request.
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