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In the quiet of his room, a man indulges in his fetish, creating a CD to treasure. He sits, his feet crossed, his socks a soft barrier between his skin and the world. One by one, he peels them off, the fabric gliding down his feet, revealing his soles, his toes, his skin. He caresses his feet, his touch soft, loving. He knows the power of his feet, the allure of his toes, and he teases, he taunts, he plays, creating a masterpiece of foot worship for his future audience.