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Ishaq's sudsy soaps are more than just cleaning agents; they're his gateway to forbidden desires. In the sterile, tiled bathroom, he lets his mind wander, picturing the forbidden fruits of his classmates' feet. His hands, slick with soap, mimic the sensation of caressing those untouched soles, igniting a hunger in him that only the act of foot worship can satiate. His cock throbs in his hand as he fantasizes about the power dynamics, the submission, the sheer taboo of it all.