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In a cramped, dimly lit room, Bobby kneels before Edith and Saphira, their bare feet resting on his shoulders. The teens, enjoying their power, command him to lick every inch of their soles, giggling as he complies, his tongue tracing their arches and sucking their toes clean. Their feet, sweaty from a day of wear, fill his nostrils, the scent intoxicating him. Meanwhile, the teens whisper dirty nothings to each other, their hands wandering, their bodies squirming, leaving Bobby aching for more than just their feet.