Worshiping Calliope's legs

To show his respect and devotion he got down onto his knees and then leaned even further to place a kiss on the Muse’s foot. She remained standing with her legs slightly parted, so he kissed her other foot as well. This also gave him the chance to admire the jewellery on her ankle, it was as gorgeous as the wearer herself and seemed to be made of pure gold. Feet were not the writer’s fetish though and he decided that he had shown enough respect already. He raised from all fours and gently grabbed Calliope’s right calf with both hands and began to caress it softly. The muse’s calves were shapely, but they were also proportionally sized to the rest of her body, which meant that there was a lot of flesh to worship. Kneeling on the stone pavement was not comfortable, but the reward of being able to touch Calliope’s endless legs more than made up for any discomfort. Her calves were longer than most women’s thighs and Jake was enamoured with them, his palms roamed over them, not wanting to miss any spot on the flawlessly soft skin. Occasionally he leaned forward to kiss her shins, until he finally reached her knee; it was like a gate to the magnificent thigh. The high slit on the dress exposed the muse’s entire leg, the writer reached up to touch the thigh; she stopped him with a gentle but decisive gesture.

“You’re not done with calves yet,” she said with a smirk, as she parted her legs slightly wider in a teasing motion.

Jake craved to touch her thigh, but he would gladly work for that privilege by worshipping her other calf. He leaned down again and diligently repeated the entire process on her left leg; it was just as pleasant to touch as the right one. He glanced up at the muse occasionally; with her legs now parted wider it was easy to spot her panties; they were as skimpy as the rest of her outfit and seemed to be made of golden thread. Calliope noticed his glimpses, but a satisfied smirk was her only reaction.

The writer was as thorough with the left calf as with the right one. When he reached the left knee he halted his hands and looked up at the muse, she offered him an inviting smile; that was all the prompt he needed. He raised his both hands to touch the soft, tempting flesh and began to fondle the left thigh greedily. Jake had never seen thighs of such size, neither male nor female; after all not many people were 220 centimetres tall, and those who were did not have such perfect, feminine proportions. The left thigh alone was like a whole body which needed to be explored and worshipped; the writer craved nothing else at the moment. All his ten fingers squeezed the flesh, it was soft, but he could feel and see the subtle muscles that maintained the thigh’s perfect shape.

Jake’s hands seemed so small on Calliope’s legs; as if he was not merely a man, touching a woman’s body, but an explorer, discovering uncharted territory. Considering that he was dealing with an actual muse, it was certainly uncharted for him. The writer put his mouth as well, kissing and licking the smooth skin. His lips remained limited to the area right in front of him, but his palms roamed chaotically over the entire thigh. He did not reach too high though, he suspected that that reward would require a lot more work. But Jake was not in a rush, Calliope’s legs were more than enough. Sometimes his fingers caressed the muse’s skin gently, other times they dug into her flesh greedily; Calliope seemed content with either kind of treatment.

Kneeling for such a long time on a stone pavement was uncomfortable, but Jake barely noticed the discomfort. Absent-mindedly he changed his position to crouching without interrupting the main activity. The writer kept groping the muse’s thigh feeling as if he could never get enough of it; and that was barely the left leg. At one point he wrapped his arms around Calliope’s thick thigh and hugged it closely; he then pressed his lips to her bare skin and kissed it passionately, as if these were her lips. The muse remained passive, treating his behaviour as something completely normal.

Jake eventually broke the odd kiss and released Calliope’s left leg; he immediately sidestepped to the right and began to grope the other thigh. She did not rush him and maintained her position in a wide stance. The writer repeated the process in the same chaotic, passionate fashion; he was becoming gradually more aroused with each passing minute and that arousal exhibited itself in his behaviour. He treated Calliope’s right leg almost as if it was an actual woman, not merely a part of a much greater whole. The muse’s amused gaze suggested that this was not an unexpected turn of events either.