These Feet Were Made for Fucking

Your burning feet fantasies just caught a big break with Doris Ivy dropping by. She peels her shoes off slow, shows you everything you paid to see. Her toes wiggle. She rubs the arches, winks at the lens, then slides those soles right under your nose. Renato finally scores the best role in the room: tongue sliding between each salty digit, lips sealed around her heel. Next she grips him with both feet, presses tight, works him until he's rock-hard and leaking. He switches holes fast, drives into her until the mattress creaks. When he blows, he coats every inch from ankle to little toe, thick streaks gleaming while Doris keeps wiggling like she just won dessert.