Worshiping her Toes

Anita Bellini looks like she fell straight out of heaven, tight body, soft skin, those perfect little tits. Thomas drops right to the ground like he's signing autographs for royalty. He plants his lips on her feet, works his way along every toe, sucking, kissing, feeling them flex against his tongue. She twitches, lets out a little laugh, hips already rolling. The moment the heat kicks up, she slides both feet up his lap and starts rubbing his cock through his jeans, slow circles, the denim catching, the pressure doing its job. Thomas leans in, drags his tongue over her wet slit, drinks her in, fingers wrapped around her ankles like he's afraid the whole show might end. Zip goes down, denim spreads, and suddenly his bare cock sits in the cradle of her feet. She works him with lazy precision, balls resting on the tops of her feet, toes sliding up either side. Then she bends double like it's nothing, mouth sliding down until her lips press against her own toes, tongue flicking the head while both arches squeeze the base. He groans into her thigh, bucking, and the moment she feels him start to throb she pulls back just enough for the first lazy rope to land across the tops of her toes. It trails down between them, warm, shiny, proof the goddess got her tribute.