High Heels Club

Veronica Clark and Charlie Dean slip behind the club’s velvet curtain, all hands and hunger. She drops onto her knees first, pulls her cheeks wide, and offers up the tight star they both crave. Charlie dives straight in, tongue dragging slow circles till her hole twitches, shiny and open. One quick spit and he feeds the thick head of his cock inside—inch by inch—till Veronica’s knuckles whiten on the chair. She hisses a laugh through the stretch and cums the second he bottoms out. He doesn’t give her time to settle; instead he sits her back, grabs one ankle, and buries his face in her sole. Tongue sliding between pretty little toes, sucking noisily till she giggles and wiggles. Charlie keeps one hand wrapped around his spit-slick dick, stroking it in time to each sloppy slurp. She wiggles her toes against his tongue, feeling every suck like a jolt straight to her core. After a filthy little pop, her foot comes down, wrapping around his shaft and jerking him to the same sticky rhythm he just used on her tongue. She climbs back on, facing away, takes the head again—this time deeper—while Charlie slides two fingers under her to flick her clit. The whole party thumps and thrums just outside the curtain; inside, the beat’s nothing compared to the slap of skin and the wet suck of mouths on feet and flesh. She rides till he groans against her heel and fills her to the brim, warm seed leaking down her thigh like half the cocktails she never got around to ordering.