A Foot Fetishist's Confidence

Alyssia Bounty’s barefoot toes do their best, squishing and sliding along Kristof Cale’s rigid cock while she tries to keep a straight face. His hips twitch. One little wrong roll and it’s not the ten grand lesson video, but comedy porn. Then Kristof, forehead damp, shoves his hips forward like, yeah, enough, enough. He rolls her over, plants one palm at the small of her back, and feeds her ass slow—tight, burning, breath-stealing slow—until she yelps laughter mixed with a moan. Long strokes, short ones; each time he pulls out the cool air hits the stretch she clenches around nothing, then her greedy hole sucks him right back in. She grips the sheets, toes curling, perfect arch ruined. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room. Both trying to stay serious. Both trying not to.