Amanda Tate

Amanda Tate looked straight at Bill Bailey, then dragged her glossy, fresh pedicure across his lap like she owned the place. She grinned and trapped his dick between both arches, squeezing until the tip popped out between her big toes. With that bright polish flashing, she pumped him quick and sloppy, letting the soft pads rub and twist while her heel stayed firm. Bill groaned, hips jerking, and when he finally blew it was a hot, sticky burst that left white ropes splattered across every inch of Amanda’s arches and between her toes. She laughed once, wiggled her foot, and watched the last pearly strand dribble down onto her toenails like a scene from a bad foot-porn farce.