Up Close with Gia DiBella

Gia DiBella rocks light purple lace and sky-high black heels. Sam Shock walks in, sees that ass already pointed skyward, and grins like he just won the lottery. They met last week. Both have been counting the minutes until they could rip into each other. Gia starts ticking off her list: lots of drool on the knob, throat to the root, then long strokes from behind. The heels look killer, she says, but they’re pinching like a bitch. Sam unbuckles them, thumbs the soles, rolls each toe until the ache fades. He gives her a quick wink; she moans like she got more than a foot rub. Now the shoes are history. She arches up again, the night’s real fun just starting.