Roxy Lane's Feet Get Fucked

Roxy Lane kicked her heels off and stretched one foot across Kevin’s lap. She dragged her toes along the bulge in his jeans, smirk crawling up the side of her face like she already knew she’d win whatever bet they never bothered to make. Fabric stretched tight; she felt him twitch and didn’t pause—hooked her big toe under the button and tugged it open, then let the zipper fall by itself. Naked now, he looked down at her grin and the way her dark-red polish caught the motel lamp glow. She cupped the balls first, lazy roll of the arch, then clamped both soles together and started a steady slide up and down the shaft. Every stroke was firm but playful, like she could keep doing it all night or quit without warning. Pre-cum slicked the skin between her toes; she tilted her foot, swirled it around the head, and left a shiny thread when she pulled back. Kevin made a half-laugh, half-groan sound that tickled her pride. She answered by quickening the pace, rubbing one sole while the other pressed harder, warming up the length until it pulsed against her arch. He spilled suddenly, stripes landing warm across the bridge of her foot, between her toes, a stray drop on the ankle. Roxy studied the mess like a satisfied cat, then dragged the pad of her thumb through it, spreading it, finishing the job with a quick wiggle of her toes.