Feet Heat

David didn't even bother fighting it. Aletta's curves pull him like a moth to a boot sale. He goes in full throttle, dragging his cock from her ankles up to her pretty mouth, back down, pressing every soft inch he can reach. But her toes win today's fight—they're what he keeps returning to, the slimmest little tug of an obsession. He keeps at them until heat spills over his fist and paints the same dainty feet that lured him there.