Footjob experiments

Missy usually hides behind that crooked grin when anyone so much as mentions anything below the belt. Today the grin stretched a little wider, and she asked Leo straight up if he’d let her feet take the wheel. She’s always curious, boots-off-and-ready, fingers twitching on her own thighs while she weighs how things might feel. So he kicks back, pants around one ankle, and Missy scoots into place. She lines both soles together like warm bread on a plate, spreads her painted toes, and guides him into that soft channel. Every slow slide sends a shy giggle out of her, mixed with the slick, steady squelch of skin. Leo flexes, hips rising to meet each down-stroke, the head of his cock bumping right at the point where her arches press tightest. She watches the slit flare and bead, then smears the glossy drop across her heel like polish. Faster now, toes curling around his ridge in a quick squeeze and release, some just grazing under the head so he twitches. He spills hard, the first spurt shooting up her shin, the rest dribbling across those same sweet toes until she’s got the whole foot shiny. Her cheeks are tomato-red, but the smile she gives him says she’s already filing the angle for next time.