Meet me for a little footsie

Sophie Moone perches in heels that shove her ass out and shove her toward the moon, the silvery spikes looking like they’ll punch through gravity. Lacy stockings cling to her thighs, teasing where they end and real skin begins. She wiggles just enough to loosen the whole outfit—heels first, then the stockings slip, sliding like reluctant admirers. When the stockings finally drop, we meet her feet: small, perfectly tended, toes painted the exact shade that makes you forget what you walked in here for. She circles, lifts, bends, letting you stare. One turn and the whole package swings open; you catch a brief, clean flash of pretty, pink pussy and then it’s gone again, like a waiter who knows exactly how long to leave dessert on the table.