Dressed to kill

Veronica’s little trick gets her anything, and that frilly scrap barely counts as panties. Bill takes one look at the see-through lace stretching over her hips and his dick shoots straight up. She smirks, already reaching for him with her pretty bare feet, toes painted cherry red. She works him slow, tight arches sliding up his length, quick jabs with her heels, toes curling just under the head until he’s throbbing in her grip. Pre-cum slicks her soles. Bill moans like he’s forgotten how to speak. Veronica gives one last rolling squeeze with both feet then pulls away, swings a leg over, and sinks down on him in one long, wet slide, chasing her own happy ending with lazy, greedy rolls of her hips.