Foot fetish with Allison

Allison’s had the apartment to herself all afternoon and she plans to waste it exactly the way she wants. The moment her boyfriend steps in, bottle clinking, they kick shoes off and drinks pour. Heat starts low—teasing touches, glass rims bumping lips—then the clothes go. Between giggles and a quick cork toss she kicks her feet up, spreads her toes, and slides one foot along his thigh until the arch finds his cock. She strokes, slow and unhurried, heel firm, pads soft, while they sip what’s left in their glasses. He leans back, lets her work; she adds pressure, rolls the ball of her foot across his head, the other foot cradling his balls with little flexes that say she knows exactly how good it feels. When the glasses hit the table the pace shifts: she curls her toes, strokes faster, winks at him like this afternoon belongs to her feet first, and the rest of the day can wait.