Without Words

Kacy’s stretched on the couch with a paperback, her bare feet dangling high like she forgot they existed. Toes wiggling, catching the light. Bill clocks the sight, shrugs, and goes straight for the kill, lips and tongue working over each slender digit like he’s been waiting for permission all week. She jolts, book slips, then a grin breaks across her face like dawn sneaking up on a hangover. Heat builds fast. She starts pressing back, arching her soles, catching him between them with just the right squeeze. The teasing turns serious, rhythm kicking in, bodies syncing on something filthy and wordless. Footjob ensues, complete, deliberate, and stupidly good.