It is something different

Bill’s big dick slides between Holly’s smooth sole, and the second her warm skin kisses him, every other handjob he’s ever had feels second-rate. Her toes wriggle, pinch, tug at the tip like they’ve got a personal grudge against his self-control. He laughs, half-moaning, because who knew a Saturday could flip this fast—from coffee to full-on foot worship in under two minutes flat. Holly grins like she’s been waiting for this, kneading him slow then quick, her arch arching just right, and Bill figures if he dies right now, at least the eulogy writes itself: happiest man alive, carried off by ten ridiculously talented toes. Thirty glorious, slippery minutes later he’s still breathing, still grinning, and seriously rethinking his weekend plans.