Rules of Flirting

Bill cracks a lazy grin and compliments Amirah’s toes, saying they could stop traffic. The compliment lands like a tiny spark; she blushes, tugs her skirt higher, and offers him the whole package. Seconds later her bare feet are in his lap, heels planted on either side of his thighs while she strokes him slow with her soles. She keeps eye contact, tongue between her teeth, watching every twitch his cock makes under that firm foot massage. When he groans she presses harder, rolling her arch, flexing her painted toes over the swollen head until a bead of pre-cum smears across her skin. She giggles like she’s won a prize, leans forward so her breasts sway, and starts a two-footed rhythm: one foot teasing the shaft, the other kneading his balls in gentle circles. Every few strokes she pauses, squeezes, and taps her big toe against his frenulum like she’s playing a lewd little xylophone. Sweat beads on Bill’s brow, but Amirah only laughs, curls her toes around his thickness, and starts jerking him in earnest, urging him closer with filthy little murmurs: “Bet you never thought toes could do this.” When his breath hitches, she flattens both soles together, trapping him in a warm, slippery tunnel. He erupts between her arches, painting her feet, and Amirah stretches out like a cat, admiring the shiny streaks running down her heels.