Feet to Worship

Renato calls a woman's feet a smoking hot zone and doesn't hold back. He starts at the bottom—kissing every inch of Christen's smooth soles, running his tongue slow between her toes, tasting warm skin and the faint salt of the day. Her breath catches. He shifts, dragging his lips across her heel, nibbling like he's got all the time in the world. Then he takes her ankles, presses her soles together around his stiff cock, and guides her into that steady stroke. He bucks up, she flexes down, and her toes clench just right at the tip. Every thrust makes a wet slap. She smirks, twists her ankle so the arches hug tighter, and picks up the rhythm he set. He laughs under his breath, hips twitching. One cute curl of her toes over the head and he's gone, shooting across her skin in short, hot bursts.