Her White Stockings

Christen’s white stockings had him hooked. The way she rolled them up her legs, slow, almost daring him, made it impossible to sit still. He crossed the room in three strides, dropped to his knees, and ran his tongue from ankle to toe like he’d been starving. He kissed every inch, rubbed his face against the silky fabric, then pressed his cock between the arches, grinding until he spilled hot streaks across the thin white cloth.