The Tatum Treatment

Tiffany Tatum’s legs stretch across the couch, toes flexing. She eyes Kristof’s shaft like a toy she can play with all afternoon. He stays still and lets her work. She starts slow, pressing the hot length between her soles, sliding it up and down with lazy pulls of her feet. Each pass leaves a wet trail of her spit, then dries in the air as she keeps the rhythm. Her hips shift. She wants more than just a foot job. She parts her legs, pulls him inside her with one smooth roll of her pelvis. The entry is tight. Her cunt grips every inch while her heels stay locked around his lower back. She rocks up to meet each thrust, small tits bouncing to the same beat. When she’s close, she drops her head back and mouths the word “yes” without sound. Kristof pulls out at the last second. She keeps her feet in place, soles cupped to catch the cum he spills over her arches in heavy white ropes. She watches every spurt land, then drags one big toe through the mess, smearing it across her skin with a lazy grin.