Dora's delight

Dora Venter sits back with a bottle of baby oil and starts working it into her feet. She rubs slowly, letting the oil coat her toes, her arches, the high curves of her heels. She takes her time. When the man steps in and watches, her whole face brightens. She stretches one foot toward him, slick and shining, and he catches it in both hands. He presses his tongue to her instep, licks up the oil. She moans, the sound low and grateful, then reaches for his cock. She takes him into her mouth, deep and steady, one hand still stroking his thigh. Her free foot keeps sliding over his skin, leaving a glossy trail. He sucks her toes, bites the ball of her foot, then sinks back so she can pump him harder with her mouth. The room smells like warm skin and sweet oil. She doesn’t rush. Every lick, every swallow, every press of her slick sole feels deliberate, like she’s building something between them and won’t stop until it spills over.