Footsie Office

The office lights cut sharp across her desk. Jennifer Stone stands in heels, skirt hugging her ass. She catches him staring and smiles like she owns the moment. Her heel slips off. Bare foot rises, toes painted dark, arch flexed. She presses it to his lap under the desk. He hardens fast. She feels every inch through his pants. Then she drops to her knees. Mouth opens, warm and wet. She takes him deep, slow at first, then harder. Spit runs down her chin. Her foot stays in play. The other one rises, rests on his thigh, toes flexing while she sucks. She pulls off just long enough to drag her sole along his length, leaving a slick trail. Back down she goes. Her tongue works under the head. She moans around him. One foot strokes, the other presses. He grips the desk edge. She keeps going until he gives in, pulsing in her mouth, her foot never leaving his skin.