Driver's licence

Regina grips the wheel like it’s still new. A couple months behind the wheel and the car already feels like an extension of her legs. She lets her bare foot rest on the accelerator, toes flexing, exploring, pressing down with the tip of her big toe, then the second, testing every angle until the engine purrs under her touch. The engine isn’t the only thing getting her blood moving. Heat slides through her as she shows those long, powerful feet to the empty car. She stretches her toes wide, arches the ball of her foot, lifts it off the pedal just to feel the cool air wrap around her skin before lowering it again, heel hovering, toes drumming lightly. Her free hand drifts between her thighs, fingertips brushing over slick heat, slow circles timed with every little push of her foot. She keeps her eyes on the road but the real thrill is right here: the give of the pedal under her toes, the pulse between her legs, the little moan that slips out every time she holds the pedal down a second too long. She wants you to watch. Wants to hear you tell her she’s doing so well, handling the car, handling herself, toes flexing, cunt throbbing, proud and wet and just getting started.