Garden of pleasures

Cassy steps onto the patio and feels his eyes on her. The gardener watches her legs, the way the sandals leave her toes exposed. She notices. Smiles. Why not let him look a little longer? She slips one foot free, rests it on the low table, flexes her toes. He stops pretending to work. Soon he’s on his knees, mouth open, tongue sliding between each toe like he’s tasting something he’s craved for weeks. She watches, amused at first, then lets the heat rise. Her dress rides up. Lace beneath clings to her hips. He licks higher, sucks the ball of her foot, drags his teeth lightly along the arch. Cassy leans back on her elbows, legs open, and feeds him her other foot. He takes it greedily. His cock strains against his jeans. She nudges it with her heel, feels it throb. No more teasing. She pulls the straps of her dress off her shoulders, lets the lace bra show, nipples hard against the mesh. He frees himself, strokes once, twice, then presses his length against her sole. She grips him with both feet, works him slow, tight, toes curled over the head. Pre-cum slicks her skin. His breathing turns ragged. She knows exactly what he wants—what he’s always wanted—and she gives it to him without mercy.