Elegant angel

Her lips are full and wet, the kind you want wrapped around you. Her tits press tight against silk, and her feet flex—soft soles, wrinkles catching the light. Eufrat moves in an evening dress, no rush, just the slow shift of fabric as she finds the oil. She pours it straight onto her soles, watches it drip, then spreads it with both hands, working between her toes until they shine. She settles back, legs open, dress hitched high, and starts the show: feet together, sliding up and down an invisible cock, soles glistening, pressure just right. She watches her own work, toes curling, squeezing, twisting, finding every angle. The oil catches the light. Every stroke is deliberate, every flex a tease. She takes her time, like she could stay here all night, feet working, breath getting heavier, dress clinging to her skin.