Antonya's lusty legs

She knows what she’s showing. First the blouse, then the bra, each cup slipping off to bare heavy breasts that settle with a soft sway. The skirt follows. She steps out of it, toes flexing against the floor, and the focus drops—smooth arches, long toes painted red, the line of her calf tightening. Her fingers trail between her thighs, parting the slick lips, dipping inside until her breath catches. She holds her legs up next, soles toward you, ankles crossed then spread, every inch of skin flexing as she masturbates. The rhythm stays steady, hips lifting, heels pointed, soles wrinkling. She doesn’t rush. She wants you to watch the way her thighs tremble and her feet move with every stroke.