Not a Piano Prodigy

David Perry sits at the piano bench, his fingers hovering over the keys while Blanche stares blankly at the sheet music. She’s no virtuoso, and the frustration hangs thick between them. But her body moves with its own kind of genius. Blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, she slips off her heels and presses the arch of one bare foot to the bulge in his trousers. David’s breath catches as her toes curl, squeezing him through the fabric with slow, knowing pressure. She works his cock free, warm skin meeting warm skin, and the lesson is suddenly over. She grips him with both feet, soles gliding along his length in practiced rhythm. Her toes flex and pinch, rolling over the head until his shaft glistens, slick with spit she drips down from above. The stroke is steady, almost casual, each pass drawing him closer to the edge. David’s hips jerk. Blanche watches his face while her feet pump harder, trapping him between strong arches, milking him until thick ropes of cum spatter across her toes and the polished floor. She smiles, lazy and satisfied, toes still lazily stroking the last drops from his spent cock.