Naughty Cheerleader

She's young, she's fresh, and she's bouncing. The uniform barely covers what Bill has wanted to see all season. He watches her flip across the mat and feels his cock twitch. When practice ends she walks straight to him, skirt still swinging, ponytail high and tight. Bill drops to the couch. She peels the sneakers off, then the socks, and plants both bare feet in his lap. The arches flex, toes painted cherry red, the balls of her feet warm and smooth from hours of movement. He strokes the length of each sole, thumbs pressing into the firm muscle, and she smiles. She pushes down, rubs his hard-on through his jeans with those strong, perfectly conditioned feet, and he groans. She drops to her knees. The ponytail swings as she frees his cock and takes it deep in one smooth swallow. Her lips seal around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flat against the underside. Spit runs down her chin while she bobs fast, throat working. When she comes up for air she licks her lips and grins, then turns around, flips the tiny skirt up, and offers him her ass. Bill spits on her tight hole and pushes in. She stays bent over the arm of the couch, gripping the cushion, moaning every time he drives deeper. Her feet dangle off the edge, toes curling each time he bottoms out. He grips her hips and fucks her hard, the wet slap of skin loud in the quiet room. She pulls forward, spins, and drops back to her knees. Opens her mouth wide. He strokes once, twice, and paints her tongue, her lips, her cheeks. Thick ropes land across her face, dripping down her chin onto the uniform top. She licks what she can reach, swallows, then drags her tongue over the head to catch the last drops. Afterward she stays on her knees, feet tucked under her, face glistening, breathing slow and steady.