My name is Rhea, and I’m a petite woman with long, glossy black hair that cascades down my back like a raven’s wings. My eyes, a deep cerulean blue, seem to sparkle with mischief and desire. Today, I’m indulging in one of my secret pleasures – having my lovely feet worshipped by a devoted admirer.
As I sit on the plush velvet sofa, my feet rest on a soft, silk cushion. My stockings, a sensual black lace, hug my legs like a second skin. I wiggle my toes, feeling the tickle of the fine fabric against them. My eyes meet those of Marcus, a man who has been smitten with me for months. He kneels before me, his gaze fixed on my feet with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.
Marcus begins by trailing his fingers along my arch, his touch feather-light and tantalizing. He circles my ankle, his lips brushing against my skin as he plants gentle kisses. My breath hitches as his warm mouth meets my pulse point, sending a jolt of excitement through me.
With a deep, rumbling sigh, Marcus pulls back and looks up at me, his eyes dark with lust. Then, he dives in, his tongue laving my instep like a starving man at a feast. I let out a soft moan, the sensation of his wet heat against my sensitive skin making me squirm with delight.
Marcus works his way up my calf, his mouth leaving a trail of saliva and adoration in its wake. He nips at my inner thigh, his teeth grazing my stocking-clad skin. I can feel his hardness pressing against my leg as he kneels before me, his desire a tangible force in the room.
But my feet are the focal point of his devotion. He moves back to my toes, sucking each one into his mouth individually. He teases and tortures them with his tongue, making me gasp and tremble with pleasure. I thread my fingers through his hair, guiding him to explore every nook and cranny of my feet.
As he worships me, Marcus’s hands roam up my legs, pushing my skirt higher and higher until it pools around my waist. I’m left in nothing but my stockings and a flimsy lace garter belt, my dampening arousal evident against the fabric.
Rising to his knees, Marcus presses his mouth to my thigh, his hot breath fanning over my most intimate area. He looks up at me, his expression utter devotion and longing. I know what he wants, and I’m more than willing to give it to him.
With a seductive smile, I slowly peel off my stockings, revealing my smooth, creamy skin. Marcus’s eyes glaze over with lust as he takes in the sight of me, bare and vulnerable before him. I spread my legs, inviting him to taste the sweet nectar that’s been building all this time.
Without hesitation, Marcus buries his face between my thighs, his tongue delving deep into my core with a fervor that leaves me breathless. I cry out in ecstasy, my body arching off the sofa as he brings me to a shattering climax.
As the waves of pleasure ebb, I look down at Marcus, his face flushed and lips glistening with my arousal. He gazes up at me, his eyes filled with love and gratitude.
“You’re a goddess,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m honored to worship you.”
In that moment, I know that our secret indulgence has blossomed into something deeper, a profound connection that transcends mere footplay. As we cling to each other, lost in the aftermath of our passion, I can only wonder what other delights the future might hold for us.
Rhea Stephens
888-750-4746 ext 868
https://thesincenter.com/rhea