Claire had known Mark for years—her older brother’s best friend, the guy who always lingered a little too long when she walked past in shorts. Tonight the house was empty. She’d kicked off her sandals and propped her bare feet on the coffee table while they watched a movie. Mark’s eyes kept dropping to her smooth soles, the high arches, the painted toes.
She flexed them deliberately. “Something wrong?”
He swallowed. “You’ve got… really nice feet.”
Claire smirked, shifted, and stretched one leg so her sole hovered near his thigh. “Want a closer look?”
Mark’s cock was already tenting his jeans. She didn’t wait for an answer. She pressed the warm, soft sole of her foot against the hard ridge and rubbed slowly up and down. Mark groaned, head tipping back. Claire used both feet, trapping his shaft between her arches, sliding them in opposite directions until the fabric was damp.
He shoved his pants down. His thick cock sprang free, heavy and flushed. Claire wrapped both soles around it, sandwiching the hot length between smooth skin. She stroked him with deliberate pressure—long glides from base to tip, toes curling to tease the sensitive underside. Precum smeared across her arches, making everything slicker.
Mark’s hips twitched. “Fuck, Claire… just like that.”
She sped up, pressing harder, the wet sound of her feet working his cock filling the room. Her soles glowed with his precum. She rubbed the head against the soft center of one foot, then the other, watching more clear fluid bead and streak across her skin. Mark’s hands clenched the couch cushions. His breathing turned ragged.
Claire kept the rhythm steady and filthy—tight arches, slow twists, the occasional drag of her toes over the leaking slit. His cock throbbed harder between her feet. She felt the exact moment he lost it: the sudden swell, the way his shaft pulsed against her soles.
Hot cum exploded across her feet in thick ropes—splattering her arches, dripping between her toes, painting the soft soles white. Mark kept thrusting through it, grinding against her feet while more pulses painted her skin. Claire didn’t stop until every drop was wrung out, her soles shiny and sticky with him.
She lifted one foot, examined the mess, then looked him in the eye and slowly dragged a toe through the thickest streak. Mark stared, spent and dazed. Claire smiled, already deciding she’d make him clean every drop off her later.