The Foot Job

Ashley Fires barely glanced up when the door opened, until Riley Reid stepped in. Her shoulders were tight, her back carried the weight of a whole shift, and something in the air shifted. Ashley laid her hands on Riley’s bare feet. Long minutes passed with nothing but the slow drag of fingers against arches, pressing into nerves that made Riley’s breath hitch. Heat gathered low. She watched Riley’s body surrender, toes flexing under pressure. Ashley pulled her own shirt aside. She brought Riley’s foot to her nipple, slid the warm sole across the tight bud, then pressed it lower. Her own cunt met sole and arch, slick and hungry. The table creaked when Ashley climbed over her. Riley started to sit up, eyes wide, but Ashley’s calm voice held her there—soft, sure, already wet. Ashley lay down between Riley’s legs. Her tongue found thick curls and slipped deeper, greedy. She licked, sucked, drank every tremor until Riley’s thighs shook and a raw, broken cry tore out. Riley’s back arched, her new lover drinking the full, soaking rush of her release.