Food foot fetish

Breakfast with her always lands somewhere between a kiss and a fight. Today it started with her mouth closing over my nipple, teeth grazing the bud until I felt my pulse right between my legs. She yanked the G-string down in one hard pull, the fabric snapping against my thighs. I dropped to the floor, already tasting the future in the smell of toast still warm from the oven. When she swung her foot onto the table, the marmalade and peanut butter clung thick to her toe. I sucked it clean, salt and sweet flooding my tongue, her heel pressing my chin for better reach. She laughed, low and throaty, and neither one of us reached for the napkins.