Backstage with Clara G.

Clara stretched out on my bed like she'd been waiting for this all week. Her feet rested in my lap, bare and warm. I ran my thumbs along her arches and watched her toes curl. That slight twitch told me she was already on edge. She let out a breath, not a sigh exactly, more like something had started to unwind inside her. I pressed deeper, slow circles across the ball of each foot. Her skin was soft from the bath she had taken earlier, still faintly scented with lavender. I leaned down and brought her right foot to my mouth. Her big toe slid between my lips and she shifted her hips without thinking. Clara's other foot brushed along my thigh, toes seeking skin beneath my shorts. I didn't stop her. My tongue traced the line where her toe met the next one, tasting salt and soap at once. Her foot flexed in my grip. I could feel the tendons moving under her skin. She pushed her heel into my lap harder, letting the pressure speak for what she wanted. Her breathing changed when I sucked the smaller toes, one after another. My hand moved up the length of her calf and found the tight spot behind her knee. She gasped and tried to stay still, but her free foot had already slipped under the fabric. Warm toes pressed against the front of my briefs and stayed there. Clara's voice came out low. "Harder." I took that as permission to use my teeth, just enough to make her jerk and laugh at the same time. The laugh broke into a quiet moan when I bit a little deeper at the pad below her smallest toe. Her foot in my briefs nudged once, twice, asking without words. I pulled her left foot up next and licked a slow stripe from heel to the ball. She shivered and her toes spread open. The scent of warm skin filled the space between us. I held her ankle steady while my free hand slid higher, fingers mapping the inside of her thigh. Her skin felt almost feverish. She opened for me without being asked. Clara's eyes stayed half-lidded but she watched every move. When I ran my tongue between two toes she bit her lip and her heel dug into the bed. Her other foot kept working at my cock through the thin cotton. I could feel her getting wetter just from this; the sheets under her were already damp. I switched to her other foot, sucked the big toe deep, and her whole leg tensed. Her fingers curled into the sheets. "Don't stop," she whispered. I didn't. My mouth worked over each toe with wet, deliberate pressure until her foot began to shake. Sweat gathered at her ankle where I held her. My own pulse was heavy now, thudding against the sole of the foot that still rested against my briefs. She arched her back, lifting her hips, offering more. The foot between my legs grew bolder, curling under and stroking the length of me. Her toes were nimble; they hooked the waistband and tugged until skin met skin. When I took all five toes into my mouth at once her breath hitched into a single sharp sound that echoed off the bedroom walls. We stayed like that—my mouth full of her, her foot holding the hard line of me—until the rhythm found itself. Nothing left to say. Just the wet sounds and the soft ones she made when I moved my tongue just right.