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The Pleasure Zone


ther word, he’s whisking me off outside toward a row of cushion-padded benches. The backyard is dimly lit with gaslight sconces and tiki torches.

The walls of my pussy literally tremble as I watch this tall, sculpted hunk of a caramel-coated man gulp down the rest of his drink, then drop on one knee, unfasten the straps of my heels, remove them, then gently fold his large hands around my ankles, lift a foot to his face. He kisses my feet with warm lips. Then runs his tongue along my arch, kissing the tips of my toes, then putting them into his mouth. I can’t help but moan as his tongue slides around, and in between, each toe as his hands slip up the back of my calves, my thighs, then back down. He sinks all five of my toes inside his mouth. And I feel myself melting into the sensation. Erotic and sensual, my clit tingles.

I arch forward, aching for him, devouring him with my eyes. He sucks and licks my toes as if he’s sucking and licking on my clit, sucking and licking on my cunt, sucking and licking on my swollen lips, sucking and licking as if each toe were a tiny, hard dick. Heat dances over my body. Spreads out over my skin. And stirs my simmering lust.

“Do you want to taste my pussy, too?”