Morning pussy from my secret room
In the sultry, early dawn light of her secret room, Lila stretched languidly, her lithe body still warm from sleep. She floated upwards from the plush mattress, silken sheets slipping from her porcelain skin. Yawning delicately, she tangled cherry-red locks, utterly unaware of how delectable she looked – tousled curls, tousled thoughts, tousled desire.
Glancing around, Lila’s eyes counted her treasures: femdom toys, lingerie, and her most valuable object yet – a two-way mirror. No one else could know or see what happened here. This was her realm of fantasy fulfilled.
She stepped up onto the chaise, relishing the cool leather against her bare soles. As hands ventured to pristine thighs, Lila’s mind wandered to last night’s work party. The blonde feminist turned out to be a freak, urgently whispering naughty implications about her stockings. Yet, Lila pushed the fantasies aside – now was time for a different girl.
Angling one leg out, she pointed her heel, admiring the view. Her pussy glistened slightly in the low light, succulent and ready for action. Today’s session would start like always – adoring her own divine body. Lila trailed one hand up to her pert breasts, kneading pink nipples into stiffness. She sighed at the pleasurable ache.
Meanwhile, her other hand crept towards her mound, skirting its dewy folds. One finger dipped inside, relishing her arousal. Lila tugged her puffy lips open, exposing her tight little hole completely. Open for business.
She took in the exquisite back-lit peach of her exposed pussy so near to her foot. The erotic contrast of tan skin and pale leg drove her wild. Fingering her clit, she traced her toes against her rubbery bud. Her orgasm already built to a heated peak. All it would take…
…was one decisive thrust of her heel into her sodden slit. Lila cried out at the intimate shock, loving how this dirty foot could pleasure her. She rolled her foot back and forth, forcing her plump, blushing lips into welcoming shapes. Her own wetness trickled to her ankle. Squirting yet? Creamy and watery. The shameless pussy quivered like mad.
All the while, she looked deep into her mirror, studying her expressionless, vexing face. A face that looked blank yet said so much: your dick is meaningless, your cock is irrelevant, it’s my pussy that is queen.
Pumping her hips back and forth, Lila slipped back into reverie – memories of explicit propositions, hot emails, and those just barely hidden glances at her chest. A funny thing, voyeurism. So often the pleasurably sordid became the sordidly pleasurable. And today the main course – the filthiest thought of all – revolved around penis.
Her foot nestled deeper, pumping right against her g-spot through her soaked thighs. Lila ground her clit into the heel’s ball, now a curve lost in her overflowing juices. She fucked herself faster and faster, the juices spreading to her ankle. Squirting faster and upping the stream. “I’m close. Hashish! Scream! I’m g-gonna… ahhhhh!”
Her orgasm crashed like a rogue wave, wonderful molten ecstasy ravaging her body, her pussy clamping down on toes as if they were cocks, as if to milk them – and milk the cum laud. She convulsed madly, the pulsing cream flooding down her ankle, drenches her foot, soaking this newly conquest. And Lila writhed, howled, peaked–then collapsed into shuddery giggles, splayed out.
What a loving morning…”My secret room,” Lila purred. “You’re the only place where I can be a filthy stripper slut and not care.” The words sounded perverse. Free. But they were only half-righteous, almost false. Never mind – after all, Lila didn’t want to hurt anyone. Only herself.
