office footjob: Exclusive Best in Brooklyn Chase

I still remember that office footjob like it happened yesterday—she’d kicked off her heels under the desk, and I watched her pink-polished toes curl and flex while she pretended to read some report. Brooklyn Chase, with those curves and that sly smile, slid one foot up my thigh slow, then the other, until I was hard enough to forget we were at work. She leaned back, big boobs pushing against her blouse, and started stroking me with just her soles, this warm, slick rhythm that made my breath catch. I kept thinking, this is insane, we’re gonna get caught, but her toes gripped and released, gripped and released, and I couldn’t stop. She whispered, “You like that?” and I just nodded, hips twitching. When I finally came, it splashed across her arches and painted her toenails white—she laughed, low and dirty, then wiped her foot on my pant leg like it was nothing. We never talked about it again, but every time I see pink nail polish, my stomach flips.