You’re in my head now—watching every flex of my toes, every inch of socked sole moving up and down your cock while I sit sweetly in my plaid skirt. It’s up close, bratty, and personal. The way I stroke you is slow and deliberate—because I can. There’s no need to rush. I’m watching you squirm and pretending I’m bored. That’s the fun part. No talking, no countdown. Just the sound of your breathing and my socks doing exactly what you need.
