You can’t resist my pantyhose feet, can you? I sit back, watching you drool while I flex and curl my toes in sheer nylon — slowly, teasingly. I tell you where to lick, how to worship, and when to stop. You obey every word, my little foot slave. I laugh softly as you struggle not to shoot, calling you my pathetic nylon-licker. You exist only to please my pantyhose toes — and when I finally allow it… you explode all over them like a good, humiliated boy.
