Richard Lennox: Step Dad With Sweaty Feet
Richard sprawls on the couch, sun-kissed and glistening with sweat from his afternoon labor, his calloused feet—thick with dirt and damp heat—thrust toward you as an offering. His fingers hook the waistband of his soaked briefs, yanking them down to free his thick, veiny cock, already half-hard from the exertion. He strokes himself lazily, his grip firm, pre-cum glistening on his shaft as he leans back with a grin. “Talk’s cheap,” he rasps, voice gravelly with sweat and swagger. “But you’re here for this, ain’t ya?” His feet press into your lap, earthy and raw, while his other hand trails lower, cupping his heavy balls. The room reeks of musk and man, his primal ease turning the couch into a throne for his unapologetic, sweaty dominion.
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