Model: Jen (Size 9)

[Log Date: 5/19/2018]

I had been wanting to give a prior, somewhat experimental, approach another go for some time.

C*ll me a j*nkie but, there's a unique adrenaline rush I get from flying in blind and having minimal (to no) contact leading up to a sh*ot. Its a lot harder to pull off than you might imagine.

Ideally, the process would entail a single isolated, awkward, instance of initial contact with a complete stranger. To be exact, a solitary email; highlighting in-depth and blatant detail the particulars of my sole f*cking obsession. Then, of course, the business formalities. Concluding with a list of instructions should all terms be accepted. From there, all communication would cease up until both parties arrive on the agreed date/time then "proceed" IMMEDIATELY. No regard for introductions or polite greetings.

That doesn't happen. Does it?

Sure there are the once in a bl*e moon cold approach wins but, I find it think this l*ttle experiment is a tad more difficult to pull off. In any account, when I laid it all out to Jen in casual chat. I was so excited to hear she was on board with the concept that we took care of the formalities/started the countdown and decided to keep communication to a minimum from there, all in the same message thread.

About a month later, the day arrives.

The clip opens up as I make my way to her hotel room while elaborating a bit more about the premise of the sh*ot to you the viewers. From there it transitions to the sofa scene, where I capture a close-up inspection of her gorgeous soles on display before the fantasy begins to unfold.

As instructed, without a single word, nor care for what I might have wanted to sh*ot next, Jen abruptly slips back on her flip-flops and heads straight for the oil before laying across the bed. The gesture boldly announcing the obvious and causing the silent/awkward level to rise. I could tell this was outside of most experiences she might of had. As usual, I breathe it in and savor the rush.

I mumble something about a "quenchless obsession" as I take a stand behind her then slowly plow the Rod between her soft meaty soles. Soon after, I take a seat as she silently executes another instruction from our prior email. Without a word or warning, she mutes the TV while sitting up to actively listen to and concentrate on the whispers of dry friction her mature c*ck stiffening soles cause with each firm tug.

I supply a dash of oil and allow her to continue as I quietly watch for any reactions to the now audible slips and smacks. It becomes clear I have l*ttle to no intention to maintain composure as the #solefuckfrenzy urges begin to surface, repeatedly. After dowsing her soles in more oil, I up the awkward anti by tossing out a few blatant questions as the inevitable begins to close in.

By the time I realized I', too far off the edge? It's too late.

Try as I might, the ordeal begins with an explosive start. I manage to hold back for a few more moments before the outpour then a sudden sack emptying #angerblaster PROJECTILE CUMPLOSION.

As instructed? Jen continues right on. Milking and milking while listening to her creamy soles squelch, smack, and slip around the Rod. We END with her INTRO.

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