I could feel it the moment he arrived.

Victor Varenzo had come with an obsession.

I was waiting for him in my attic, barefoot, dressed in bl*ck lingerie, with a dark pink manicure and matching pedicure—elegant, sensual, intentional. For our rendezvous, I had taken the time to lay out a bl*e sheet on the floor, creating a soft cocoon, a space just for us. I had also positioned a height-adjustable b*r stool, perfectly calculated so that his c*ck would hover just above my crossed thighs, close enough to graze them... close enough to tempt.

When he entered, I was already seated, legs crossed, my gaze calm yet commanding.

He immediately dropped his eyes to my painted toes, as he always does.

To complete his vision, I slowly slid my hand down my shin, aligning my palm, my nails, and my toes in the same field of view.

Then I traced my hand up along my thigh, up to my chest, where I began to massage my breasts over the bl*ck fabric.

He was growing impatient—I could feel it. He moved closer and gently touched my breast, inviting me to free it.

He was wearing a deep red boxer, visibly straining from his erection—an arousal I knew well.

I pinched him precisely, pressing his tip through the fabric, holding it between my thumbs and forefingers, letting the tension settle in. A few caresses later, I slid the boxer off. Instantly, his c*ck pressed against my bare thigh.

I began a deeper massage: one hand underneath, supporting his b*lls and shaft, the other on top, pressing, pinching, sometimes twisting like revving a motorcycle. He shivered. His pleasure climbed fast.

Then I began to caress my own thigh with his c*ck, sliding it slowly across my skin in controlled, wet movements.

He asked me for a break. I agreed... in my own way. I gently traced him with my fingers—but for him, that was already too much.

His fantasy? To c*m on my thighs.

But I wasn't ready to give him that. Not yet.

When I decided his break was over, I spit on his c*ck.

My warm saliva trickled down onto my thigh, and I began to spread the slickness with his tip, gliding him along my skin like a windshield wiper. I added visual details—my finger placed over his tip, pulling back slowly to form a long, viscous string. He already believed he was watching his own c*m drip.

I saw it in his eyes.

So I freed one breast. He moved in instantly.

I rubbed him against my n*pple, then uncovered the other, which I coated with the saliva from my hand to make it even more welcoming.

He wanted to move back down to my thighs.

But it was too late.

I gripped him firmly, with precision, and he came hard, all over my chest and my fingers.

I remained there, hands full of him, my breast still warm and dripping with his seed.

I massaged myself slowly, silently, then rested my hands back on my thighs.

He was emptied. I was fulfilled.

-You wanted to c*m on my thighs, Victor... but you know it's always my decision. Maybe next time.

Mlle Ophéline

C*m Play Bl*w Jobs C*mshots Victor Varenzo Wanted to C*m on My Thighs - english version - 4K with C4s.com

Cm Play Blw Jobs Cmshots Victor Varenzo Wanted to Cm on My Thighs - english version - 4K with C4s.com