The aroma of my fresh coffee fills the air, rich and inviting—but it’s not just the taste that makes my mornings divine. It’s you, on your knees at the other end of the sofa, eyes locked onto my feet, worshiping them like they’re your most coveted prize. I can feel your hunger in every kiss you press against my toes, the way your lips tremble with desire as you worship each inch, as if you can’t get enough of them. I can see how much you crave them, how badly you want to lose yourself in their softness, to serve me through every tender touch. But don't think it's just my feet you’ll get. No, I’ll tease you, draw you in closer, with the softest flick of my toes, making your heart race as you wonder if you'll be allowed to taste more. I’ll dangle the idea of letting you kiss your way up, but here’s the game—dare to glance up from my feet, just once, and it all ends. Playtime stops, and I’ll make you wait... wait until you’ve earned another taste of my skin. Every inch of you will beg, your hands trembling, as I push you further into submission. And the more you kiss, the deeper your desire will grow. You’ll ache for more, crave to be told what to do next, but all you’ll get is the sweet torment of being denied—until I say otherwise.