ThatAfeet lies on the plush comforter, his bare feet splayed open in a natural display of vulnerability. He glances up at the camera with a sultry gaze, then returns his attention to his own soles. With a deep sigh of contentment, he dips a hand into the nearby glass bottle and scoops out a generous dollop of warm oil.
He begins by working the silky lubricant into the creases of his right foot with deliberate, slow strokes. His thumb kneads the arch, digging into pressure points that make him shiver in delight. A languid grin spreads across
