Red. Rubbed. Excited.

No reply from him, save the sound of zipper and the rustle of his clothing. Gracefully drawing your full righteous hardness out of a pair of trousers isn't the the easiest thing to do, but he manages it. Ah, the pleasure of watching something done properly; the pleasure of watching a man who knows how to handle himself. Very good.

His cock presented to her, so insolent and unabashed, he coolly scoops his balls out, their flesh dragging tightly over his fly, pulling them out and down, hairs snagging on the zipper. Such a delicious moment: there for her, close, touchable and hard with the sight of her; her interest showing as two points of shadow on her shirt. Uncut, glossy head and veins pumped out in relief: she notices that the trouser fly is working like a cock ring, his erection pointing straight at her, the teeth of zip pressing against his flesh. Dark veins skeetering over his smooth balls parked so shamelessly outside. To think: they’ll soon empty themselves over my footwear. I must be mad to be doing this.

Such a handsome erection, close enough to touch. With her hands? Well that's just too obvious. Better: raise her leg and take the challenge to him. Didn't he say he wanted to fuck my shoes? Of course he did. Fixing his gaze as she pulls up the trouser, his eyes flickering down to her ankle. Just as he thought, she's not wearing nylons.

Now he's watching passively as she lifts her leg to him, the trouser pulling slowly over her thigh, her shape slowly appearing as she lifts her ankle, thigh muscles holding out her provocation to enjoy the play of his hardness and his balls as she draws him around her ankle, his bloated maleness flipping and dragging over her. It's lovely to watch him grimace as she pushes herself hard over him, pulling his balls lazily over her skin as she hefts his erection back.

She's musing: that's enough flesh-on-flesh, it's time now for him to feel some leather.