Lorelei Lee's Pantyhose Worship POV Bonus!

She has you right where she wants you—on the floor, staring up at Lorelei Lee’s legs. The pantyhose cling to her thighs, sheer and tight, the crotch already marked with the warm trace of her cunt. One slow shift of her ankle, and that sweet, dirty scent rolls over you. You know the smell now. Nylon, sweat, her. Your cock twitches, but you stay still. Her toe points down and brushes your face, stocking foot sliding across your lips, letting the fabric press in. She drags the sole along your tongue. You taste salt and heat. The other foot rises and taps the aching bulge between your legs. One sharp heel digs in, testing you. Pain blooms, then melts into something hotter. She laughs, low, and crosses her ankles, letting both feet rest on your face so the scent fills your nose and your brain fogs. You stay quiet. One slip, one greedy sound, and she’ll pull away. But if you’re good she’ll let those silky legs slide down again, wrap around your balls, squeeze until you see spots. Every inch of those shiny thighs, every whisper of nylon, belongs to her. You just get to suffer and beg for scraps.