Studio: Str8crushfeet
We met him 5 years agone. From that very 1st movie, Abraham made it clear who that guy was: an absolute alpha-imposing, magnetic, desired. His masculine angel, sculpted body, and corporalist attitude quickly made him a fan favourite. But there was always one limitation. No matter how much we insisted... no matter how many of u begged for it... for five lengthy years, this chab refused to do a footjob. Until now.We did it. We convinced him. And the pont of time this guy told yep, we knew-one scene wasn't going to be sufficiently. It had to be epic. It had to be unforgettable. And it is.In this neverseen episode, you'll watch Abraham like at no time previous to. The same flawless body. The same overwhelming presence. But this time, giving u what we've all fantasized about for years: His 1st footjob. And not just any footjob. You'll watch him in 3 different settings-each one hotter, every one greater amount intensive. Every discharged, each gesture, each jerk off... pure submission. Pure dominance. Pure enjoyment. And pay close attention. Because if Abraham was going to make his footjob debut, we had to do it big.Four cumshots. Three scenes. One movie. And one name you'll at no time forget. Abraham.Abraham's Interrogation: Military Footjob EditionAn empty military base. Abraham stands alone, imposing in his uniform-each muscle of his stone-carved body hugged taut by the fabric. The sheer authority radiating from him is impossible to ignore. He's a chap in command, a natural-born alpha used to being obeyed.When Pain-Fabricio-walks in claiming he's been sent to pick up a computer with recruit information, the commander doesn't buy a word of it. He doesn't recognize him. No warning, no paperwork. And Abraham's instincts are not at any time wrong. That face, that pliant posture-he can't be a real soldier.He ties him to a chair out of hesitation. Like a thief... or worse, a spy.Fabricio is trapped. Helpless. Exposed. Abraham approaches not fast, every step enormous with purpose. The uniform stretches across his biggest, consummate body. And when this guy leans in close to inspect him-he finds smth far greater amount revealing than forged orders.An erection. Thick. Heavy. Pulsing underneath Fabricio's panties. Undeniable. Abraham smirks. Every time this chab crams down on him, each time his feet graze his chest or his scent fills the air, that shlong responds. It throbs. It supplicates. There's no doubt anymore-this isn't a soldier. This is smth else entirely.Someone who wishes humiliation. Someone who needs to be owned.The torment starts. Abraham lifts one foot and plants it betwixt Fabricio's legs. He begins wanking with strenght and precision, using solely the soles of his feet. Big, coarse, powerful-trained to dominate. They slip over the shaft, exciting it, teasing it, taking control. Fabricio groans throughout clenched teeth. He can't touch himself. He can't move. He can solely surrender to his commander's rhythm.And then it happens. The 1st spunk flow. Explosive. Messy. Uncontrolled. All with Abraham's feet.No one would make no doubt of it's his 1st time giving a footjob... He moves like a dude who's done this all his life.The CEO's FootslaveThis time, we go into a greater amount sophisticated universe. Abraham is a high-level executive, commanding authority with each move. He wears a perfect dress, though his brawny body refuses to stay hidden underneath the fabric. There's smth irresistible in the way his contained force discloses itself-in how this guy sits, how this chab stares, how this chab shifts his feet inside these big, polished costume shoes.In front of him-or rather, under him-Fabricio exists only for enjoyment. An object. A tractable employee whose solely task is to serve, worship, and obey. He's bound below the desk like one more piece of office furniture, wearing a collar designed specifically for his thick shlong. A chain connects him directly to his master's foot, and Abraham toys with it absentmindedly during the time that working, dragging it against his sole, teasing him with facile control, like triggering a machine pumped up to surrender.The constant tension, the pull of the chain, the heat radiating from feet encased in leather... it all builds inside Fabricio like a command with no voice. There's no need for words. The big o arrives-explosive, unstoppable-provoked by no thing greater amount than the presence of a foot that not ever even left it is shoe, and the cold, ideal indifference of a corporalist who knows exactly what kind of vigour that guy holds.Lucky's Foot Addiction: 2 Cumshots, 0 RegretsAbraham was there-in my living room-stretching after the game like a Greek god carved in flesh. His workout garments were still damp, clinging to that sculpted, overheated body. The dried sweat on his skin filled the room with a thick, masculine scent that wrapped around anything. But what actually make me insane were his feet: wrapped in thick football socks, filthy, worn, marked by use-proof of strength, dominance, manhood.I couldn't assist myself. I approached him like a recognizing it is dom. The smell hit me in advance of I even touched him-moisture, used fabric, skin, testosterone. I didn't need to say a word. I looked at him, offering myself. I needed to do this. I had to touch them.He let me. Rested his feet on my lap. And I dove in. Like an junkie. I rubbed em, inhaled em, crammed my face against em. I buried my nose in these socks, breathing in until my lungs burned. The sweat juicy throughout, wetting my skin. My 10-pounder hardened so fast it hurt. It throbbed, pulsed-and that guy noticed.But this chab didn't stop me.He played with me. With my need. He rubbed his foot against my bulge, crammed down with the heat of his sole, teased me with these thick toes wrapped in perspired fabric. I closed my eyes. Trembled. And when that damp sock touched my tip... I exploded. My 1st agonorgasmos hit like lightning. Raw. Intense. Unstoppable.But Abraham wasn't finished with me.He peeled off his socks lazily, letting the trapped heat escape like a silent castigation. His feet were hawt, slightly damp, the skin coarse, the soles toughened, and that wild scent clung to my tongue. I took em in my hands like a prize. Dropped to my knees out of realizing it. Worshipped em. Rubbed em on my face, on my chest... then on my still-hard dong, begging for more.He watched from above. Used me. Stepped on me. Owned me with each touch. He crammed with his arch, dragged with his heel, claimed me with each motion.And then, out of warning, I came once more. My face moist, his foot crammed against my unyielding penis. The groan ripped from my chest like a growl-raw, abased, satisfied.And still... I craved more.With feet like his... twice is not ever sufficiently.
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