```Method```
``Hands!`` - Not getting fancy here, this is the most important fap of my life.
```Aid```
``Sweaty Feet!`` - That'll do it. Thick Thighs were considered, but what if her butt is too clean?
```Companion```
``Smelly Neet!`` - I'm going to assume the feet are hers? It's fine if not, but this seems less contrived.
```Ejaculation```
``Potential!`` - A great Greek philosopher once said that it is a terrible thing for a man to never reach his full potential, in both body and mind. I should find out who that was, someday.
Finding a space near her battlestation, where the floor is relatively free of dorito crumbs, discarded grool rags, and bottles of my paramour's piss, I disrobe, lie down, and prepare for my great work to begin.
She rests her feet on my face, I inhale the unwashed stink, through socks and stockings that are unlikely to have been changed in several days. As I grasp my penis of power, I hear the high-flow case fans next to my head spinning up as they answer my companion's call - the roar indicates that tabs upon tabs upon tabs have been called into being as she opens her "go to" bookmarks.
I grip my shaft of significance firmly, a bead of pre-cum appears, heralding much more. Above, panties labelled "September" are pulled to the side, adding to the air the marvellous odour of horny cunt, well marinated in its own juices. A few flakes of dried pussy smegma drift to freedom - I am fortunate enough for one to float exactly on target, between her insteps, landing on my tongue - deliciousness bursts as it dissolves.
The schlicking commences - I reply with slow and deliberate strokes - frenulum at full stretch on the downstroke, foreskin covering glans on the upstroke.
A little more of this and I would be finished… ```No!``` This shall ``not`` end so soon!
Reluctantly disengaging my hand from my puissant phallus, I reach up to free a stocking top, removing it along with the corresponding sock.
Unclothed! The sweat is nectar! The peeling skin and toenail cheese are ambrosia! From heel to between every toe, across sensitive wrinkling sole, kissing every callous, my muse's foot is enthusiastically bathed by tongue.
I perceive the sound of pruning pointers, pinkies, and pals plunging posthaste the pudendal pit - a gentleman should not keep his lady waiting, and this lady shows no sign of tarrying.
The home straight calls - taking my nonpareil netherrod in one hand, the other squeezes at the very base, below my testicles. Full speed is unnecessary, with a steady rhythm, I feel the advance of my destiny itself as my beloved reaches her own climax. At that point, her body surrenders to pleasure, and in that supreme loss of control it is as if she trumpets the approach of my completion - her resounding flatus is the final trigger for my release.