My name is Thomas, and I knew this Ankhet -inspired masturbator wasn't going to be just a simple toy. As soon as I held it in my hand, I knew I was going to relive that scene that had obsessed me for a long time, the one that had marked me the first time I saw that damn meme .
Before I even began, I observed it. The two molded feet were so realistic it was almost unsettling: the plump pads, the elegant arches, the delicate folds of skin… everything begged to be touched. Just by lightly pressing them between my hands, I could feel that supple firmness that promised to envelop me perfectly.
When I placed my glans against the entrance, I felt a first shiver. The artificial skin was soft and slightly warm to the touch, as if it were waiting for me. Then I pushed slowly. The sensation was immediate: the firm arches closed around me like a living vise.
From the very first centimeters, my glans was sandwiched between the warm pads. The frenulum rubbed against a slightly more textured area , creating a delicious little snag with each stroke. The corona of my glans was massaged from both sides, as if two invisible thumbs were gently pressing it.
As I moved forward, the pressure increased. The base of my penis was encircled by the thickest part of the arches of my feet. It was as if Ankhet had me cornered, determined not to let go. The fine, asymmetrical ridges inside the pads scratched just enough to arouse the sensitive skin, without ever causing injury.
I began to move slowly, and each backward stroke caused the arches to slide along the entire length of my penis, from the swollen veins to the tip of the glans. The sensation was constant, a firm but never painful lateral pressure , giving the impression of being squeezed by two warm, living surfaces.
Very quickly, my excitement moistened the inside. The lubricant transformed the dry friction into a warm, moist glide , amplifying every detail. The pads felt softer, more enveloping, and the wet sound that began to echo in the room only increased my desire.
I started to accelerate. The molded "toes" at the top brushed against my glans with each upward movement, sending jolts through my entire body. The heels, meanwhile, acted like a lock, holding the base under constant pressure that prevented blood from flowing back down. It was as if every part of my penis was being stimulated simultaneously: glans, frenulum, sides, base… nothing was left out.
At this point, my hips were moving of their own accord. Each thrust forward triggered a wave of heat , each withdrawal a small, frustrating emptiness that was immediately filled. I was no longer in my room: I was in this fantasy, trapped between Ankhet 's feet, her haughty gaze fixed on me, ordering me to continue.
The climb was rapid, almost brutal. The combination of lateral pressure, heat, and micro-grips on the brake finally drove me crazy. I held on for a few more seconds, just to savor the tension, then orgasm hit me.
The semen gushed out in powerful pulses , flooding the tight space between the arches of my feet. The pressure they exerted amplified each contraction, emptying me completely. I remained motionless, panting, my penis still trapped by the heat, unable to release it immediately.
And the best part? Once I'd picked it up, cleaning it was almost as satisfying as the act itself. A simple rinse with warm water, a little mild soap, and everything was like new , without any odor or streaks. Quick drying, ready for next time. Because, let's be clear… there will be many next times.
