You know how much I love fresh leather, but brand new boots are too precious to stay pristine. I wore them out, stomping, digging, and tearing up the grass until they were perfectly filthy, all so I could make you kneel and lick every inch clean. Think mud, grit, the scent of worn leather, and the delicious humiliation of being nothing more than my outdoor mop.
Get ready for closeups of those boots, me teasing you with the sole before I press it to your lips, and the slow, satisfying control as you scrape every speck away. If dirty boot worship makes you melt, this is your new addiction.