Sparing My Blushes
Here’s another one from before the days of the footblock…
The beautiful and noble, young African woman has already informed me that if I fail to remove all the dirt from her black leather ankleboots with my tongue, she will beat me about the face with her whip!
The sight of the aforementioned whip hovering in the frosty, winter air behind her thick and warming, argyle-patterned kneesocks spurs me to lick her boots with the utmost care and attention I can muster.
Thankfully, my tongue does the job, and when she does turn to walk away from me her boots are pristine clean – sparing me any blushes from the whip!