My cunt is in a relationship with John Brownstone’s boots. From the moment he pulls on a pair, I’m clenching. Wet. Aroused.
I can’t blame it on a Pavlovian response to the kinky fuckery to come. He wears boots for all kinds of reasons and not always because he’s feeling “Domly.”
My reaction is automatic, a reflex.
I respond to the strong thud they make with each step. I remember every time I’ve climbed on the back of his motorcycle. It’s the underpinning of every scene in the dungeon and every date night we have at a vanilla restaurant.
His boots signal calm, strength, total control, and a bit of badassery that seems inherent in quietly confident people. Especially confident people who know how to give you sweet pain you crave and searing sexual pleasure you love.
Yeah, my cunt and his boots are connected. They’re in a committed relationship with each other.
I don’t have a kink or fetish for every pair of boots I see. But I’m addicted to his and the way he wears them, for any reason. John Brownstone is my fetish, and his boots are only a single part of my sexual need for him.
Welcome to Kink of the Week where the prompt for the first half of February is “boots.” John Brownstone definitely considers them a kink, and I don’t. But when asked to really think about how I feel, I realized where my desire truly lies. No surprise that it’s with him and the boots he wears. Find out how John Brownstone feels from his own perspective…