He stood beside me for a moment before his turn. He asked for a light for his cigar, which I gratefully gave.
Sitting down in my chair, the din of the event fell away. I picked up his boot and placed it on my thigh. I unlaced his leather and began working.
I was still in the bar shine mindset. I made myself slow down. I made myself take care with his leather. I cleaned each of his boots twice, making sure I massaged the flesh beneath the leather.
As I worked, he blew cigar smoke into my face and ran the cherry of his tobacco delicately near my skin. The intensity of our interaction increased.
He ashed into his hand and brought his palm to my eye line.
I took his hand into mine and licked up the flecks. Some ash spilled onto his thigh. His hand clean, I bent down and licked the ash off of his leather kilt, all the while nuzzling my face into his crotch.
His kilt free of ash, I sat back. He flashed me momentarily. I gave a smile, but got back to work. I'd already cleaned his boots once and not gotten to the polish; I didn't want to get sidetracked again.
As I reached down for my polish supplies, he stood, placed his boot on my thigh, and pointed. I bent my head down and licked all over his leather. I kissed. I caressed my face.
Satisfied, he sat back down, but then placed his boot in between my legs, applying intense pressure onto my clit. With the force of his weight behind him, he merely pulsed his boot as he fucked me with his leather.
I leaned back in my chair, moaning rather loudly. I begged permission to cum. He gave it. He allowed sweet warmth to pass through me three times, my hips bucking with the rhythm of his leather, before he ceased his delicious torment.
As I rode his boot, as I sunk into my ecstasy, I forgot about anything else going on around me.
When finally he stopped, I raised my head back up, regained my breathing, and got back to servicing his boots. I cleaned where his leather had met my pussy. I asked him what polish he preferred; Lincoln.
I pulled out my tin and popped it open. I rubbed the dark substance and applied some polish to his leather.
He took the tin from my hand. He built up saliva on his hand, so much so some dripped from his lips, rubbed his hand into my polish, and applied it to his leather.
Moving his hand to my face, his fingers rubbed my lips. My mouth parted and I sucked on his fingers, sucked like I knew he wanted me to suck on his cock. I could hear him moan from my mock fellatio.
Upon his request, I put the tin in my mouth between my teeth. I vigorously worked the polish from the tin into his boots. I buffed his leather.
Taking my brush from me, he licked the bristles and buffed his toe caps. Once again I followed his lead, licking my brush and buffing his heel caps.
"Now you are in my leather."
And you are in my polish.
Indiana: Where You Can Go to Prison for a Poorly-Timed Miscarriage - Oh, sweet people of these United States, the Rude Pundit cannot express how much he loathes Indiana. He lived there for a good seven years, and it is like ...