Last night, I sat like this… boots firmly on the ground, legs spread, like a tired cowboy after a long day. The smell of leather still fresh in the air, road dust clinging to the soles. He walked in slowly, that curious 18+ young man, staring straight at my boots. His gaze burned, a mix of respect and desire. When he knelt between my legs, I didn't need to say anything. I just let my boot move forward a little, the toe brushing lightly. His tongue slid over the leather, warm against the night chill. He looked up, waiting for a command, as if asking permission to go further. I just gave a smirk and leaned back in my chair. I'm the boss here… and he knew it.