Do you know how many boys dream of this moment? Of kneeling while I slowly slide one glove off, finger by finger, watching your eyes grow wide like a pathetic little addict. And then? I offer it. I let you hold it. Smell it. Press it to your lips. Because that’s your place, worshiping what covers me. Obeying the very leather that’s touched my body. If I say suck, you do. If I say stop, you freeze. You don’t worship me, you worship what touches me. That’s how far your submission goes. 😏