“The only thing that still bothered me was that my pussy lips were often sore after the cleanings, as they were on the day I had my physical since it had taken some hard work to rub the gum you had stepped in a few days before off of your boot. The doctor said my labia minora looked a bit chafed, but she just smiled and told me to tell my boyfriend to ease up a bit.”
Tiffany looked down and smiled. “I wonder what she would have thought if I had told her that my boyfriend, or maybe I should say ‘my boyfriends’, was a pair of old boots.” She laughed and shook her head. “No, I didn’t tell her that you were using my pussy to clean your boots because the lips are so soft and silky and protect your boots from damage even when you have to apply enough pressure to remove the grit and any stuck-on gunk from the soles.”
Boots weren’t made for stepping softly, thought Tiffany; and the idea that Buford could tread gently on anything with his boots on struck her as absurd: He wasn’t clumsy, exactly; but she would never call him graceful either. Moreover, the thought that her doctor would undoubtedly tell her not to let Buford use his boots on her labia irritated Tiffany, since to her mind he was not guilty of doing so; instead, she thought he was doing just the opposite: She thought Buford was using her labia on his boots. “It’s my pussy lips’ responsibility to protect the soles of your boots from getting chafed, not the other way around!” she exclaimed.
Surprised by her outburst, Buford and Tiffany stared at each other, wide-eyed. Tiffany laughed, a little embarrassed. “Well, am I right?”
Buford smiled. “Yes, you’re right,” he mused. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her otherwise. “The only thing I might add is how it came about that I started cleaning the soles on your twat in the first place.”
He looked out through the window at the barn as he thought back to the time he had first used her nether lips to clean his boots. He began: “I had stepped in something really nasty that day, and at feeding time I was still in a bad mood thinking about having to clean that crap off, maybe with a stick. Anyway, when I got to the barn with my spittoon, you weren’t ready yet, which didn’t exactly help my mood any, especially since I knew you had already finished cleaning the fresh droppings out of the chicken house and had had plenty of time to get ready. I dumped the contents of the spittoon into the bucket of droppings and picked up a thick rubber hose while I waited until you were in position, head down, ass up. You didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get fed, so I smacked your ass with the hose to let you know that I was getting pretty damned impatient.
“That seemed to get your attention, and you quickly reached back and spread your cheeks. By that time I was in no mood for your pussyfooting around, so I just thrust one end of the hose into that tight bottom of yours, as far as it would go; but as I was shoving it farther and farther in, I caught sight of your pretty pink pussy lips peeking out at me. The sight of those lovely lips had a soothing effect on me, and I worked the rest of the hose in more slowly, until only an inch or so remained in sight.”