After a long, hot day in flip‑flops, my feet are coated in sweat, dust, and street grime. The pathetic lesbo slut kneels down where she belongs, tongue working every crease, licking away the filth I’ve collected. Each salty taste and gritty scrape is a reminder of her place—beneath me, serving me, cleaning me. This is raw, unapologetic lesbian foot worship where flip‑flop filth becomes her obsession.
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