Bare feet. Cold mud. And zero concern for how filthy I get. I jump, stomp, and sink into the mess…. toes curling, arches flexing, soles smearing with every splash. Only my feet are shown, but that’s all you’ve ever wanted anyway. Watching me ruin my perfect soles while you ache, knowing you’d lick off every bit of grime if I told you to. You’d beg to. This isn’t elegance. This is indulgence in filth. And you’re going to love every squelch of it.
