Today I suddenly had a feeling I want to go to McDonald’s for brunch. I was thinking just grab and go via drive thru. But then I saw a nice Harley Davidson motorcycle with “Police” on it. I parked right next to it. And I ran inside as fast as possible and I spotted there is a motorcycle cop with his tall cop boots on sitting alone at a corner. It is really rare to see motorcycle cops in Seattle and especially they have their boots on. So I went right to my car to grab my stuffs so I could pretend I was studying while checking out his boots. This is my lucky day I thought. Good thing I had my Dr.martens 20 holes boots with me. I was thinking this would be the first time I am wearing a pair of knee high boots with a booted cop. Continue reading “First boots conversation with a motorcycle cop”
So I have often been told by my friends that I am the most straight acting gay guy in the world. This makes some sense because most of my friends are straight and associate anything related to gay guys with what they see on TV. For many of my friends, I am their only gay friend they have, and since I don’t fit the stereotype of what they see on TV they think I am straight acting. At times I have found this somewhat offensive, since I felt like my friends were constantly comparing me to a stereotype. Because of this fear I never told my friends about my boot and leather fetish, even though they were often telling me about their sexual interests. I essentially led two lives until recently, when I finally told my friends I am a bootman. But before we get to far ahead, let me give you some back story.
I grew up as a military brat on military bases. From a very early age I was surrounded by men in boots. My father, a military aviator, used to take me to his squadron when I wasn’t in school. Back when I was 5 or 6, only men flew combat jets, and it was a very masculine career field. Even my dad will tell you, back in those days it was a boys club. I remember how cool my dad and his fellow squadron mates were. The flew sleek fast jets, they were always warm and welcoming to me, always having a good time, and above all had a damn good wardrobe. Flight boots and flight suits. Almost every masculine figure in my life from when I was born until I was 20 wore boots and flew jets. It was all I was ever surrounded by, and I knew that when I grew up, I wanted to be just like them wearing boots and flying jets. Continue reading “Coming out as a bootman”
Last night I finished work at 11 pm and I had the urge to go to the gay bar in Capital Hill in Seattle. I had 10 minutes to think should I go or not, I had to 2 times that I can go home but I just decided not to waste tonight chance to meet some guys. I went to the Cuff at around 12 pm. But I did not get in, once I parked my car, I saw 2 guys was wearing 2 pair of hot boots. I approached them and asked them can I take a picture of them. And one of them it actually a transgender and the other guy has eyeliner around his eyes. She was wearing a big coat with Wesco jobmaster and the other guy was wearing a pair of German officer boots with a black leather jacket and a black tight sketch pants. And I just took a pictures of their boots and left. Continue reading “Stories: Pulling off a pair of Wesco Boss boots”
Alone in the reading room of the college library I was fighting to stay awake as I started reading my Philosophy text. It was a sunny fall afternoon and everyone else had headed home for supper. I must have dozed off for a second because I woke up with a start as the door opened. A rather good-looking guy entered the room and, as I always do, I checked out his feet first of all. I was instantly wide awake. He was wearing the most gorgeous pair of black rubber boots I had ever seen. They were shiny and smooth and very supple; I could see the rubber rippling around his feet as he walked. The soles and toe cap were a dark red color with a matching stripe at the top of the shaft which was fully knee high. They were in good shape, no holes or tears, but were obviously well worn. Nicely broken in, I’d say. It thrilled me to think he’d worn them frequently enough to give them that look. They were large, at least a size 13. I’ve spent most of my life observing men’s footwear so I’m pretty much an expert. As he came closer my prick came to life and began to press against my jeans. I kept my eyes on his rubber boots, since that was my passion. Although the room was empty, he chose a table next to mine and sat down with his rubber boots in full view. As he sat, I glanced up and saw that he was indeed a very attractive fellow. Long brown hair in a ponytail, blue eyes, short beard and he was smiling at me as our eyes met.
“How’re ya doing?” he said.
A guy’s feet, boots and ball-busting. They’ve been a natural combination that have turned
me on ever since I was a kid. I was lucky enough to grow up in a rural area where a lot of
the boys in my school wore cowboy boots, or ocassionally harness boots. I remember that
a lot of these guys also took perverse pleasure in “using” them. I would feel an
unexplained tingling in my adolescent groin whenever I would hear one of them regailing
their friends with fight stories that would include “…and then I nailed him right in the
NUTS with my BOOTS.” There would often be a wicked smile on their face as they
emphasized the words “nuts” and “boots”, and if I was lucky, they would lift their boot up
and rock it at the ankle and maybe flex their toes, to display their weapon of choice. The
story would continue with something like “…and he was on the ground screamin’, and I
was laughing.” I can’t explain it, as someone who is a peacenik at heart, but that kind of
sadistic, male-on-male cruelty, when you UNDERSTAND the pain you are inflicting, is a