I’ve seen my friends do it. I’ve seen them enjoy the hell out of it on both the giving and the receiving sides. For a long while, I just didn’t understand what the big deal was. Actually, I found the thought of doing it kind of gross. I thought that boot worship/licking was just about the boots. And on one level I suppose it is. But now that I’ve done it, it is so much more. At least for me it is. It is service. It is highly erotic. And it’s not just about the boots. It’s a headspace that is totally submissive for me.
I started out cleaning the boots. Working up a nice lather, getting the dirt off. Just having the boots in my hands was exciting. Then I looked up at his face. Oh. My. Goddess. He was enjoying the fuck out of it. You see, I was sitting on the floor with a ball gag in my mouth. Drool was running rampant down my chin, sliding down my chest onto my breasts. I couldn’t speak. My emotions, my eager willingness to serve had to be spoken through my hands. He reached down and rubbed some of the drool around on my chin. Damn, this was getting hot. I could feel the heat and wetness building between my legs.
I lightly rinsed the lather away, rubbing the boots gently but firmly with my fingers. I opened the can of Huberd’s. Now I really had the opportunity to speak through my hands. I scooped a small amount out of the tin and rubbed it through my fingers. I remember the smell of it, the slipperiness of the grease that was to be my medium to paint onto the leather canvas. Rubbing the grease into the boots began in a light, determined, work-like way.
After trying to make sure the Huberd’s was distributed in an even, light coat, I began to massage. I used my thumbs to rub the top part of the boot encasing the foot, adjusting the pressure so that I could feel the foot within. I lifted his foot and placed it on my chest. He ground it into me. Enough to hurt. Enough to feel good. Then I began massaging his calf. Looking up at him, seeing the pleasure written so clearly on his face spurred me on. After a thorough calf massage, I gently lifted his foot and returned it to the ground. I then did the same with the other boot and foot.
He reached down to touch my chin again. Ha. He was very amused with all the drool. Slowly, the gag was removed. Now was the moment of truth. But, really, at that point there was no question in my mind. No hesitation.
I lowered my head and began to lick. Starting at the toe cap, I slowly worked my way up the boot. Applying enough pressure with my tongue so that it could be felt through the boot. I was fucking these boots, these feet, this man. With my tongue and lips. At one point I reached up with my hand. The hardness at his crotch assured me that I was doing this right. At least right for us. And that’s all that really matters.
I paused every so often to smell the leather, to feel the texture on my tongue. Smooth, yet very slightly rough. The smell sent shivers down the length of me. My heat increased. Holy fuck. Yeah, it increased.
After finishing with both boots, I got up on my knees and laid my head on his lap. He stroked my hair and my cheek. He told me what a good girl I was, how much I had pleased him. At this point, I was flying. I was in a place in my head that was profound. My submissive place. My REALLY submissive place.
His hardness was so obvious inside of his jeans. I placed my mouth on his dick. I breathed warm air over it. I licked it through the jeans. And nibbled a bit. I NEEDED to feel it my mouth. After some purring on my part, some taunting on his part, he grabbed my hair and shoved my face down on his cock. Oh, God. I wanted to suck him off right then and there.
He told me to put my stuff away. Then he walked me to the cellar and told me to shut the door.
I’ll leave the rest to your imagination…