I personally do not suck cocks. I do not fuck, or get fucked. My entire world is BOOTS!…Male and Macho booted feet are my whole Universe. The smell, the feel, the pressure of boot leather on me is a feeling of delight and ecstasy. I was created and born to service Boots. To be dominated by Boots. To lick and suck, chew on and eat Boots worn on the hot , big and brawny feet of Boot Masters who can find erotic satisfaction from their position of superiority and domination. Men whose sexual urges lead them to dominate, control and trample the faces of other men. Men wearing uniforms that are symbolic of such powers and urges, uniforms that include riding breeches and knee-high riding boots such as those worn by motorcycle cops or by bikers from all walks of life usually used to dominate, order and command other ordinary humans like they dominate their powerful machines. Such boot-wearing men know and feel the power of boots. Their boots are the boots of the Law…They know that they are wearing Law Boots, and that they wear them to enforce Boot Law!….And they demand worship and respect for their boots from all low life, ordinary citizens. Both the motorcycle and mounted Cops along with groups of powerfully booted bikers present the perfect image of such power and domination .
Several years ago, I spent a holiday in Mexico City. Observing the cycle Cops there wearing the most sexy tan riding breeches and high brown leather riding boots with spurs!…brass spurs gleaming like gold!….It was the first time I was seeing motorcycle Cops wearing spurs with their motorcycle boots!….I was so turned on by the sight of those motor officers that my heart started to beat out of control!….I wanted to touch those boots, caress, kiss, lick and eat them!….So, I decided that I would work out some sort of contrivance to get to those irresistibly attractive and erotic riding boots!….
My Hotel offered the services of personal guides. So, I hired one to drive me all along everywhere I wanted to go, and also to serve as an interpreter since I did not speak fluent Spanish, although I could understand it quite well. I hired that guide for the entire length of my stay in Mexico City picking me up every morning at eight a.m. and staying with me for as late in the day as I wanted.
I explained to the guide that I had a vow to fulfill, a pledge, a promise that I had made to God for some favor. And that vow was to clean and polish the long riding boots worn by the Police or the Army Officers, or the cavalry cadets of the Military Academy.
Knowing that Mexicans are very religious and particularly superstitious, I was certain that my explanation would not raise too many eyebrows. I asked my guide to drive me to the best suitable place to fulfill my vow. So, he drove me to the central motorcycle police station in Mexico City, a big place swarming with motor officers and their machines. There were three boot shine chairs for the cops, manned by three bootblacks. The bootblacks were in constant demand and were paid one peso for the shine. In addition to them, an old, toothless woman was sitting on the floor next to the boot shine chairs polishing spurs while the boots were turned shiny.
I made a deal through my guide-interpreter with one of the bootblacks to take his place, and I offered double the money he would earn during the day to let me do his work. I also made a deal with the cops that my services would be free of charge since all this was my pledge. They nodded and understood.
For seven days, eight hours a day, I cleaned and polished the boots and the spurs of the cycle Cops ( the old lady was paid off by me as well ). I enjoyed myself as never before!… For me, this was not work. It was an erotic caressing of the Cops' boots and spurs!….
But this was not all of it!…On the second day, I went a step further. And, with the help of my guide, I explained to the cops that I had to use my tongue and my mouth on their boots; this, being a part of the vow. And the cops were most cooperative. They really wanted me to fulfill the vow thoroughly and completely. They stopped reading the sports section of the paper while in the boot shine chairs, and took an active part in the procedures. Whenever I did not use my mouth or my tongue long enough on the boots, the cops would command me to do a better job. Whenever my fervor abated, they would order me to work harder, and get into the bottom of the leather folds and creases formed at the ankles of the boots,…. To lick well around the edges of the soles and the heel,… to lick and suck the spurs clean before polishing them with the cloth.
Observing me at work that way, some other cops, while laughing, jokingly told the other two regular bootblacks at work at the two neighboring boot-shine chairs: con la lingua, con la lingua !… meaning to use their tongues on the boots they were actually polishing. One of the bootblacks responded to the cops request by jokingly stroking his tongue over the boot leather a few times provoking the laughter and applause of everybody.
Mira!….Mira!….the cop whose boots I was licking while feeling the pressure of my tongue through the leather would exclaim , drawing his fellow cops' attention to how I was working with my tongue and my mouth on his boots. A group of cops gathered around the chair to enjoy watching the new bootblack at work. And, whenever I did not use my mouth or my tongue with enough pressure and like I really meant it, the cops would command me to do a better job, pointing at several spots on the boots that I had to do over again.
Day by day I grew bolder and asked more and more from the cops. For instance, to place a booted foot on top of my shoulders while I serviced the other boot and to make
it painful and punishing. And since there were always several cops around watching me licking the boots, I asked them to place a booted foot on each one of my thighs and also apply some painful pressure with the sole, the heel and the spur of their boots while I worked to make it meritorious for me. I also begged them to give orders and commands on how to do the job well and to be very demanding. All the cops thoroughly cooperated and more.
But, however happy I was, there was one more unfulfilled desire in my mind while licking and sucking the leather of those magnificent riding boots and spurs. I deplored the fact that I could not crown the trip with licking and sucking the naked feet of a few cops after a day's work on their bikes! I mentioned this to my guide, of course, on the formerly used religious pretext. My guide told me: "that can be arranged easily". And, he turned out to be a man of his word.
The following evening he took me to the home of one of the cycle cops where, with the master of the house, four more of his cop companions were waiting in full uniforms, boots, spurs and all, having a beer…. There, I really had a treat!… For four full hours, I was allowed to smell, lick and suck their dirty and sweaty boot socks right out of their boots on their feet, and then, lick and suck their dirty and sweaty bare feet while they laughed and made all sorts of remarks about such a life style: " to have this service every day." And thinking aloud further, they would say: " the State should provide such services automatically to every cop by sentencing prisoners to do that type of work" etc. etc. The cops kept pushing, cramming and twisting their bare sweaty feet inside my mouth entering with all five toes as far as their high insteps and ordering me to suck and slurp loudly on each foot, to swallow it, to eat it for several minutes. They insisted to really hear the sucking and the slurping sounds that I could make with their foot in my mouth. They all had a big thrill watching me eat their sweaty toes one by one and then all five of them at once and seeing as well as feeling my tongue exploring in between each toe to give that foot a complete and thorough cleansing. No one pulled his foot out of my mouth of his own volition. I had to do it when I felt that there was no longer anything to clean; no foot sweat nor toe jam to eat and taste.
I experienced heavenly delight during those four hours while the cops alternated in treading, crushing , kneading and trampling all over my face and especially my mouth with their bare and socked feet and the soles and heels of their spurred riding boots favoring in particular the arch area of the sole right under the instep between the sole and the heel where the spur strap passes under the boot.
I have licked and sucked many pairs of boots in my bootlicking life. But, I have never tasted nor smelled such delightful boot leather. What irresistible boot leather aroma!. It must be due to the boot leather tanning process used in Mexico. The odor, and I should say the perfume of Mexican boot leather acts as a strong aphrodisiac and a powerful erotic stimulus. It can drive a boot fetishist to sexual ecstasy!….
The remaining two days of my vow were spent in this way. During business hours, I cleaned the boots and spurs at the Police Station. During the evenings, I did the double cleaning at the cop's home with a fresh group of cops.
If there is a Heaven, this must be it!…I have never been so ecstatically happy in my entire life!…Those Mexican cops were my absolute Gods!…generous, good-hearted and sympathetic!. And I have never worshipped or loved any gods more in my life!.. After I die, I ask for nothing more ( or less ) !…That is how I would love to spend my entire eternity!
When I left them the last day, three of the cops gave me three pairs of their old riding boots complete with spurs and an old pair of their much worn and sweaty socks stuffed inside the boots for me to remember them after I got back home in my Country . I still have the spurs, but I had to throw away the boots after they had been involved in a flood I had in my basement where I kept the boots and that they developed mildew all over them after. But, I still keep the spurs as memorabilia to remind me of those godly Mexican Cops whom I worshipped so deeply while I had the privilege and the honor of being in contact with their boots for 7 whole days as their bootblack and boot lackey.
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