The Telemachus Story Archive

Leather Care
Chapter 1
By Anonymous

He appeared on my doorstep one afternoon after an earlier rainstorm about a month after I posted one of my cards on the bulletin board at the nearby garage where the motor squad cops kept their big police motorcycles.


It really wasn't an ad, of course, it was bait and this young cop had been the first and only taker. As soon as I saw him, I knew his type. He was perfect for me, exactly what I wanted and hoped would show up. A few years ago he was your typical high school jock -- hunky, cocky, a real looker, vain; played on his looks and charm to get attention and whatever else he wanted. Became a cop because he wanted a physical job that would get him respect and maybe some adventure; he wasn't stupid, just opportunistic (okay, maybe even naive) -- using his all to let others do the scut work and then thriving on the praise he got as well as any benefits that came from his be-charmed public. Volunteered for the motor squad because motor cops are the jocks of the force and after all, he was a stud. A guy like that might come on as a macho stud, but he'd be used to following orders...coaches, police captains, etc. One thing for sure, he was not the kind of guy to waste his own time spit shining tall leather boots; he spent his time just looking good .

He began with the traditional cop greeting: "How Ya Doin', Sir ? Saw your card." As I moved to greet him he turned to look at himself in a side mirror removing his helmet and putting his thick dark hair in order to look his best...he always had to look good. He looked down at his rain spattered boots. "Can you maybe shine these up while I wait ?" Before I could answer he added, "If you got a bootjack handy, I can just pull 'em off right now..." then with a smile, "If you don't mind me stinkin' up your shop." I, too, looked at his boots. They were gorgeous: fairly new -- two-three weeks , only a few wrinkles or creases, lots of original shine, size 11-12, a little taller than usual--maybe even custom made--he was the type.

My heart leapt at the idea of this young motorcycle cop just yanking off his riding boots right then and there. He'd been on patrol all that day, so the act no doubt would "stink up" the room with the mixed aroma of hot boot leather and sweaty socks. For a few milliseconds I flashed on my fantasy image of his feet coming out of those boots clad in black socks, maybe sheer enough and sweaty enough so I could see the outline of his toes (thick wool boot socks are sexy, but I've always been specially turned on seeing the outline of a man's foot through his moist, sheer black socks. When they came out of boots--hot, erotic boots--it was ecstasy!).

But I'd been waiting a long time for just the right booted cop to take my bait. I had a very specific fantasy role for him to begin with and an even better ending in mind, so I declined his offer to take off his boots...reluctantly.

"Actually, I'd prefer to work on your boots while you're wearin' 'em," I said as I motioned him over to a large recliner chair (black leather, of course). "Have a seat; just lean back and have some coffee. That'll automatically bring your legs up so I can get right to work on that boot leather." The stud cop immediately obeyed (a good sign).

As I brought over a hot cup (my own special recipe blend just for him), he stood there giving me the once-over... clearly smirking that I was his inferior, then removed his right skin-tight cop glove which he tossed into the highly polished helmet placing both on the side table, next to the cup. Without even taking off his heavy leather motorcycle jacket or his gunbelt, he took a seat as I had directed and kicked back, forcing the chair into full reclining position and then grabbed the coffee. That elevated his booted feet so when I knelt next to the chair, they were right in my face.

"Hey, thanks buddy...smells great !" he said in a tone as if all this was expected service for one of his assumed stature. "It's my own special blend; hope you like it" I replied as I anxiously watched him take first one sip and then another and another. "Man, this is really okay !" he said as I just smiled a very crooked knowing smile and thought "You wouldn't say that if you knew what was in it."

I played it very professional and super straight (but secretly very turned on) for the next 20-minutes and another cup; polishing my way from his toe caps to his heels, then all the way up his tall boot shafts just as advertised. It turned me on when he started reverting to a kind of Top-Cop-Role, pointing out exactly where he wanted more polishing or buffing. I complied while quietly inspecting every inch of this stud cop and starting up a conversation. I asked him if he worked out much and if he liked being a cop.

"Oh yeah !" he replied to both as he stared at the ceiling. "Big Time! I like to keep myself in shape; I like to look good, ya know....look cool. Been a cop since right outta high school and the academy--the uniform and cycle...they're real chick magnets. You know, I don't even do my own laundry; two chicks in the apartment building do it for me, just hoping I'll take 'em to bed."

"BINGO" I smiled as I stared at his crotch; good, he's definitely loaded there, too, I observed. He finished the second cup.... he's ready. Just a few more minutes to let him absorb its full potency, preparing him for his ultimate fate.

I gave his boots a real first class mirror shine. Secretly my senses were in overdrive; the smell and touch of his boots was overwhelming, sexy, erotic, sensual. The hot boot leather squeaked as I rubbed and polished them, definitely hard-on music. When I finally put down my brush and rag, the officer took it as his cue to shift his weight to return the recliner to its upright position. He tried, but I blocked it with my knee.

"There'll be no charge" I announced looking him in the eye. I paused, then added, "in fact, I have a little something for you if you'll do me a favor." As I spoke, I produced a crisp new $20 bill and held it so he could see its reflection in the spit-shined toes of his now exquisite cop boots. Then I added, trying to muster my most sincere smile, " I've always wanted to bribe a cop. Are you game ?"

The cop's black leather motorcycle jacket squeaked and rubbed against the leather chair as he leaned back and stared at me through his mirror sunglasses as he contemplated my question. Half smirking, he asked "So... what do you have in mind ?"

Next chapter