The Telemachus Story Archive

Leather Care
Chapter 2
By Anonymous

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"I, ahh...I just want to take you up on that offer you made when you walked in the door."

"And what the fuck was that?" he sneered. He tensed up at what he thought I might possibly mean since he was was no fag lover -- reverting to high-school-jock-mode; but I already sensed he was ready and vunerable to what was to come.

"I just want to pull off your boots, that's all."

"For why ? They look great!" he said, squinting back at me.

"Well," I answered, "truth is I just love the smell of warm boot leather (I didn't mention his socks). You sort of turned me on when you mentioned how your boots would -- I think you said -- "stink up my room." So I want to take your boots off and I want to...ahh...sniff 'em." I waved the twenty. "So...will you take the bribe ?" He continued to stare while he tried to calculate, think straight, keep focused; but when he faintly licked his full lips without realizing it, I knew his macho bravado and dominant studliness were disappearing fast.

He leaned forward and briskly snatched up the twenty in his still-gloved left hand. "Knock yourself out, buddy," his voice now tinged with a boyish note of contempt and arrogance.

He let his head fall back against the chair's leather pillow, creating the effect that he was looking down his nose at me as I set to work pulling off his left boot. Although the boot was a tight fit, I took hold of the heel and toe and tugged and pulled the boot slowly toward me. His foot was full and muscular, not boney, filling out the vamp fully; I could feel and touch its form and outline through the smooth and shiny leather.

As the top of his tall boot just cleared the bottom hem of his breeches there was a slight suction sound and I caught my first glimpse of his sock. Black ribbed and pulled up snug to his leg, like right out of my fantasy. As his boot slid off over the golden threads in the toe of his sock, the air instantly filled with a heavy, rich scent of warm leather. I raised the boot shaft, put my face into the opening and inhaled several deep sniffs of the boot stink, polish, leather, sweat. "There, buddy... see, I told ya those boots made my feet stink. Is that turning you on ?"

I didn't answer. I held his big stud foot in its damp black sock in my hand. As I moved my face closer to it, its owner suddenly yanked it out of my grasp.

"Hold it buddy ! The deal was you get to take off my boots and get off sniffin' 'em. You want to play with my socks too, it's gonna cost you !"

He lowered his foot till it almost touched the tip of my nose. The outline of his toes was clearly visible as he wiggled them just under those yellow threads as if to tease and sell me on his take-it-or-leave-it deal. His smirk had the look of disgust, but also of "Gotcha -- once again I'm gonna get the best of this deal, pervert" not knowing that I would ultimately have the last smirk and get everything.

"OK !" I said as I slid a second $20 bill across the seat cushion, wedging it under a bulge (probably his big cop balls) just below the fly on his tight breeches.

I took my time massaging his foot through its wet sock. I nuzzled against it as I pressed the top of his empty boot against my face, again inhaling a deep, mellow odor of leather and sweat.

The young stud cop said nothing as if all of this action down below wasn't worthy of his attention, just licking his lips again. But as I took hold of his sock, he seemed to know what I wanted next. I swear I could feel him tensing his tight leg muscles so that his toes were jammed right into my nose and face. All I could see were those yellow threads woven into the top cap of his sock. All I could smell was his sweaty sock. When I finally glanced up at him, the officer was looking directly down at me, smirking. "OK pal, had enough now ?"

"No. Not quite yet" I answered. "I really need to take your socks off too. I'll bribe ya !"

He picked up his empty boot and laid it across his lap. "You can just stick your 'bribes' right in here," he said pointing inside the boot. "You want two socks to come off, TWO $20's go in."

Everything I did from then on was like in slow motion. His socks must have reached up under his breeches almost as high on his legs as his boot tops. His tight muscled legs were still damp with sweat, so it took some tugging till I had the cop's first sock pulled down, bunched up, and hanging loosely around his ankle. But from his ankle on down to his toes, that sheer, damp sock clung to his foot so tightly, it glistened and looked like skin.

Just like in my fantasy, I could clearly see the outline of his long toes. I grasped the foot by its ankle with one hand while with the other I'd work his sock over his heel. Then I'd yank it off him, leaving him barefoot -- but still in full uniform from his ankles up...for the moment.

The young cop kept looking sort of down his nose at me, showing no emotion, acting almost disinterested as I worked my fingers in between his long, still sweaty toes. My face was only an inch or so from them when he spread them and popped the question.

"Don't tell me," he said dripping with sarcasm. "Lemme you're gonna wanna suck on these hot toes, right faggot?"

Something about his smarmy grin and his snotty tone of voice really pissed me off. It was that "I'm-In-Charge" bored monotone that cops like to use on people at traffic stops. It reminded me that this young macho motorcycle officer was still basically nothing more than a dumb jock-kid, now ready for my taking. He had finally pinned me -- outted me; but it was too late. He had been prepped: he was ready; I was ready; I was THE MAN IN CHARGE, and now he was about to find that out.

He was growing impatient. "Come on! Man! Do you want to suck 'em or don't ya ?"

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