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Boots in the Bar
Phil sat on his bar stool clutching his beer. He blended in quite well with the leather crowd with his biker jacket, Levis and spit shined combat boots. The crowd, if you could call it that, was disappointing; maybe twenty at the most and only half were wearing boots. Phil had not cruised this bar before, in fact he had to drive two hours to get to it. As his eyes drifted over the boots on the ground, they came to rest on a pair of high shine Chippewa engineers worn by a guy in leather at the end of the bar. After a half minute of admiring those boots he raised his eyes to the man who was wearing them and was surprised to see that he was staring at him. Phil was about to avert his gaze when he saw the man give a slight nod and with his left hand point at his boots. Phil's cock throbbed after the gesture. Phil slowly got up, leaving his beer behind him and walked over to the man at the end of the bar.
When Phil got there he said: "Hello, sir! Your boots look a little dusty. I'd like to offer my services as a humble boot licker to go down on your boots and lick them to a brighter shine than they are now."
"Go to it, boot slut. But don't mess up my shine. I want my boots looking better than they do now. Quit wasting time, get down on the floor where you belong and start servicing my boots."
Phil didn't have to be ordered twice. He dove to the floor and began to lick the right boot. His cock got harder and harder as his tongue slid up and down the smooth leather. He licked the boot as hard as he could, pressing his tongue against the warm black leather.
He must have been licking for about five minutes when another leather man approached. "Hey Kurt, I haven't seen you for a couple of weeks."
"I was doing my two week army reserve summer camp, but I'm back now. You had any good fucks while I've been gone?" asked Kurt.
"Yeah, there was a fuckin faggot who came here last Saturday. He told Joe he was looking for a dick up his ass. So about four of us showed him into the back room where we roughed him up a bit before taking turns fucking the shit out of him. Say what's that piece of shit doing down on your boots?" asked Hans.
"I don't know. Some boot slut couldn't keep his eyes off my boots so I signaled him to come over and service my boots. He doesn't seem to be doing a very good job. Maybe you should kick his ass a few times to help him pick up the pace." Said Kurt.
"Fuck, yes! I'll give that little boot bitch a taste of my 30 hole Underground Rangers." With that Hans took a step away from the bar . He drew back his size 12 black Ranger boot and kicked Phil's left ass cheek. Poor Phil went sprawling from his position on his hands and knees to being flat on the floor. He didn't have a chance to stay there long before Hans landed another powerful boot on his ass.
"You're done with this piece of shit, aren't you, Kurt?" to which Kurt nodded as he took another sip of beer. Hans turned his head toward the floor where Phil was trying to get up and said: "OK you little boot faggot. You've had your chance to service his boots and you've done a terrible job. Now get the hell out of here. If you're not gone from the premises by the time I finish counting to ten, I'll kick your balls so hard you'll never fuck again."
With that Phil scrambled to his feet and headed for the door. As he was about to exit he took one last look at those powerful engineer boots and only wished he could have licked them for another hour.