Boot Service and More – Chapter 4
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Boot Boy and I hadn't set the next date for his visit when he left on Tuesday, and I didn't know if he would ask for another visit or if I should initiate this visit. I thought it would be best to just be cool and not worry if my beer train had sped off without me.
On Wednesday night, I received an email from him, "Dear Booted Sir, please let me know when I can be of service to your boots and any other way that you will allow. Respectfully Boot Boy"
I thought I should treat this like I would when I am dating chicks – don't' respond immediately or it will be assumed that you are desperate. I gave it an hour and email, "Boot Boy, I may have time tomorrow night for you to clean up another pair of my work boots, but I will need a second six pack of beer so that I have some for my Friday night poker game."
"Dear Boot Sir, I would be honored to bring you a second six pack. I will find a variety that truly honors you. Would 7:00 PM be an acceptable arrival time? Respectfully, Boot Boy."
"Yeah, surprise me with something different and it better be good or I'll pour on your head. 7 PM is okay – be on time."
"Dear Booted Sir, Yes Sir, as you desire. Respectfully Boot Boy"
I was sitting on my deck sprawled out in my plastic chair working on my second beer and first cigar. Needlessly to say, I was feeing no pain. Boot Boy arrived on time, walked up the deck stairs dropped off my $15, six pack of Bud Light, and a six pack of some weird ass beer. It was obviously foreign – I later figured out it was Belgium wherever that is. I had just finished that second beer so I opened up one of the new ones, and it was smoother in some ways and more flavors too. I guess that is why guys spend the money to drink them. While I was opening the bottle with the edge of the side table top, Boot Boy was sprawled between my boots on the deck boards. I guess the night is on again.
I just left my boots out of reach of his face and his hands and gave it a good 10 minutes before I decided to move them. These boots were a back up work pair of pull-on leather boots. The leather at one toe had started ripping away from the sole and there was no way to repair that. The rest of the boot was pretty well worn but very comfortable so I still wore them on dry days or around the single wide when I was doing projects at home.
I began by commanding, "Don't fucking more."
Then I took my left boot and moved it so that the heal was resting on his left shoulder and then dropped my right boot on top of the left one. It was nice and comfortable for me, but I bet the pressure of both legs and boots pressing into his should wasn't feeling so great for Boot Boy. As if I cared.
I gave it about 5 minutes until I moved both boots so that my left boot sole was flat on his shoulder blade and my right one had its heal on the floor but the toe was pressed on his collar bone. I let them rest there for about 10 minutes while I finished my third beer.
I thought I had tormented Boot Boy enough so I put both boots on the deck boards and slide them over to bracket his head. I pressed them into the sides of his head so that he won't be able to move his mouth to tongue either boot. I would rock my knees back and forth so that I would press his head into a vice between my ankles. After a few minutes, I relaxed my legs and told him, "Lick them boots!"
Boot Boy turned his head to one side and then the other licking the leather where my arch rested. Given that the leather was worn and somewhat torn, I really did feel him press his tongue through the leather. He started the normal routine of working the left foot but by the time he made it back to the right boot arch, nature was calling for a piss break.
I looked down and he was working away on the right boot arch and had slide his arms over to somewhat wrap around my boots. I hated to break up the progress, but I didn't want to piss my wranglers either.
I announced to him, "Let go of my boots so I can walk over to the edge and piss." No movement by Boot Boy.
I stood up and added, "I got to piss like a race horse and ain't gonna do it in my jeans." No movement by Boot Boy.
I was getting ready to do a piss dance as I opened up my fly and continued, "Either let me go or I'll piss on your fucking head." No movement by Boot Boy and it actually felt like he tightened his arms around my boots pressing them into his head and mouth.
Well, WTF! I just fished my cock out of my wranglers and barely took a second of thought before I let loose with a hard stream of used beer on top of Boot Boy's head. I heard his moan – I should have known that he would be okay with piss given everything else we had done.
I pissed on his head, but because he had already rolled up my wranglers, only my worn-out boot uppers got wet from the splash. I move the stream from his head to the point where his mouth was licking the boot. I saw him curl his tongue in such a way that the piss hitting his face and my boot would be funneled into his mouth.
He was drinking my used beer piss – I had seen some pretty weird porn stuff but never a guy drinking another guy's piss. I just continued for 10 or more seconds and was tanked out, and just sat back down in my chair, tucking my cock through the zipper.
Boot Boy started to lick up any of the beer splatter on both of my boots and just like the first couple of visits he was humping away on the deck with his fancy suit pants - more lick, more thrusting. After about a minute or two, his thrusting stopped and I could hear his moan. He must have shot a load in his pants again.
We were both out of breath by that point. I sat back and watched the ball game, and he rested his check on the wet deck boards panting. After I finished another beer, my tanks had re-filled and I needed to piss again. This time, I fished out my cock again and just pissed sitting down. With some bladder control, I shot a quick stream of piss on Boot Boys butt, another on his right arm, some on his face (he licked it off as it hit him), and a final shot on his left hand which was flat on the deck. My cock slide back into my jeans.
He just laid there in the puddle of my piss and I opened another beer. I thought it was about time to send the piss-soaked slug home, but my bladder told me that it had re-filled. This time I knew what I should do and also knew Boot Boy would not even mind it.
I looked down at him and said, "Open up that mouth. Need to wash off that tongue of yours. He raised his face and turned it up to face me as good as he could given his position on the deck. I looked down and fished out my cock again. I scooted forward on my chair and aimed my cock down toward his face. I flexed one big shot of piss at his face to determine the aim and then just opened up my bladder and blasted the rest into his face. Into the open mouth, into his eyes, and over his forehead, the piss flowed.
When I was done, I didn't even put my cock away. I just slumped back into my chair. I looked down at him and commanded, "Get the hell out of here."
He licked his face and stared at my cock laying out of my fly. He crawled over the deck stairs and back to his car. He was driving away before I tucked my dick back into my jeans. I finished watching the ball game and stumbled back into my single wide. I was gonna pay for the drinking all day tomorrow I knew.