Black Motorcycle Boots

Black Motorcycle Boots

Shane Allison

Price: $2.00


A college student revisits his trick, Ishmael, when he bumps into him at a shoe store in which he works. The two of them start to catch up, get reacquainted, so to speak, after closing. Ishmael gets his just desserts when he is made to worship a black pair of leather boots by the protagonist. Things take a sultry turn in a scene of male-on-male ecstasy and full-on desire when the two men begin to reconnect in more ways than one. Black Motorcycle Boots is sure to make any fetishist and kinkster drop to his knees at every turn and "lick" of this tawdry tale.

PUBLISHED BY: loveyoudivine Alterotica
ISBN: 978-1-60054-452-1
CATEGORIES: ManLove, Erotica, Contemporary
KEYWORDS: loveyoudivine, Alterotica, Shane Allison, His and His Kisses, fetish, shoe fetish, leather, boots, motorcycle boots, shoe store, gay, GLBT, taboo, salesman

EBOOKS BY loveyoudivine Alterotica

EBOOKS BY Shane Allison

COPYRIGHT Shane Allison/2010

 “Thanks, baby. I ‘preciate you holding them for me,” I said.

“What did you just say?” Ishmael asked.

“I said thanks for holdin’ them for me.”

“No, before that.”

“What, baby?”

Ishmael smiled, exposing those pearly whites.

“Sorry,” I announced, shyly looking down to the floor.

“It’s cool. I don’t mind,” he said. “It’s nice. Why don’t you try those on. I’m going to go out front and finish locking up.

I placed the boots on a nearby table and lifted the lid off the box. The scent of genuine leather awakened and rose like a ghost out of its tomb of cardboard. They looked identically like those from the catalog. Ishmael walked in on me taking a whiff of the new, black hide.

“Okay, in case you don’t know, we wear the shoes, not sniff them,” said Ishmael laughing.

I kicked off one of my tattered, beaten sneaks to try one on. I thought to myself, These are gonna go great with my black jeans. I attempted to move quickly to stuff my foot in the boot, cuz I didn’t want Ishmael to notice the hole in the big toe of my sock, but to no avail, he noticed.

“Damn, dog. Looks like you could use a new pair,” he stated.

“That’s what I get for buying the cheap K-mart brand. There’s a hole in every sock I bought from there.”

“How do the boots feel?” Ishmael asked.

“Like butta.” I pulled my pant legs over the leather and walked down the dimly lit hall to test them out like I was about to buy a new car.

“They look hot,” Ishmael said. “They’re genuine leather.”

“They smell like it,” I stated, joking.

“Really? Can I um…take a whiff?” he asked, as I admired them on my feet in the mirror.

“Wasn’t it you who said we wear them not smell them?”

“Come on, just one whiff.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Yeah, come on.”

“Okay. Let me just take ‘em off.”

“No, don’t,” he said, objectively. “Give me your foot.”

Ishmael knelt like Prince Charming, lifting my booted foot to his face. He looked up at me as he sniffed along the squared toe.


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