[Hi peeps! Due to continuing carpal tunnel/computer problems, I’m still not able to really write or record long posts (Grr!). Fortunately, my friend Poetic Desires stepped in to guest post about a bootblacking scene she did with Deep End! Follow her on Tumblr, or read even more of her awesome posts on her blog, That’s Messed Up.- MR]
I realize I recently wrote a post centered on my love for boots. However, I had the intense pleasure of servicing two pair of boots (I know, I am a lucky girl) for a person I deeply care about tonight. And, in doing so, I now have the urge to profess my love for the craft, play, scene, skills, and sensations that comprise the art of bootblacking.
I bought a simple kit from IMBB 2011 at Dark Odyssey Summer Camp, when I took his class on bootblacking. At camp, my Big Bro’s Doc Martens had the honor of cristening my kit. Tonight, I had two pair of standard issue US Army boots in my hands.
DeepEnd, my roommate and friend, came to Summer Camp on a whim. Things had not been great at the house these past few months, and SkinnyBitch & I felt he could use a break, so much so that I paid his way with my credit card. (It’s not like he can shake me; I know where he lives.)
While at camp, we reconnected our friendship, both in general and in our play. At the Cigar, Boots, and Chocolate event, I ate ash out of his hand for the first time. He also took great pleasure in blowing smoke into my hair. The chilly soon autumn air helped the cloud stay longer and appear more easily.
Tonight, by a twist of fate I am still amazed was possible, I made it home for Kinky Trivial Pursuit. The party was KTP in name only. With more people than usual, the house was a buzz with activity and an overwhelmingly positive energy I had not felt before. And, even though my birthday party had been amazing, this get together far exceeded its kinky glow.
DeepEnd, being the awesome friend that he is, pulled out three pairs of boots from his storage for me to practice on earlier in the week. I, of course, explained bootblacking required a foot inside of the boot. He obliged my request tonight.
Along with the leather work, DeepEnd also smoked a cigar SkinnyBitch brought back, just for us, from her trip to Minnesota to visit Princess A. She had actually purchased three, but we relinquished two of them so others could join in tonight’s cigar fun.
Setting up at a ledge built into our Sunroom, I splayed the necessary items from my kit and awaited my friend. He, eventually, sat in the chair in front of me, cigar already lit.
I began my work slowly, massaging the leather and his feet through the material. I already knew he had oil tan boots, so I focused on feeling any particular rough patches that may have needed special attention. I washed each boot twice, using my hands to massage in the saddle soap and again kneaded the flesh beneath. After cleaning both, I allowed my hand massaging to translate into caresses from my cheeks, and then kisses and licks. My face loved the feel of his leather against my skin.
Whenever he chose, DeepEnd grabbed my hair, pulled me up, and blew smoke into my strands. The feeling of being near him, mixed with the slight tickling of his warm breath, thrilled me.
The second pair I worked on, a needed reprise and acceleration of our first encounter, had the soles of his boots firmly in my flesh. I sat in front of him, naked, as I had been all night, his weight pressing into me as I worked. He joked with our friends, “Oh, my life is so hard, a beautiful woman naked at my feet working on my boots.”
When I massaged his boots this time, I remembered the sweet spot he’d mentioned in my previous work and focused my attention there. He could not hold in how much my hands pleased him. He smiled and smoked, enjoying the night of blissful kinky fun.
At one point, he had SkinnyBitch lie facedown on the floor, with her back supporting one of his boots. As she laid, she brushed her hand against my foot. Later, when I was on all fours worshipping his leather, she looked over at me and smiled. In a brief conversation in our kitchen, she remarked on a spank bank worthy moment . During my first cleaning of DeepEnd’s boots, she saw: I was worshiping one boot, the other pressed into Lil Sis; DeepEnd pulled up my hair, blew smoke into my strands, pushed me back down, and pressed a little harder on Lil Sis, inciting a yelp.
Bootblacking, for me, is a combination of fetish and connection. I worked on three different individual’s boots. Big Bro was fun and helpful, though it included a tense moment I chose to ignore. BlackBeard felt more like service, exercising a skill rather than enjoying the moments. I only felt a connection with him after I finished my work and, as a thank you, kissed me. But with DeepEnd, I didn’t want to stop kissing and caressing his boots. I eventually made myself, but I could’ve stayed there, my face on his leather, his fingernails scratching my back, for hours. I would’ve been happy to have his sole resting on my thigh as I rotated back and forth greasing his ill treated boots til the Sun came up.
Connection in any scene is key. Between the cigars, boots, and positive energy of the night, I felt that connection with DeepEnd, and swam in the ocean of positivity.
Yeah, bootblacking is for me.