I love big women. Big butts own my nuts.
Shapely is the only sexy.
And full figured women in high heeled boots make me weak.
If I am flipping through channels and stop on Oprah and see she is wearing boots, I get a hard on right away.
(Frankly, the only reason I stop on Oprah when channel surfing is to see if she is wearing boots. Some times I will stop and won't go on until I can declare one way or the other.)
I have seen pictures of Oprah in the morning, before her crew of professionals turns that rather scary morning visage into the smooth and lush face that adorns magazines in the check-out line. And even with that in mind, I go hard at the sight of her in boots.
With that in mind, you can imagine my reaction today as I stepped out of the office to grab some lunch and I saw not one, but three rubenesque women in boots walking down the street together. There was a pale skinned, big redhead with her tight jeans tucked into a pair of nice brown leather boots and a darker toned brunette in a long brown patterned skirt that was slit up high enough to reveal a pair or black, knee high riding boots as she walked.
But between them, leading the procession, leading their conversation, and leading in my heart, as a full figured ebony goddess that could make me cry with the wink of an eye. She strode along, ever half a step ahead of her two friends, with that air of confidence that seems to come naturally to black women. That air that allows them to make a completely unreasonable demand and make it sound not only like something you had better do right now, but that there must be something wrong with you if you have not yet snapped to it.
She wore a black leather coat over a tight skirt that flared at the hem just above he knees, below which she was wearing a pair of very well maintained black, high heeled leather boots.
They were going the opposite direction from my planned lunch stop, but I forgot all about lunch. I followed them from across the street, observing them, knowing that nothing would ever come of it, but unable to stop myself or my thoughts.
Of course, I could picture myself, naked and on the floor before that trio, at their beck and call, eager to please and subject to their scorn and derision. I would endure pain and humiliation to please them, to get the chance to kiss and lick their boots. I would dream of earning enough regard from them to be allowed to attempt to satisfy them by serving as their throne, my face nestled between thick thighs and under a magnificent butt as I strained to both pleasure them and gasp for breath underneath them.
When it comes to women in boots with full butts, I am the ass-kisser extrodinaire.
One of the project managers, a woman of course, was wearing a very interesting pair of earrings today.
They consisted of long, dangling gold chains that ended in hand cuffs which practically rested on her shoulders.
And she was wearing a very nice pair of tall, high heeled, black leather boots. They fit her perfectly too. Snug, but not so tight they looked like they were going to burst at the seams.
Fall is well and truly upon us, and boots are coming out of summer storage.
Of course, what could I say to this woman? I know what I wanted to say.
But I said nothing.
submitted for approval by bootpony at 9:22 PM
I used to think the site Men in Pain was the web's true gift to me. It features men being tied up, beaten, and screwed with strap-ons by beautiful, and frequently boot wearing, women.
I highly recommend the site.
Only they now have a new site going.
It is called TS Seduction.
I am totally hooked.
The theme is about the same, only instead of women with strap-ons, this site features trans-sexuals that look like beautiful women but who need no strap-on to screw a man. They pack their own hard cocks under their seductive outfits.
I am so totally straight and yet when I go to this site I am completely transfixed, so to speak.
I want to be seduced by a tranny like these. I want to be made to suck their cocks in an attempt to please them. I want to be under their control while they decide whether my mouth was good enough or whether they should take my ass as well.
What does this mean?
I love the Fall and Winter months.
Living in California, where warmth a blue skies are the norm, a few months with some overcast and rain are almost a relief to me. Something in me longs for the moody feeling of dark clouds and a chill wind.
And, of course, it is Fall and Winter when women are most likely to wear boots.
So as I walked to lunch today in the bright, warm sunshine, I thought back to the last overcast week we had and considered what I saw.
A big woman, weighing more than I, crossing the street in her sharply tailored black skirt suit and a pair of black high heeled boots that might have been custom made for her. She exuded a self assurance and power that made me want to follow in her wake. I pictured myself as her male administrative assistant, fetching and carrying for her all day long, then getting on my knees under her desk at the end of the day to help her relax, my locked in place by her powerful thighs.
A tall black woman in a pair of gorgeous burgundy suede boots that went up to mid thigh over her leggings. She was already tall, and in those boots she was taller than I am. Black women already intimidate me, so this ebony goddess, larger than life and striding down the street could have had me on my knees at a glance. I did not even have a fantasy on the spot about her, as I was sure I was less significant than a bug on the sidewalk as far as she was concerned. Still, I could picture myself gladly working hard, very hard, to earn a moment of her notice.
Two petite young Asian women in tight jeans and matching riding boots. Real riding boots, not department store knock-offs. They had thick soles and heavy leather shafts and a texture that would take a shine that was subtle yet a mile deep, if you worked very hard buffing and polishing them. They must have gone to a tack shop for them. As I passed by them, I could picture the two of them leading me to a remote barn or stable, suspending me from a cross beam, and then taking turns thrashing me with all their might before letting me drop to the floor. There I would polish their boots back to a dress sheen with my tongue.
And now Spring is at the door and all I can hope for is a sudden cold snap soon before most boots go back in the closet until Fall comes again.
submitted for approval by bootpony at 2:03 PM
My favorite project leader was back in the building today and came over to talk to me. I am lucky it was because I was asking her for something, because she has such an air about her that I am afraid I could deny her nothing.
And that is the case on any given day. Today she had on a pair of very sharply tailored grey wool knickers below which she had on a magnificent pair of boots.
This woman has no plain boots. Every pair I have ever seen her wear are stylish, unique, and overwhelmingly sexy. Today's pair was no exception.
Today she was wearing a pair of caramel brown boots that looked both soft yet were buffed to a glossy sheen that simply oozed the word "expensive." I bet they are as smooth as butter to the tongue. Along the back of these boots were laces that went from the top of the boot, right below her knee, all the way down the back of the five inch high wedge heel.
The laces were, of course, primarily decorative rather than functional, but they were not a cheap or addition. They may have has some elasticity to them because the boots fit her perfectly.
That was my eye full for the day. And she even granted my meager request. I was so entranced I found three excuses to go up to her floor in hopes of another glance. I was rewarded with two additional views, including a walking-away angle that showed the laces on the back of the boots to good effect.