Black Boots' Blog

I am very jealous but I fight it with my sense of humor

Black Boots

Black Boots
August 30
Lover of bellies
I have lost my lover who loved my boots. The psychic crossing guard, who spits and bangs on cars, warned me that he was selfish. I came to suspect that he was secretly funneling anonymous money to the Tea Party. He also hated museums. For now, I seem to attract adventures as a suburban housewife.Only you can determine which is fiction.


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SEPTEMBER 15, 2010 10:55AM

The Scarf and Boots' First Pot Belly

Rate: 5 Flag


Boots pulled out a bag from the top of the closet. It was filled with Hermes scarves from the 80s. Most were a gift from her father’s …girl friend...lover...”the Countess”. Boots did not call her this to her face but it what her mother and she called her. The French Countess was kind and perhaps one of the most educated women in Paris and she had turned her father into a Francophile. He had decorated his Sutton Place apartment in the colors of the French Republic and claimed to have traveled to Paris 23 times in the past year. He always brought back a present for Boots.

She was wearing one of them, a Hermes Scarf, when she met him. He was Boot’s first Pot Belly. She had met him on a business trip to Montreal. It was some Latin American banking thing on privatization. She was traveling with four others from her company: One older woman, Pat, Boots’ mentor, a bitchy, gossipy man, a sweet but dull daughter of a CEO of various Fortune 500 companies and a sharp, boorish, preppy girl from Darien, CT. The thought of having dinner with these co-workers filled Boots with dread…she wanted an adventure tonight. Pot Belly arrived at cocktail hour right on time. He quickly headed straight for Boots.

 Pot Belly was the head of the International Division something or other for the largest French Bank. He was in his 40s and cherubic. He had pink cheeks and a balding head with dark black hair around the ears. He was charming and very funny. He was too funny. Boots did not like French men and she hated funny men. She preferred the brooding tortured types that had no social skills. However, he was fun to play with. Boots took him up on his invitation to dinner.

Dinner was pleasant. Pot Belly explained that he was married and that it was just too expensive to divorce. Making love to his wife was comfortable but he needed more excitement. Boots had always had a policy of never getting involved with married men, but since he was French the rules could be suspended. Everyone knew that Frenchmen had no morals. Boots eyed his pink Hermes tie with the zebras and his chubby cheeks and decided that he would be a safe experiment.

 Pot Belly and Boots came back to her hotel room after a long night dancing the Bamba. Pot Belly had had too much wine. Boots wondered what kind of mistake she had gotten herself into. The man was actually quite repulsive to Boots. He took off his clothes and they lay on her big bed. Boots had never seen a body that was 20 years older. She was used to fit strong men.He had so much more hair on his chest.  Boots stripped to her bra and panties. Boots did not want him to touch her. She looked at his pot belly and chubby thighs. He had a fold of skin that hung over his groin area. He smelled good. He was immaculately groomed and manicured. He was rich and pampered himself. ‘He’s like a woman.’ Boots thought as she saw his self assured satisfied smile. ‘He’s like a woman that I could never like.’ Boots nibbled slowly on his chubby thighs. He quivered with delight. She took his small penis into her mouth. She moved her tongue around and sucked gently. He came quickly. Boots swallowed his sperm. It tasted sharp and unpleasant. She looked into his adoring ( or just lust) eyes and said “You have to go now.”

 When Boots got back to New York, a Hermes scarf was delivered to her office. It was an embarrassing incident since so many coworkers had seen her open the package and could see Boot’s look of utter horror. For days Boots refused to take Pot Belly’s phone calls from Paris. She finally picked up the phone. He wanted to come to New York to see her. Boots told him that she was in love with another boy. Boots was so remorseful and ashamed at her transgression with this repulsive man. Yet the feeling of total power over this pot bellied man stayed with her for years.

 She suggested to Pat that she visit him in Paris for business. Pat came back elated that Pot Belly had given her a million dollar contract. Pat told her that Pot Belly wanted very much to see Boots.  Pat never looked at Boots the same way again. In fact, Pat just wrote to Boots just last year asking her if she would like to join her new business. Perhaps Boots still has it going on.





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hermes, pot belly, oral sex

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i am seeing more clearly into boots' soul...
she likes the brooding tortured types with no social skills
yet cannot resist employing her considerable power
over men who repulse her morally or physically...

a collector of various remorses
a transgressor who manufactures humiliations
and betrayals
whose penance is raw sexual subservience to the
tortured soul she heals with tongue and c--t
and in the ecstasy
cleanses herself
But Sunshine even a genius like you can see the obvious.. She trusts very few...and in turn is not always trustworthy. She gives very little of her soul while appearing to give are very stupid.Perhaps we will see an evolution. Will the Captain be able to help her?
Alright! Thank you for bringing me here. I really like where this is going. Good Stuff!