"ENTRAPMENT in DRESS BOOTS" -A police undercover operation goes ter-r-r-r-ibly wrong...that is, unless you happen to get off on the scene of a handsome lawman in plain clothes captured, ripped & stripped & de-booted by a couple of mooks into ball busting and (YIKES!) boot sniffing.
Coyote was asked to volunteer to swap his motorcycle leathers, breeches and
boots for the uniform of a prosperus young urban professional. His superiors
figured he'd look the part and they were right. Coyote's assignment: be a target.
Walk the city streets. Carry a brief case. Take a few short cuts through alleys.
If hassled, he'd simply identify himself as a police officer, flash his badge,
and (only if really necessary) pull his gun from its shoulder holster under
his suit coat, and "collar the mooks."
Coyote may have looked like a banker, but he was still a bootman. Anyone who chanced to cast a glance down past the cuffs of his slacks (and he was surprised how many men and women did) could see the squared off toe caps of the most expensive pair of boots he'd ever worn. Nothing like the tough, tall riding boots you've seen him wear on duty (in our Trooper ROSTER 1000 Collection). These were dress boots, slick, over the ankle French Calf custom made footwear. $300 jobbies. The sort of footwear a young urban pro would use to send the YUPIE's favorite message: "Hey! I'm RICH and you're NOT.
These fine dress boots were not his. They were actually owned by the mayor's young urban professional pain-in-th-butt-son, and Officer Coyote was under strict instructions to return the boy's boots "undamaged".
Thus, Coyote didn't seem too surprised when a pair of shabbily dressed young men he chanced to pass later that day while cutting between two downtown buildings, remarked, "Hey, nice shoes, man."
The two didn't seem at all threatening, so Coyote paid the no mind, except to respond casually, "Thanks guys. But they're boots." Just an off hand remark. Hardly fighting words. But as soon as he said them, the two young men did a quick 180 and seized him from behind. One grabbed his arms, pinning them to his sides, while the other actually grabbed his boots by the ankle, prevnting him from taking another step.
Unable to reach the .38 snub noise in his shoulder holster, Coyote made the split second decission to tell these two dumb punks just who they were dealing with.
"I'm a police officer...and..."
"And you're wearing boots not shoes, right?" The leather
jacketed punk who had garabbed him by his ankles finished his sentence, all
the while making a big show out of caressing Coyote's left boot.
The tattoed young man who held Coyote's arms immobile, whispered in his ear, "If you're really a cop, you probably know all about my buddy Frankie and me. We've been rollin' bankers and lawyers around town for the past couple weeks. The way you're dressed, we figured you for one or the other. Sorry we misjudged you, sir, but we re gonna go ahead and roll ya just the same!"
The Leather Jacket reached inside Coyote's coat and grabbed his .38 Police Special. Then he lifted Coyote's wallet (complete with badge) from the back pocket of Coyote's slacks.
The pair hussled Coyote through a gap between buildings into a fensed off, deserted vacant lot. His two abductors worked with the speed of a well rehearsed team. Only seconds had passed since he had corrected them about his footwear. Now, so suddenly, he found himself disarmed, immobilized, and well out of public view. He thought of shouting for help, but pressed his lips tightly together instead.
"Fuck! I'm a cop! These two mooks aren't going to get away with mugging me! I'll find a way to handle em!"
But the two "mooks" really knew their business. And they obviously enjoyed the hell out of conducting that business with a police officer (as long as it was on their terms). The leather jacketed mook hiked Coyote's pants legs up until he finally caught a glimpse of the black dress socks Coyote was wearing. In a high pitched voice thick with sarcasm he said, "Whoa! These really are boots! Look how high they go!"With one hand the young man kept a tight grip in Coyote's ankle, while with the other, he started lightly stroking the hair on Coyote's leg. AT that, Coyote bit his lip, trying to keep his mind off the sensations creeping up his leg. He felt his cock beginning to grow, pushing ever so slightly against the pouch of his white briefs.
The two mooks had prepared this whole scene like a couple of pros (which they were.) Earlier, they had prepared their crime scene by suspending a steel bar horizontally from an overhanging tree limb so it was about the height a man's wrists would reach if his arms were extended directly over his head. And that's exactly where the two mooks positioned Coyote's wrists, which they then bound tightly to the hanging bar. That accomplished, both of them returned their attention (and their sarcasm) to Coyote's dress boots.
"I still say I was right. These here are just fancy shoes. But it's hard to tell while he's wearing these pants. Let's get a better view."
Coyote heard the R-R-R-RIP! As the two mooks, with a little muscle power, shredded open his trousers from his sock tops up to his knees.
"OK, you win, Frankie", announced the Tattoo. He held Coyote's foot up as if to show off the fine leather that covered Coyote's ankle and his black dress sock.This is a goddamn boot, alright! And even his socks look expensive!"
The Tattoo looked up at Coyote and said, "I've always had this cravin' for the smell of a man's warm new boot leather. Mind if I slip this off you?" He didn't wait for Coyote's permission.
Coyote's dress boot slid off effortlessly, leaving his foot hanging for a moment in mid air, clad only in its mid-calf black sock.
The Tattoo buryed his face deep inside Coyote's empty boot, and made a big show out of savoring the scents of sweat and leather. When he finally lifted his face, he handed the boot to his partner, who took hardly a whiff before tossing it to the ground. The Tattoo then said something Coyote wished he hadn't heard.
Frankie boy's more into chewin' and suckin' on guys' balls than sniffin' their boots, ain't that true, Frankie?"
MEMBERS CLICK for exciting conclusion.
REVIEW E-MAILS FROM BOOTLUST MEMBERS:
#1. "I am at the office in my Power suit . It is 7:45 am. My dick is rock hard and dripping onto and in my silk black boxer shorts. I wish I would get kidnapped like the Cop in (the Entrapment story). All I can do is go to my car and remove my boots . Zipper on the side like the COPS. and wank off in my boot . Replace my sheer black nylon clad mens' socked size 11D foot back into my Black Boot and walk around all day with my cum soaking my Black sheer nylon over the calf sock -with Garter attached. I will feel it every step. I am going to the CAR now. I kiss you black booted feet for doing this story. I have blown you a kiss hurry catch it . Your man, exec. XXXXXXX with respect."
#2. "Trooper Coyote in a tie, coat
and dress boots is a serious kick in the balls!"