Story: Early childhood fetish

from hotboots.com/bol posts

Posted by rocky1 (other posts) on May 01, 2006 at 19:04:37:

It all started when I was about 5 yrs. old. A girl next door was dating a serviceman and one particular night he was chasing me around the house and I snuck into the bushes in front of my house and he lost me. As he was slowly walking by the bushes, I was just gazing at his boots wondering if I should just jump out at them. That’s when I knew something was “going on”! This resurfaced when I was in high school. Back in the 80’s, many guys would wear workboots (loosely laced) and let me tell you, I couldn’t take my eyes off them! Also, high top sneakers were a definite turn on for me too! In gym, when playing basketball, I would hope to be picked by the jocks for their team so I could stare at their sneakers. After high school, it only got worse for me. By this time, I got interested in boots. Hikers, Engineer, Combat,Loggers. I thought I was gay because every time a guy had boots or sneakers on, I would check him out. Then I would fantasize about him in his boots. Many yrs. went by struggling about my sexuality. I even got married (woman) hoping it would all go away. Before I got married, I told her about my interests. She didn’t seem to mind. I think she had hoped that she could change me. NOT!!!!! 14 yrs. later and with 7 yr. old Twins, I am still very interested in boots and sneakers. Hoping to find other men in Rhode Island that I can speak to and maybe make my wife understand my interests and desires. Larry, one day I found your website and realized that I am not a freak and not the only one in this world who has a “LOVE” for boots. Thank You!

Posted by bootlthr (other posts) on May 03, 2006 at 02:37:29:
In Reply to: re; early childhood fetish posted by rocky1 on May 01, 2006 at 19:04:37:

The boot as a mystery. That’s how it started. We lived in a house with a dark and damp cellar, and in the cellar, standing on one of the stone shelves people kept their food cold on before refrigerators, there stood a single, black, stiff rubber boot. I wondered about this boot: where did it come from? whose was it? why was there only one? No one knew. And as I stood in it, the top reaching way past my seven/eight/nine-year old knee, it felt good in a tingling, secret sort of way entirely different from any other good feeling a child experiences

Perhaps that’s why a few years later i was always checking the footwear of the guys at school and taking special note to the then fashionable chelsea boots, or changing for sports next to the guys with the taller, side zipped boots, talking about them, trying them on – sometimes when no one else was about – and eventually getting a pair of my own, and then another, and then another, and then, at university, cowboy-style, then engineer-type.

I still always check guys out from the feet first, hoping for something more than ordinary shoes, trainers/sneakers, or lace-up boots that hardly reach above the ankle. No accounting for taste, eh?

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