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| Argylls Old & New |
| Love Those Rubber Boots Man !! - 33 |
More than thirty years ago, I bought a pair of black Argyll rubber boots. I was 18 years old, on Christmas holiday from university and working as a postman delivering the Christmas mail. It was a cold, wet, miserable job and on the fourth day it even snowed. I trudged home prepared to resign from my life as a postman. Then a miracle occurred. I walked past a shoe shop which had wellingtons/rubber boots on display in the window. I�d fallen in love with wellies when 12 years old but for the last 2 years, due to my feet growing too fast, I�d not had a pair. In the shop window were a lovely black rubber pair of Argylls with a red trim around the top. It was love at first sight. My clever mother agreed that wellies would be very useful when delivering the post, accepted my tale of poverty and provided the cash. |
| I banged the snow off my boots as I entered my house, as did Jarvis, then removed my coat but, making no attempt to take off my boots, walked into the front room and collapsed on a chair, as did Jarvis. I sat looking at his wet, shiny black boots. They were beautiful. It wasn�t long before the two of us started arguing and I grabbed him, pulled him down onto the floor and we started wrestling, something we�d done many times before. As soon as I was on top I pulled off one of his boots. Held it to my nose. Beautiful. I threw it to the side of the room and we wrestled some more. Soon all four boots had been removed, sniffed at, then thrown to one side. Later when Jarvis left the room I picked up his boot and started rubbing the smooth rubber and smelling inside. My cock grew. I needed to shoot my load into his boot. He wouldn�t be out of the room long enough though. I picked up all four boots as he re-entered the room. �I�ll just tidy these up out of the way.� I took all four boots upstairs to my bedroom room. Later I announced that I needed a shit, went upstairs, into my bedroom, got one of Jarvis�s boots and started wanking. My spunk spurted into his boot. When it was time for him to go home I watched as he pushed his feet into his boots and, as far as I know, never discovered the sticky, wet patch inside one boot. |
| The following morning I arrived early at work with a smile on my face and on my feet my new pair of Argyll wellington boots with the clean white tops turned down 5-6 cm. The rest of my days as a postman walking around the streets were a pleasure. Twelve months later, on vacation from university, I wanted to meet my closest friend, a lad called Jarvis, and arranged to meet him when he finished his job stacking shelves at a local supermarket. The previous night had seen a good fall of snow so I dug out my boots and set off to meet my friend. I can still remember, as if it was last week, how I arrived at the shop just as he was coming out and there on his feet were black wellies with the tops turned down, just like mine. I was gobsmacked!! �Like the wellies� he said first, glancing at my feet. �Just as good as yours� I answered back smiling. We wandered aimlessly around in the snow enjoying our boots and catching up with the latest news. He was 16 years old and still attending school but suggested that on Monday morning we could meet up in a local park and chat some more. On Monday there was still plenty of snow so I wore my boots. Jarvis arrived and, thank God, was also wearing his boots. We played like little kids amongst the snow in our boots then ended up at my house. |
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| Your editor pictured over 20 years ago wearing his Argylls |
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