| Love Those Rubber Boots Man!! - 52 |
| I sold my silence for a pair of boots |
| I spent most of my childhood (from age 4) on the edges of a country estate. My dad started there as gardener, and later became head gardener. I spent most of my time in wellies around the estate (not too close to the big house though) and wore wellies to school as the shortcut was across a field. Even in secondary school I wore wellies except in the height of summer, as the field was also the quick way to the bus stop. A few of my friends would wear wellies as well, being farm lads. It wasn't really an issue until I got to about 15. Lads became more clothes conscious and wellies were either left at home or stuffed in bags on the bus. I persisted and realised I liked wearing them. I even got the nickname Dunlop, which was written on the label on my boots. |
| My sexual interest started when I got interested in the eldest son on the estate. The two boys were away at school most of the time, but when they were on holiday they would hang around the estate in their green wellies. The eldest, Peter, was a year older than me and very handsome. He was also a randy sod and would corner me in the sheds for a fumble. It was at Christmas that he called on our cottage for me with a school friend who was staying with him. My parents were keen at my apparent friendship, so I went with them. |
| We went for a walk. Peter had the most gorgeous green Hunter wellies, well worn in. But I wasn't so keen on him. I knew he wanted just a grope. His friend Simon, had newer green wellies. He seemed nice, not like Peter. That didn't stop him buggering me in the sheds though. Peter did me first. He had never gone this far before and he came quickly. Simon took a lot longer though. Afterwards I sold my silence for Peter's boots, an easy bargain. I never forgave Peter, but without his wellies he lost all interest to me anyway. I don't think I saw him in wellies again. |
| He pestered me for a bit the following Easter, before he lost interest, but I kept his boots for furtive times in my bedroom. I stayed on at school and discovered a fellow welly lover, Sam, during a field trip. I wore Peters green Hunters and Sam had his dad's argyll wellies. We were made for them and each other for years. We would cycle for miles to find a quiet muddy patch for a good romp and a screw. |
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