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Guest
Guest
IN THE BEGINNING THERE WAS RUBBER...
I have been reflecting on how my interest in seeing pretty feet encased in sneakers began and what attracted me to them. Was it the aroma of the rubber and/or because I wore sandshoes as a boy? Now I've never had a crush on leather shoes, high heels or flip-flops but like scores of other members following this great site I believe the magic of rubber must have had a starting point in one's life.
Yes, I'm not ashamed to admit I have long been attracted to latex, rubber boots and canvas shoes bonded by rubber, but for me there is also a link with my 'love' of sneakers with corporal punishment - the cane and strap, both of which I received at school as a teenager. But how did these become inter-linked into one great fetish?
When I was 12 I first became sexually aroused whenever classmates were punished with the strap or cane, but I never thought that one day it would be my turn to be on the receiving end. And when that day did come, rubber played a part... In the wet weather we were allowed to wear to school gumboots (known in the UK as Wellingtons), but there was a strict rule that we needed to change into slippers or sandshoes before entering the classroom.
On this particular day I sloshed to school in shiny new rubber gumboots only to realise when I got there that I had left my slippers at home. I knew I would cop a dose of the belt. The head teacher made me wait in the corridor in my wet boots while he got the feared instrument of punisment and then ordered me to hold out my left hand for "six of the best".
I thought I'd make it but half way through I caved in and doubled up, squeezing my hand between the cool rubber sides of the boots as I tried to rub away the burning sting in my palm. I can also recall the rubber squeaking as my legs did a little jig as I struggled to take the other whacks before staggering back to to my desk where I had to sit with bare feet resting on the rubber as my socks were wet.
But they were not all that was was wet -- my hard prick gave into temptation and shot a sticky mass into my underpants. From that day on CP became associated with rubber footwear and, together, never failed to arouse me. Later in life before my marriage I paid 'ladies' in LA, Sydney and London visits to cane me while wearing latex or Keds and the like; some even permitted similar treatment in return.
Incidentally there were many other earlier occasions at school involving the use of the rattan cane across thin cotton shorts while wearing sandshoes and hearing the rubber squeaks as we boys gyrated in pain around the
polished gym floor that I could recount, but this letter is already far too long. -- LESTER
I have been reflecting on how my interest in seeing pretty feet encased in sneakers began and what attracted me to them. Was it the aroma of the rubber and/or because I wore sandshoes as a boy? Now I've never had a crush on leather shoes, high heels or flip-flops but like scores of other members following this great site I believe the magic of rubber must have had a starting point in one's life.
Yes, I'm not ashamed to admit I have long been attracted to latex, rubber boots and canvas shoes bonded by rubber, but for me there is also a link with my 'love' of sneakers with corporal punishment - the cane and strap, both of which I received at school as a teenager. But how did these become inter-linked into one great fetish?
When I was 12 I first became sexually aroused whenever classmates were punished with the strap or cane, but I never thought that one day it would be my turn to be on the receiving end. And when that day did come, rubber played a part... In the wet weather we were allowed to wear to school gumboots (known in the UK as Wellingtons), but there was a strict rule that we needed to change into slippers or sandshoes before entering the classroom.
On this particular day I sloshed to school in shiny new rubber gumboots only to realise when I got there that I had left my slippers at home. I knew I would cop a dose of the belt. The head teacher made me wait in the corridor in my wet boots while he got the feared instrument of punisment and then ordered me to hold out my left hand for "six of the best".
I thought I'd make it but half way through I caved in and doubled up, squeezing my hand between the cool rubber sides of the boots as I tried to rub away the burning sting in my palm. I can also recall the rubber squeaking as my legs did a little jig as I struggled to take the other whacks before staggering back to to my desk where I had to sit with bare feet resting on the rubber as my socks were wet.
But they were not all that was was wet -- my hard prick gave into temptation and shot a sticky mass into my underpants. From that day on CP became associated with rubber footwear and, together, never failed to arouse me. Later in life before my marriage I paid 'ladies' in LA, Sydney and London visits to cane me while wearing latex or Keds and the like; some even permitted similar treatment in return.
Incidentally there were many other earlier occasions at school involving the use of the rattan cane across thin cotton shorts while wearing sandshoes and hearing the rubber squeaks as we boys gyrated in pain around the
polished gym floor that I could recount, but this letter is already far too long. -- LESTER