Written by ty dehner

It’s one of those days that feels like a movie. One of those old black and white films that used to be on late at night, as the actors were so dramatic. But their characters had a passion that we don’t see today. Though many never find that passion, I have been blessed to experience a life many would dream about myself for the past year. A passion that fills my heart and my thoughts daily, each morning rising; glad to have him in my life as he displays how much he wants me in his.

Another gray day in the Emerald City of Seattle, I have brought Kane downtown because he and I are faced with a moment we didn’t want to come but was going to happen because one thing we can’t do is to stop time. The damp feeling lays upon my emotions, causing a depressing mood, feeling gray like the clouds outside as they drizzle just enough to fuck up the day’s activities.

Looking down at my boots, there are spots of wetness where the brown leather meets the sole of the boot from the puddles Kane and I had to journey through on the way to the train station. I still am not used to wearing boots in public. These are a special pair of brown rounded-toe Ariat Work Hog boots that the man sitting next to me selected for me when he took me shopping for a pair of cowboy boots. Looking across the floor to my right, his black custom-made Wesco Motorcycle Patrol boots rest on the marble flooring. His right foot is tapping as his leg fidgets, anticipating his departure in a few moments.

Hearing the creak of his heavy leathers, Kane stands, tugging his Langlitz heavy black leather quilted jacket at the belted waist. His gloved hands grip the bottom of the jacket, pulling it down and into place that lays over the waist of his Competition Breeches with a thick weave pattern belt. The man is in all black leather except for the silver rodeo bull riding buckle he wears. The buckle is a memento from the days when Kane was part of the rodeo scene in Montana. We go to local rodeos when we can. These days, Kane is employed as an engineer for military aerospace design.

My gaze slid up his leathered body, the shine from the art Deco lights in the King Street train station reflecting on the waves of cowhide. I watch as Kane bends his head down as his left gloved hand pulls up his zippered jacket sleeve to view his Apple Watch, checking on the time. As the leatherman nods, there is the distinctive sound of the start of an announcement coming over the speakers.

“Amtrak train eight, the Empire Builder to points east and Chicago, will be ready for boarding in a few minutes. Please note the gates for those with sleepers, as you will board separately from coach passengers. Thank you for choosing Amtrak.”

The finality of the moment finally arrives as I’m here to say goodbye to Kane. He will be working on a project in the Midwest that will keep him away for nearly a year.

I hear his deep voice from above me, “Boy.”

Hesitantly, I lift my view to take in his blue eyes as I don’t want him to leave, but we are adults, and these things happen in life. I start to say something, but Kane reaches out and gently places his gloved hand across my lips. The scent of his leather fills me as my cock grows in the leather jeans I wear as Kane presses his hand on my lips, silencing me.

This is one of Sir’s favorite things; he enjoys silencing his boy by gagging him with his glove. It is so simple, an element of control that doesn’t require a lot of equipment or extra work. A few people see how Sir is gagging me with his gloved hand.

“You’re going to miss this, aren’t you, boy?” Sir asks.

As he presses a bit harder, I nod that I will indeed miss his manipulation of my speech. As he presses my lips closed, my cock is straining in the leather jock I wear under the black leather jeans. Closing my eyes, I take in the familiar leather smell that lies right under my nose, hearing the sound of his leather jacket as he adjusts his stance.

There is a security when I have Sir’s glove locked over my lips. He does it often; sometimes, it is a simple moment and other times, he feels more powerful. As I feel his gloved hand over my lips here in the train station, I reflect on the time we watched football on a Sunday afternoon. This day, Sir locked me in his heavy, padded leather straitjacket with ten padlocks, ensuring it would not be coming off. I had spent the weekend in a pair of leather chastity shorts that were also locked, keeping my manhood secured behind a couple layers of thick, black leather. Leather cuffs secured my legs together that he had placed on the coffee table.

I sat in his lap as he leaned his secured boy against his chest. Of course, Sir was in full leathers; this day, he was more casual, wearing a leather long-sleeve shirt, his brown leather Wrangler style jeans and a beautiful, designed pair of black alligator Olathe boots.

Sir was finishing the lacing of the Mr. S leather hood that he placed on my shaved head. The laces tighten the soft, black leather over my face. My sight was still available, as was my mouth. A collar that Sir buckled up on my neck was also locked.

Tenderly, Sir ran his gloved hands over my head, feeling the leather as the scent was strong in the living room. His touch reminded me of how much of a leather object I was, being secured for his enjoyment as we watched the day of games. The beefy men in their tight uniform pants were on the high-def screen TV, showing the wetness of their pants and jersey from sweat. Men are doing battle in heavy pads and helmets, their gloves gripping their opponents and tossing them around the field.

This is how the afternoon was going to go. While we have a room dedicated to man-to-man adventures and sex, there are times when Sir just wants to hold me, trapped in leather and show me how he controls everything about me, including my breathing. When I’m locked up like this, the leatherman controls my thoughts of lust since I am horny as hell locked in the leather, but only Sir will allow me a release.

These times make our relationship special, as this leatherman lives in his leather and likes to keep me in as much leather as possible. In my darkness, my senses are heightened to respond when he touches me, holds me, and often uses his gloved hand to gag me.

My thoughts are interrupted by Sir’s confident voice telling me to stand up as he releases his grip on my lips. Reaching and taking his travel bag in his hand, he steps away from our seats. I stand, taking a second travel bag that belongs to Sir. My leather jeans stack on my boots as I straighten my blue denim shirt and then adjust my Levi’s denim sheepskin coat. I am wearing a pair of buckskin work gloves as Sir likes clothing with a Western flair.

Stopping in a corner off the beaten path of the passengers moving through the historic train station, Sir drops his bag, leaning his back against the marble pillar. I arrive a few paces behind as Sir points to the floor, where I place his bag. Reaching for my shoulder, Sir takes hold, pulling me closer to him. As I move closer, Sir’s gloved hand moves up my neck as he presses me to pivot on my booted feet. With his hand sweeping over my shaved head, I shiver slightly with Sir’s smooth, cool touch brushing the surface of my ear and up to the top of my head. In one motion, Sir raises his right hand and reaches with his left, gripping my shoulders and pulling me into his chest. That is when I smell the leather of his jacket as his arm folds around my torso, putting me into a bear hug.

We both feel the security and warmth of being in Sir’s arms. I reach to put my hands on top of Sir’s, holding him as he hugs me tighter, and I feel his chest rising and lowering with his breathing. Closing my eyes, I take in this moment, how serene it is in such a public place. I think about the couples who have said goodbye in this train station over the years. I’m sure there were very few, if any, leathermen like us, saying goodbye in the embrace that Sir has me in.

With my eyes closed, I focus on the sounds of the station, the shoes moving across the marble floors, the suitcases on wheels, the voices of many conversations, and the occasional cough. Deep in the listening, I felt Sir’s leather glove once again sliding across my lips as I brought my lips tighter, switching my breathing to my nostrils. This time, Sir was enforcing my gagging even more as he pressed, raising his finger and thumb to close over my nose.

My instinct was to get out of Sir’s grip, but his other hand came up to the back of my neck, gripping it firmly as I heard his deep voice, “Take it easy, boy. You know you want this. I want this.”

Now that I was standing with my crotch exposed to the public, I worried that my hardening cock pressing against the leather of my jeans would expose my sexual desire to be gagged by this leatherman. I felt Sir hold my breathing at bay with his hand, his lips lowered and kissed my shaved head, not once but several times.

Sir releases his thumb and finger to allow air to fill my lungs through my nose. As I welcomed this life-saving air, Sir quickly shut down my breathing again. This time, Sir took his free hand, gliding down my chest, feeling the leather on his hand under my sheepskin jacket to find my nipple under the denim shirt. When his hand found what he wanted, the leatherman squeezed my tit with its finger and thumb, causing a sharp, biting pain that ran through my chest. I moaned into his glove hand, which blocked my breathing and encased my lips.

The leatherman kept me quiet, and only one or two passengers waiting close by noticed the struggle I was performing against the man leaning against the white marble pillar.

Once again, there is the sound of an upcoming announcement, and Sir immediately releases his hold on me. I fill my chest with the clear air as Sir pats my shoulder, very happy with my service for him.

“Good thing they are announcing boarding, boy. I would be dragging your ass to the bathroom stall, pulling out that ass plug, and seeding you one last time!” Sir whispers in my ear.

“Amtrak is proud to announce the commencement of boarding of the Empire Builder train eight to Spokane, Minot, Minneapolis-St. Paul and Chicago.”

As the announcement continued, I thought of how I could feel Sir in me one last time. Once again, taking ahold of my shoulder, Sir turned me to face him so I could look into his eyes. His look showed how much he would miss me, how much he loved him. His right hand gripped my shoulder through my denim jacket as I took the last few scents of this man’s fine leather.

Releasing my shoulder, Sir bent down, taking his bags and motioned with his head that we should move towards the gate he will be departing from. Stepping aside, I let Sir lead the way, staying my customary one pace behind as this leatherman wore his leather uniform perfectly, hearing his boots on the marble.

Sir stopped a short distance from where the line ended for those who had sleepers. Sir will be traveling in comfort as his company provides him with a small room, and he won’t have to do the three-day trip in a seat. Setting his bags down, Kane turned to face me. Lifting his right hand, his glove took hold of my chin, positioning my head so that his blue eyes looked directly into my green eyes. For a moment, we just swam in each other’s gaze, me feeling the electricity from his gentle hold of my chin. Sir looked up and down my body, seeing the boots, the leather jeans, the jacket and gloves.

“You are so beautiful, boy. You are my leather boy, don’t you ever forget.” That voice that comforts me each time I hear it melts through the air, sinking to my mind, warming my heart and, yes, making my cock jump.

“Oh, you are impossible to forget, Sir.” This comment makes Kane smile as his hand leaves my chin, moves up my cheek, and rubs my face.

As if time was moving so slowly, Sir lowered his lips and placed them upon mine. My eyes closed, forgetting the world surrounding me as my heart fluttered, my hand reaching for his neck to bring me closer. As Kane proceeded with the kiss, his tongue entered my lips, and I started to push my tongue past his. The feeling was making my mind wander and float into another space, another time.

Here were two men, one in full black heavy leather, kissing his boy a passionate kiss goodbye, just like one of the old movies where the man kisses his woman one last time. Here Kane and I were saying our goodbye as Sir was in my mind and heart, his leather scent floating around me, every sense I have focused on this leatherman. Sir didn’t give a fuck about anyone; after all, he was in his full Langlitz in front of these folks and would be for the days he will be on the train.

As he continued the kiss, this man I would be missing, his right gloved hand reaching up and squeezing my face in his leathered fingers. He ended the kiss slowly, biting my lip playfully and releasing it.

We stared into the eyes of each other, knowing our time together was swiftly ending.

Sir gripped my neck, holding me tight, “I want you to wear your leather daily. That will remind you of who you are. You are mine, the boy of a leatherman.”

“Yes, Sir,” I respond with respect but with pride that he has selected me as his boy. As I stroke his leathered shoulders, I feel the leather jeans he picked out for me.

Cupping my face in his gloved hands one last time, Sir places one more kiss on my lips and then looks into my eyes, letting me know he will miss me. The leatherman pivots on his boots, his back to me as he lifts his bags and proceeds to the gate to board the train.

The man doesn’t turn back as he shows his phone with his ticket displayed to the train conductor. The leatherman disappears behind the station wall onto the platform.

Slowly, as I hold back the tears that want to break through my stern façade, I move to one of the windows that look out upon the train. The only man in full leather, black, shiny and strong, steps into the sleeper car and is ready to travel across the country.

As I stand at the window, I feel the leather that I wear, my feet in the boots and the leather jock that holds my cock and balls under the jeans. As the passengers load into the train, the platform quiets and soon the whistle blows, and the thunder of the engine starts. With a bang of the cars moving forward, the eight train to Chicago was on its way out of Seattle.

Watching the last car disappear into the tunnel that runs under the big city, I turn, sigh and look at the empty station. I remember the most romantic moment of my life, the leatherman kissing me here. It was a goodbye that will have to keep me content until we see each other again.

Walking through the empty train station, my boots are heard as I walk across the marble floor. Exiting out into the street, the rain falling, I also allow my tears to fall as I put my gloved hands in my coat pocket to bundle up.

My thoughts remain with my leatherman.

© Copyright 2023 ty dehner. All rights reserved.

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