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This book
was originally titled Incest Shoe Us - but the publisher thought
my focusing on shoes might be a bit too restrictive so they plunked
for the Violetta title and put a Victoria Secret-like cover on it.
Inside it's a very different
matter - since both Violetta and I were going through major
anguish at the time. Even so, there's some pretty hot sex betweenst
the angst, like when Violetta travelling under the alias of Nicola
Anderson - meets a dishy Italian boy - Johnny Gianni - on the plane
to Rome where she hope to learn the secret of why her feet are cursed
with shoesex power. She needs a good fuck to get her mind off the
problems she faces, so the airplane bathroom seems the best location
- and yes - Johnny wheres cool shoes and ends up becoming a pivotal
character.
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From
Chapter Eighteen and Nineteen
"Fuck romance, Johnny. Let's just cut all this word dancing
and have sex."
Johnny's eyebrows rocket up so fast they threaten to jump over the
Moon. He's shocked. I'm relentless.
"What's the matter, Johnny? All talk and no action. Afraid
to put your cock where your mouth is?"
"No, no, no, I was - "
"You have a condom, right."
"Of course."
"Then meet me in one of the bathrooms and bring your hard dick."
He makes to stand, placing his hands on the seat armrests, ready
to launch himself out of the chair. I push him back into his seat.
"I'll go first. You come by in a minute or so."
"How will I know which bathroom?"
"I'll lock the door when I go in. I'll open it for you after
counting 60 seconds. Be quick to dash in, but if the coast ain't
clear then I'll just go back in and wait. You tap on the door when
everything is cool."
"You think of everything."
"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you have brains instead
of balls."
"Are you a spy?"
"I'm whatever you want me to be, Johnny. You just be a good
fuck."
"I will. You will be impressed with my dicky, Nikki. I am already
hard just thinking of sliding this into your tight, wet pussy. Perhaps
you should bring something to stuff into your mouth so you don't
frighten the passengers with your screaming."
He adjusts himself in his seat. He's right. There's a lovely bulge
in those loose silk pants.
"Oh, don't worry, Johnny, if I feel the need to muffle a scream
I know just what to stick in my mouth."
I stand and slide passed Johnny, careful to brush my ass across
his body as I step over him. This toilet fucking will be much fun.
I haven't had a dick since Tony, and thanks to the Cutrero Curse
I don't have to worry about getting pregnant, although with a gigolo
like Johnny he's still gonna wear a condom or he won't be invited
into the pussy party. I don't know where he's been, but I know where
he's going, and he'd better keep those cool cuban heels on all the
while I fuck the ass off of him.
My legs are spread, my feet are bare and I'm fucking naked.
I'm propped up between the plane wall and the toilet. Thank the
gods of fuckdom that I'm in good shape since I'm supporting myself
by my arms on the sides of the john. Johnny is between my legs,
which are balanced on his shoulders. His trousers are down around
his ankles. His purple velvet shirt is unbuttoned, displaying his
hairless, tanned chest, BB nipples and flat stomach. His dick is
hard, voluminous and condomed. He's going in and out of me in spectacular
fashion, the locomotioning aided by his thrusts and my body lifts.
We're a fucking machine, pumping with well-lubed efficiency. We
don't speak, all the earlier verbal play unnecessary now that we
communicate in the timeless body language of sex.
Oh, and he's still got his cuban heels on, so if I sneak a shoefuck
later, I'll be able to see what Johnny's thinking about while I
fuck him senseless seven miles high above the big, wet Atlantic
Ocean. That's the method to my sexual madness. I haven't simply
gone dick crazy. Johnny is going to help me in Rome. He doesn't
know it yet, but he is.
Irrespective of my ulterior motive, this is some of the best hetero
sex I've ever creamed on. Admittedly, the only other dick fucks
I've experienced - not counting the hundreds of shoesex dicks I've
bucked, fucked and sucked -were my virgin-buster fuck with Jimmy
in the DNA alley in San Francisco, and Tony's half-brotherly lust
in Oakland. Not the biggest dick-database, but combine it with my
shoefucks and it's enough for me to know good from bad, and I moan
without fear of contradiction that this Italian Johnny dude ain't
bad.
Far from being uncomfortable and constrained by the confines of
an airplane toilet, the fuck we enjoy is rich and expansive. Every
little buffeting of the plane by whatever minor turbulence we encounter
goes right through our bodies. Every shake and vibration thunders
in my cunt. It's like the entire jumbo jet is super dildo-ing my
pussy through Johnny's penis. The fucking plane even looks like
a dick with that big bulbous head. Note: I'm enjoying myself so
much I don't even make an oblique reference to the DK's Mister Perfection.
No way, not me. I'm fun fucking in the airplane toilet. It's truly
the best in-flight entertainment. Beats the shit out of movies and
cocktails.
Johnny too is in sensory overload. Ever the narcissist I can tell
he likes watching himself fuck me in the mirror. From my perspective
he's getting an awesome peep show. He sees my tight naked body profiled
for him, my cute face smiling, moaning, rolling from side-to-side.
Every so often we make eye contact when he's not ogling my small
tits, nipple hard and vibrating with every thrust. Tearing himself
away from his 'mirror, mirror on the wall' posing he stares at my
pancake-flat belly undulating snakelike as I ripple around his dick,
alternating his view back to the mirror to look at my leg muscles
taut around his neck.
I can hardly wait to get in his shoes and see what he's seeing,
know what he's thinking so I can put the next phase of my conquering
Johnny plan into action. He won't be able to hide any secrets from
my prying feet. Yum, yum, just the thought that I'll soon be able
to do me the way I'm doing him gets me juicier than an overripe
kumquat. I don't really know if an overripe kumquat is that juicy,
but the name just sounds like it should be mop and bucket-sex related,
so what the fuck.
Johnny leans forward, kisses my hard nipples and this I major like.
The gentle bouncing of the plane makes for mega-hot fumbles, where
his nipple kisses slide away, sometimes pinching my tit with his
teeth. Drippy making rough stuff. This kind of titty torture I can
stand. To show I dig his attentions, I arch into Johnny, using my
runner's legs and sit-up strengthened abs to curl forward, throwing
my arms around his neck so I'm anchored to his body, held aloft
by his erection and his teeth on my tit. His cock slides into me
to fill my cunt, and now that my mouth's close to his, he lets go
of my tit and our tongues fuck, lips locked as tight as our genitals.
Johnny picks up the pistoning pace as he approaches his climax.
His balls bang against my ass with each rapid-fire thrust. I feel
the solid slap of his sac all wet from my cuntjuices. It's a rude
feeling. Makes me think of two in-heat animals fucking in mud. I
can't resist looking in the mirror at the way his balls swing like
the gong in a bell. Fucking good analogy that cause Johnny sure
his ringing my bell. This is my kind of nasty sex, and it's obvious
Johnny likes delivering the goods.
He grabs me tight around the waist during his final few thrusts
before coming. What a fucking awesome sight - skinny tanned-boy
Johnny and my skinny whitey girl flesh melded together by gravity
in such a perfect way we could be a Mapplethorpe photograph.
My butt nestles in Johnny's crotch. My thighs climb his stomach,
over his chest, where my knees bend just below his shoulders and
crest above that Adonis physique, anchoring me by my locked ankles
and clasped hands behind Johnny's neck. My body bends forward to
accomplish this feat, and yup, there's no unsightly bulge in the
tummy. Not even any folds. At twenty-two I still have my girlish
figure, and fuck does it feel good on the abs and pussy to be fucked
in this gymnastic way. My stomach muscles burn, my pussy throbs,
and my body feels on fire. Johnny holds my waist, lifting me up
and down his arching shaft, milking his come from his swinging balls.
Every time we complete a pumping, my clit grinds on Johnny's pubic
bone. At just the right moment in our fucking I release my grip
around his neck and all my weight focuses on that tiny spot, rocketing
many small orgasms from my pussy through every nerve in my body.
I defy anyone who fucks in this position, who knows the heroin-like
rush of a threesome with Isaac Newton's wonderful sex toy - gravity,
not the apple - to ever go back to the boring-ass missionary position
or even doggy style. Okay, doing it this way requires some physical
prowess, so it ain't for everyone, but if you want normal or relaxed
sex, knock yourself out being mellow. Me, I want the kind of fucking
only Olympic sexual athletes can attempt and enjoy, you know, like
you know, err, 'I saw the dick so I fucked it' ath-a-letes.
Judges, hold up your cards.
Five-point-zero. Five-point-zero. Five-point-zero.
A perfect score.
Fuck yeah, I'm banking on Johnny thinking so. I wanna give him a
fuck that makes him not want any other pussy for a while. I need
a place to stay in Rome, at least until I find out the secrets inside
Carlotta's boots, and Johnny could be my home away from home. Not
speaking the lingo I don't feel too comfortable walking the streets
looking for the wop equivalent of the Providence. Yeah, I could
also not wait to get to Rome to try on Carlotta's boots and who
knows, maybe I'd know where to stay, but I don't like the risk of
slipping them on in the plane's toilets. Who knows what kind of
evil shit I'd unleash. No way do I want to be responsible for the
crash of TWA flight 69 from New York to Rome. No, I'll stick to
fucking a pretty boy in the toilet, thank you very much. This is
time off for bad behavior, and it very well could lead to a place
to stay for a while.
I don't so much as come as comes - whatever the term is for a swarm
of orgasms - I have 'em in stampedes. Every up and down cunt cycle
brings multiple releases, each pussy melting building upon the last.
I know I'm moaning, and I don't fucking care if the entire planeload
of passengers hears. Neither does Johnny as he explodes deep inside
my pussy and moans something that sounds like Jeeeesus sweet Jesus,
and I actually feel the swell of the condom as his spunk expands
the covering to match the contours of my convulsing cunt. What a
fucking neat feeling. Whoever said safe sex was boring needs to
experience Johnny's dressed-up dick up an orifice.
As our climaxes subside our legs melt. We kiss and tumble backwards,
my ass landing with a sweaty bang on the toilet seat. Johnny collapses
to his knees at my feet, but we keep kissing as best as we can,
his black mop fringe cascading down his face, strands of it messing
with our tongue action. I chew on his hair until he brushes it aside
and plants kisses down my throat, tracing a path to the space on
my chest that passes for cleavage. He bounces from tit to tit, adding
a delicious dessert to the main course of coming and coming and
coming.
Not content to call it a fuck, Johnny continues kissing lower until
he reaches my tenderized twat. This is a real test of his overall
coital capability. Of all the sexual arts, cunnilingus separates
the men from the slobs. He's clearly eaten enough pussy in his short
time to know just the right pressure in exactly the right spot,
and thank the fuck he doesn't blow on it. He knows the value of
eye contact, looking up at me while he's tracing my labia with his
tongue, zeroing in on my clit, where he plants a kiss that ripples
a nice closing orgasm to our fuck.
But wait, there's more.
He doesn't stop as I cream all over his face and my legs threaten
to pop his head like that overripe kumquat which keeps squelching
into my mind. He kisses little pecks and nibbles down my thigh,
bending like a man with only one bone in his body to tongue the
back of my knee. Oh fuck, the orgasms keep dripping as he licks
down my calf and oh man, he's going for my feet.
He starts his shrimping by nibbling my heel. The nibbles turns to
bites and he's fuck near making a meal of my foot when he stops
with the chewing and licks my sole. Oh fuck me pink, this is too
much of a good thing. Thanks to my power my feet are my most sensitive
sex organs, and it's as if Johnny knows this, because he sucks each
toe and when he plunges them all in his mouth and runs his tongue
in between them and bites down with his teeth I go into orgasmic
seizure. My body arches and locks into position as if I'm turned
to stone. My inactivity doesn't last long. Oh shit, I'm going to
scream the fucking plane down or die. I'd give my left tit for a
dick to suck, to stifle my impending shriek, but Johnny's too busy
sucking on my foot, and there ain't another cock in reach so I stuff
my fist in my mouth and draw blood as my body convulses.
Johnny doesn't stop despite my thrashing body. He suckles the other
foot, and I'm on my way to fuck heaven. My body melts into a giant
sloppy pool of girljuice as I come in tidal waves that shoot up
from my feet and wash out my cunt, violent tremors ripping through
my body with every blinding crescendo.
As I slow my shakings and my vision clears I see Johnny looking
up at me from between my thighs. Sure looks like he belongs there,
smiling the look of a satisfied man as he speaks the first intelligible
words to have passed between us since we began our toilet tryst.
"That is just a taste of what I'll give you in Roma."
I high-five Johnny and yell "she shoots she scores."
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