|
Shoe Leather
isn't a straightforward stroke book. It's more of an erotic-horror-mystery-thriller
- so the sex is often secondary - more of a vehicle to telling Violetta
Valery Cutrero's evolution as a young woman with an incredible power
to experience the sex people had in shoes simply by putting the
fucked-in footwear on. With each experience she gains insight into
the rules of her power. This "good bit" illustrates my
approach by telling how Violetta lost her actual virginity and
the complications that arose since she was wearing shoes when it
happened. It wasn't designed to get you off - more to make you think
what you'd do if you realized you could relive your sex acts as
if they were occuring again for the first time...
*****************************************************************
From Chapter Thirteen
I lost my virginity next to a recycling dumpster
that smelled of empty beer bottles and stale piss. After knocking
back half a bottle of gin, I gave Jimmy a crucifix earring and a
fuck. And a fuck. And a fuck. And a fuck. And a fuck. And a fuck.
Having sex for the first time can be a traumatic experience. Especially
when it happens over and over again.
"Take my fucking boots off, Jimmy. Take my boots off, please."
I was standing on one leg. The heel of my granny boot had snapped,
bust off when Jimmy came. As he'd climaxed he'd rutted into me like
a prize bull, replete with snorting sound effects. I'd toppled backwards
into the wall and the heel caved in. I couldn't help smiling, thinking
of the damage to my boots. If I'd have brought my busted footwear
to Cutrero's, I'd have been certain they were fuckshoes.
I was in a precarious position. I was standing on the leg with the
busted heel. My other leg was held up partly by Jimmy's arm, partly
by the dumpster. My drenched panties were in my pocket. The cool
night air blew hot across my formally deflowered cunt.
My shoe fucking powers took instantaneous effect at a level that
turned my pussy inside out. The moment we finished fucking, Jimmy
pulled out his condomed cock, leaving me propped up against the
wall with my skirt above my waist, my cunt open to the night and
my fishnetted feet in contact with the shoe leather of my boots.
Thanks to my power, no sooner had we finished the deed than it started
again for me. Rewind. Replay. Jimmy stood there in awe of my possessed
gyrations, unaware of what was transpiring between my feet and my
pussy. His first fucking had warmed me, but I was nowhere near coming.
The second replay brought me to the brink. The third sent me into
orbit. The fourth had me meeting myself on the way up. The fifth
had me believing in reincarnation.
Jimmy was slow. A good screw, but dumb. I think he thought my moaning
about my shoes was like a woman saying "No, no" when she
means "Yes, yes." So the bastard just stood there, kissing
me and fondling my tits, piling layer upon layer of sexual experiences
as I relived the First Time.
"Take my fucking boots off, Jimmy. Take my boots off, please."
I think Jimmy got the notion I had a foot fetish, because after
much fumbling he undid my bootlaces, pulled the boot off and sucked
on my stockinged toes. What a relief. My First Time replays ceased.
I came back to earth. Jimmy must have enjoyed the stink of dancing
feet cause he got hard again. I didn't want a six fuck night, so
I gave him a hand job while he sucked my toes. He squirted into
my palm in no time. It was dreamy, feeling real male come on my
fingers as Jimmy slobbered on my aching feet.
Post coitus we sat in the alley mixing gin and tonics. We poured
tonic water into the gin bottle and took turns sipping the potent
concoction. It was totally romantic. We kissed and generally did
the après-fucking things lovers are supposed to do. Jimmy
lit up a cigarette, and succumbing to the moment I took a couple
of drags. I wasn't impressed, sputtering loudly from the acrid smoke.
Being a runner, I'd stayed away from smoking, and despite what Jimmy
said about how it was really good after sex, I didn't plan on taking
up the habit. Shoe fucking was enough of an addiction.
Jimmy handed me the gin and tonic to soothe my coughing.
We kissed. It gave me a chance to get my voice back, then Jimmy
took it away again.
"I love you."
"Wow."
"You'll have to come on tour with me when I'm a big rock star.
That woman from the record company says that once we get the demo
tape together we'll be signed just like that."
"Cool."
"You won't have to repair shoes any more."
I was tempted to tell Jimmy I didn't repair shoes for the money,
but I kept quiet about my power. Jimmy could be the star, and if
he went on tour without me, I'd just check out his shoes when he
came back. My power would tell me if he'd been unfaithful on the
road.
We drained the gin and tonic and enjoyed another bout of cuddling.
It was getting late so we decided to call it a well-fucked night.
I took my other boot off and Jimmy walked me to my bus stop.
"You're really cute, Violet."
"Violetta."
"Yeah, whatever, you're really cute. I love you."
I wasn't in love with Jimmy, but he was drunk and drained of come,
which seemed to give him an urgent need to proclaim his undying
affection for me. My bus came, saving me from having to explain
my feelings. I wasn't sure how Jimmy fitted in with my Sex Goddess
activities.
"Goodnight, Jimmy. Happy Birthday."
"See ya, Violetta. I love you."
At least he got my name right. I know he wanted me to say I loved
him, but I couldn't. Now that I'd had actual sex I wasn't sure whether
I wanted the complications of a relationship. How could I keep my
power a secret from someone I loved? I certainly couldn't give up
fuckshoes for real love. No way.
************************************************************************************************************************
And
later Violetta does what you'd expect her to. She put's on her boots
and relives her first fuck over and over again, realizing what an
awesome power she has in her feet.
From Chapter Fourteen
After breakfast I ambled upstairs to my room. Dad was in the
shop and Mom was busy grocery shopping, so I had no concerns about
being disturbed. Today was my day off. I intended to spend a great
deal of it enjoying the afterglow of my first fuck with Jimmy. I
cradled the granny boots in my arms, admiring the tiny scuffs, rubbing
gently the minute tears in the leather, stroking tenderly the broken
heel. The hours of dancing I'd spent courting Jimmy had sweat-stained
my feet into the lining. The aroma was strong, rich. I kissed the
boots, tasting the acrid bite of worn shoe leather. They had served
their purpose above and beyond the call of duty. With full honors,
they were to be retired from active service. They'd sit in my closet
right next to the box containing Mom's sparkly shoes. They'd have
their own box, caressed with tissue paper, only ever to be worn
in my bed, when I felt the need of Jimmy's eager cock inside of
me.
Which was right now.
I reclined naked on top of my bed. I ogled myself in the make-up
mirror attached to my dresser. I'd painted my lips a bright shade
of Cheap Hooker Red. Pouting pin-up style, I stretched, my ribs
threatening to burst through the transparency of my skin. I looked
like a flat-chested Barbie doll that some kid had practiced hair
cutting on. I was all legs, thin and gangly, with a sporran of brown
pubic down coating my pussy. My tits were smooth, gently, almost
imperceptibly curved with tiny, hard nipples that were rarely ever
soft.
I felt mega sexy. I felt, as corny as it sounds, like a woman. A
woman that wanted a cock. I needed my lover, a sacrifice to my Sex
Goddess altar. I blew my reflection a kiss and donned my very own
first-fucked-in boots.
Sex is like left-over pizza. It's even better the next day. I experienced
all the nuances of two bodies joined together by a cock that in
the dark and threatening smell of the alley I'd been too preoccupied
to enjoy. A normal human cannot understand how it felt to be inside
myself with a boy inside of me. I was a voyeur to my own passion.
Lying on my bed with Jimmy between my thighs, legs stretched wide
like some perverse ballet dancer, I came and I came and I came.
I am so far above mere mortals. I don't need the poorly framed Polaroids
that horny lovers take and later regret. I could have sex in shoes
and relive it whenever I wanted to. The orgasm of a few minutes
ago became the next one I'd enjoy. I could make men come inside
of me time and time again, never worrying about the onrush of flaccidity
and their inevitable post l'amour triste. Sensation piled upon sensation
like some fabulous drug overdose. Last night, I'd experienced my
first fuck five times until Jimmy took off one of my boots. Now,
lying on my bed, reliving the experience was like eating a multi-layered
chocolate cake - rich, gooey, full of cream and oh so decadent.
I enjoyed celebrating my Sex Goddess stature. Every woman should
have the chance to relive a particularly good fuck in the rich detail
that my power granted me. Actual fucking is like a snapshot, too
quick to capture the exquisite wonder of sex. Thanks to my feet
I had a beautifully textured portrait all to myself, the kind a
Van Gogh or Monet would have done if they could have been inside
of me. And like in an art museum, I could dwell on the painting,
imagining the brush strokes, capturing the perspective, appreciating
the work of a true master. I was a Sex Goddess. I knew what it was
to call Mount Olympussy home. If every woman had my power, men would
become obsolete. Reality could not compete.
**********************************************************************************************
After
this experience Violetta is rudely reminded that "The Feet
Cannot Be Denied" and that with the power to experience sexual
fun and games through her fuck-sensitive feet comes a responsibility
to be the serial killer of serial killers as a cross-dressing villian
known as the Dildo Killer hits too close to home.
If you like
this Shoe Leather Good Bit then buy the whole Shoe Leather book
full of even more Good Bits from ...
|
