Shoe Leather Good Bits Wall
   
Stay tuned for the latest updates and catch Stan's hot short stories in the Cleis Press collections: I is for Indecent, F is for Fetish, Caught Looking, Hide and Seek, She's On Top, Cross Dressing, and the Pretty Things Press releases: Naughty Spanking Stories from A to Z, Vol. II and Sex and Candy
If you like this Shoe Leather Good Bit then buy the whole Shoe Leather book full of even more Good Bits from ...

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 ...

 

 

 

 


"Dressing well and looking good are essential. A meaning in life is not." . . . Oscar Wilde
   

home - news - books -Contact - Hustler - magazines - flicks - sex - shoes - clothes - hair - goodtime - your wall - one step beyond

music - personal stuff - biking - rants - cricket - rocket science - devil worship - email stan at stan@stankent.com

Visitors GO HOME Click this wall for Stan news Click this wall to read Stan's books Click this wall to contact Stan Click this wall to see what Stan does at Hustler Hollywood Click this wall to see Stan's magazine writings Click this wall to see Stan's screenplays Click this wall for Stan's sex advice Click this wall for cool shoes Click this wall for hot clothes Click this wall to see Stan's many hairstyles and colors Visitors GO HOME Click this wall  to see Stan's suggestions on where to have fun Click this wall to leave your mark VISITORS Go Home! Click this wall to visit Stan's old nightclub Click this wall to see what's in Stan's CD  Player Click this wall to see juicy personal stuff about Stan Click this wall to see what Stan does on his Cannondale 2000 rsi Click this wall to hear Stan's rants Click this wall to learn about cricket - googlies, lbw and howzat Click this wall because Stan really is a rocket scientist Click this wall to go to hell - STan is one little 'a' away from being SaTAN VISITORS Go Home!