Archive for shoes


Text from Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch.

Fuck-Me Pumps

“What?” she looked at me. And then turned away. She seemed nervous by my stare. A flash of light came in through the windows. Her earthy scent permeated my nostrils. Her hair turned and twisted down her back. I could only imagine what she was going to do once I moved my hands up her black skirt. So tight, in fact, it was like a second skin.

“Do you want me?” she asked, lighting a cigarette.

“Do I want you? Want is not the word. Want is futile. Want is weak. I want to do things to you, yes. But want you? No. I crave you. So much, that I go through withdrawals. Physical withdrawals when you leave my presence. As we left the confines of that restaurant tonight, you said you had to go to the bathroom. When you went there, I almost went in after you.”

She smirked. “Oh yeah? You are that desperate for me?”

“It’s not desperation. It goes beyond that. I need you like I need to eat, breathe, have shelter. I need you. More than need you. I am an addict. You are my drug. I will give a lot to get a little of your time.”

“Hmmm… you talk a lot my friend,” she said, inhaling another drag and blowing it in my face.

“You are a fool you know,” she said, as her five and a half inch red heel started to move up my leg. Her smoky eyes with their green centers. She stared at me now as the tip of her heel rested on my throbbing cock.

“Do you like my shoes?” she asked. Her lips red like fire.

“Yes. I do,” I was breathing harder.

“If you could fuck me, would you keep these on?” she took a sip of her champagne as she gently stabbed my cock with her stiletto.

“Yes. I would.”

I grabbed her red fuck-me pump and raised it up in the air. Her leg trailed behind. It was smooth and glowing under the light of the street lamp outside. My hand gently ran down her calf and up to her inner thigh. She gasped and bit her lower lip.

As my hand hastily drifted toward her panties, I moved her thigh outward so she was open.

“Touch it,” she whispered.

Wait. “No. Wrap your thighs around my neck,” I demanded.

She obeyed.

Her milky thighs opened even wider, her legs extended to either side of the chair where she sat. She leaned back and moved her legs into the air. Her stilettos pointed to the opposite walls. Like daggers, they stabbed the heavy, hot air. Slowly, she moved them toward my shoulders. Her legs wrapped themselves around my neck. I heard her heels snap against each other. She pulled my head closer.

“My panties,” she said. “You didn’t take them off.”

My fingers found the tiny strings. They were a poor excuse for underwear. With a snap, they ripped.

“Yes I did.”

She giggled.

My tongue entered her juicy lips. She was dripping. A little stream ran down her left butt cheek. It tasted like skin and smelled like musk. I breathed it in and savored her flavor. My mouth kissed her smooth glossy lips, her clit red and pulsating. Over and over. Lick, lick. Over and over again.

“Fuck me, OMG, fuck me!” she begged.

Her legs flew off of my shoulders and her pumps hit the tile. Click! I couldn’t help but notice her defined legs walking across the floor in those shoes. Every step making her muscles tighten and relax, tighten and relax, just like a woman’s cunt. Tighten and relax. Her ass moved gently toward the bedroom. Tighten, release, tight, release.

She threw her tank top and pink bra to the floor. Her breasts were plump. She flung herself on the bed. Long hair falling onto white sheets, her body open to my cock, her red stilettos still attached to a magnificent body eager to be fucked.

“I want to feel you inside of me.”

“Do you?” I asked as I unzipped my slacks. My cock bounced outward. It pointed at her luscious figure.

“Yes please.”

And so, I let her.