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Stilettoe Girl
by Wise One Black aka Carlton
What you looking for? The proper sounding sleek, but meek heart stopping touch of class that rode high on her stilettoes should have inquired. As her hair rides high across her shoulders I see what i was in quest of - her! It wasn't enough for her cocoa kiwi complexion to add to the effect that has my heart pumping blood in a ripple motion. I craved more. i was secretly demanding, thru silent gestures, I just wanted her to unmute her thoughts. I was addicted to her delicate voice although she never utter a word. Without premission or control i would be lying if i used the word allowed when i say my imagination ran rampant. O what a feeling my mind exhaled as it dance with thoughts of making her my dinner willing and fiending to be held hostage for breakfast. long and behold i was hoping this would be happening with the conditions of the terms till death do us part.
The beautiful but diminishing factor was nearing that if i didn't remove the unseen forces of me being shy or tongue tied, i would have to entertain the thought she would simply become a memory. My mission assured my concusious if i wasn't able to win against my own fault of shyness i would keep this area under survillance with her beauty on my radar. i had to come a the conclusion either her state chauffered vechile was nearing or her bodyguard driven limo was closing in. i couldn't resist wondering what my sheets would feel like with her accompanied by her silk soft looking skin. my eyes couldn't lie to me about from a few inches away. With every glance that turned into stares, said she was soft and delicious. Them fine qualities i was tranquilizied by wasn't the same feelings my fetish gripped. Instead my fiending thoughts kept shrieking "seal the deal check out her feet got-damit". Although, i didn't want to ruin the fun, if she was to be kept lively while i was in the mist of daydreaming, before i make my counter move and investigate her feet. My fetish commanded me not to just have a breathe taking lavish touch of class, but one from head to toe. With no air way to announce if she had pretty feet, i was like a blind bat now in search of hoping might eyes could accept what i find delightful.
My eyes feared wondering pass her hips now, because i wanted to store this object of beauty in my mental rolodex just in case something turned sour when i provided my fetish with its request. 1 - 2 - 3, here we go. I peeked, DAMN! But then and again YES, it was still some hope. She was not just towering over 5 something, because of the gift her dna poses. No, it was settling to find Honey even had good taste. i don't know if it was Jimmy Choo, but i know she didn't pay less for this designers craft. I always wondered, whoever designed stilettoes, did they too have a foot fetish? Because stilettoes make the ugliest feet look pretty (peek-a-boo not included). This honey's shoes was enhancing her structured prefect musclar legs. The heels screamed only a sexy woman is suppose to be wearing me. I licked my lips at the thought of peeling off them patent leather midnight colored, glistening in the sun, with a chrome, slim and pointed dragger point heel. she modeled them like she was borned with them on. she didn't have the stance that said whatever i 'm tired and ready to kick them off, because i use to walking around barefeet on dirty floors. This specimen was sticking and staying in the model strike a pose stance showing off. She probably could win a marthon in them if she desired. i wasn't mad i was not able to find out if her toes had the fire engine red paint on. You know the kind that stop you dead in your tracks and make you just gwak at them. yeah, it is like a stop light demanding you obey the traffic laws, instead her toes have you mentally feasting on the sight, tryin to grow nerve to ask in your best masculine, but soft raspy tone, "can i rub your feet and suck the polish of your toes?" I wasn't able to see if her digits was easy on the eyes or hard like algebra trying to answer X = 10 pretty toes. My fetish ordered take no shorts, she have to make being bare foot look sexy. But this philly was sexy enough for me to ignore giving into my fetish. I would let her slide. I would be satisified with coaching her to buy and wear the most sexiest shoes 24-7, especially to bed. Ugly feet should have its own law. One that forbids ugly feet to be seen in public or behind closed door, LMAO.
So far everything was good, but then the strangest thing happen and then i became panic restricted and couldn't come get under control or gain acess to calming down as i felt like i was drowning and thristy for normal air. Suddenly the brightness of lights stung my eyes worst then camera flashes. i was confused and groggy wondering was i being entertained on Time Square with all the lights or was i in the middle of an interogration with the bright light holding me hostage. Then out of nowhere the light disappeared and i felt as if i stepped into an empty movie theater with no usher to show me to my seat. i survived whatever just happened because the vision escaped, the light was now being drowned by darkness, and my thoughts was now being questioned by wtf just happen. Then reality stuck me like a needle in the most sensitive place on my body. i was grief tortured, because once my memory sliver toward the mountain that was blocking my light and path to serenity a tear painfully creeped down my cheek. i once again had to recite my silent pray and request, please don't wake me to the one i'm with while i am dreaming about the one i want.
Sunday, June 07, 2009 copyright
