Slippin Slide Productions's blog: "stilletoe moment"

who Side are you on?

July 02, 2009 copyright

I am the type that would make it rain on you with no need for an umbrella or a weather man's warning concerning heavy downfalls. i'm carrying what you need without a handle and i can't leave home without it. fortunately for me the right words get what i desired and put people in positions that only left their legs to go where i ordered them. on many of occasions i know i had children straving for the sight of mommy and hubby sleeping on the job, from a lack of z's, wondering aimlessly from the window to the door wishing she would magicially appear after days of absence. Every click, clack or bump in the night was not only in his imagination, it was actually going on in a bathroom stall, on the ground in the park, or in the car, that had him feeling he was being held hostage by the note. I never wondered what lie would escort her through her front door after riding this amusement man-made ride for days on end.  when i first met her i was amazement what lies live behind a pretty smile. she had more stories then the bible. "i am single and brat-less", bless her little heart, who the hell she think going to believe that story? i knew boo wasn't accustomed to 21 questions, so i spared myself of a trailblaze of folklore. don't ask and i will lie just to hold a conversation. I couldn't feel for him, but i would feel up on what he or she was missing. Show me an animal that will pass up an invitation to hump freely. i don't let meals so tasty, fine, and rewarding escape my clutches ever.

I should know how it feel to lose sleep and then my job, because i thought this pussy required my 40 hours plus attention, but i don't. Yeah Right! This man here learned from his peers, who was scared to work. They feared being fired, because sleeping at work equal an instant un-employment. I also watched and learned from family going through their sagas. Older individuals joked about jealousy, but i took heed to this one joke, but later i too couldn't muster the courage to face the facts, a fine ass girl or an ugly one, who knows the power that lives between her legs, can win a marthon with out placing the edge of a heel on the ground once. Now a power trippin barbarian, fueled by jealousy intrigues me with their response to pussy they got buried alive by. They tickled me roaming around town praying for a sighting, so they could flex their immaturity over pussy. this process is worst then adding gasoline to a open pit grill trying to toast marshmellows. This behavior explains how a bruised ego can't work nor sleep.

I won't lie i was on that blues roller coaster a few times, but nothing major or at least i thought. Learn quickly, women are like inexchangible parts on a car, buy one or find one to do what you want for free. Pause!!! that free shit should come with a caution lable. the way i'm was built i didn't have any need for X, viagra, or any prescribe harden assistants. It was no question about what they were going or coming down on regardless who had dibs on them at home. Once i attempted to question the likelihood of home feeling abandoned. i might as well been talking another language, from the puzzled look on their grill. It was oblivioius she won't lie if i don't inquire and i ran with that, like i said before. Why should i have cared about her man's blood pressure shooting through the roof trying to figure out, if she is coming home after i got finished long stroking her. Shit it been alittle over 48 hours and she was now a legitimate missing person. More so she was a missing piece of ass the minute she didn't show up home like clock-work. from the way the phone was blowing up, the vibration was keeping her company while i got my staminia back anyway. i loved them days and i hated the idea i too would be pushing the envelope of killing a bitch when she gave me a spoonful of my own medicine.

I don't know if on some of them ocassions was i what most woman like to lie to themselves about. Claiming i was a good man wasn't a good decision. I know they like to justify a good man is hard to find. BULLSHIT, They need to wake up and say what it really is. They really want to find an interested man with Plenty of ammo to win the war they got waging between their legs. Then after they wake up out their orgasmic trance thats when they try sorting through things to find out if he good at anything else outside the bedroom. How many licks or fucks does it take to get to the fact you got a Good Man and when was i considered a candidate? i know if it was based on my slam and grind blueprints to your g-spot, then i was a triple crown winner, i have the appeal, length, and techinque. Now they talk about men thinking with the wrong head, which one most of you women be looking for, this an inquiring mind asking?

I can say the same thing about finding a good women, but i knew what i want to do from the jump, because most good women complain too much or just to damn comfortable getting dogged, so they rather go thru what they use to then to probe into another possibility. O, and lets not forget they also trying the other meat, no matter what color. I don't have time trying to mix and match what words or choices are attached to someone's intentions or the ones they create after they get their pussy taken to the outta limits. Now she knew how it felt to be a causality. just because you share your pussy don't mean a good man can be detected by something that don't have a mind of it's own. I get offended when people use the word love and don't understand it is defined differently around the world. Mine is probably the most interesting, but think about Legs Open Very Easy (LOVE).

Most of my so call cry wolf vixens, i mean victims, act like they are illiterate or want to be when they can't figure out where they went wrong with me. Instead of confusing their thoughts and believing in the first few minutes i had to be that good man because of my stroke instead of trying getting to know me and not my techinique. I have a few rules: i won't treat a potential wife like a hoe and don't think every hoe could make you feel like she should be your wife. I was one for hoping women was taking notes so she won't get her feelings diced again. Most times i only did this because some women don't want to hear shit except spread'em so i can tear that shit up or suck it like i showed you. What happen to getting to know what color is like, food is despised, and how smart you need to be in order to be mine?

Females tell me from their actions they have no type of idea what they want or what the hell a good man is. Stop accepting anything and dress and address it like it is good. Question, when does reality set in? Was it when that man didn't answer the phone when you cooed for his friction? immediately, he ain't shit, but you gave him sum, wanted to give'em more and if he made bootie call you would pay his satelite shuttle fare to the moon, if he needed to get to you. you ignore the facts because you use to lies probably feel like they rewards. As a matter of fact you beg to hear them when you ask the same shit over and over. If he claimed he was child-less, why the hell he got child support notices camping out in his mailbox? O' but you love children, so you deal with it until they introduce you to a true life phrase, "Bitch, You Ain't My Mother!" That shit should make you feel like you soaking razor blade cuts in alcohol, but you associate it with they don't know no better. so what his mouth was successful in fooling you yet again when he said, he didn't have a woman, so why his wife threatening to blow back your forehead from his boost or t-mobile, if you call the phone she paying the bill for again. My favorite just cause he ain't married don't give you the go ahead try and character assassinate his current girlfriend or some chicken-head advertising about they getting married come summer. Then and again I too have been the victim of many of desperate dick sick fiends craving a man, It don't matter if he no good, just as long he bang the back out they'll  work out the kinks, heard that before and often still to this day. hell that is probably alot of you women's and men's motto.

Live long enough you will meet your match. I did more then met my match. she came like a hurricaine on a afternoon stroll. Stole my attention with that gusty attitude, and it helped more the package was flawless with very little visual limitation. This phillie gave competetion a fit. I think i pumped my fist when i heard how generous with a touch of class this blessing seemed. As the whispers flowed gingerly thru the air my tunnel vision followed "the way i want to be gleemed at by other men; i want my man to be gwaked at likewise by other women, with a passionate hungry desire for what they can't have." i quickly raised an eye brow, because she claimed me, but differently and i had to read between the lines. the words that was execrised announced willing and oblique to pay for this buckstone. as the verdict continued i hung on every word from that point on. "When we stroll down the street. We are supposed to look like we are on the red carpet and the on lookers is our paparrizza." What better way for a woman to tell a man your pockets are going to gain weight and you are going to look delicious at the same time.

And since i been keeping real alive and kicking, I always ended up getting the most out of my intended targets, but that is not to say some of them haven't gotten me twisted like dreads. I had to break down the mathmatics on numerous ocassions to mothers of daughters and vice versa, but this lesson here i wasn't trying to presuade to do nothing other then what she said. any man in my socks would have thought he stumbled across a treasure map and his pants was where the pirate thought the gold was hidden.

I got drunk with the power she paid for. it was times i thought i was getting carried away, but i was gaining on the sheets training. it was a minute before i aquired adquate intelligents to recognize this is why she was spenting big bills. i would have her enjoying her weave trapped between me and the headboard. Like an in musk savage animal, i would use the wall to help the wood panel assault her scalp. i thought i would be hearing the chirping of 911 being dialed on many ocassions, but the only thing i heard muttered, "if you stop they will be here to pick up your remains". Sickness must ran in the family and i was adopted, because i grew sicker with a passion loving it. Most times she would talk about how she wanted her man to bang her like she got caught doing something naughty. right about then i would zone her out, because i couldn't make sense of "my man" being used to save my soul. i never popped a cork off that question. being claimed, like baggage at the airport was not worth the all the dollars in the world. To bring reality back to a leveled playing field i had to act up, orally though, "Girl, Didn't you know just because i look good, from the words that explode out my mouth to the ground i glide on, don't mean i have good intentions". her toyful expression never changed, but she understood this like telling time. i even lied to put her on point don't get too serious. "The same way you programmed my number (10 inches or better) in between those juicy wet pink pages of your phone book, i know a number of ones with similar symptons for everyday of the week on a calander. I can make the sheets under a sweaty body smoke causing  a smoke detector to go banannas." Still the expression was paralyzed making my training to see if i got to the core of her commonsense think overtime might be needed.

The way this child give birth to currency and painted my hand made me think i was big time, like a clock around flavor flav neck. I got addicted reincarninating into a rubberband squeezing life back into them dollars. the beauty of it all seem like she enjoyed seeing me spend, especially, after i laid the smackdown. After the very first time i made her juices ripple around her clit, that false wall used to protect her feelings fell quicker then the one in china. I ran into a sluth of women, who trained me to never bite the hand that feed you. i wasn't about to, but as time skyscrapered it started making  me realize Miss Lady could do more, if she wasn't home preparing dinner for hubby and serving me, the hammer her lefted over desserts. Yes, i got greedy. i didn't admire being fed scraps anymore. I was catching feelings for her the more time we spent apart and it wasn't due to no money. "don't fall in LOVE, remember what you told me?"  this was one order i became ignorant about following. I was her servant and whipped. 

Pussy was the teacher and my head was not missing any days. Most times my mouth was being gagged and my third leg was experiencing bondaged behaviors, who in their right mind was trying to cut class?the real techinicial difficulties arouse when she started calling out sick and it was substitute to cover. i thought i winning the fight, but in hindsight i was paid to throw in the towel, until my next schedule bout. I was trained better then a k-9. i fell like i was walking on hot coal, trying not to call her when i knew she was present off the clock preforming overtime with her husband. never once could she not look me dead in the eye, and say their marriage is rickery like a broken rocking chair. then tossed wad of the dead to pacify me. more like i will pay you to fuck, suck, and might your business. i suffered with headaches wishing she wouldn't leave for so long. I wasn't accustomed to being trapped by my emotions trying to convince my heart my dick wasn't experience techinicial feelings.

But it is something about being that spare piece. Pain riddle down my spine when P-day arrived. Being full with pinned up desires and suspense of what has to be worn, how we going to do this and that quickly demised when sprint broke up the celebration. her ringtone spelled uh-oh! the new attitude got straight to business, "oh so and so - not today!!!" Damn, not even a sorry. Me, myself, and i had become drain just from hearing and realizing all that stuff i had in mind wasn't going to happen today. i know she knew i was going to rip a new hole in that when it did happen. i guess she was healing from all them other times. As time stretched so did the truth. other ideas was being taught in my class, track this bitch down and steal a few minutes of her lunch break, delay her arrival at home, sneak behind her at work in the bathroom and make her give you some head while she pissing. i had to show her i didn't come with a shut off and on switch. My lever was an emergency plug, i would pull when i wanted some and like the terminator, i will not stop until my honeycomb was sliding up in her hideout.

Thoughts skipped and played hop scotched in my mind about not being hooked or obsessed, but denial (Don't Even Know I Am Lying) was not an multiple choice answer i hugged like a teddy bear, wishing it was my part of the time lover. Never in my life would i imagine i would use the words vulnerable or helpless like those i dimissed with the thoughts they finally caught their mr. right. I was brave though. with all my might i couldn't reveal my ego was shattered from a lack of a committment and honesty. i knew i wasn't exhaling Mr. Goodman oxygen, but i wanted to get sucked up like soda every night by a set of good lips. i didn't want to have to wonder would the cops have to help me find out where her lips been. When i thought of Johnny Law, i had to let her play her role at home and spare me like a rib when she opted to be my eve. I couldn't punish her to much because then i would be hammering out her urges for me at least a week or two longer. My blinders didn't work hiding them lonely minutes. every waking moment I punished myself  trying not to believe she wasn't actually doing the love (legs opening very easy) thing for someone along with hubby and me. I hope this wasn't Jon & Kate plus eight more tricks. hell, i just grew willingly to work with the seven day waiting period a couple years ago. I am outraged i became her period scheduled date, I'd see almost every 28 days come to think of it.

Remember, i am not fond of being a member of what goes around come around club. So when her lies couldn't make ends meet i refused to face the facts: she had no intentions of putting her hubby on notice and boot his ass to the waivers list, i had to go back to school and remain being the apple on this bitch's desk. Boy, did i hate swallowing  the wrong answer. i knew this hefter was lying like a rug when those pearly whites bit off the words, "i don't have a man," bitch you didn't say shit about a HUSBAND!!! I went at this vixen with intentions of banging this freak's Mystical character's status into being a HAS-BEEN bracket and I lost. Words couldn't explain the power I thought my black and decker had. Techinque had to be the key, but this cunning figure 8 stroked my ego into accepting she couldn't handle this roaring lion locked behind my zipper. I could kick my own ass for being paid with fool's gold. it ain't hard to wonder who was on exxon or hess. those whispering winds gassed me up when the verdict on him was recited. i should have been offended when she had the nerve to talk about him like he was done with a fork stuck in his ass. never once would those crooked words zig zagged about him in the present tense, so what wedge between us? Stupid me, for never ordering the necessary information to spell relief. Although, i was patient i never let on i was hip to her prejury. as long as she kept returning to get sentenced by the hour and sometimes demanding be a hostage, it seemed to become a my detention after school. even though i felt happy she voluntary locked us in 5 star hotels and threw away the pass key . i couldn't look this gift horse in the mouth. the things i experienced via of her mouth made me want to bronze her lip stick. she had my dick sick til it infected my heart. I was scared of the big bad wolf, loneliness, she was going to subject me to when the time ran out. I didn't want to go to sleep, because i want to reminsce bout the 12 and some rounds of back and forth competetion we shared and most time she won, with no qualms from me. I was helping myself to this pie ignoring something else at home was making her bring an extra pair of everything down to her panties when ever our paths connected. she been stopped staying the night red-lining to work after lollipopping me back to sleep before she close the door behind herself. I became her one an hour medicine down from endless hours or days.

The score i spotted MIA for weeks at a time, couldn't be made up. i had pussy that purred, roared, but it had my bearings daze and unbalance like liquid in a bottle on a see-saw. my johnson was suppose to be similar to nitro. every moment exposed how badly i was losing. Honey was suppose to rocket out this niggas eye sight and land in my arms. i didn't want to call her my wife, because i knew i could easily replace him on his job of bouncing from window to the sidewalk yearning for her arrival. Trust told me to investigate her neck on the sneak. request to be hugged all the while sniffing harder then a bloodhound for a suspect's cologne. How do you go from being a husband to downing a white coat and fall into the habit of examining that brazilian wax coochie like a genocologist? i didn't want to be posted outside her job trailing her every move. Knowing damn well i really wanted to be posted up in the cubicial next to her. Only if my employer could understand i had to be paid by him to follow my pussy for 8 plus hours. I wonder would the realtor accept my apology for procastinating with the rent? in actuality, i wasn't that much different then him. i wasn't minding my business (staying out of other pussies),i was bouncing around my house playing smooth switchboard operator. Fuck sleeping i had her vision and whomever handcuffed between my ears. no i didn't want to become him, but i was a sure enough a replicia. She told me once things at home was changing. What your man was becoming jealous and couldn't work, because he had to follow you around? or was he scared to sleep, because he knew you would creep off? your save zone was work, because you had to keep bill and me happy. hell you already had me abandoning my own responsibilities to be magnum p.i.

True friends didn't hide the facts of surrounding me with their observations on the new me. I was hurt, because they deem me whipped like batter over the junk her trunk can't contain. i grew up to become the spitting image of a miserible little boy missing his toy. every making of a second i am thinking about how much me and her lip gloss miss one another. tears been torturing my thoughts about being dropped off every milli-tic or toc adding up from the last time her legs got tied like laces around my neck. delighted when her shoulders were anchored underneath me and the generousity of offereing me every inch of that pussy was being hoisted up until my backbone grinded on her pelvic. my headaches rode like battleships thru my blood stream wondering which day and how much time would i have to get her liquor (lick her) to intoxicate my system again? Then a soprano scenario of wacking him flashed like a neon sign. Commonsense was my appeal showing me stripes don't go good with my complexion. i was just plain stupid to get overly intice with this epidemic, but i was under the notion of being paid to stay horny and wait to be cured, what was i suppose to do? My hand just wasn't cutting it and my gut told me this was going to be a good thing in the making. I just i never thought of how confused it was going end up.

Ok, i give in. i feel what women go thru when they believe they found Mr. Right and he turn out to be lacking an important quality, good. i need me a map to keep from runnin up into this wet-roadblock ever again. what use to feel like my birthday all the time now have me trying to avoid identifying another day without those forbidden tricks that had the mental straving to death. If i was one of the hands on the clock i would have skipped over the moment we met, if i knew it was going to turn into these results. who knew that shit between them legs was forgien with a heavy juicy accent? shit i am still trying to learn how to communicate in her tongue instead of with mine. This vixen knew she was going to seal the deal when she preformed magic on my wond. I guess i was the other half of her hubby, a piece this good is hard to miss. i was good with no sheets, i only spared time to share breathe, sweat, and pleasure with her solely, and although we spent her money, it was only to look good for the next encounter. i was obsessed with the scene i was filming and addicted to the coming attractions of miss thing coming to threater near me.

Patient was now a backseat driver. i was now stalking and proud of it. i didn't give a damn about peering into her eyes rolling when she spotted. fuck actin like i was lost when i showed up where she lived, worked, or probably creeped with her victims. I wanted to either to be laid or spared. there was that denial issue, sparing my soul was the last thing i wanted to experience. not after being sadom masircated by lips, hips, and finger tips this good. After awhile most times when she knew the coast was cleared and i guess i was punished long enough by her absence, i was fed a teaser. At the same time i had to be on guard like a knight in some dull ass armor. it was a beast luring sharing her last name. no matter how big or small, he couldn't be denied he could be savage when it came to protecting his high-stepped out pussy. what would you do if your orgasm maker had you eating and sticking shit she loaned out? it was no telling what could be fueling a vivid imagination of horror. his thoughts could possibility be transformed from a soft as jelly to a lunatic simulated by alcohol or nose candy. This man might actually believe he incredible like david banner  and refuse to get his ass kicked like Pee Wee Herman. In any account i was on guard when i grew bold enough to lock horns like buck with my bambi.

DING - DING -DING!!! Fight night at Martin's West, it felt like. I was held hostage as usual by the uncanny. Tired of hanging in limbo which suppose to not resemble a comfort zone. being drowned in our familiar surroundings the buck, my moaning became questions on a need to know basis. no more beating up this bush, i had to know if i was going to be the only one hiding shit in this motherfucker or was i going to be on a line up? Could i shed the latex and swim without a life preserver? Did i have to worry about licking behind or up sloppy seconds? Will you stop sharing time with the one who flaunt you with the title wife and you become my wifey? those were all the words that never materialized in to being comprende.

"Who side are you on,?" was the only question that matter and she heard. her poker face was unmoved. her words was long in coming, but what could i do she was finally peeling me like a orange and it was sweet as shit. i knew now i would kill us just to stay connected like this. i was patient and scared. paralyzed and helpless with passion getting no younger. i was striving to be no. 1 for 3 years now. i was use to this thing i moled, although i wouldn't be eagered for the unrewarding transformation i was sure to encounter. i wasn't that stupid to the fact, bitches don't shed their ways. they make you accept them. i guess this could have been the spell i was being strangled by.

the grip of those pussy lips demanded my undivded attention and i didn't realize this very moment her expression changed. i was suspect as shit with fear, as her eyes advise me what i am about to say has no options or multiple choice acceptances. the air that exited could stale bread when the vemon dripped and stung my emotions with a high voltage."stop trying to get comfortable. enjoy the ride for however long it lasted."

no this hoe didn't just break my feelings down to change for a dollar. what she think i am suppose to keep pussy footing around for another 3 years? Then i was pinched to return back to reality. i responsing to the standing 8 and never realized the riding had stop. Wait a minute i know she just didn't coat my shit with her own sauce. What i don't deserve to feel like i accomplished somethin? I guess not. money was dropped on my stomach like i was trick again. where the fuck did the money come from anyway? oh Miss Bitch had this gimmit all laid out. Ok bitch, thank you for the ride and your welcome. i guess i can stop whining now, huh? In one unstoppable motion very slowly, she rose like the undertaker and turned her back on me. This was the warning sign to get my lasting eye watering stares out, because i am getting dressed and i am out. I knew this was because of the only question i was able to say. if i didn't get it out now i probably would be suffering silently for another 3 years at the rate this shit was going.

I was shopping for her eyes, but they wasn't on display. only if she would turn around and see my anger was in HD. i was struggling with a high level of confusion. never before had i revealed i was vulnerable and insecure.

The game was in the 9th inning and the pitcher started the wind up. Her panties, she slide to the side so could ride me, dropped to the floor with her back still to me. how fucking rude my breathing hissed. she bended over and my heart hit a painful note. this was the feeling revealing how much i missed that doggie style and i didn't have the chance to put it on her like usual. thoughts of taking advantage of her in that inviting position ruff rode through my veins, until i noticed my man was slumped as a wet rag. timing was vital. i was out of options without my man's participation. that juicy cunt wasn't going to be in that postion come 10 minutes from now. When them new lacy trim cut throngs creeped farther up her thigh as she resumed an upright position, one of wink of her ass chin signaled show over drive home safely! Nothing was said, what else should i expect her to say she wasn't showing, bye bye we going home?" I wanted to scream something anything, but my dick was fearing he was going to get fired.

As i watched her strut with a confident swagger not once a neck muscle twitch to peeped over her shoulder to see if i was breathing. It dawned on me it was alot wrong with this picture. She was not her normal self, expressing how good i looked. never once she scoped the snake my 12's displayed. i thought she would have enjoyed her favorite color i hated wearing. the new farbics i drowned with cologne, not my usual body oil she hated. that alone should have ordered a compliment of my menu choice, not even close. I shouldn't have been so caught in the moment or onxious for her silky hands to do all the talking. any other nigga would have harshly reprimanded this bitch for being thoughtless of my hard efforts for affections. Why was i feeling so assaulted and insulted i begged the Gods to answer? This wasn't the gentle freak that had me straving for her. I felt like i was being beat out of my own dick come to think of it. WTF happen. with short notice she began preforming tricks as if she was doing areborics on a trampleen. Then in a New York second, i am fighting a glance.

Moments later after she strutted like a top model slamming the door behind her. Not even a good-bye was uttered. my legs felt paralyzed. i couldn't budge i remained still as stomp. i could hear her movement tappering off in the distance, i felt like i was being charstied by my mother. i kept replaying her answer she spit at me while she danced on top of me, like she was taunting me "is this what you want? fuck how you want it!!!"  That scarsmism abused my ears and i ignored it, but it feel like she twisted and broke a knife to pieces in my heart when she replied to my request, "stop trying to get comfortable and just enjoy the ride for however long it last." I felt like i was being hijacked for my dick and my feelings wasn't to be spared. was i over stepping over my boundaires trying to make her stop being a wife and be my wifey? i guess the money she was snowplowing me with should have kept me content. I can't do it i'm greedy. i want to get paid and laid. Damn, what side should i be on? Ain't this a bitch, i went from getting a decent share to being forced to play and share nicely.

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