One Shoe GumshoeChapter 15 Aftermath
- 3 years ago
- 20
- 0
MARY sat down on Gold’s bed with me to survey what we had collected from our survey of the two-and-a-half floors of the flat, it really wasn’t much at all. There was an empty trunk and two suitcases in the unfurnished bedroom up in what was once the loft; they were locked but I opened them and they were indeed empty.
All we had gathered was the framed photo, of course, a diary, a pair of reading glasses and an unmarked cigarette lighter that Mary thought she recognised.
“If you think I look really young in that photo, you are right, I was only 17 and we had been engaged a matter of weeks. We had to part our separate ways, each to a different film location, so he asked me for a photograph, I had a pile of them for publicity purposes. I put that message on it and he bought the frame while — what was that?”
We could hear heavy boots coming up the steel steps outside. Mary ran quickly to the small back bedroom, that had the single bed and empty double wardrobe in it. The window there overlooked the outside door to the flat. I followed a moment or two after her.
“It’s the big man with the bald head!” she hissed, “What’ll we do?”
‘‘It’s your husband’s home, Mary,” I said, “You have every right to be here.”
“That’s all very well, Edgar, but he carries a gun, has threatened Gus with violence, and he may have had something to do with Brad’s disappearance.”
She was right of course.
I said, “You stay in this bedroom, and I will go down and confront him.”
“Do you have your gun?”
“No, I only take it when I am expecting trouble.”
“We’re in trouble now, Edgar, and I know you’re a brave man but if he shoots you, he will have to shoot me, too, as a witness.”
“All right,” I decided, “you stay here and I’ll gather the stuff from the master bedroom.”
“No, Edgar,” she put a hand on my arm, “I’m lighter on my feet and quicker. I think he is only here to collect his rent from the barber and to make a cup of tea. He may not come up here and has no reason to enter this unused bedroom.”
Then she was gone.
Within a minute she was back with the diary, lighter and eye glasses and we stood behind the door, listening. The bedroom was close to the stairs, the walls quite thin, so if you were quiet you could hear the man, who we assumed was Curly Cavenagh, banging about in the kitchen.
“He’s filling a kettle with water,” in a low whisper, Mary kept up a running commentary of Cavenagh’s movements and actions. “Now he’s turned on the gas and struck a match. The gas is lit and that ‘clunk’ was the kettle being put on the hob.”
She turned and looked at me. “While you were up here, I looked in the pantry, as you suggested, but there was nothing in there. I don’t think Brad ever cooked anything while he was here, he always preferred eating out to home cooking.” She smiled at that. “Even when he was living with his parents they dined in style because they always had one of the two chefs they employed on hand in the house who cooked everything. They never even had to put the kettle on for tea! Anyway, the sink had two teacups in it, and two spoons, no saucers. I expect Cavenagh will make his usual cup of tea, and leave. I doubt that he will even wash up, as there are six cups in that set.”
“I think he uses the bathroom, too,” I whispered, remembering the grubby hand towel, “l think we can find out who he is and his criminal history from the fingerprints on a cup, especially if we have several cups, we are bound to find one good print from them.”
She grinned, “So all we need do is hide, whether he has a gun or not, and we’ll get him anyway, without putting ourselves in danger.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me.”
While we stood there, quietly behind the third bedroom door, Mary flicked through her husband’s diary.
“He never uses it as a diary as such,” she whispered, “but as a calendar of future appointments, film schedules, etc. it was useful as a reminder so he wouldn’t miss anything important ... it looks like he ticks things off when done, or crosses appointments out when they are cancelled or rescheduled. Wait —”
She paused, and we listened, as we heard Cavenagh come up the stairs, we presumed, heading for the lavatory, as was his presumed habit.
But he stopped outside, between both the bathroom and the small bedroom doors.
Without warning, there was a crash as he kicked our door in, which flew inward towards me.
Mary behind me screamed.
The door flew open and hit my artificial foot. The door seemed to bounce back off my solid foot and almost slammed shut again, as I saw a right hand coming through the door opening with a revolver gripped in it.
I threw my whole weight behind the closing door and it caught the outstretched hand between door and door jamb with a bone-crushing crack!
This time it was Cavenagh that screamed, and there was a loud report as the revolver went off with a mighty bang!
I wrenched the door open, to see the smoking gun fall from the attacker’s senseless fingers, the hand hanging sickeningly unnatural at what was certainly a broken or dislocated wrist, Cavenagh reeling back against the toilet door.
“I caution you to stand still, Cavenagh.” I warned him as I stepped forward, “I am arresting you in connection with the disappearance of the owner-occupier of this flat, Mr Bradford Gold, late Flight Lieutenant in the RAF...”
Before I could continue with the rest of the caution, about him saying anything that might be taken down and used in evidence, he retaliated by swinging his left hand in an arc towards my head.
I could hear the mechanism of the spring-loaded flick knife, and my eyes saw the six-inch blade unwind, that he venomously intended to hack at me, yelling a frightening bellow from his snarling lips, as the blade swept towards me.
I tried to halt my forward momentum and roll back on my heels to avoid the wicked steel from slicing through my throat, and barely managed to evade enough of his lunge so that only the tip nicked the edge of my chin.
Suddenly, Cavenagh’s face disappeared, his forehead exploding like a soft-boiled egg hit overzealously by a careless heavy teaspoon. Blood and brains fountained from a neat hole as near dead centre of his forehead as made no difference, his eyes changing from a look of total fury to abject shock, and then to utter resignation as the power of sight, thought, and the ability to even stand up any longer abandoned him.
Almost immediately after this chain of events registered with me, the deafening thunderclap roar of the gun exploded next to my left ear, and the rest of the scene played out like I imagined one of Brad Gold’s early silent movies would.
Just as the lifeless body slumped to the floor, I twisted my head to see Mary, gripping Cavenagh’s own discarded revolver in both her tiny hands at the end of her outstretched arms, her left eye closed as her right eye sighted along the barrel to the point on the bathroom door, now covered in blood, brains and skull bone fragments from the back of what had once been Cavenagh’s head.
She opened her left eye and calmly lowered the revolver, using a thumb to gently ease the hammer back in place safely without discharging the weapon for an unnecessary second firing.
I lip-read, “Sorry,” she said, without remorse or any discernible passion, “I know you wanted to question him, but Daddy taught me to always shoot snakes in the head.”
I didn’t hear the policeman’s whistle, summoned by one of the barber’s customers, who ran up and down Denmark Hill Road until he saw a constable on patrol on his bike. Nor did I hear Mary call out to them, “Upstairs!”, or hear them charge up the stairs in their heavy hob-nailed boots.
All I could hear was the deafening ringing in my ears.
I saw the policeman burst into the flat’s master bedroom, where we had moved for comfort’s sake immediately after the shooting, no doubt after he’d stepped over the grisly corpse in the hallway, truncheon at the ready, and Gus the barber following him close behind. Both were confronted by the scene of Mary and I sitting calmly on the edge of the double bed.
Story is in the 60’s before cell phones and PCs when small stores actually had sales people that serviced clients. This is a close to true story, well sort of the mature fuck is real. As part of his high school business class requirements, Jim had gotten a job at a local shoe store. The owner had gone out for the afternoon and left Jim to stock shelves as it had been a slow day. He was in the back when the bell rang telling him someone had entered the store and he went up front. He...
Curly watched his mother as she washed her cunt. He wanted to fuck her so badly that his dick burned. He had to have some relief. He wrapped his fist around his bulging rod and stroked it tenderly. He was careful to cup his hand so that the sensitive flesh of the of the dickhead was in constant contact with his palm. The pleasure was so intense that he thought he would pass out. His mother had no idea that he was spying on her. She had just been fucked by her boyfriend and her cunt...
Curly watched his mother as she washed her cunt. He wanted to fuck her so badly that his dick burned. He had to have some relief. He wrapped his fist around his bulging rod and stroked it tenderly. He was careful to cup his hand so that the sensitive flesh of the of the dickhead was in constant contact with his palm. The pleasure was so intense that he thought he would pass out. His mother had no idea that he was spying on her. She had just been fucked by her boyfriend and her cunt was...
Well.. here he was again, at the same old titty bar he was at last week and the week before. Shit, thinking about it he realized he'd been coming here once a week for the past six months, always after the gym on Thursday or Friday night. He rarely got anymore sex at home and when he did it was pretty bland. He'd watched enough porn and read enough erotic stories to know there had to more than bland once a month perfunctory sex. So he didn't feel one bit bad about his weekly visits. He really...
Straight SexIf the Shoe Fits By Cheri Amour Kathleen O'Connell stood just outside the doorway to her palatial bedroom, taking in the exciting tableau before her. She was easily visible to the room's only occupant, her stepson Andrew Dupre, but she had no fear of him seeing her. For he was kneeling in a reverent posture in front of the wide open doors of the spacious walk-in closet opposite her vantage point. One might have said he was praying, but for the fact that he was...
Now I’ve been shy about my body, its curvaceous and yes I’m a bit overweight for my 5ft6 frame, my arse is rounded, my breasts are very large and my thighs are bigger than I would like. However, its all me and so that’s that. Most sunny days I love to wander in the garden topless (at least) sometimes completely nude, smelling the flowers and settling down to soak up the rays. So, anyway, there I was one Saturday afternoon in early August laying naked on my sunbed when a voice comes...
WE drove to Mile End very early the next morning. I parked the car near the Blue Jay Café, just around the corner from my office, but didn’t see anyone suspiciously hanging around. As agreed, I left Mary in charge of the car while I walked around the block, to approach the café from the opposite direction from where she was parked. There were four people sitting inside the café, either eating breakfast or drinking tea, two young men in working clothes sitting at separate tables, and possibly...
WAAF Sergeant Margaret Livings and my assistant Mary Jones appeared to have become firm friends by the time we reached the railway halt for our return journey. There was only a period of five minutes before the next train, there being no waiting room at the tiny halt, so we remained sheltering in the unheated car while the chilly driven rain beat down on us, until we could see the plume of smoke that heralded the imminent arrival of the tiny engine pulling its two mean and grubby carriages...
I AWOKE to a soft kiss on the lips before Mary got up and the thick black curtains were thrown open to the morning light. I blinked and could make out a vision in front of me, a haloed silhouette of a female form in the bright white light of the window. She moved back to the side of the mattress where I lay on the floor of my brother-in-law’s home office. When my eyes focused better, I saw the unbelievably beautiful Mary Jones, even with tousled hair and no make-up, barely dressed in pale...
I HAD a one to one conversation with Bob Cummings at a café near New Scotland Yard later that morning. He had already told me on the telephone when I arranged the meeting that the police had no time to investigate fully and he confirmed that Military Intelligence were now not even prepared to admit they were pursuing him as a deserter. As far as the Yard knew, Gold was now a Special Branch agent because almost immediately Cummings’ team began to make enquiries, he was dragged out of his...
“WHAT?!” I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was staring at Miss Marcia la Mare, actress, Hollywood sweetheart, recent widow of wealthy actor and world wide heart-throb, clean-cut all-American hero ... and she was silently mouthing with her lips to me that her husband was a Queer, a homosexual, with a same-sex husband. It simply didn’t add up. They were the perfect Hollywood couple. Everybody said so. Both were respectively the dream man and dream woman of popular culture. She had even told me...
I WAS woken up from a deep sleep when someone with extremely cold feet got in the bed and cuddled up behind me. “Uh, Mary?” I asked in a daze, while I was trying to unglue my eyelids. I noticed that a 20 watt lamp was lit on the back of one of the side tables, but the mattress on the floor was blocked from direct light by the overhanging table. “You’d wish,” said Hettie, speaking loud enough with her lips close up to my almost deaf right ear for me to hear her, “now, shift yourself over and...
WHILE I waited for Mary’s train to come into Paddington Station the events of the last seven months played through my head. The judicial system in England and Wales is a behemoth, tortuously slow and justice takes a long time. There are sound reasons for this, it allows better evidence to show up, more witnesses to come forward, better consideration of the facts and hopefully better judgements. And the accused too have longer to examine their consciences and reflect on the scales of...
I READ through all of Bradford Gold’s letters from England to his wife in America that late afternoon and evening. They covered a period of about 17 months, about 72 weeks in all, and there were 59 letters, all of them were either two or four pages long, but mostly they said little or nothing. There was certainly nothing of any meaning that threw light on why he would consider deserting from his commitments to the Military. He carefully avoided mentioning any airfields or even what counties...
RAWLINGS the driver was waiting outside for us. I did hesitate, because he had made a couple of mistakes already today, to my detriment, but he attempted to disarm us with an uncertain smile as he opened the rear door for Mary. Probably the smile he wore was more for Mary than for me. I supposed that I could hardly blame him for that. I ordered Rawlings to drive us directly to New Scotland Yard. We drove away from the Hospital and down through Smithfields, now empty of butchers and...
HOW much was your husband ransomed for?” I asked Mary, calmly. “Thirty thousand English pounds. Actually they asked for twenty thousand pounds at first, but when the movie promotion agents based here in London didn’t act fast enough, they raised the ante. The kidnappers sent them Brad’s gold watch, the inscribed one I gave him on our marriage. They telegraph facsimiled a photograph of it to our New York office. So Brad’s father paid the ransom, or rather our London agent did on the Studio’s...
THEY welcomed us with open arms at the estate agents. I assumed that houses and flats were hard to shift with so much uncertainty about the future and the war going against the allies quite so badly. Also, all the breadwinners of new or growing families were being conscripted, so there were fewer opportunities for families to obtain mortgages from banks or building societies. Although the bombing had caused homelessness elsewhere, the war had bypassed this little corner. We had peered...
LATER that Monday evening I sat down in the hotel room and tried to figure out what I could from the information we had. That is what I was good at in all the years I was at the Yard. Brad’s notebook was written in a rotation code of 13 letters, so written letter A was really letter M. It was originally a code used by Julius Caesar in Ancient Rome, which was then based on a rotation of 12 as the Latin alphabet had only 24 letters, without U and J. The notebook was a sort of diary that filled...
MID-MORNING on Thursday we arrived at the remote East Anglian railway halt, named after the airfield we were heading for, the bomber squadron base that missing pilot Bradford Gold had operated from for about five or six months the previous summer and autumn. The halt could barely be called a station, we had been warned by the station master at the nearest mainline station that the platform was only long enough for the first of the two-carriage rural train to alight. The terrain was flat for...
“WHERE are we exactly?” Mary asked when we stopped. She looked a little worried. We were outside a corner shop in a smart suburban avenue filled with a mixture of large detached and semi-detached villas, built only ten years earlier. “My sister Hettie’s house is just down the street.” I said as we got out and started to walk, “I didn’t want to leave the car right outside their door, so we have a two minute walk with a couple of twists and turns before we get there. Hettie’s husband Jack...
IT WAS quite late when we reached Liverpool Street station and I knew that by the time I got home to Mile End I would miss Mrs McPherson’s evening meal, yet again. It was Thursday, which meant cold cuts and home-made pickles with watery mashed potatoes, made with margarine instead of butter under war-time rationing, followed by something like tinned peaches and Bird’s powdered custard made with water rather than milk. It wasn’t much of a meal to miss, even though I was quite hungry. Miss...
“I JOINED the Metropolitan Police as a temporary officer helping typing up policeman’s reports, bagging and processing Crown evidence,” I said to Mary after the all-clear sirens had sounded and guests were permitted to return to their rooms or suites for the remainder of the night. We had changed into our bed wear and donned respectable dressing gowns supplied to the suite and resting in her sitting room. Mary was curled up with her legs comfortably tucked under her on a chaise langue, and I...
WE attended two funeral services together, Mary and I, one low key in terms of attendance but deeply emotional, on one morning and followed that by another higher profile one the following afternoon, that was more for public show than anything else. Mary insisted I attend by her side for both funerals. How could I deny her my full support at them both? To be honest, I wanted to spend every moment of our shrinking allotment of time we had together. Mary wore the same black outfit for both...
“HOW did we meet?” Mary repeated my question, after the debris of the starting course, which was an acceptable brown Windsor soup, had been removed and while we waited unhurriedly for the main course. We were sat at a table against a corner of the restaurant, in front of blackout curtains, which appeared to cover not just the windows, but lined the walls completely all around the room. There were wide spaces between the occupied tables, so here we were quite private and free to talk...
AS WE started to rise to leave the dining room, a waiter immediately came over and told us with a whisper that a bombing raid was imminent, the air raid warnings had been sounded above ground and we wouldn’t be allowed to go upstairs to our rooms. I hadn’t realised until that point that the restaurant had been relocated in a basement. That is the problem with these lifts, I didn’t notice the number of floors we took going down. My excuse is that I was blinded by my ‘date’. Then I realised...
WE SAID our farewells to Petersen and headed down to catch the bus back up to Chiswick, where we would use the Underground from there. “Are you alright, Edgar?” Mary was concerned. I suppose I had gone rather quiet while Petersen discussed the different operations carried out on his leg, before the doctors finally decided to take it off. “Yes. I hadn’t had the same problems as Petersen, Mary. You know, the series of operations, the hopes first raised and then dashed each time. I was dragged...
“READY!” PC Brown hissed to us, but it was far too dark this early in the morning for me to read his lips. Mary tugged my sleeve twice, the signal that we had agreed and I was alert and ready. Mary and I were given the opportunity to call on known criminal contacts of Curly Cavenagh, which Mary’s husband, the late Brad Gold had identified as being connected with active Nazi sympathisers who were affecting the war effort resisting the Axis Powers’ domination of Europe and North Africa. I...
THE train left the station in a cloud of white steam, taking Mary away from me forever, it seemed. She was about to throw herself back into the charged atmosphere of make-believe adventure and romance that is the movie business, as a single, unattached, desirable and very beautiful woman, in my mind to be surrounded by slavering wolves in the guise of leading men used to getting their way with any women they temporarily desired. While I returned to my life as a single and seriously unattached...
OUTSIDE the estate agents’ premises I gently took Mary’s arm, fearful that she might faint. She looked close to tears. “Do you want to sit down? There’s a tea shop open over there.” She shook her head, but seemed unable to speak. “Do you still want to go to the shop and try and look at the flat next door?” She nodded. We were there in a minute or so and the mainly glass door covered in whitewash opened quickly using the key and I pushed her inside. As soon as I closed the door behind us...
I just recently found this Board and thought I'd drop off a transformation story I wrote for another board. I think you guys will like it. You can do with this story as you'd like. Enjoy. (By the way, I am female but I like to dress up my boyfriend). The Shoe by Ann "Fine. He likes stepping on me, I'll show him what it feels like to be stepped on." Sheri slapped her money down on the counter. The old woman smiled at her knowingly. She only sold rings like the one in Sheri's...
Serena takes her husband to visit The Fetish Shoe Shop As the train slowed down and drew into York station Mark smiled at his wife Serena and asked how she felt. 'Nervous, and as horny as hell,' she replied. The train slowed to a halt and Mark and Serena got off and made their way off the platform where they were due to meet Robert, Mrs Wyles' assistant. They held hands as they approached the ticket barrier and walked through it. Almost instantly a young man approached them. He held out his...
OUR trip down to visit Gold’s gunner Petersen in Mortlake, using the iconic red London double-decker bus system, was uneventful. We had to climb upstairs of course, and Mary was fascinated to see many London landmarks she knew from history and watching films, including those shot in London. Before we departed her rooms we enjoyed a sumptuous breakfast brought up to the suite and served sizzling hot. Who knew that there was even a dining room and small kitchen in that fantastic hotel suite of...
My FavouriteLike most men, I love the colour red. Not the hair colour I suppose. Then again, that’s ginger, or to be polite, strawberry blond. But in every other sense, I love red. My favourite sports teams wear red and I drive a red car. However, most importantly, I love my women in red. Red dresses, red coats and red shoes. Not necessarily all at once... I’m not totally crazy.My second great passion is feet. Women’s... of course. Preferably manicured, but I’m not going to turn my nose up at...
….one two buckle my shoe…. Bowed and bent, in constant genuflection before women, was not a man's naturalstate. Having spent so much of the day compressed like a caryatid, his back bentor buckled, so often on his knees as he forced fat feet into shoes which womenwould insist on having a size too small, Steve felt like some kind of PrinceCharming... but with only ugly sisters to attend to. His back ached through having to bow low over these vain obese women, hislegs were stiff from his...
Weezie, a comely city girl from Chicago was a very sexual creature. Her boyfriend Sal owned a large and successful adult business on Halsted Street in Chicago. A large part of his trade was exotic underwear and clothing for hookers, transvestites, and fetishists not just in Chicagoland but nationwide. They were en route to a lingerie trade show in Los Angeles and picked me up along Interstate 40 just west of Albuquerque. I was hitchhiking out to Santa Barbara in the summer of 1976 from New...
Weezie, a comely city girl from Chicago was a very sexual creature. Her boyfriend Sal owned a large and successful adult business on Halsted Street in Chicago. A large part of his trade was exotic underwear and clothing for hookers, transvestites, and fetishists not just in Chicagoland but nationwide. They were en route to a lingerie trade show in Los Angeles and picked me up along Interstate 40 just west of Albuquerque. I was hitchhiking out to Santa Barbara in the summer of 1976 from New...
BisexualAngel got a BIT WILD shopping for shoes 1 time in Las Vegas--------------------------------------------- 1 time when we were in Vegas Angel wanted to go shoe shopping, but she wantedto do it in a KINKY way & see how many pairs of shoes she could get for FREE. Before we left our room she had me take a marker pen & write 'I'LL TRADE YOU'in about 4 inch letters from her upper right thigh, across her cunt mound, toher left thigh so that when she sat down to try on a pair of shoes the...
1 time when we were in Vegas Angel wanted to go shoe shopping, but she wantedto do it in a KINKY way & see how many pairs of shoes she could get for FREE. Before we left our room she had me take a marker pen & write 'I'LL TRADE YOU'in about 4 inch letters from her upper right thigh, across her cunt mound, toher left thigh so that when she sat down to try on a pair of shoes the shoesalesman could easily see it written there just above her shaved cunt. Then shehad me take 2 little red...
==================================SHOE STORE SEXPERIENCE(s)The Rack It was a hot muggy cloudy Tuesday afternoon at the end of July. My Uncle was off golfing and the store was dead. Maybe 10 customers all day and here it was 3:00 O'clock and there had been no shoppers since lunch. Then "The Rack" walked in! She was a real cutie, about 10 years older than me but what stood out about her the most were her incredible boobs. They were firm and huge, but not so huge as to be droopy and ridiculous....
I thought it would be great working at a shoe store. However, I have a foot fetish and am constantly aroused with all the incredibly sexy feet to look at. A long time ago, I found out that feet turned me on.I had a girlfriend that liked to dominate me in the bedroom. She got incredibly turned on when I sucked her toes. At first, I didn’t really like it, but the more I did it I became a fan. It was very exciting and erotic to me. There’s nothing better than a woman who cares for her feet. ...
FetishIt had been a couple of weeks since the sexy shoe sale and Jim was getting horny thinking about sex with that older woman. He was at the store when she came in and sat down. “Jim I need some shoes. I want you to pick out the sexiest pair you can.” “Oh, okay. How about some really high heels?” “Sure if you think they are sexy.” He went in back and got out a pair of 5” black stilettos with ankle straps. The sort of shoe you call “fuck me”shoes. “Here lets see how they fit.” He took...
Let me begin by saying, I have worked in a shoe store now for several years, and never not once have I ever encountered a woman whose pussy I ever saw, let alone flashing me her panties, or crotch just for the sake of doing so. I would dare say, for all the stories I'd heard told about this happening, that ninety-nine percent of them where pure fantasy and over active imaginations. Even Larry one of the guys I worked with who was ruggedly handsome and good-looking had only had one instance...
Shoe Shopping with MomSue, 43 years, housewife and motherMary, 69 years, pensioner, mother, grandmotherIt was a hot summer day in july and Sue gets visited by her mom. It was at the end of the month, and Sue was a little bit pissed off,because it was summer and hot outside, but she didn’t have some money to buy open shoes that she wanted all the time.She told her mom that she would like to have some flat and open shoes but that she don’t have the money.Her mom deiced, to go with her to the city...
Shoe Shopping with MomSue, 43 years, housewife and motherMary, 69 years, pensioner, mother, grandmotherIt was a hot summer day in july and Sue gets visited by her mom. It was at the end of the month, and Sue was a little bit pissed off,because it was summer and hot outside, but she didn’t have some money to buy open shoes that she wanted all the time.She told her mom that she would like to have some flat and open shoes but that she don’t have the money.Her mom deiced, to go with her to the city...
All good. Her dark eyes were hot today, her pony tail of her dark hair was tight and taut, revealing the glowing bright and soft skin of her neck. She looked down at her little skirt and tried to pull it over her knee a little more. It didn’t make any difference. She’s not used to wearing such a short skirt. Looking beyond her knees, she saw her bare legs and wondered if she should have worn an open-toe set of heels instead of the white heels with the covered, blunt nose that she wore...
Being a shoe fetishist I came across a sissy named Patriciya, full time trans and a little shoe hoarder. When we first met and she opened her closet, aka shoe vaultthe look and smell of used stripper heels made me hard and I made her my sissy shoe bitch. She was inexperienced, but willing to experiment, which I found hot andhotter yet, she was into heels and boots almost as much as me. I made her send me sexy pics while I was at work and even made her wear heels and a chastity during a drink...
“I really need new shoes? These are falling totally apart.” I told my husband.“Why don’t you go looked for some new ones?” he said.“You are right! I hadn’t bought a new pair of shoes in two years. It is very hard to teach my aerobics class with this pair.” I said.I had the day off so I decided to go to the mall to look for some new shoes. I had figured their was several shoe stores in the mall and I was sure I would find a pair. I put on my summer dress since it was a very hot day outside and...
Quickie SexMelissa: Shoe Store Owner I've been stuck in my boy clothes all week, working long hours. But I have also been planning my weekend excursion. I have found out about a shoe store in a mall across town that carries large sizes. I have been looking forward all week to Saturday to turn Melissa loose. I had to work Saturday as well, but I made my escape by 3. Home, shower and shave my legs and face. Already I felt like a new woman. First I painted my toenails a bright red. Then I pulled...
I reached my hand down under the covers, finding a wet spot right where the blanket had been lying against me. I ran a finger through my slit, pulling out a small, sticky white glob. Bryan stirred next to me on the bed, and I briefly considered rousing him for round two, though I ultimately decided against it and committed instead to double-clicking my own mouse. Still, my thoughts still drifted to the young man who was lying asleep next to me. I thought of the way his fingers squeezed my...
Hiya everyone, did you miss me? Like, so much has happened in the past few weeks that my head is buzzing. Before you worry, Matt and I are, like, totally OK; and people still think I’m that Bimbo Baggins character. But so many cool and fun things have happened to me that if I don’t talk about it I’ll explode.To start with my old boss at the restaurant told me that he couldn’t let me work there anymore. I had no idea that his wife was his boss! You see, what had happened was that I was going...
ExhibitionismSHOE STORE SEXPERIENCE-my firstAfter graduating from a rural High School, I worked for my uncle at his shoe store in the city. I needed a summer job to pay for university so it was an ideal fit. Since I was 18, and not a minor, he could leave the store for me to run. He liked to golf and if it was a nice day, he would leave when the urge hit him and I would not see him until the next day. I enjoyed working in the store. It wasn't so much the selling of shoes that got me all hard and excited as...
The trip to San Francisco, California, goes at a faster pace than Boone likes because Peter, the trader, is pushing to get there and back home. Boone has little choice about matching Peter’s pace if he wants to get the extra money for hauling the goods. At camp on the night after the first full day Boone walks over to Peter and ask, “Is this the pace you’ll be keeping all the way to San Francisco and back to Arizona City?” Peter looks up at Boone from where he’s sitting as he says, “Only on...
After Boone sees everyone in the camp is properly set out for their first night in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, he goes over to the cooking fire for the Gray contingent, asks for both Olive and Nellie to walk with him, and he walks toward the horses. He stops short of the rope corral they’ve put up for the stock, turns to the two young ladies, and says, “A couple of weeks back your mother told me both of you want to be my wife and have insisted I’ll be your man for some years. Is that...
The trip of about five hundred miles to Santa Fe should take them about twelve to fourteen days to make the journey. After much talking on who’ll go Mary decides Nellie and Sam will accompany Boone and he’s to hire three or four of the Apache as scouts. After the decision is made preparations are made for the trip, the three family members will share the gold between them in their saddlebags, and the ladies will lead two pack-horses carrying their camping gear and food supplies. To ensure...
She was starting a new job Monday and was very excited. She would no longer be a waitress for minimum wage and her college education was finally going to pay off. Her new company gave her a bonus for signing on with them and she had spent it on a new wardrobe for work.She only had one more stop and that was to buy new shoes for work. The company was very specific that skirts and high heels were mandatory for all managers. She was going to be a manager, high heels would be fine with her.She...
Bright and early on Monday July 1st, 1861 the doors to the barn are opened and the four wagons move out. Yesterday afternoon was spent cleaning up the barn and stables and now they’re leaving after several weeks of living there while getting ready to go west. Three of the wagons are fully loaded and the fourth is mostly loaded, they’ll finish loading it when they reach Columbus, Ohio, where they plan to buy a great deal of salt. Nellie is at the reins of the lead wagon pair with Heidi in...
When rolling into town mid-morning Boone has a stray thought of, Something must be wrong! This is a Tuesday, not a Monday. We never get anywhere except on a Monday. He’s amused by the thought. During the afternoon they talk while they unpack the wagons, and Boone says, “While in Council Bluffs I caught up on the news. There’s been a dozen or so battles between Army units in Missouri since April, hundreds of shootings and killings in Kansas, and militia attacking the people all over Kansas...
Jeff no longer had to hide the way he used his mother's dirty panties to get off in secret. She allowed him access to her panties and shoes and anything else he fancied so long as he acceded to her foot jobs on his rampant cock and let her almost suffocate him with her smelly slit and brown eye. After a few sessions, he realized just how much he liked the way Linda, his mom, rode his face and talked real dirty to him. It was like she was another person and he didn't think of her as a mom...