How I Became a Shoe-aholic-Part 3 of 4

Now, I only see my gentleman friend about 4 times a year- if we’re lucky. Each time we try to do something special with our time together.

Not knowing when I would see him again, but wanting to be prepared for it, over the next few months I began to acquire quite a collection of shoes. I’d always liked shoes, and bought them regularly, but now I had reason to step up my game-so to speak. Before, I’d buy a pair to go with an outfit, or for functionality like winter boots; now I was buying them solely for the purpose of accentuating my arches, or just because they were sexy. I’ve even bought heels that I wouldn’t dare wear outside the bedroom for fear of falling and busting my ass in public-so not sexy.

I bought stiletto pumps, stiletto boots, wedges, stacked heels, steel spiked heels. You name it, if it was sexy, then I would buy them and be wearing them for him. I became a shoe a-holic. I was intoxicated by the rush that I got stepping into a pair of shoes that elongated my legs, naturally flexed my calf muscles, and of course accentuated my arches. I would envision the day, or night that I would be wearing them, and the reaction that I would receive.

If the waiting became too much, sometimes I’d email him and tell him about my latest purchase, and when possible send him a picture- just to tease him a bit. The 9West site was good for doing that. It was shortly after one of these post-shoe-purchase emails that he told me he would be in town soon, and asked that maybe I could wear something sexy and model the shoes for him?

Hmmm, spending so much time and money on shoes, I’d neglected the rest of my wardrobe, but I would see what I could do.

To be continued...

Copyright 2005

How I Became a Shoe-aholic Part 2 of 4

While I have obsessed about nearly every other part of my body, my arches are one part that I had never given much consideration to. Of course I like to make sure the pads and heels of my feet are smooth and free of cracks, and my toe nails are painted but other than that- I’d paid little attention to my feet.

As women often do, we compare ourselves. I began to compare my feet to those of other women. I wasn’t sure if I was pleased with the knowledge that there was a new body part to be found attractive, or a new body part to be compared with!

As I researched the matter, I saw some beautiful feet out there (I was beginning to understand what that foot fetish thing was all about), and some not so. I noticed that some women had high arches, low arches and others were flat-footed. I wondered what caused that. Was flat-footedness a genetic trait, or were they the result of fallen arches? Could anybody’s arches fall? Could mine? I noticed how some women had painted their toe-nails in very bold colors, some had French manicures, some long nails and some short and neatly rounded.

Some feet looked as well cared for and pampered as hands would be. You could tell those that had soft skin at their soles, and those that harden, cracked skin. It was an oddity that a women, could have the most beautiful toes, so apparently well cared for, and that the rest of her body appeared so un-kempt, and vice-versa. I also wondered if they used their feet the way I was contemplating using mine.

Now that I had these newly discovered- sexy body parts (and you can never have too many of those), I obsessed about whether my arches would fall. Before I really got to appreciate them and put them to good use, I was planning for their demise! I know that my gentlemen friend did not intend for me to become neurotic over the compliment, nor did I want to. So I chilled with the foot watching and comparing, and started to plan how to make the best use of the newest tool in my arsenal...

To be continued

Copyright 2005

How I Became a Shoe-aholic Part 1 of 4

I have a friend who is so damn sexy, he makes me want to just take my clothes of when I am with him. He is very Denzelesque and Richard Gere-ish in style and physical appearance. You know incredible style, debonair, salt and pepper hair-Suave. Now that I have established for you how good and sexy my friend looks and is, you can easily understand why I am compelled to immediately disrobe in his presence.

I have known this gentleman for quite a long time, and we fuck, make love-whatever our mood at the time- on the regular. We are as close as 2 otherwise spoken for lovers can be. Yet, he has only recently brought it to my attention that he thinks the arches of my feet are super sexy. Very interesting news to my ears!

At our last meeting, we were reminiscing about our secret life together. He was retelling the story of one of our sexcapades in particular. You see, one day years ago, he’d met me for lunch at my place. I had opened the door to my apartment wearing a black dress and a pair of black high-heeled slip on sandals. I won’t bore you with all the details, but I knew exactly which day he was referring to. For that “meeting”, I had pasted a fake tattoo with his name on my ankle, and another one of a mermaid just above my freshly shaven pussy. I’d fully intended for him to work me over from my ankles up. I hadn’t given much thought to the sandals I wore, as they were a very casual pair of shoes, not what one would immediately judge as sexy. Plus, they wouldn’t be on for long anyway.

He explained to me that, that was the day he first noticed the arches of my feett, but had never said a word to me about how sexy he found them in all the years that had past.

Upon hearing this bit of news, I probed him for more information (so I could use it for a future “meeting”). “So, what is so sexy about my feet?” I inquired. He went into great detail about how when I wore a pair of heels, my arches were more pronounced, and like the soft lines of my other curves, those of my hips, breast, lips, etc. there was something very appealing about the way the curve of the shoe followed the curve of my foot. He said that he always secretly noticed the type of shoes I was wearing, and that some, more than others better displayed my high arches, and elongated my already long legs. I left him that day, with some serious thinking going on in my head.

To be continued...

Copyright 2005

The Legend of the Ladies Man

Ladies, listen closely as I tell you of the Legend of the Ladies Man. Maybe you have already heard tales of him. Maybe you have encountered him personally and can verify first hand the truth that I am telling. Maybe you hope upon hope that there is such a man. I am here to tell you that there is.

Gentlemen, listen closer to this story of the Legend of the Ladies Man. Maybe you have heard of the man. Maybe he is your best friend. Maybe you have given up hope trying to emulate him. Maybe you didn’t know that such a person could exist. I am here to tell you that he can and does.

The Ladies Man, was called such because he loved all ladies. He gave no care to their race or origin. He gave no thought to their size. His father had schooled him once, that to truly love a woman, you had to love all women. You could be selective, but you should never be exclusive. “All women were to be appreciated for their charms.” He said. “All women, had charm.” He explained. “Women range in sizes small to extra-large, and each is a provocateur-a specialist so to speak. Don’t always let her outside, speak for her inside. A jewel may await you. You may have to dig, but the treasure she unfolds will be worth the effort.”

The Ladies Man took his father’s words to heart. As he went out to explore the world, he uncovered many jewels. The woman with the large thighs enveloped him securely. The woman with the small breast fit them perfectly into his mouth. The woman with the rounded stomach nourished his body and gave his head a tender place to rest. The woman with the large hands gripped his cock firmly, and so forth and so on. In his journey, he began to see that when you take the time to look, you will indeed find a jewel.

Women loved him. So much so that they didn’t mind sharing or waiting for him or on him. Because of this, he had no ex-girlfriends, but rather a string of women friends. He always had a place to stay. He always had a woman to lay. He became legendary for his prowess, for his skill, for his compassion, and for his tongue.

The Ladies Man loved a woman’s body completely and totally. He especially enjoyed eating pussy. He was amazed at the range the heavenly fruit came in. He had enjoyed women with full outer-lips, and tiny clits. He had relished women with tiny outer lips and clits as big as the tip of his pinky. He had marveled at the intricacies of a woman’s interior. He was awed by her unique exterior. He had witnessed a rainbow of colors. Some very pink, some brown, some with a purplish hue, some very dark, with pink interiors. Some were the color of a Rose, some the color of a Violet. He had a steady buzz, intoxicated by the plethora of scents he’d inhaled.

He adopted a motto for women. “A woman is like an artichoke, nibble gently on the layers until you get to the heart.” To him, an artichoke was a perfect metaphor. Each leaf contained only a small offering of fruit. However, as you pulled and nibbled each leaf or layer away, you would find yourself at the succulent heart. Dip the heart in creamy melted butter, and you would have a meal.

That is what the Ladies Man did, he nibbled at the layers. When he was with a woman, he would slowly peel of her clothes. First, her blouse. Slowly he would unbutton it-making sure he nibbled lightly at her neck and shoulders. Sometimes sucking at the soft skin of at her neck. As he pulled the blouse away from her wrist, he would lick and kiss and suck at her breasts. Then, he would slowly undo her skirt. He would bend at her feet, and slip off one shoe and then the other. He would sit her on the bed, the chair, the couch or the sink, whichever was handy. He would appreciate the litheness or roundness of her body. He would then take one foot and then the other, raising them to his mouth. He would slide his tongue across the arches of her feet. He would suck each toe, firmly, gently, and expertly, leaving a lasting tingle that would let her know that he was there.

Then, he would take his hands to each side of her narrow or full hips, and slowly, very slowly, slide her panties down to her ankles and around her feet, finally resting them on the ground. He was getting closer to the heart.

Now, this is where his legendary status arose. He would look at her pussy, really look at it. He would stand and survey it from on high. He would kneel and study it closely. He would reach his hand out to it and rub it lightly. He would bring his nose to it and inhale it deeply. He had just one layer more, before he uncovered the heart-the clit. He would peel back the outer lips, and suck each one hungrily. If she was shaved-great! If she wasn’t-great! He would take his tongue and plunge it into the deep crevice from where her outer lips sprang forth. His pointed tongue would dance around her clit. He would stroke her clit with alternately soft and firm strokes. He would trace her small inner lips (he called them lip-ettes) with his tongue. He knew that the nerves that rested there would make her body react favorably from the sensation. He would flatten his tongue and go from her opened and waiting lip-ettes to the top of her opened and moist outer lips. He would circle his tongue around and around her clit. He would push down gently on the swollen, bright pink button. When she would arch her back, moan, and pull at his long locks-only when he could feel her clit quiver beneath his tongue, would he slowly, yet forcefully probe the inside of her lip-ettes. It was then that he would get the creamy butter that made her pussy a meal.

He would take his time. He never tired of the ritual. If she came in 2 minutes, he would start over. If she came in 30 minutes, he would thank her for the workout. There was no such thing as her never coming.


Now ladies, if you have met the Ladies Man, let him know how much you enjoyed him. Let him know of your legendary status as well. If you haven’t met him, take heart; Legends are made, not born.

Gentlemen, maybe the Legend is you. If you are he, we thank you.
If you are not he, learn from this tale, and you will become a legend in your own right.

The End

Copyright 2005

She-Part 2 of 2

On her own accord she began to rock faster. Her breast bounced up and down and he tried to capture them with his mouth. He provided encouragement to her “Umm, hmm baby, yeah just like that! Come on work it with me Sweetheart.” Shhhhhh, umm hmmm, aaahhhh.” His dick was pulsating, throbbing within her. Her pussy was wet, and the sweet sound of wetness spurred them on. The scent of sex was so heady, it was making them high. They were driving each other wild.

She called his name over and over. “Damn, your juicy cock is filling me up baby. You’re doing me so good. I love it baby. Damn, I’m lov’in it!”

She breathed, “You got me so excited Baby, I want you to cum for me.” He wanted to cum for her and with her too. But not yet. “Not yet, baby.” He coaxed. “Not yet, I want to enjoy you a little while longer. I love the way my dick feels inside you girl. I don’t want it to end-not yet.” He was desperate to make this moment last.

He wanted to slow her down but she was so excited by him it would be like trying to stop a speeding bullet. Like someone who was stranded in the desert was thirsty for water, couldn’t drink it fast enough. Like a malnourished child being told to eat slowly at a feast. She couldn’t stop. She was so hungry for him like that. She squeezed the walls of her pussy together, contracting it around his dick.

She lifted herself from off of his cock, and took it in her hands. She stroked it quickly from shaft to head. She could see her honey glistening and mixing with his precum at the head. She licked her soft lips and took him all the way down her throat. In and out she took his cock. “Ummm, yummy.” She said as he shot his juice into her mouth. She took his cock and rubbed it against her lips. That’s so good baby, so damn good!”

He stood underneath what was now luke warm water holding his dick as he shot his cum down the drain. He washed quickly before the water became too cold and jumped out of the shower. “Damn! I’m going to be late again.” he sighed.

The End

Copyright 2005

Observant Musing-The Phoenix Rising

Hello Peoples,
Let me say that this spot is a peaceful place. A place to come and relax, if you will. A break from the day to day stressors of life. At least that is what it is to me. It is not a pulpit, and there is no agenda. However, I am me, and when I see something that needs attended to, I attend to it-or at least try. Sometimes I want to sit, when I know that I must stand. Sometimes I want to stand, when I know that I must sit. Right now I am leaning, trying to decide which position I want take. Is that cheating? I will watch and wait, and be active in my own way, and I call on you to do the same.

I am speaking of the Katrina aftermath in New Orleans, and the other Gulf states. In past natural and unatural disasters, I have witnessed millions of dollars in money and aid going across the world, and wondered if there will be some for those who need it right at home? Now, I wonder again, will there be fund raising benefits, and auctions and compassion for this community on the level of outpouring that there have been for others? Will the color of skin play a factor in the swiftness in which compassion and restraint is brought to and upon our people?

As we watch the actions unfold of the people in New Orleans and the people in positions to help them, we must not set ourselves apart from being part of the solution. We should question ourselves as to what we can, will and should do to help. As with everything thrown our way to impede our progress, natural and unatural, real and imagined, going solo or with help, we have been and always will be the Phoenix Rising. In this time let us contine to rise.

As part of exploring what I can do to help, I am positng the information for some of the more reputable organizations who have pledged help and support for the victims of Katrina. If you want to give to them to support that effort, please do. If you don't, then find a way to help that you are more comfortable with, but do something positive. The organizations listed have not paid for nor endorsed my listing there information here.

Go, help, be part of the solution, and when you have finished with your work, come back here to relax and enjoy the sensual erotic stories that I have waiting to help you do that-oh, and bring a friend!

The Salvation Army Ph# 1-800-SAL-ARMY or website: http://www.salvationarmyusa.org
The Red Cross Ph# 1-800-HELP-NOW or website: http://www.redcross.org

She-Part 1 of 2

He stood in the shower letting the hot water run down his head to the smooth chocolate brown skin that covered his lithe physique. He reached down to hold his dick that was standing at attention. He knew exactly what had caused his early morning rush. It was the same thing that had caused his blood to rush and his senses to come alive last night and the night before. He couldn't sleep until he was spent from his thoughts of her. She did this to him. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to escape his thoughts of her. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist her touch, if he should ever be the recipient of it. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist anything about her. “Damn!” That didn’t happen often, but when it did, “Damn!”

He tried to imagine what she looked like without her clothes. What did she feel like he wondered? He pressed his hands against the shower wall and let the water envelop him. It rushed down his strong back, running through the fold of his ass, tickled his balls, and down his legs.

He imagined her in every- room -every corner-every couch, on his chair, and in his bed. She would be sitting astride his cock. Her smooth bronzed skin would be soft to his touch. He would bring her head down to meet his lips and kiss her softly. He would run his hands along the nipples that sat centered and perked on her breasts. He would lean forward to take one, then the other, than both in his mouth, between his teeth and under his tongue. She would moan softly for him to suck them harder. He would lean her back holding her in his strong arms, and with his wet tongue work his way down the center of her torso to her belly. He would quickly dart his tongue into her navel and roll it around in there for a hot second.

His dick would stiffen beneath her. She would lift herself up just enough to take him into her. She would then bring herself down on him slowly until she was comfortable and begin to gyrate and envelop his cock within the walls of her hot pussy lips. He would place his hands at either side of her face and bring her lips to his again, hungry for her taste. He would kiss her deeply searching for her tongue. They would play cat and mouse like that for a few minutes until she captured his bottom lip between hers. She would then begin to suck on it hard, yet gently. She would release him and go back to gyrating her hips slowly. He placed his hand at her ample hips. She had curves in every direction, and he could feel dangerously exciting territory lied ahead. He began to guide her hips faster. He called out her name, which further turned her on. He said her name again. “Ohhh” she moaned. “Yeah baby, you’re making me feel it so good!”

...to be continued
Copyright 2005