A post before bed, a post before sleep, and all I can think of is how incred­i­ble Simon felt lying on my back, rub­bing his penis against my skin.

That some­one thinks I look com­fort­able in my skin suprises me, as so often I am not.

I have been very tac­tile of late.  Things feel more intense.  I imag­ine this could be played upon, toyed with.  Tex­tures, tight­ness, tempter­a­ture.  So many ways to play…but right now my head is swim­ming and I can’t seem to pin any­thing down, so I’ll go to sleep think­ing of how Simon felt on my back, and hope that this ram­ble will pass as a post.

Ava is wear­ing her lace and pink rib­bon lin­gerie tonight.  She was told to.  I’ve been star­ing at it half hang­ing out of the bas­ket for a while now and the urge (and whiskey) just got me to that place where I’ll stop ask­ing and start telling.  Her breasts look fantastic.

We’re cur­rently sit­ting at the table in robes and lin­gerie / under­wear (Ava and I respec­tively) talk­ing and look­ing around.  Partly I’m try­ing to decide what I should do to her tonight in advance of the weekend.

An orgasm with my mouth through lace panties?

Con­tinue her lessons on anal sex?

More pho­tographs in the vein of Dom­i­nance and submission?

I’m not sure yet.  If you have any ideas feel free to let me know.

I’m post­ing for Simon today.  He is much bet­ter at subtle.

I’m not always good with subtle.

Your mouth cre­ates lit­tle wet spots around my nip­ples, mak­ing the silk cool and cling to my skin. A thin layer of fab­ric like a film, encas­ing my nip­ples.  The con­tact being more sub­tle and there­fore height­ened.  Your breath cools and dries, cre­at­ing a shell, mak­ing them stand harder and higher.   Hands slip over my breasts, down to my waist, across hips and thighs.  Glid­ing with­out fric­tion, just the whis­per of a touch, the warmth of your hands seeps through the cloth until you again decide to use your mouth.

Your tongue trav­els down, leav­ing a light trail, from breast to belly.  Lin­ger­ing kisses and hot sighs.  My breath quick­ens in antic­i­pa­tion.  A cool breeze pushes past and the silk shiv­ers on my skin, cool­ing the damp places, tick­ling the dry and then I feel your mouth.

Gen­tly kiss­ing through silk panties, the sen­sa­tion is amaz­ing.  Like being on the edge of orgasm and stay­ing there, sway­ing back and forth between com­ing and rest.  My thighs tense, press­ing against you.  My back arches push­ing into you.  My entire body responds want­ing more.  My moans beg you as your tongue works harder, push­ing through the fab­ric.  Your lips tak­ing me in, cov­ered lips against naked.  My hands in your hair try­ing to get you closer, and closer, as deep as the silky bar­rier allows.

And then release.  A moan and a rush, more warmth and wet­ness.  Shud­ders run through me as your lips keep kiss­ing, slowly bring­ing me back down.  My body shakes and then relaxes.  My arms wel­come you as you move back up, slid­ing back across my silk cov­ered body, and my nip­ples respond as you begin it all again.

Given the choice I would rather just which ini­tially while Ava and her lady lover get to know each other.  I can image many sce­nar­ios when this would not be the case; wait­ing on hands and knees when they arrive home, find­ing them in bed or show­er­ing together, hav­ing them both col­lared and leashed.  But these are thoughts for other times.  When things begin I pre­fer to watch, at least in the beginning.

In the begin­ning is when things are cau­tious, flir­ta­tious, sub­tle, unknown.  When a look causes a still­ness and a short­ness of breath.  The begin­ning when hands slid­ing over clothes trig­ger changes in orbit; closer in and faster.  I like to watch when hands are replaced by lips, and clothes are replaced by skin.  The orbit suc­cumbs to inevitable gravity.

I like to watch the leader begin to emerge and the fol­lower sub­mit; the nuance of lust and caged desires unfold­ing in dif­fer­ent direc­tions to the same end.  Greedy mouths suck­ing crav­ing breasts and exchange hot breath while fin­gers explore the bound­aries of clothes.  I like to lis­ten to the whis­pers of promised delights; the beg­ging for touches; the shar­ing of secrets.

And soon the nego­ti­a­tion is com­plete and the con­tract is made. Any pre­tense of slow and shy are replaced by pleas for more and faster and harder. What remains of clothes bound­aries are stripped away.  Ava and her Lover are ready.

If you didn’t see the begin­ning start here…

“Well, how can a girl say no…” I told her, my voice shaky but filled with excite­ment.  She pulled me up and walked me across the store.  Hold­ing up my left hand she looked up at me with a smol­der­ing glance, “You’re mar­ried”.  “Hap­pily” I responded, wait­ing for an objec­tion.  “How would he feel about you com­ing home with two pair?”  I paused, know­ing exactly how Simon would feel, try­ing to find out how to word it. “Disappointed…if I didn’t come home with you too.”  She laughed as she sat me down on the bench.  Her hands were more bold as she removed the shoes.  Start­ing at the top of my thigh, smooth­ing down my stock­ings, trac­ing the arch of my foot, the peek-a-boo toe with her fin­ger­tip.  I imag­ined those fin­gers else­where and shiv­ered.  “I have another pair you must try.  Don’t move.”  She rose up and walked to the back room.  I noticed again her curves, and now the details of her cloth­ing.  Neatly tai­lored, harsh almost.  Black skirt tight around her hips, slim to her knees with a long slit in the back.  It allowed her an ease of walk­ing as well as a peek of the top of thigh high stock­ings.  I watched her walk, see­ing lace and creamy skin peek out at me.  Her sweater but­toned from top to bot­tom in the back.  A neat row of pearls that I could imag­ine undo­ing, slowly reveal­ing a soft back and her per­fect breasts com­pletely with a sim­ple shrug of her shoul­ders and a turn.  My face flushed think­ing of it.  And her walk.  So con­fi­dant, so proper.  I couldn’t help but do as she said.

She came back into the room hold­ing a long black box.  I hadn’t moved a mus­cle, she noticed.  “Good girl,” she said with a wink, “I’ll like these on you.”  Open­ing the box she took out a boot, an amaz­ing boot.  Black patent leather, pointed toe, seem­ingly made from a sin­gle piece.  A tall thin heel, at least four inches of what appeared to be steel.  But the most amaz­ing detail was the clo­sure.  Steel balls dot­ted up the out­side of the entire boot, tiny tog­gles, but­ton­ing up the length, it was eas­ily knee high.  The effect was that of a strand of steel pearls run­ning down the out­side of the calf.  This was not a boot to slip on in a hurry.  Pulling me to the end of the bench she posi­tioned me.  She parted my legs, hav­ing me strad­dle the bench and kneeled on one side.  Had she been at the end of the bench she would have had a clear view of the wet spot on my panties.  I knew that she knew it was already there.  “Hold up your leg.”  She held out a hand for my ankle and I quickly obliged.  She slipped the boot on and began to slowly but­ton it.  My leg began to trem­ble from her touch and the ten­sion.  “Keep still” she said sweetly, but behind the sweet was an obvi­ous com­mand.  It took all of my con­cen­tra­tion to keep my leg steady, held in front of me in such an awk­ward posi­tion.  She con­tin­ued to but­ton and my breath­ing got heavy.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.  Her nim­ble fin­gers, her breasts, her per­fect pos­ture.  I could imag­ine her con­trol­ling me, her con­fi­dence, her poise.  I felt her bend­ing my knee and was pulled back to the present.  Push­ing my leg up onto the bench she fin­ished the but­tons, and looked at her work.  My knee was to my chest, the heel was so high, it dug into the bench like a knife.  “Lay back,” she told me and once again I imme­di­ately obeyed.  “Oh yes, I like those on you.”  I stayed on my back as she moved in front of me and asked for my other leg.  I could feel her fin­gers on each but­ton and her eyes lin­ger­ing on the wet space between my legs.  In my cur­rent posi­tion I was very exposed, and she was enjoy­ing every minute of it.  Invol­un­tar­ily I glanced at the door to the the shop.  The posi­tion we were both in was not quiet nor­mal for the aver­age shoe bou­tique.  She noticed and said with a laugh “I locked the door and hung the sign as soon as you came in.”  When she fin­ished the other boot she pushed my leg up to match the other.  My skirt fell up and I was lying on the nar­row bench knees in the air, wet pussy peek­ing through closed knees, sim­i­lar in so many ways to the shoes that brought me here in the first place.

“Stand up, let me see.”  I swung my legs to the side of the bench, try­ing to regain my com­po­sure.  As I stood I swayed, dizzy from my thoughts and her touch.  We both laughed a lit­tle and she told me to walk around to her.  Care­fully I moved on heels so high and thin.  They caused me to stand taller and think about every step.  Slowly I came around to her side of the bench.  She had a wide smile and a gleam in her eyes.  “I’m not sure I can walk in these” I said with a laugh.  She cir­cled me like a cat, and turned me to face the bench.  “Walk­ing wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” she pushed my body for­ward, bend­ing me at the waist, plac­ing my hands on the bench in front of me.  She was taller than me and now, with the heels, my ass was right at her hips.  She stood behind me and admired, then, press­ing her hips up against me she bent over my back and whis­pered in my ear, “They will be for kneel­ing, bend­ing, and crawl­ing.”  I panted as again her hand found its way up my skirt and fin­gers found their way to my wetness.

A knock on the door star­tled me, but she remained for a moment, her fin­gers lin­ger­ing, teas­ing me.  She glanced at the door.  “Damn…” look­ing at me she smiled.  “Sweet­heart, I think we should fin­ish this later.  You’re place?  Around six?  You bet­ter take those off so you don’t hurt your­self on the way home, I want you com­pletely in tact.”  I quickly com­posed myself and began unbut­ton­ing, ignor­ing the ques­tion­ing glance from the deliv­ery man.  As she talked busi­ness I packed up the shoe boxes, stack­ing them neatly, get­ting my things together.  I wrote the address on a card and qui­etly went to hand it to her.  She asked the man to excuse her for just a moment and took me to the back room.  With­out a word she reached under my skirt and pulled my soaked panties down.  They slipped around my ankles and she held out her hand.  I quickly retrieved them and handed them over.  She led me back to the front of the store, panties and card held in one hand and con­tin­ued her busi­ness. As I began to leave the store she called me back, “Don’t for­get your shoes, and tell your hus­band he won’t be dis­ap­pointed.”  I began to tell her I hadn’t paid yet, and she held up her hand with the panties.  “Yes you did” she said “I’ll see you at six.”

con­tinue on here…

I had vis­ited the store sev­eral times. Try­ing to decide if they were worth it or not. Just a pair of shoes, I told myself, but I knew dif­fer­ent. These were shoes that Simon would crawl for, or tie me up in, either way was fine with me. A sim­ple black peek-a-boo pump, ankle strap, nice height heel. But the details, that’s where the beauty was. Peek­ing out behind the black, sliv­ers of red, pout­ing like lips, barely vis­i­ble but star­tling once you saw it. It was like peek­ing under a ladies skirt, see­ing mainly dark­ness until a peek of pink let you know that she wasn’t wear­ing panties. Think­ing about these shoes, and what I would be doing in them made me hot.

She was there again as well, play­fully teas­ing me, laugh­ing and toss­ing her hair. She was as tempt­ing as the shoes, but seemed less attain­able. She had a sweet face, great smile, nice skin. But what caught my atten­tion first was her breasts. Per­fect for her frame, not huge but not small, pushed up and pre­sented like gifts peek­ing out of a scoop neck sweater. Nice curves, form fit­ting skirt, hair pulled back in a clip with pieces loose here and there. “You know you should at least try them on.” I had been in before and talked to her, never tempt­ing myself fur­ther. Today though, she pulled me to a chair. I laughed and told her alright. I had worn a skirt and stock­ings, just in case, I did want to see what they looked like. She came back and knelt down, gen­tly tak­ing my ankle in her hand. “Oh, I can get it.” I said, some­what star­tled by the elec­tric­ity she had shot through me. “Oh, no, it’s my plea­sure, and you can see I’m not being attacked by other cus­tomers.” The store was empty. As she slipped the shoe on my foot I saw her eyes move slowly up my leg. She care­fully buck­led the ankle strap and leaned back and looked up. “Gor­geous” she said. “Thank you, they are aren’t they.” I was star­tled by my sud­den shy­ness. “We have to see them both.” She said coyly and pulled my over foot toward her, spread­ing my legs the slight­est bit to posi­tion her­self between them. The other shoe she put on slower, her hands lin­ger­ing on my ankle, mov­ing slightly up my calf. Again she sat back to admire them, say­ing again “gor­geous” but this time with­out a glance at my shoes. Her eyes looked straight into me and I could feel my pussy get wet.

I smiled back at her this time, feel­ing my con­fi­dence return, think­ing that maybe I was wrong, that nei­ther shoe nor shop girl was unat­tain­able. “Is it just me, or are these, I don’t know…a bit sug­ges­tive? Almost lewd?” I ask, test­ing her a bit. “Yes, absolutely, they are com­pletely lick­able…” She said ris­ing back from her lean, now on her knees in front of me. Her use of the word lick­able made me take my breath. All I could think of was lick­ing the tops of those per­fect breasts. She never broke eye con­tact and when she heard my slight gasp she con­tin­ued “I think they suit you per­fectly, lick­able.” Her smile I real­ized now had turned from sweet to absolutely sul­try. She knew the damp spot she was cre­at­ing, and she liked it. “Well, how can I turn down a pitch like that?” I asked and then sud­denly “Or was it an offer?” I held my breath, not believ­ing I had been so bold and then sighed deeply when she responded by very slowly, very sub­tly slid­ing her hand up my skirt and slip­ping a fin­ger inside my wet pussy. Slip­ping her hand back out and rais­ing her fin­ger to her lips she responded “that was both…” and grace­fully got up off of her knees…

con­tinue the story here…

Ava men­tioned we would prob­a­bly be post­ing a bunch of pic­tures from the other night.  This is one of them.

I’m not sure what to say about it except that I like it.  I like the mem­o­ries it provokes.