It was the shoes.
The shoes did it.
Those black spike-heeled shoes.
course, the shoes couldn't do it all on their own. The whole point of
the shoes was to show off my extraordinary calves. The sadist is
absolutely smitten with my calves - and really, they have always been
very shapely. It's nice to have them appreciated.
Nearly everything was perfect.
Very close to perfect and no major catastrophes.
there wasn't any major tension hanging over this tryst, I think we both
knew how important it was for things to go well. The last one left me
shaken, the previous one was ill-advised, and the first one, though
basically glorious, showed my tendency to miss details. This one was
just for us. Just for him and just for us. Not tagged on to something
else into which he was squeezing me.
Two things strayed from perfection.
One was my dress.
He had it in mind that I'd be wearing a Little Black Dress.
That's what he was picturing.
And I ended up in a soft green sweater dress.
A lovely dress.
Embracing my tits.
Defining my hips.
Lingering above my knees.
But he was disappointed.
Next time, I'll be in black.
I've already begun the hunt.
other flaw was that we didn't have as much time as we'd hoped. Work
kept him into the afternoon on Tuesday, and he had to leave at 9 am on
Wednesday. That was particularly annoying as check-out wasn't till noon.
But we made the best of it.
And then there were the shoes.
And my calves.
normal plan is for me to book the room, arrive early, prepare myself,
the bed, the lights, and other details, and then wait. I text him the
room number as soon as I've checked in, and then wait. I wait for him to
come up to the room.
But this hotel presented a complication.
You couldn't ride the elevator up to the rooms without a key card.
You needed the card to select a floor.
The sadist wouldn't have a card.
He texts his arrival.
I wait for him in the lobby, just inside the doors.
When I see him, I turn and walk towards the elevators.
Of necessity, slowly.
I'm not used to walking in any sort of heel, let alone spikes.
I feel him following me.
His eyes on my body.
On my butt.
On my calves.
Especially on my calves.
know that other people are probably watching me, too. As does he. I
stand out. It's a beautiful, marble lobby, but I'm the only one who
looks worthy of being there. The only one nicely dressed. Casinos aren't
what they used to be. Or what I imagine they used to be. I'd never been
to one before. I was sort of wishing for Monte Carlo.
So I walked to the elevators
with the sadist following,
his eyes on my calves,
and his cock aimed at my butt hole.
We were off to a good start.