Sex With Your Shoes On

Brenda (chairperson), Annie, Paula, Davina, Julie, Doreen and Bea constitute the Women's Earnest Discussion Group (WEDG)

1

Some ladies looked aghast, some looked embarrassed, some listened eagerly. Brenda continued. "Oh, come on girls - you all know you've done it. Back in the day, up against the wall outside the dance hall? Mmmm... am I right? In the back seat of a car, maybe?"

"I lost my cherry in the back seat of a car," Annie confessed. "A sixty nine Ford Cortina it was. Can't remember what shoes I had on. I don't think it made any difference. I vaguely recall being drunk and told to watch out in case my heels damaged his roof lining."

"What a dickhead he must have been!" Paula exclaimed. "Taking advantage of you, yet worrying more about his wretched car than you. I hope you dumped him straight afterwards."

"Well, no, actually," Annie admitted. "I married him. Three kids now, grown up."

"That's one result for 'sex with your shoes on', at least," Brenda announced. "Any more contributions concerning the empowering nature of women's footwear?"

Davina was an experienced domme, and well acquainted with the effects of fetish clothing, especially footwear. "Does being naked without a prayer except for your undies and patent leather thigh boots while thrashing a disobedient subbie count?"

"Anything goes, I suppose." Brenda decreed. "What say you Paula?"

"You have to admit," Paula agreed, "Being stark naked except for thigh boots adds some degree of erotic abnormality to the run-of-the-mill vanilla laying back and thinking of England." The group nodded in tacit agreement. "And Davina, you're always flogging that poor subbie boy of yours - he'll dump you and emigrate to Swaziland if you're not careful."

"He loves it, Paula. Can't get enough of it," Davina reassured her. "In my thigh-highs or not."

The others shared an appreciative titter. Julie, probably the youngest, and least vocal of the discussion group, offered her take on the premise that footwear was practically a sex-aid. "But I'm always in trainers, sporty me!" she admitted.

"So you can run off quickly when you see the size of his dong?" Annie joked.

"Now, now," said Brenda. "Keep it clean, and nice and polite. Perhaps we should have a vote. Those in favour of shoes, hands up. Those not in favour, well, don't put your hands up."

"What about Bea?" Paula asked. "She's wearing posh builders' boots. Whacking great clodhoppers they are. What's your view, Bea?"

Bea smiled. "Because I'm a screaming lezzer, Paula my dear. And I'll wear what I fucking like."

"And the sex?" asked Brenda.

"Wanna try me, sweetie?" replied Bea. And they all broke into laughter.

"We may soon have some sort of consensus," Brenda announced. "High heels, platforms, stilettos, open-toe, pointy toe, all nice and strappy enough you feel your shoes own you, rather than the other way about. All as empowering as Bea's boots! Why is it we wonder?"

"My parents started me off by sending me to ballet classes when I was young," Doreen recounted. "That's where you strain every sinew in your lower leg pratting about on tippy-toe in shoes which provide no more than an extra layer of skin on your feet. Swan Lake did tone up my calf muscles though, and in later life I migrated into heels with little or no difficulty, the higher the better - I can still handle it. Don't ask me to pas-de-deux though. Or screw any pond life."

"Doreen, in my mind's eye I can see you now in your tutu," said Brenda. "Why not give us a twirl?"

Davina expounded her own case further: "In a typical BDSM scene where some insignificant Joe is tied, naked and blindfolded awaiting the attentions of his Mistress, the sound of heels on hard flooring excites infinitely more than the soft shuffle of stockinged feet. And, incidentally, a friend of mine who describes herself as a humiliatrix (yes. there is such a thing) once told me that in a session she would would dress her client in a typical French maid's costume - frilly knickers, bra, satin uniform with white apron, fishnet stockings and a mob-cap. But - plus a pair of sturdy hobnail boots! A sweet humiliation indeed, don't you think?"

The discussion eventually drifted into fashion trends, the cost of living, and male incompetence in the bedroom awkwardly fiddling with clasps, hooks, and zips attempting to seductively relieve ladies of their underwear. "We need more research," Brenda announced, wrapping up the session. "Shoes on, or shoes off? Answers on a postcard, etc, etc. Anyway, we meet again here next week, same time. Happy loving, girls!"

2

Julie arrived home to find, as usual, hubbie Dave slouched against his desk staring into the world wide web, that modern medium where anything is available at the click of a mouse button. "What are you watching?" Julie asked.

"Oh, just catching up on the news and sports results," he lied. Julie reached over and pressed the back button, whereupon a naked busty blonde lady replaced the BBC newsreader. "Oh," Dave blurted apologetically, "That site's always flashing up adverts for porn and stuff. It's a real nuisance. Anyway, did you have a nice time at the ladies discussion group this week? What on earth do you find to talk about?"

"Oh, this and that," Julie fibbed. "Fashion, recipes... where to find a good plumber... and stuff."

Dave was happy that Julie met up with girlfriends every week, giving him free and interrupted access to old war films on the television, live football, and hot babes. "What sort of stuff?" he enquired.

"Were her tits better than mine, David?" Julie demanded, referring to Dave's internet indiscretion. "And did she have any shoes on?"

"What? Shoes???" Dave pleaded. "Listen Julie. You've got fantastic boobs. What's the problem?"

Julie shrugged her shoulders and left Dave to his internet perving. She duly re-appeared, having 'powdered her nose' and mascara'd her eyelashes. She was now also very naked, apart from a threequarter length pvc raincoat and highly polished black retro brogue block heel shoes with T-bar straps. The girls were right, Julie thought to herself. She felt different, to say the least, but as she let her coat fall open, ultimately sexually controlling too.

"Come upstairs and sex me up, David. This woman is in need."

Dave was puzzled, not to say alarmed, that his young wife suddenly was calling the shots. To be on the safe side, he did as he was bid, and in vest, shorts and loafers, he tentatively headed upstairs to the bedroom.

Julie stood there, legs wide apart, at the edge of their big marital bed, her stylish ankle-strapped block heel shoes, keenly polished - shoes which would not normally be worn in the bedroom, or anywhere upstairs. She held open her coat again, with hands on her hips, displaying every naked inch of her beautifully formed young womanhood, and the shoes! "Push me back on the bed, lover, get your kit off, and have me. Don't hold back."

Dave could hardly believe what was happening. It wasn't Saturday night. It wasn't Sunday morning either. It wasn't even bed-time. And she still has her posh shoes on! She never wears shoes. But God, she looks good. He quickly stripped, not wanting to lose the moment, glanced again at his wife, her raincoat, her shoes, her goddam sexiness. As bid, he gently pushed her backwards onto the bed, and climbed aside her, stroking her mound and gently kneading her firm young breasts through the material of the raincoat. The shoes were still a mystery. But to hell with it, he decided. To hell with more foreplay, I have to have her. She is sex on legs. I have to mount her. I have to submit to her. I have to please her. He felt the heels of her shoes raking the back of his thighs and lower legs. Almost involuntarily, he tightened his grip on her breasts and eased himself down to kiss the side of her neck. And having successfully coupled, with no additional encouragement from an internet video, he achieved a dramatic climax for himself, and more importantly, for his drop-dead gorgeously sexy wife.

3

Brenda and Bea lived in the same part of town, within walking distance of the library meeting room. "Come in for a quick coffee, Bea?" Brenda suggested. "Hubbie won't be home from work until six."

"That would be nice, my lovely," answered Bea with no hesitation. "Nice to get to know each other better."

"We do talk some rubbish when we get together, our happy band, don't we?" Brenda said, bringing in the coffee.

"You are a nice lady, Bren. Thank you for inviting me into the group. Was it to open up discussions with the 'other side'?"

"Poo, other side," answered Brenda, dismissive of sexual stereotypes.

The women chatted on, about diets, clothes, family and friends, until finally, Bea needed to go do some last minute shopping. They stood together in the hallway, where Bea re-booted. "See you next week then," Brenda said.

"Wouldn't miss it," Bea promised.

The two women then moved together, as in a conventional parting gesture, except that a brief hug with a token peck on the cheek, turned into a no-holds-barred full-frontal embrace with a long passionate wet-lipped kiss, with tongues, during which Brenda, taken aback, momentarily mused on the irony of the power exchange between one woman in butch but stylish calf length boots and the other in well-worn comfy carpet slippers.

"Didn't see that coming," Brenda said, smiling. "Glad it did though. Maybe you'll teach me some more manoeuvres sometime."

Bea smiled. "And you might find me exceptionally well practised at removing women's underwear too!"

4

Davina checked back into the flat she shared with Basso, the submissive male in their female-led relationship. "Everything OK, sweetie," she asked.

"Yes, Goddess," Basso replied from the kitchen. "Did you have a nice meeting, Goddess?"

"It was Ok, I suppose," Davina confessed. "All a bit vanilla. But we did have a new lady, a self-confessed lesbian. Perhaps she will shake things up a bit. I try my best."

"You are too good for them, Goddess," Basso fawned.

"Thank you sweetie," Davina replied. "Basso. Do you like me best in pointy toe stiletto heel pumps, spike heeled platforms, mid-calf lace-up boots, pvc thigh-highs, open-toe heeled sandals, or what? Which do you like the most?"

"Whatever you find suits you best for the occasion, Goddess," Basso replied, "and you are comfortable wearing."

"Hmm, fat lot of good you are. Seems I have to make all the decisions myself then," Davina complained. " No bedtime treats for you tonight."

Basso suffered a minor panic attack, and judiciously changed tactics. "You are at your most sexually powerful in your red leather strappy platform high-heel sandals with the buckle ankle straps. Should I polish them for you, Goddess?"

"You are a creep, Basso, but for some reason I love you."

5

Paula and Doreen walked home together - they lived quite close to each other. "What did you think of this week's discussion. Doreen?"

Well, we all have a bit of a laugh, don't we Paula? No point in taking things too seriously, is there?"

"Absolutely," Paula averred. "That Bea is a bit a character, isn't she!"

"Certainly is," agreed Doreen. "Very assertive lady. Wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her."

"You mean the top side or the underside?" joked Paula. They both had a chuckle. "Do you ever get the chance to show off your ballerina skills these days, Doreen?"

"Not exactly, but I am still able to wear stilettos, I'll be sporting some later on."

"Oh, how come, Doreen? A special occasion?"

"Sort of, I am registered with a dating agency. Got a nice hottie lined up for tonight! Give those spike heels another outing."

Paula laughed. "You are playing the field, you minx! Sorry, I didn't realise you were single."

"Marriage fell apart a couple of years ago. Amicable divorce. I am available!"

"How exciting for you, you must let me know if you find Mister Right!"

"Bollocks to Mister Right, I just want some hot action."

Paula giggled again. "Don't we all?"

"My previous date was a disaster," Doreen confessed.

"How come? Bit of a plonker was he?"

"You could say that, Paula. When I showed up, he said 'why are you wearing prostitute shoes?'.

"Oh My God! What an asshole!"

6

Brenda had decided the next meeting's topic was to be 'relationship management'. The fact that Bea had telephoned her earlier that day and asked could she 'pop round' for another get-together, had nothing to do with it!

So, mid-afternoon Bea arrived with back-pack. The two women cursorily hugged a greeting before going into the lounge. "Hope you don't mind me barging in like this Brenda - just that I got a silly idea that we may have had common ground between us. Extremely rude of me, I know, but I can't get you out of my mind. A woman who is friendly as well as being assertive is quite rare. If I'm being out of order, tie me to the bed and go borrow one of Davina's whips. I deserve to be thrashed, bringing havoc to your quiet suburban existence. Problem is, I would probably enjoy it too much - then what?"

"Oh Bea, Bea!" You're a crackpot, Brenda laughed. "Come over here and let's cuddle."

The two women shared the sofa, in each other's arms, and shed some tears... and kissed. Soft, manicured feminine hands compassionately stroked each other's face, bare neck, arms and legs, and more legs, and thighs, and more thighs... and breasts! Suddenly, an outpouring of passion resulted in Bea kneeling between Brenda's open legs, easing down Brenda's panties, and delivering a full-mouth kiss on her trimmed vulva, followed by a darting tongue in search of a swollen clit.

After much sighing and even more groaning, Brenda helped her newfound lover back onto the settee. "What's in the back-pack, pet? Not your Tesco shopping, I wonder."

"Well," Bea said. "Funny you should ask, but nothing from Tesco except deodorant and eye shadow. What we do have is.. I'll show you." And out of the bag popped a tawse, a strap-on harness, a selection of dildoes, and a wand vibrator.

Brenda couldn't help herself laughing. "My word! You always come prepared, pet?"

"I was terrified you'd think badly of me. I'm not promiscuous. It's just I easily get a crush on someone who is nice to me. Tell me to fuck off if you want. I would understand."

"Silly girl, for thinking that," Brenda said. "No time to fetch Davina's flogger, so get over my knee and let's see if a good bottom spanking improves your thinking."

Bea did not hesitate. The tawse was put to good use. The self-confessed lesbian masochist couldn't stifle the odd yelp, but was otherwise in total ecstasy. It was the place she wanted to be. And shoes didn't even come into it.

7

Davina finished fastening the buckle ankle straps on her red leather platform heel sandals. "Hmm," she mused. "Basso was right - these are nice, nice, nice!" She checked herself in the full length bedroom mirror. "Hmm, not bad for my age," she decided. The red shoes complemented the tight black corset and her long sleeve calf-leather opera gloves. "In here, Basso!" she called, selecting her favourite riding crop from her top drawer.

Basso, in the bathroom, hurriedly finished drying himself, then wrapped the towel round his waist. On no account did he want to keep his Mistress waiting. "You called, Goddess?"

"Basso. Lose the towel, you look ridiculous. On all fours immediately. Woof woof. Come and pleasure me."

"Yes, Goddess, anything for you Goddess." He observed that she wore the red shoes he had recommended and polished. He also noticed her soft black leather gloves and the riding crop in her hand.

"Come on! Chop chop! I haven't got all night. I need a goodnight kiss." And as she said it, she stroked her nicely trimmed pussy, and parted the labia, in readiness for Basso's keen tongue. Her live-in lover needed no further instruction. On hands and knees, he quickly approached his mistress's open thighs. A sharp up-swat of the crop on his testicles encouraged him to make haste. He feverishly began to work his tongue round and inside his mistress's vagina, a service at which he was well-practised. After several minutes of pleasure Davina discarded the crop and stooped, a tissue at the ready. With one gloved hand, she grasped his ball-sac. With the other, and some encouraging 'ooohs' and 'aaahs', she grasped her submissive playmate's throbbing penis and milked it of hot semen into the tissue.

"Arghh.. Oooh..! Thank you Goddess."

"Goodnight Basso."

8

Paula and Doreen met again the following week as they walked the short distance to the library where the next discussion group meeting was soon to be underway.

"How was your hot date, last week, Doreen? I've been dying to hear all about it."

"Oh yes, Paula. It was great. Lovely meal out at a posh restaurant. Unbelievably great sex. He was so sweet, kind and understanding. Wavy dark hair, keeps himself in good trim. Has his own business. I definitely will be seeing him again."

"Oh Doreen, that's wonderful. Do I hear the sound of wedding bells coming along?"

"No chance, Paula. In my six inch heel 'prostitute shoes', I measure up considerably taller than him. I couldn't live with that forever on display in my wedding album."

End