Mind Caviar

Desiree Coulter lives on the northern coast of California where she writes a lot. She is twenty-one, and has been writing since she was seven years old. Her work has been published by the Mendocino Writer's Conference, Cyber-Pulp, Peepshow and other places. This is her first fiction to appear in Mind Caviar, and we are pleased to present Ms. Coulter's work.



Fitting The Shoe
 

At twenty-two, Chloe still lived at home. She’d carted her little stereo into the bathroom, turned it up so it drowned out the buzzes of her waterproof vibrator, and any “mmm’s” and “oh’s” that might escape from her lips as she climaxed.

Chloe let her head rest against the faux tile that surrounded the bath and shower stall biting her lip, orgasming as quietly as possible. She shut the vibrator off, allowing it to sink to the bottom of the tub, as she fingered her still-swollen labia. 

Chloe had lost her cherry to a vibrator. Well, she’d lost her literal cherry– her hymen–  while horseback riding at summer camp, but her first penetration had been by a vibrating dildo her cousin, Laurel, had bought for her when Chloe turned sixteen.

Later, Chloe had penetrative sex with one guy, but she was very drunk at the time, and she was pretty sure she’d puked on him right after he pulled out. After several screwdrivers he seemed kind of hot. From what she could recall, he’d been a two-pump chump who’d lasted barely ten minutes, and his idea of foreplay had been to grab at her crotch, even pulling hairs, as he slobbered over her tits like a dog drooling over a steak. If she’d been sober, she probably would’ve kicked his ass. 

Chloe still considered herself a virgin. The word had trillions of definitions to her. She’d heard “lost virginity” defined as the first time you had any kind of sex. Some said it was when you first had sex with a man. Others claimed virginity was only lost if you gave yourself over to a man’s rule. Most agreed you were no longer virginal the first time your sex was penetrated by human parts. 

Chloe’s decided definition of virginity was the first time she’d have sex with somebody else, and actually enjoy it. She didn’t really care if this somebody was a man or a woman, but she had her sights set on a particular guy. Luckily, he happened to be a friend of hers named Bertrand. Nobody called him anything but "Monkey," a nickname he’d gotten in seventh grade. His mother had whined about how Bertrand was always monkeying with things. It seems his once annoying habit had ultimately paid off. Monkey now made a good living as a mechanic, and got under-the-table cash for fixing electronics.

Chloe propped her feet on the edge of the warm bathtub, watching the movement send ripples through the sandalwood-scented bath water. She had pretty feet, she supposed. She’d never really thought about it until a couple weeks ago while over at Monkey’s house. They’d been smoking pot, watching Monty Python. The bathroom nearest the living room wasn’t working, so Monkey told her to use the bath adjoining his bedroom. 

Slick little girl that she was, she’d tripped over something poking out from under Monkey’s bed, and happened to come upon Monkey’s porn collection. Unable to resist, she’d flipped through some of the magazines to check out his sexual tastes. Some of the mags were mainstream women’s magazines, marked or bent open to advertisements picturing ladies feet wearing sexy shoes, or photos of women models who happened to be barefoot. There were kinkier magazines, too. Most featured men being dominated by women, tied up and trussed, clamped and gagged. Chloe’s favorite was a skinny little mag full of punk and Gothy looking girls. 

Chloe returned to the livingroom with its potent smell of pot and popcorn. Of course, she didn’t mention her little discovery to Monkey-- or anyone–  for that matter. She wasn’t very skilled at flirting, so Monkey had no idea Chloe wanted him as anything other than a friend.

Chloe had tucked her secret find away in her brain, only to think about it later when she pulled off her well-worn Doc Martens at home. She’d realized her dainty, size five feet were a lot like the ones she’d seen in Monkey’s spank bank.

Chloe scrubbed up, rinsed off, and grabbed one of the many tie-dyed towels her mother had in all the bathrooms. She shook her long hair loose from the hair claw and headed to her room. Digging through the clothes on her bed, she found the perfect pair of underwear as she listened to P.J. Harvey. She held up the black velvet thong. It looked tiny, but not as ridiculous as the G-strings that had been on a nearby rack where she’d bought the lingerie. 

Recently her friend, Lucy, a beauty student who worked part-time in a salon, had given Chloe’s legs and bikini line a wax. Lucy had teased Chloe, mock-chiding her about ”the tomboy asking for bikini-wax.” In the past, Chloe never had crushes like all the other girls she’d known growing up. Lucy was her only female friend, and even Lucy had once asked Chloe whether or not she was gay.

When Lucy offered to wax her arm pits, Chloe simply couldn’t take anymore pain. Chloe was not afraid of razors, thank you. She had to admit though, freshly waxed legs felt nice against her cool bed sheets at night. 

If Lucy could see her now. 

Chloe stood before the mirror hanging on her bedroom door. She wore a black satin and lace garter belt along with smoky black nylon stockings having seams up the back. She’d managed to find the pair of stockings with the toes cut out, and opted to buy those in order to show off her ruby pedicure.

She stared at all five feet, six inches of herself clad only in a matching set of fancy under things. Her breasts were pushed up so she almost had cleavage-- almost. Chloe wondered who she was kidding with the bra. Chloe didn’t have tits, just two soft bumps with nipples on them. A training bra might have been more realistic, she thought. Chloe usually dressed in her regular uniform of jeans and T-shirt. Would Monkey laugh when he saw her? Ask to see proof of her identity? 

She slipped on a clingy, violet dress that brought out the dark blue in her eyes. She flipped the lid on the brand new shoe box and reached in. The familiar scent of pristine leather wafted up as the tissue rustled. She pulled out the black patent, lace-up sandals with six and a half inch heels which looked like a corset made for the foot. She slipped them on, red nails peeking through the open toes, feeling seven feet tall. After a practice walk around her room, they didn’t seem as hard to walk in as she’d imagined. Chloe smiled at her reflection as she grabbed her purse.
 


+ + + 



Monkey sat at the kitchen table wearing nothing but a pair of black sweat pants, black hair damp and styled only by the fierce rubbing of a towel. On his day off he decided to reward himself by indulging in the butter tub of strawberries the neighbor lady had given him, along with a can of whipped cream he’d found in the fridge. 

The berries had to be eaten today, they were so ripe and ready. He bit into the first one, surprised by the spurt of juice that leaked down his chin. Monkey allowed himself a decadent moan as he finished the morsel of fruit. Cruiser, his dog, was looking up at him with hopeful eyes. 

"Forget it, fuzz-butt." 

Monkey wiped a drop of juice from his bare chest and licked it from his fingers. A knock sounded from the front door, so he sent Cruiser to answer it. The dog would signal to friends by scratching on the front door, letting them know they could come in. Monkey waited to see if there was anymore knocking. He heard the door swing open and a warm, familiar voice talking to Cruiser. 

“I’m in the kitchen,” Monkey called out. He picked up the can of whipped cream and sprayed some in his mouth before biting into another berry. 

There is nothing quite like the authoritative click of high heels on a hard floor.

Still seated, Monkey paused mid-chew, then swallowed the berry whole. Chloe appeared with long, thick hair which hung down to just above her hips, and it was at her hips that her figure got really good, soft curves leading down to a great pair of legs. He stared, white fluff smudging his upper lip. He managed to pull his eyes away from her shoes and speak. 

"Going to a party–  or–  something?"

Chloe hopped up on the edge of the table. "Don’t know yet." She eyed the ripe berries. "Where’d those come from?"

"A neighbor lady. Help yourself." He pushed them toward her, still wearing a look of surprise mixed unabashedly with intense interest.

She took one of the strawberries and bit into it. His gaze fell to her feet again. Chloe slid closer, holding out a foot for inspection mere inches from his mouth. 

"I just got these." She said, "What do you think?" 

Her lacquered toenails stood out against the shiny black of the shoe that slicked over her foot like wet paint. 

"Nice," he said.

"Nice?" She smiled. "Bertrand, is that all you can say?" 

She lowered her foot so it was between his legs, the ball of her shoe against his cock.

"Was there something else I was supposed to say?" He looked into her eyes, but couldn’t seem to hold her gaze. A flush licked at his bare chest and throat as if he’d downed a few glasses of red wine.

He managed to look up into Chloe’s eyes. "Is this a joke?"

She pushed the spike of her heel against his dick. "Does this feel like a joke?"

"Chloe ..." he tried to focus on her eyes, "What-"

She lifted her other foot, and pressed the toe of her shoe against his lips. 

"Stand up," she said. 

He immediately stood, then waited.

Chloe almost wavered in her stare, but her confidence spiked when Monkey tried to match her gaze. He lowered his eyes once again. 

"I assume you know how to tie someone up," she said.

He nodded.

"I want you to tie me to this table. Face up. I want to see you." 

A memory surfaced of the two of them as youths looking at a skin mag Chloe had lifted from her father’s bedside drawer. Then she’d stared at cocks wrapped by lips, both oral and labial, as if Martians had landed. Today she knew exactly what that meant, and exactly what she wanted.

"Move it." Her voice was like a quiet slap. 

He moved quickly, heading for his bedroom, and returned with a duffel bag Chloe had seen stuffed under his bed. 

Chloe leaned against the table, then straightened. "Undress me."

He did so slowly, taking special care with her stockings and her shoes. Once she was naked, she sat on the table and laid back, hair spilling around her shoulders and over the edge of the scuffed surface.

Monkey’s eyes trailed over her body, and lingered for a few moments before he took a nylon rope from the duffel he’d set on a chair. Monkey took his time securing her ankles with the soft binding to the sturdy table legs. Chloe felt her pussy swell, becoming wet.

Monkey stood in order to pull down and tie Chloe’s arms together at the wrists. Her tiny breasts peaked between the crooks of her arms. He positioned her so that her thighs were spread, butt near 
the edge of the table, sex completely exposed.

"Make me come without touching me," she demanded.

He stared at her incredulously, then scanned the room. His eyes fell upon the can of whipped cream, the butter tub of berries. He grabbed a fat strawberry, then touched it to her labia. She sucked in her breath, which caught in her throat. Monkey pressed the berry’s tip to her clit. Chloe arched her back. He moved the fruit in circular motions over her labia. Her breath began to quicken, and her skin felt flushed. Monkey pushed the fruit tip inside her cunt. 

“Just the strawberry,” he said, assuring Chloe he’d be careful to keep his fingers from touching her sex. Her hips thrust toward him. He pulled back, apparently to keep his skin from touching hers. 

He slid the tip of the strawberry up and tapped her clit once again with it. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and closed her eyes. She felt him circle her clit, gently at first, then harder and faster until the soft flesh of the strawberry burst, gushing against her. Chloe could barely breathe.

"Lick me clean," she half-whispered the demand.

He dropped to his knees and licked the juice and pulp from her pussy. As his tongue touched her clit, she felt as though she might come. 

“Stand up and fuck me,” she cried, almost a plea. 

He quickly slipped off his sweat pants, which were tented, covering his prominent erection. Monkey held onto her hips as he thrust into her. Chloe began to spasm as soon as he entered her.

“Yes!” she cried out. She’d been waiting for this moment. As she came, she felt Monkey begin to buck. 

“Not until I say so, Bertrand.”

Monkey groaned as if in pain, and slowed his pace. Chloe could feel herself still sending spasms around his full cock.

“I can’t...” he pleaded.

“Go ahead,” she allowed.

Chloe felt his cock swell within her. He grunted and cried, finally falling heavily atop her. They lay together, sweating, not speaking, simply breathing.

Later, the couple curled up in bed. Chloe could smell his sex and hers, the slick sweat between them, and the faint sandalwood scent that lingered on her skin from the bath. Monkey had wrapped his body around her, keeping her warm and comfy. She was almost asleep when she thought to ask, "So, what’s so sexy about my feet?" 

Copyright  ©  2004 Desiree Coulter. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or post.


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