Kinky Excursion Part Three - A Lesson on Shoes

Every pore of my body was screaming for more. I was getting pouty and petulant and sulky - playfully so but the undercurrent was very real. He was immovable. I love that as much as I hate it.

We moved downstairs to the smoking area. I could not think of anything but want. I begged him with my eyes, with my words. I lost count of how many times I asked to go back upstairs. His eyes were playful, enjoying my torment I think.

Interestingly talking with Sir afterward I remembered many of the same people as he had: the pretty little thing in the denim skirt with a huge mouth and gorgeous pouty lips. Not my cup of tea, though I did have one or two ideas of where I would like to see her mouth. The girl with long dyed-black hair, who was much more my style (despite her hair) and sat behind us talking loudly about true bisexuality - a conversation which did not go unnoticed by me...I actually would not mind going back to look for her one night. Another girl who was, as we were leaving, being spanked over the couch by two men...yes, much more my thing.

People moved around us, talking, laughing. There were couples pairing off, kissing and fondling, perhaps a lover, perhaps a partner, perhaps someone whose name they don't know. There were one or two people around I would normally give a second glance but really, I just wanted to cum endlessly, to feel some real pain. I was not interested in scoping. Sir would not have permitted it anyway so it just would have added to my torment.

Women swathed in too-short fake leather, cut-off shirts, plunging necklines and denim skirts that are only for this purpose - the purpose of picking-up. The different styles and choices of clothing suggesting different things. The clothes are there mainly for everyone else, what they think others want. The truth of a woman is in the way she carries herself. It is about whether they lean in, or back, touch your arm, look over, smile, touch their face, catch your eye. You can tell what sort of lover a woman will be by looking into her eyes. Stare one time into a woman's eyes who is lusty as fuck, who is smoldering, brimming with need and you will never forget it and always look for it. The problem with most men is that they get so caught in looking at breasts they never find that out.

The men in their jeans and t-shirts with a little too much aftershave all looked the same - except for their shoes. You can tell a lot about a man by his shoes. Experience has taught me what sort of lovers they will be and though not all conform, it is quite accurate. There are three main categories, all were on display that evening.

There are the trainer-boys. My guess for the record - all single. These boys, wearing their "going-out" trainers, stood uncomfortably around outside talking to each other. They were leaning against the wall, pretending they didn't care they hadn't picked up and that they weren't still hopeful (they were). No confidence, just quiet and wearing their eau-de-desperation like a foggy haze - enough to gas any passing, equally desperate girl.

Trainer-Boys = immaturity but malleability. As lovers they can be hit and miss. They are much easier to mold into what you want but ladies be warned, you will have to be very specific and patient. They need a map, a compass, GPS and will still get lost, however they make up for it in enthusiasm. Don't necessarily pass them by every time, but pick carefully. They are definitely a regular partner - takes a while to train one. One night is not worth it.

There are the Work-Shoes Guys. These ones are usually a little older, their shoes scuffed and worn, they are a little more forth-coming in terms of talking with women but with about the same success rate as Trainer-Boys. Downtrodden and reeking of selfish need, a few had come to the club with their wives, a few singles. I would hazard a guess that they are there most weeks with varying success. Their shoes beguile their lack of personal care, a need for someone to take care of them and somehow a lack of confidence. These guys won't talk to the other guys, except perhaps to retell an exceptionally bad joke for the third time and are exceptionally socially awkward (as opposed to trainer-guys who just lack confidence).

Work-Shoe-Guys = selfish and needy. Needing to be looked after (read as mummies boys) and wanting to have someone care for them makes them prime stalker candidates (of which I have had a few). One night stand means little to them because they are desperate for a carer. Their selfishness means that they can't find your clit and don't care if they do, and they don't believe in a g-spot. Two minute wonders, at best. They just want to get their end in and then for you to come over to their house and do their laundry. Steer clear at all costs.

Suave-Shoes-Man. Last but not least. This is the guy you need to look for. Actually, you don't. He will look for you. He will have good quality leather shoes, not the ones he wears to work. They can be exceptionally modern but don't have to be, they will be clean and not scuffed. He is the one that will stand back and watch for a while, he will talk to everyone. Once you have noted his shoes you can take in the rest of him, he can be younger or older but he has got-his-shit-together. He knows what he wants, he knows who he is. Not to be confused with the arrogant twin who is just a Trainer-Boy-in-Funky-Shoes. This guy is smooth and alluring.

Suave-Shoes-Man = fuck. This guy knows his way around the female form. He is a Man-Whore. Man-Whores are hopeless romantics who love lust and fucking and women (not to be confused with the Trainer-Boy-in-Funky-Shoes who is just a player, out to get his end in and does not know what to do with a woman). Suave-Shoes-Man is calm, confident and knows what he wants. He knows how to make a woman swoon. He will please you - because that is his mission. Don't walk, run to your nearest hotel suite.

I thought about how I must look in there, in amongst the meat-market. I dress a little like a sassy-school-teacher, an art I have been perfecting. Walk past me on the street and you would think sweet house-wife, proper but with an edge.

We sat and Kate was talking about my cumming-on-command and asking about what the orgasms felt like and commenting on the faces I pull. Sir asked her if she would like to see another face. He pulled my shirt down, pulled my bra down and grabbed my nipples - hard and commanded I cum. Gasping, breathy, desperate for more I was taking anything he had to give. I wanted it all and I loved it right there, infront of whoever was watching. I didn't care I just wanted what I wanted.