Friday, September 7, 2012

Black Boners of the World Unite

Ultra High heeled Black Shoes. On a drool quotient of one to ten, they will always get my purr-fect tens. Do you know what I am talking about? I’m talking about those sex oozing heels that porn-stars go to bed wearing – Sunny Leone swears by them, Aletta Ocean won’t be caught in the act without them, Dylan Ryder won’t step out of them and Priya Rai? She’s gone on record eulogizing their orgasmic appeal.

It’s wrong to restrict them to the world of high voltage porn – every lady worth her lipstick must have one in the closet. It’s like your first crush – yes, you have moved way ahead in life, have been there, had that man, - yet, the memories linger. It will always be there in some cobwebbed corner of your sub-consciousness. Our black’s – call them prom shoes, or spikes, or plain heeled party pumps – are also like that, no life or cupboard is complete without one. Call that an example of a shoe fetish? Imelda Marcus Syndrome (IMS)? My foot!

I am willing to spend hours and days rummaging through innumerable stores looking for them. There is a kind of unstated expectation as I go about it, like an Elizabeth Taylor walking in and out of marriages, hoping against hope that love will be requited and that the dark Prince of Cordwainer is waiting to grace my feet just around the corner!

When our eyes meet, they always, without expectation give me butterflies in the stomach. The “delightfully dizzy feeling of numbness that makes you instinctively moan with pleasure” overcomes me. I have to reach out and touch, pamper my tactile senses with soft caresses. Then the act of defloration, as my yang side takes over. You un-buckle, open the strap and gently push your foot in, like the charming lover Prince consummating to make a Queen out of the innocent Princess.

Feet securely strapped and buckled it is time for the initiation into womanhood. As you stand up, feel the tingle spread down to your toes – the calf muscles compress, the thighs get taut and your bums squeeze in anticipation. Baby you have arrived. Go ahead take that walk on the ramp called life and don’t forget to swagger your booty. Feel a smile spreading across your face as you see that helpless guy shamelessly ogling at your buts? Enjoy baby. You have worked hard to earn that oomph.

I have pairs and pairs of them and can never un-want them. The complement my pants, my jeans, my skirts and off course cause global warming when I wear them with my miniskirts. “Where do those legs end sweets” asked a smartass the other day. Prompt was the reply “where your father was made son”! I am saying this because more than anything else “black boners” are a way of life. They are an attitude. They are part of a package that is self confident, reliable, idiot proof and ready for the world. Don’t just wear them – be them, the ass holes out there know not to mess with them or the ones that wear them.

The best compliment I’ve got in them? As one wanna-be said “you are so pinch my back and I’ll step on your feet type”. So damn right! I dared him further telling “try more and ill kick your tom-tom’s”. Bugger chickened out. Guess the heels were too pointed. Not that I would actually have done it – it would have been tantamount to child abuse. We “black boner” ladies know where to draw our lines.

Princess Couture        
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