slinkymel's blog / Toe job on a Saturday Night!!!

Back To Members Blog Posts  |  Back To All Blog Posts


20:26 Toe job on a Saturday Night!!!

Hi

I’m a tranny (so please leave now if you don't approve) in my mid-thirties from the South of England. I’ve been dressing for years and have a great social life with my girlfriends Tallulah (or Lou – she’s the sensible one and looks after us), Anastasia (or Stas – she’s the classy one and looks great in pearls) and Zahra (she’s the youngest, and prettiest – bitch!!!). Our friend Simon chaperones us wherever we go and tries to keep us on the straight and narrow, unless his boyfriend is home from the oil rigs - when we get to run riot! Me – I’m Melanie, the scatty blonde who’s always in the wrong place at the wrong time and the others suggested that I write a blog about some of the (usually undignified) things that happen to me.

I live with Hoover the dog and about 150 pairs of shoes which take up the whole of one room. As you can see from my pics I prefer big, bold platforms but have lots of other styles as well. Shoes are a great turn on for me (why else would I be on HSS?!) as well as all the all the other things that go with great looking feet, such as nail polish, toe rings and ankle chains.

Last Saturday we were going clubbing as usual and I decided to go Goth with dark eye shadow and deep purple lipstick. Once I was satisfied, I selected three gold toe rings for each foot and opened a new pair of champagne sheer stockings with purple contrast toe, heel and seam. Jonathan Aston makes hosiery to die for!!! Then on went lacy black bra and suspender belt.

Shoes are always a tricky choice and having so many pairs makes it harder not easier. In the end I did what I usually do and laid two pairs out next to the bed and flipped a coin to decide!! (I did say I was scatty!) My choice was black patent strappy platforms by Pleaser with a 7½ inch heel. (They are the ones in my pics on the red carpet) At this stage of the getting ready process I have to go and get a drink to distract myself - until my hard-on has subsided enough for me to persuade it to hide inside my filmy panties! Finally, I chose my brand new purple Lolita Lempicka mini dress with a cutaway that shows off my pierced belly button. The bell rang and I grabbed my leopard fur bolero jacket, gave Hoover a dog treat, and climbed into the taxi to the usual chorus of catcalls from the others.

After a couple of drinks in a quiet pub we went to this great club where the floor was thronged with hunky guys and I was like a kid in a sweetshop until Lou put one scarlet-painted nail under my chin and told me to close my mouth. There was one guy caught my eye and I could see him glancing at me and staring at my legs and shoes. He was clean cut and respectable looking – the sort of guy who’d treat me right. I wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass so I flirted like mad, crossing and uncrossing my legs with a swish of nylon-on-nylon, making sure he saw up my dress, and showing him my platforms from every angle.

Eventually (I guess I’d better not write his name) he came over and sat down. ‘What lovely shoes – and I just adore your toe rings’. What a great chat-up line and I came all of a flutter and had to squirm as there was some serious swelling going on in my Agent Provocateur knickers!!! We had a few drinks and he was great company. Stas came over and asked if I was OK but I was in ‘I want you and I want you now’ mode and ignored her. I could tell he was married ‘cos there was a white band on his tanned finger where he had taken off his wedding ring. But hey – most guys are only a few beers away from gay - so what the hell! Anyway, his smooth patter continued; progressing from ‘shall we get some fresh air’ to ‘can I put my arm around you?’ to ‘will you squat on this park bench so I can see your shoes more closely?’

So here I am, 1045 in the evening and it’s only just got dark and I’m squatting on a frickin’ wooden bench with my dress hitched up and lover-boy giving me the best toe job I’ve ever had! All the while I’m trying to enjoy it while thinking that if a cop happened by I would be on my way to the slammer – again – with Simon coming to bail me out after a night in a cell that smelled of vomit and piss! After five minutes my toes were soaking like I’d stepped in a gooey puddle and the bulge in the front of his jeans was threatening to pop the buttons and turn me into a character from Coraline! Self preservation took over and I eased his throbbing cock out and started to work on him.

However, he was having none of it, and pushed my hands away, grabbed me behind the knees and yanked my legs away from the seat. With a squeal I landed on my butt with my dress round my waist and my feet on either side of his head. I was helpless to do anything as he kissed and licked my feet, smelling my scent, twitching his nose like Hannibal Lecter, and sliding one heel in and out of his mouth like a long black dildo. All the while he was wanking himself into a frenzy and I was sure his groans of pleasure would bring the cops running. He twisted one foot hard, and I gasped in pain, as he sought out my instep, sliding his tongue under my sole, probing further and further into my shoe. It wasn’t hard to guess that he was about to cum, as his pace quickened until his hand was a blur and his purple tip thickened and bulged. Of course I had a ringside seat to this wankfest as his cock was less than a foot in front of my face and I prepared for my protein facial!

With a great grunt he reached a shattering climax and a spray of scalding cum shot onto my face, up my nose, into one eye and over my hair. I opened my mouth to take the next spurt as he spasmed again but there was nothing except a solitary dribble that ran outta my nose and over my top lip. Instead, the bastard lowered his cock and hosed the rest of his load over the front of my dress! Well that was fcuking unexpected! Mind you – he had an aim better than a Beirut sniper – ‘cos the last jets splashed straight into the cutaway, splashing my bare tummy and oozing into my belly button. I still can’t believe that he used an $800 frock like the page of a skin mag!! Men!!! Anyway, that was surely the end of my clubbing as I couldn’t go back in looking like I’d just won first prize in a spunk-chucking contest. So I put on my best husky voice and whispered:

“Shall we go back to my place and finish what we’ve started?”

It was an offer he couldn’t refuse and this hunk was going to hump me until the birds started their dawn chorus. Instead he looked down his nose at me and said:

“No – I have to get back to my wife!”

Well I was well pissed off but not in any great position to do much, with my legs still in the air and the sperm-sniper still nibbling at my toes. Then Lou’s immortal words came to me – ‘don’t get mad – get even!’ At that moment he lost interest in my heels and dropped my legs and the unexpected movement pulled me from the back of the bench and I instinctively grabbed him round the waist. His cock was inches from my face, glistening under the streetlight, and I purred:

“Can I clean you up before you leave me?”
“Yeah! Suck it all up – slut!”

Such a smooth talker! Well for the next five minutes I cleaned him of every last drop of cum – so much so that he started to harden again and I thought he might change his mind. However the lure of the marital bed was too strong and he actually fished his wedding ring out and put it back on while I was sitting on a park bench, giving him oral! Finally I carefully buttoned him up, making sure that I left him a ring of bright purple lipstick around his cock to take home to wifey - not to mention the love bite (I think that’s a hicky in the USA) on the top of his thigh!!!! My knight in shining armour’s parting shot was:

“Thanks for nothing you fcuking whore!”

I should have gone straight home but the night was still young so the self-destruct mechanism kicked in and I wiped myself down with a tissue and headed back to the club. Holding my jacket over the worst of the stains and hoping the jizz in my blonde tresses looked like hair gel, I strolled nonchalantly past the doormen. The place had thinned out drastically and it was obvious the other three had bagged-off. I tried to muscle in on Lou’s guy but she just looked me up and down, curled a ruby lip, and muttered:

“Splash out on a new dress did we?”

So blushing furiously, off I went to the bar and a date with mister Tequila - until Simon carried me home at I don’t know when. I woke up fully-clothed on the bed with a hangover that would kill a docker and Hoover licking dry cum off my tummy. As I peered blearily at my blurred reflection in the mirror I thought – ‘Melanie – you really are a class act!’

Oh – and ‘how am I going to explain the stains to the Dry Cleaning lady!’

Well that’s a blow-by-blow account of my Saturday night. If anyone actually reads these blogs please let me know and I’ll keep writing about the ups (and mostly downs) of my life. If not – please forgive the ramblings of a silly blonde klutz and I won’t bother again.

Netcrewzer June 29, 2009, 22:17	Melanie -- Great story of your Saturday night miss-advernture. I enjoyed and got a woody reading it, so it worked for me! Will look forward to the submission....
Reply

You have got to be logged in to post a comment!