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0:59 Mister Burns!

Hi!

Tonite I was with my bestest favourite client Mister Burns. I mean that aint his real name but I call him that cos he looks a bit like the character from The Simsons!

Mr Burns is dead rich an he’s pretty old as well - but there’s life in the old dog yet! Oh yeah – an he’s in a wheelchair too. When I meet him it’s a bit different. Usually I meet the client when he’s already in the hotel room but this time I go to reception, get the key and make myself comfortable. I’m wearing a black mini dress and black patent peep toe pumps with a five inch heel.

Mr Burns’s aide arrives first and checks the room. He sweeps the place for bugs an searches me an my handbag. I know the form, so I’ve only got an old mobile that aint got a camera in it – Mr Burns likes his privacy! Finally, when everything has been checked, the aide wheels Mr Burns in, gently lifts him onto the bed, and leaves us.

The thing with a man like Mr Burns is that he’s used to getting what he wants - when he wants it. I guess most folk try an please him as soon as possible in just about everything he does. So I take my time with him. However, I gotta do some serious preparation for quite a few days before. I lay next to him on the bed and first off he starts to talk about what’s going on in the world.

Asking what I think about the new Israeli settlements in East Jerusalem aint everyone’s idea of typical hooker chat but I’ve done my homework an I start to give my views on the recent US objections. All the while I’m sliding up the bed until my feet are next to his head. He takes one foot in his hand and caresses my dark cherry toenails and changes the subject to piracy off the coast of Somalia. By the time he switches to the delay in the closure of Guantanamo Bay, he has both my shoes off and his head propped up on my feet. As he listens to my answers to his questions he alternates between licking the soles of my feet and poking his tongue into the peep toe of one shoe!

I’ve acquitted myself pretty well so far but, as usual, he has saved the best until last - and asks what I think about the arrest of Rwandan Hutu rebel leaders in Germany. This is his test for me because that hasn’t exactly been headline news. He changes to sucking on my big toes and nibbling my toe rings as I give him five minutes of everything Melanie knows about the Rwandan Hutu rebels living in the Congo. As he sucks on the heel of one shoe I even manage to remember the name of one of the arrested men – although I doubt if I pronounce the leader of the rebels, Ignace Muwanashyaka, correctly! Mr Burns smiles at me with real affection. I guess he knows I don’t avidly read the foreign section of all the newspapers every day, but he appreciates the efforts I make to provide him with stimulating conversation as he enjoys playing with my feet and shoes.

I’m about to move my feet when he suddenly grabs them, he’s surprisingly strong for a man is his seventies, and places them over his face, licking both of my soles and poking his tongue between my toes. He stops long enough to ask whether I think the supply of high-grade Congolese Coltan will be interrupted.

As his tongue worms its way between my toes, well on the way to giving me the cleanest feet in the Western Hemisphere, I rack my brains to think of an answer. Mr Burns stops his ‘How Clean Is Your Foot?’ routine long enough to spread them apart and look at me through the gap. Shit! This is his biggest test yet! Somehow I remember that Coltan is short for Columbite-Tantalite which is what the capacitors in mobile phones are made from. The stuff is found all over Eastern Congo and is a major source of illegal income for the rebels.

I purse my lips quizzically and a tiny veil of disappointment shadows his face. Then I pop my chewing gum and tell him that it probably won’t make much difference as, if the Hutu rebels don’t smuggle the Coltan, there are plenty of other groups who will. I move one foot to the side and fold one toe as I cross off each option, Congolese Mai Mai Militia, Congolese Army troops, Rwandan Army troops crossing the border, Rwandan proxy Congolese militia drawn from the Tutsi Banyamulenge group and finally rogue UN peacekeepers. I’m glad I can’t think of a sixth option as all my spare toes have miraculously disappeared inside his mouth!

Finally, he releases my very wet and sticky foot and beams at me - and I know I’ve passed his test and my payment and bonus is secure. However, I never take it for granted and, anyway, I enjoy his company. I leave him conducting an in-depth examination of the inside of one shoe and seemingly attempting to lick my toe prints from the white innersole! I know he can’t move his legs - so I carefully spread them apart, shift position and undo his shoelaces with my toes.

After I’ve removed both of his highly-polished brogues I commence to undo his belt. I went to remove his socks one time and he just said “No!” Which I guess was pretty emphatic! A lotta older guys don’t like other folk seein their feet I suppose. Once his belt is undone, I unfasten his button and slowly unzip his trousers. He has abandoned my shoes now and watches, transfixed, as I grip the zip between my toes and draw it all the way down. Then I shimmy down the bed and grip his trouser bottoms. He pushes himself up on his elbows and I whip them from under his butt! Finally, I return to his silk boxers and tease him through the material, feeling him swell, then gently remove them too!

Over the next hour or so I gently massage his cock between the soles of my feet, every-so-often stroking the tip and gently squeezing his balls with my toes. Once I take one of my shoes and place it over his cock and slowly draw him through the peep toe as he swells and fills it. Then I lick and suck his shiny purple glans while I caress his balls with my long fingernails. All the time he talks to me about, of all things, cricket. He loves the game from the 1950s and 60s which was way before I was born so, again, I have to spend some time researching stuff before we meet. I even bought a load of old cricket books, cost me over a thousand pounds, but it was worth it, as you’ll see in a minute!

Mr Burns never stops talking as I work my magic on him. It’s pretty hard to make meaningful comments when I’ve got his cock and the whole of the front of my shoe in my mouth - working on his bell end by my throat muscles alone. Well lubricated by my saliva he slides even further through the peep toe until the back of my shoe is right between his legs, under his ass. Finally I take him back between my feet and slowly slide them up and down his shaft, which is sticky with saliva and precum.

I know he is about to cum because the veins on his cock stand out and his shiny tip twitches – oh and he finally stops talking! Mr Burns does not shoot his load – I guess he’s a bit long in the tooth for that – rather it oozes out – like a fizzy drink overflowing the glass. I milk his gooey cum, not letting a drop spill or, more importantly, dribble over my favourite peep toes. I gather it between my toes and spread it over one foot then do the same with the other. Finally, when it is all collected, I come up the bed and sit right next to him and prop myself up against the headboard.

Then I bring both feet up to my face and lick them clean – making sure I remove all his spunk from my feet while he watches in rapt fascination. He swells once more and, if he were younger, I could probably bring him off again. But hell – the guy's a pensioner and I don’t want him dying on the job! So, very gently, I remove my shoe from his limp cock and dress him, making sure I tuck in his shirt, fasten his belt in the correct hole and double knot his shoes like they were before. I think it’s important to both of us that his aide has no idea of the intimacy between us.

When Mr Burns if fully dressed, he nods towards his wheelchair and I go and retrieve the big, gift-wrapped box. I sit next to him and I am genuinely excited, cos I never know what’s in the box. He likes the way I wiggle on the bed like a happy puppy as I tear the bow, then the paper, from the box. This time it's a fantastic pair of white patent platform sandals with 7 inch silver heels. I squeal because they are genuinely stunning and ignore the other two items in the box. Of course they are my size and I buckle them on. Now I wouldn’t usually choose to wear brand new shoes over cum-soaked feet but needs must! They don’t really go with my dress either but what the hell? I do a few circuits of the room so he can see me wearing them and he nods approvingly.

Finally, he nods to the box again and I retrieve the smaller gift-wrapped packet. It’s always a piece of bling. The first time we went together, he bought me a gold bracelet that probably cost four hundred pounds. As he’s become more comfortable with me, the quality has improved exponentially. Last time it was a diamond solitaire ring with a five carat stone. I made him laugh by immediately wearing it as a toe ring. Today the little box holds an exquisitely detailed gold torc bracelet. It’s clearly ancient and heavy – there is a card in the box but it would be tacky to read it – (it is ancient Celtic from the 2nd Century BC!). I hesitate then gently stretch the torc open and slip it over one ankle. It doesn’t match the gold chain with little teddy bears dangling from it on my other ankle but Mr Burns is so busy giggling that he doesn’t seem to notice.

Finally he follows his usual routine of asking me to move in with him and I follow my usual routine of refusing. Then I gently lift him from the bed and sit him in his chair. He’s tiny, and even I can lift him easily! If his aide doesn’t return for some reason, at least he can move to the door to open it. Then I grab my black courts and leave. One time I actually got to the door and had genuinely forgotten the envelope of money, which is the third item in the box, and I think that impressed him the most. Now I always make a show of leaving - before he calls me back to collect my fee! It’ll be another three months before I see Mr Burns again – my bestest favourite client!

Lotsa love

Melanie

xxxx



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