Copyright March 2010
(delighted to say that this was the 50th of my tales chosen to appear on ERWA's Galleries)
Bobbles or pom-poms or maybe even tassels but I think bobbles sounds best. You know what I mean? On girls' boots lately, a bobble on each lace end. The chunky, furry boots are best.
There’s something so utterly sexy about bobbles. The bobbles draw attention to the boots, the boots to the legs, the legs to the thighs, the thighs to the ass and the ass to the sexy young thing with the bobbles.
She goes by, bobbles dancing at her ankles like four tiny kittens. The eye goes: boots, calves, thighs, ass. See what I mean?
If she has “IT” and most girls do, my mind goes into lust-drive.
My favourite fantasy is “her” wearing just bobbled boots. Nothing else, just her bobbled boots. She stands astride my head and grinds her hips, lifting first one heel off the ground, then the other and so on. The bobbles hop and bob beside my ears.
High above, her pussy hovers, oscillating in time with hips and heels. It’s at the confluence of her thighs, a little, furry, munchable morsel.
Then, in my happy fantasy, I issue the command, a one, has-to-be-obeyed word, “Squat!”
And down comes the fifth bobble.