His Boots (Erotica by me)

Transcript

I'm a thief, I steal kisses, hearts, and my lover's clothes. I steal the books right off their shelves. Each of my lovers is their favorite book to read.

I'll read each new book with each new love. When it's quiet, after they've gone, I'll curl up in bed and let their favorite book tell me more than they ever could. Today dawns and I'm up early, master's not here on the weekends.

I do get sad about this, but I understand. I love slipping into things he's worn, catching that last lingering scent. I breathe deep, soon it will be gone, and I'll be waiting for him on Monday, like a junkie needing a fix.

He is my fix, I'm his addiction, maybe we're just each other's junkie. I can never tell. When I'm close enough to breathe him in, I cease to care about anything else.

I pray that he can forgive my moments of needy girl, or that I'm pretending to be a boy and I fuck my girlfriend. When it's all said and done, I'm his girl. Whatever form I take, when I'm out modeling or whatever, I always snap right back to his raven-haired little beast.

It's become my setting. I can cut through crowds with his beastly personality. I get noticed more.

I'm more daring because I have him to return to. Today I slip on his shirt, which means he must have my Ramone shirt. He's been eyeing that shirt ever since we met.

I smile to think of it with his blade across his chest. I imagine him breathing me in. I have a shoot today with a friend, so they're not expecting much.

That's when I see them, his old, dirty boots. I run over to them as though he's still inside them. I slip my bare feet in them and proceed to practice walking around.

I feel clumsy and yet powerful. I put on some Rollins bands and stomp around my apartment. I wonder if he's feeling my energy now.

I'm all aglow with sweat by the time the photoshoot actually happens. My shirt is unbuttoned slowly, my breasts exposed, my wet pussy is shot, spread in fingers. I'm not being shot, not posed.

This friend is shooting the animal I've become. He tells me I am beautiful. He has never seen anything more amazing.

Reactionary, he thinks I could be a real erotic model. I say thank you and I try not to blush, store this away. Masters talked about making a site so that I could make some money.

As with all things related to him, I'm trying not to push. I want them, but I will wait to be given things. Tom Petty was right, the waiting is the hardest part.

I say goodbye after we've put the pictures on my laptop and I'm picking out the best ones, deleting the Myspace-based ones. As I start looking at myself, I start to see it, the thing that others see. I'm not looking at myself, I mean I am me, but I can see what the others see.

My hands slip between my legs and his boots are up against my ass. As I explore my wet pussy, fingers fucking where his cock once was, my pussy squeezing tighter on my fingers. I'm thinking only of watching myself as I explore it.

His boots fall heavy and wobbly to the floor. I'm pleased and I can wait until Monday.