What you quite probably dont want to know...

And how it really is....

I found a photo of her.
And it is on my screen
anytime i strangle myself now.
Dreaming of what never may be....

How it never may be like...

You wake up and start to stare at her shoes again.
„Mind me opening the window?“ you ask.
„Not at all. I just finished with my notes.“
You slide down the window, the compartment turns instantly cooler.
„It's that I am violonist“ you're told.
„Oh yes... really?
I'm into linguistics...“ you try.
„How interesting...“ she answers.
„How is it being a violonist?“
„Ah...
You're getting around so much! I played at so many concerts in so many countries. I cannot even tell...!“
„Hmm.. I spend most of my time in libraries and read. There...“
„And all that different kind of people you meet. It's just so wonderful...!“
„I don't like it having many people around me. It makes me uneasy. „
„I love it! As you get together with them , as you can learn completely unknown aspects of life, all these completely different smiles, their blinking....”
„I am not so agile with people generally...“
„And as musician people come upon you, you meet them just like this.
That's something great...!“
„I feel strange when with people...“
„That's also something the music does. She lets people open up to you. You get near them. Just like this!“
„My life is meaningless...“
„I am a lucky woman all around“
Devotedly you point your view to the ground. Meet there the vision of her ballerina mary janes like unexpected, see them directing her arousal.“
She waits.
„So you like them“ she asks with pretended curiousness.
„Ah yes...“ you stammer caught.
She tilts her legs towards you, presenting her shiny shin bones, her feet, plugged in wonderful flat shoes.
You hesitate.
Continuing silence...
„You want to lick them...?“
„Hmm...“
She waits while you look expectingly over to her.
„I just want to have something of yours for it!“she whispers.
„What is it?“ You ask hastily.
„Hmm....“
„I would give you anything!“
„Not so forwardly...“
„What is it...? You can have anything from me!“
„Your live! Your worthless Live.
This is what i wan from you!“
Put your live into my hands and i promise, i will release you from your regrettable existence!“
I will hang you! And i will be tender when doing you...!
How would that be?“
„Would you really do that?“
„Now you, when i get offered such an opportunity, i string up a handsome one like you from time to time. I like to do that. Calms me down again.
And it will make you come...!“ she bends her head down to her shoulder.
„And it makes me come too...!“ she licks briefly with the tip of her tongue over her upper lip. You're not sure if you have seen it at all.
“What do you think of that?”
“That would be so gracious of you...”
“So kneel down and start to lick!”
You go down to the ground, when she starts to blame you!
“You're closing the curtains, before you start to lick, aren't you?”
“Oh, of course...” You grab the lose end of the cloth and plunk it at you. And they follow your impulse with a sharp crunching noise.
“Stupid!”
You come back to her. She has put her legs evenly aside each other.
“Lick now!” she says calmly.
You kneel down, you bend down to the plain leather, close your eyes devoutly, stick out your tongue and lick along her coating skin, feel her nervousness,the slender leather conveys to your lips.
“Goood... Keep on licking piggy!
Later I am going to string you up just fine.”
You lick once more over the charged up leather surface, lying afore her instep.
She stretches one of her legs, holds it over your head.
“Lick the sole, piggy!”
You raise your head to her shoe, look at the honeycombed rubber which is idly following the shape of her sole and which a character is engraved in. A symbol for her femininity and by that for her control over you.
Eagerly you're licking the dusty sole clean.
She slides her foot along your face, you put out your tongue onto the passing skin.
Your tongue tip follows the arch of her lower limb, she lays her leg on your shoulder, holds her other patterned sole in your face letting you lick from the uneven yellowy rubber.
“Good so, mucky pup!”
She lays her second foot at your ear. So that you're stuck between her two ankles.
You can look up along her legs, deep into her skirt.
“Now you're going to lick mine, piggy!” and she shoves you up by pressing her strapped inset against the back of your head.
You obey.
Licking her cunt obediently. You're compliant to her contractions. Which guide you and are in command over you, till your personal hangwoman presses forth a muscular orgasm, then relaxes.
Lets you go free.
You slide down.
Silence.
When you come back to your senses, turn around, you look up to her, seeing her tie a red drawstring to a noose, pulling it long afterwards.
“Put of your shirt. I want to see you!”
“You are really going to hang me...?” uncertainly.
“Sure i do!”
“I am a little bit scared know...”
“That's just normal. It's a painful death sine... dying in the sling!”
“Please...! Don't!” You recoil, try to save you at the lower end of the compartment.
“I will enjoy your agonisingly fidgeting my dear friend. I sure will!”
“No...!” faintly.
“Now will you be a good boy!” She comes upon you, over you!
You try to resist her force. But she simply grabs the border of your shirt and pulls it over your head patiently making your bared torso shiver.
“Now will you come up!” she tells you. Otherwise it wont work!”
You shudder an sob.
“Now pull yourself up!” she commands and you follow.
“See...?
You do like it, being hanged, don't you piggy?
It will set yours up. That horny the strangulation will make you.”
You come up hesitatingly, slip into the noose she is pulling open, slightly striping it down your face, pulling the drawstring tight around your soft neck, making you gasp at once.
“That's what i like” She calls out.
“Glad you like it” you rattle.
She shoves the knot under your skin.
Grabs the loose end of the drawstring and pulls it through the bars of the luggage rack just over the window.
“Do you like to say one last thing, before i am pulling you up ?”
“I am your slave, my hangwoman!” you scream.
“Then you shall dangle!
Dance for me, piggy!”
And she pulls hard, hoisting your helpless body up, the gnarled drawstring works itself into your relenting neck, cording you up like a bag.
She fixes the cord and you pedal helplessly under the strangulation, your head tilted aside, against the window. She pulls your trousers down to your ankles, choking your fidgeting.
She steps back and examing her work, your agonised exit. You eyes gaping into the ceiling without seeing anything. What you're experiencing with are your neck and your feet, which are vainly fidgeting for lost ground.
The silence between your feet drumming heavily against the compartment board widens. She Comes towards you, tastes from the sight, your death by the noose provides, commanding your member, setting it up, erecting it.
She grabs it between two of her fingertips, bends it down, diverting your exital sperm and lets it spray into a vial.
She lets you twitch on, till you turn completely limb.
Then she is leaving the compartment never to be related with your exit, whereas you, any remembrance of your existence, your whole family, always will stay tied to the picture of your death erection!

When I changed trains...

... I saw a pair of beige ballerina mary-janes passing by. So I raised my look to see a woman of about 45 years of age trailing a light blue solid case behind her.
My attention was already hooked. I continued looking after her, she was passing two hot thirty-somethings, who I ignored.
She had the right age for me.
And she wore the right shoes!

I kept looking over to her.
She was spotting the train. That's when our eyes met.
I looked aside hastily.
Then I forgot about her somehow as the train was arriving and i got into it and looked for a calm, probably empty compartment.
I found one instantly, went into it, closed the doors.
I sat down and stared out of the window watching the accelerating landscape passing by.
Suddenly the cabin-door opened and a pair of soft ballerina mary janes blocked the passage. Beige as said they had two parallel straps running around her arched up inset, merged halfways with a compact floral knob.
“Here free?” she asked and
“Of course!” i responded.
She sank into the cushion, crossed her legs, displaying her exciting footwear.
She looked like the commonplace rural housewife, just with this girly-attitude, again common for women about her age and origin.
I got distressed a bit, knowing her shoes would irritate me during the whole journey.
I stretched out, laying myself down while alternately spotting down to her soft mary janes and dozing away.
Suddenly she was on her feet, putting her trolley off the luggage rack she had put it up earlier.
She opened the shiny blue casket, uncovering a only one third filled case, holding diverse entangled pieces of clothing.
She carelessly pulled out a bra and accessed a scripture holding notes. She put back the bra and lifted the trolley back on the luggage rack.
That's when i realized i had to ask her if she would like me to lick her feet and to kiss her shoes.
I went out to phone someone, when i realized all the other compartments where totally empty. And she must have come into mine deliberately!
I returned and laid down to rest a bit, not without catching some view of her ballerina mary janes. My! These two elastic straps running around her inset, a fine seam traversing it, dippsy-doodeling along the borders of its bands.
I dozed off while she worked with the script.
I understood she would never allow me licking her feet as I ought to be. But I had to try how far i came!
So i rose up an began talking to her.
She reacted upstaged first, but then grew milder, honestly communicating with me. And I did my best too.
I learned she was a violinist who played in a small opera house. And she was travelling around much. So we talked about music, travelling and foreign countries.
While we talked I eagerly drank from the view of her footwear. Our talk had aroused her feet, awoke them to nervous activity.
She was constantly pushing her toecap against the cushion of the opposite bench, as soon as she expressed her thoughts.
And I was so grateful for her doing.
Finally she put one leg over the other so that her rubber sole pointed directly to me, displaying transparent ochre rubber, chased with floral patterns. She let her foot rotate around her leg, bending the soft leather covering her vigorous skin.
I unvolontarily got a stiff one, listening attentively to her words, following the physic reactions that the passion for her work provoked from her foot. The worn out leather covering her big toe revealed this as her habit.
I was ready to voluntarily go on my knees and lick its sole once she ordered me.
But of course she didn't!
We kept talking for some time. Then she left the compartment to phone. She only came back for her trolley case then finally left under some pretext.
I wondered if she had felt that tension too. That she originally liked flirting with me, but eventually realized I kept staring on her shoes, therefore decided to end interaction. Perhaps she only recoiled from the idea engaging with me, for some unknown reason, perhaps due timidity.

She got out one station before me.
She passed by waving only a brief good bye over to me. I responded adequately.
But then she came back, pulled open the door again and wished my a really cordial Good Bye.


So she did like me!

I wonder if she lies on her bed now, imaging how it could have been to invite me, letting me pleasure her for that one night.
As a fact she didn't

That's why I am declaring hereby I shall humbly receive strangulation by the noose, keeping the afterimage of her imperious footwear on my mind.

She must be disgusted if she read this.