Sunday, 25 June 2017

Shivers and Shakes

Although my recent trip northwards to Scotland went without a hitch on the roads, I didn't have the same success the following weekend heading south.  Yes, just a day after returning to Manchester I was packing my case again for a trip to Brighton for the combined Subversion/Spank fetish party near Brighton.  All told, it turned out that I'd travelled 1400 miles on the road that week!

My clothes for Scotland were turfed out of my bag and thrown into the wash basket, and in their place I put my long, sparkling red lace gown and a corset.  I was terribly excited by the trip, and promised myself some serious fun when the party started on the Saturday night.

All went perfectly well until we hit the M25 that encircles London.  For some reason both exits for the M4 and M3 were closed, resulting in one huge tailback, subsequently turning the motorway into a sun-baked car park with no chance of escape.  For over an hour I was sat slowly cooking in the metal and glass box with wheels and the blazing sun turned the temperature to very uncomfortable levels.  Eventually the road cleared, and the run down to the hotel in Burgess Hill, just north of Brighton turned out OK.

On arrival in the hotel I started to feel quite ill, though, and recognised the signs of heat-stroke.  Unable to control my body temperature, I was veering from sweating and over-heating to shivering and cold to the bone within minutes of each other.

When the rest of the party group arrived we made plans for an early start to the night, but I was already beginning to feel that I wouldn't see much of it.

As it was, I was gutted that I was still very poorly on arrival at venue at 8.00pm - it was a stunning mansion, with outdoor seating, some fantastic playrooms, a dungeon room, plenty of seating and some dance rooms.  There were also (annoyingly, considering my current feeling of well-being) numerous male and female attendees that I would have loved to have joined on the circular bed in the sexy Hugh Hefner-inspired playroom, but sadly my body wasn't up to the task.  As the minutes trickled by, I was taunted continually by the sight of gorgeous ladies in body-skimming latex, mini-dresses and sexy lingerie, and some very fuckable gentlemen in their own imaginative outfits.  If I'd have been well, I just knew I'd be sucking and fucking the night away, which made my raging headache, dizziness and still-alternating body temperature even worse.  I stayed for three hours, mentally encouraging my body to heal itself, but as the clock ticked into the last hour of Saturday I knew it was a losing battle - I had to throw in the towel and live to fight and fuck another day.

Dexi Delite Altrincham and Manchester Escort - red lace dress, no underwear... but no fun tonight.
So, by midnight and like Cinderella, I was sadly back in my hotel bed, sadly alone, cursing the weather and traffic for ruining my plans of a night of sex and debauchery.  But, like an angry Terminator, I promised I will be back.

Last weekend I met up with friends in Manchester's fabulous city centre.  The sun was still blazing, but, out of the confines of a pressure-cooker car, was gorgeous.

Dexi Delite Altrincham and Manchester Escort - Manchester city centre.
Dexi Delite Altrincham and Manchester Escort - Manchester city centre.
I had quite a lovely day, which took a turn when (it was a bit of a girl's shopping trip day) we went into Selfridges.  I always take a look at the fantastic shoe department on the third floor, and, as usual wandered into the Christian Louboutin section to check out the truly outstanding and totally shoe-fetish world of the red-soled creations.

Now, I've never owned a pair of Louboutin shoes, as, for some reason, they never fit my feet.  This time, though, I spotted a pair that I've lusted after for some time.  Black leather peep-toe sandals, with platforms and 6-inch needle-thin stiletto heels.  I tried them on.  They fit.  THEY FIT!  I sweated and shivered, rather like I did at the Burgess Hill hotel before the Brighton party.  I looked at the price of the shoes.  I sweated and shivered a little more.  I may have panted a little bit and wondered if I would hyperventilate in the middle of the store.  I wanted to rip my little g-string panties off and rub myself with delight - I think I very nearly did that, actually.  I walked up and down the red Louboutin carpet a bit more, and a bit more, and a bit more.  I looked in the mirror at the fetish delights that I was wearing.  I did some financial calculations on my credit card limit and what was in my bank, juggling costs in split seconds that would have impressed a financial city-trader.

I bought the shoes - a decision that would probably have not impressed my bank manager... unless I get a call from my bank for an account review, in which case I shall wear the new shoes to the meeting and say..."But aren't they worth it?"  At which point, the bank manager (whether male or female) will reply "Of course."  The lady manager - because she's a woman and understands the needs for such frivolities, and the man because he will not doubt immediately picture them wrapped around his back whilst he plunges his hard cock into me.

Dexi Delite Altrincham and Manchester Escort - new Louboutin shoes.
Dexi Delite Altrincham and Manchester Escort - perfect for a shoe fetish.
Dexi Delite Altrincham and Manchester Escort - heavenly high heels.
Mmmm... I can't wait to do a proper photo-shoot in them, and no doubt they will get quite a bit of wear in the bedroom, too.

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