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Falling for Miriam

How 4 people met Miriam, a Dominant that loves to tease

By Bam KizbeePublished 2 years ago 13 min read
1
Falling for Miriam
Photo by Jeremy Wong Weddings on Unsplash

Dex

I had placed ads on fetish websites many, many times. I’d even gotten girls to answer me. But Miriam was the first one to show up. We had arranged to meet in the parking lot at the mall. I told her what my pickup looked like and where I’d park.

I was so friggin’ excited when I saw her pull up and walk over. She wore a short dress with pink flowers, nude hose and a pair of platform pink sandals. I closed my eyes as she approached and listened to the thud of her heavy heels on the pavement. She was a gorgeous little chunky thing and I couldn’t wait to see her feet up close and have them press into me.

“Dex?”

“Yep,” I said. I quickly got out of the truck and shook her hand, hoping she wasn’t grossed out by my sweaty palm.

She smiled and I just guessed she wasn’t.

“Shall we go buy some shoes?” she asked.

“Those sandals are just awesome,” I said. “And yes, let’s go.”

I had agreed to meet her in a public spot and to buy her a pair of shoes -- both as a chance to show her how I wanted to give her a gift and because it would be a safe way to touch her feet.

I love hose and skin and tights and leggings and bare feet and pumps and sandals and flip flops. I’m not too particular about feet or shoes, except that I love a full-figured woman with fleshy feet. And I love to have those feet press into me, everywhere, even sometimes trample me.

Miriam had perfect feet. Exactly what I was dreaming about.

In the shoe store I followed her about like a puppy. I didn’t dare suggest anything or comment other than a few times to say, “Those are great shoes. Your feet would look amazing in them.”

She walked up and down the aisles, browsing without touching. She walked in this criss-cross sort of way that made her hips sway and she was definitely taking her time. She knew I was watching her every move and soaking it all in.

I think she went up and down each aisle two times before she started touching the shoes she liked and glancing over at me to tease.

I could not wait for her to choose a pair and sit.

She picked a pair of black, strappy ones, with four buckles! Oh the anticipation.

She sat on the leather bench in the middle of the aisle and extended her right foot.

I knelt in front of her and undid the buckle of her pink sandal. She pulled her foot back away from me and somehow managed to keep the sandal dangling. Then she extended her leg again right against my cheek. I reached up, held her foot and brought it in front of me, slipping the sandal off. I held her foot and dug my fingers into her sole while I took the new black shoe out of the box with my other hand. I was not going to let go!

I slid the new shoe on and took my time doing the buckles. I have no idea if we were alone in the aisle, but she was brave. When the shoe was off she immediately pulled her leg in and extended her left, extended it so the bottom of her shoe was pressing against my quad, right above my kneecap.

She pressed with a lot of strength and if we weren’t in a public space I would not have resisted and I would have tumbled over. But I pressed back with my weight, just enough so I wouldn’t fall.

Then she leaned back on the bench with her hands and lifted her left leg higher, so it was near my shoulder. I could see right up her skirt, where her meaty thighs met. I turned away to be polite and get the other shoe. As I did she lowered her leg and pressed with her heel into my back, almost pushing me face first into the ground. Oh how I would have loved for her to smush me into the smelly carpet and walk all over me. But as quickly as she pushed down on me, she pulled her leg away.

Again I removed her pink sandal and placed the new shoe on her.

The shoes did look great on her feet. Anything would have looked good on her. She stood and motioned with her hand that I should sit on the bench. I quickly did. She seductively strutted down the aisle then turned and came back.

She lifted her foot onto my lap.

“I want these.”

It was excruciating not to let her move her foot around on my lap while I sat there, removing first one shoe and then the other.

She stood in front of me in her sheer nylons and wiggled her toes.

Then she reached out, grabbed my shirt and tugged on it.

“Kneel.”

I obeyed and she sat.

I took as long as I possibly could to put the pink sandals back on her. I didn’t want it to be over.

When the buckle was clasped she stood and strutted to the cashier. I took a deep breath, grabbed the new shoes, and followed.

I put the box on the counter and reached for my wallet.

“Did you find everything okay?” The cashier asked.

“He wants to buy these for me,” Miriam said, with a slight laugh.

“Aren’t you lucky,” the cashier replied.

Miriam leaned in, “He’s the lucky one.”

She was right. I was very lucky. Lucky to have those 30 minutes with her in the store and lucky for the one month I got to know her. I bought her 17 pairs of shoes until she finally suggested we meet at a hotel.

I got there before her and checked in and waited.

She arrived wearing yoga pants, a t-shirt and running shoes. Still hot as ever.

I wasn’t sure exactly what she had in mind for our date, but I was open to anything. I hoped she wanted this as much as I did. I think she did because she motioned for me to lay on the floor. She stood on my hand in her sneakers and used the other sneaker on her heel to pop her foot out. All her weight crushed my hand as she removed her shoes. I thought she might do the other shoe with my other hand, but she did the same, crushing it even more.

Then she stood beside me and pushed her foot into my chest, shifting her weight back and forth. She walked across my stomach, my arms, my legs, multiple times. I felt my body sinking deeper into the floor and the sensation of my body being flattened out.

Then she asked me to roll over up against the wall. I did, with my back on it.

She laid down on the floor making a T with her feet against my stomach. She reached into her yoga pants and touched herself. As she moved she would press her feet into me, one and the other. She moved her feet lower and pressed against my erection as she moved her hand. She never looked at me, just kept her feet in constant contact and kept rubbing herself harder and faster. When she orgasmed she pressed both feet with all her might into me, then stopped.

She laughed and pressed her right foot into my face for a few seconds before she stood.

That was the last time I saw her. She stopped replying to my emails and I kept placing the ads for women who wanted shoes but I never found anyone that would compare.

Brian

She walked by my house with her chubby legs and short shorts, hair as big as a rock star. I knew she lived on Curdy Court ‘cause I saw her get off the bus once. She walked by some days after school. I don’t know where she was going, or if she was just walking. But I watched her walk by from my window and got real excited.

I would never approach her in school. She probably didn’t even know I existed. She was always surrounded by friends. And she was smart. I wasn’t. So we didn’t share any classes.

The first time I called her I wasn’t really sure it was her that answered the phone ‘cause I never heard her voice before.

“I saw you walking by,” I said.

And she hung up on me.

My fingers were shaking when I dialed again.

“I like your legs.”

She laughed. “You just watch random girls walk down the street and call them?”

“No,” I said. “I watch you.

“How’d you get my number?”

I didn’t answer. Instead I thought about her legs and started touching myself. She didn’t hang up. She listened to me. I moaned a little and took some heavy breaths as I stroked. She kept listening.

“What’s your name?” I managed, in between strokes.

Silence.

I thought she hung up.

“Miriam,” she finally said.

I stroked harder.

“Oh fuck, Miriam,” I blurted out as I came all over myself.

I waited, to make sure she was still there.

“You’re disgusting,” she said. And hung up.

Bert

Miriam was in my Physics 101 Class. She was the sexiest, most confident girl I had ever seen. Not like all the other college girls. She was bigger than most of them, but she was comfortable with all the space she took up, like she needed that big body to hold everything that she was. I never saw her checking a mirror or fixing herself (not that she needed fixing). She just existed. And she was perfect.

I’m a nerd, and didn’t actually expect that Miriam would ever be interested in me. But I could not take my eyes off her and would try to get to class early to sit in the vicinity of her usual spot so I could stare.

I remember the first day she spoke to me. She said, “What?” Not like she was interested in what I wanted to say, it was more like she was annoyed that I was watching her and she said it with a snarl.

Of course I said nothing, just turned away.

I was all ready to scurry away after class when she approached me in the hallway.

“Are you good at chemistry?”

I did that stupid nerd thing where I looked around to see if she was actually talking to me.

“Yeah, you, who else is here?” she asked.

“Um, yeah, I’m good at chemistry.”

“Then you’re my lab partner.”

Wednesday was Lab Day. I felt nervous as all hell. She sat next to me without turning in my direction and did not even acknowledge my presence.

She let me do all the work setting up the experiment. Then I started to pour the potassium dichromate and she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Hard. So hard it hurt.

“Wrong,” she said.

She was right. I had grabbed the wrong thing. I fixed it and continued on.

I turned on the Bunsen burner.

Miriam leaned over and whispered, “I’d like to use that hot flame on you.”

In my dorm room I laid on the bed and watched as Miriam lit a candle. I didn’t care that it was cliche or that I was worried about the wax in my chest hair. I would have let Miriam do anything to me.

She poured wax directly on my nipples and laughed as I flinched. She poured it from my nipples down to my underwear. I reached down to take my underwear off. I wanted her to see my cock. I wanted the wax on it.

But she grabbed my hand and sat on it, her massive tush flattening it.

All I could think about then was her sitting on my chest, sitting on my face, sitting on my cock and flattening me. But I couldn’t find the words to ask her to do it. So I let her sit on my hand and drop circles of wax onto my skin.

And then later, as I peeled the wax off, I jerked myself off imagining her laying on top of me and crushing me with her weight. I imagined her body heat melting the wax, making it slippery and her sliding around on top of me. I could barely breathe as I came.

Stacy

I’ve always been attracted to women. But I’ve always dated men. Is it wrong that I close my eyes and imagine a woman’s pussy when I’m going down on a guy? I don’t even care if I’m a lesbian. I’m not homophobic. I just seem to gravitate towards the guys.

So I forced myself to come to this lebsian bar, still hesitant, but sitting here checking out the ladies.

Miriam was dancing when I saw her., cropped tight pants and a halter top, almost retro style. Cupcake is the word that comes to mind.

She noticed me checking her out and motioned for me to join her on the dance floor. I was grateful she made the first move because I would have sat at the bar all night looking at boobs.

But now I could touch some. Well not like grope or anything but I got right close up and pressed my skinny little body against her big one. She had mounds and curves and softness that I didn’t and it was so cool.

And she could dance. I got my legs right over her and rocked back and forth. It was turning me on big time.

I wanted to go home with her and strip her naked and touch her everywhere and grind on her until we both came.

“I want you to be my little pet for the night,” she said in my ear.

“I’ll do anything to be with you,” I instantly hoped it didn’t sound desperate.

“I know you will. And I intend for you to prove it.”

We went back to her place, a very nice apartment. I followed her in my car so we didn’t talk .

She made me a drink and led me to her living room.

“I want to tell you what to do. And I want you to obey, no matter what I say. How do you feel about that?”

“Good,” I said. It was a relief. That my first time with a woman I would be told what to do and wouldn’t worry if I was doing it right or not.

“Get undressed.” She watched me. She slipped her panties off but stayed dressed.

“Come here and kiss me, between my legs, like you were kissing a man.”

I did. My tongue got everything wet and I kissed.

“Do you want to kiss my nipples too?” She lifted her top over her head. Her heavy breasts fell and I eagerly knelt to kiss and fondle them.

She pushed my head away.

“I’m going to sit on your face now. Lay down.”

I obeyed.

She rode my face until she came. Wiped my wet face with her hand. I shook. So much woman. I was no longer turned on. I felt satisfied just by getting her off.

“Thanks, Sweetie,” she said, and gave me a drink. “You can get dressed now.”

I shut the door and walked to my car alone, legs still shaky.

Now when I’m with a guy I think about her pussy and the weight of her on my face.

fiction
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About the Creator

Bam Kizbee

I enjoy writing literary and erotic fiction, poetry, scripts and imaginary letters that explore power dynamics, BDSM, female superiority, FLR, feminism, peace, tolerance and politics. Subscribe and Follow. https://linktr.ee/bamkizbee

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