There’s a Reason Why They’re Red

From my position, propped up on my hands with Heather folded in half beneath me, I looked down into her upturned post-orgasmic face; so mild, contented, beautiful. Her breasts were barely covered by the short-sleeved cropped leather jacket that I had bought for her with the muttered condition “I want to fuck you in that”. The single button at the neck that had held it closed had sprung open at some stage in the proceedings.

Apart from that, her only other attire was the pair of bright crimson patent stilettos which were currently residing in the vicinity of my ears. I knew I was going to have to pull out of her sooner or later, but we had all evening, I was quite comfortable as I was for the time being and besides, it was going to be a pretty messy business. So I continued to gaze down at Heather as she gazed up at me.

Then the phone rang. The bloody phone rang.

I leaned back and unceremoniously plopped out of her. As Heather swung her leg to get clear of me and sit up to grab the phone, the tip of the stiletto heel raked across my chest, pretty much from my armpit to my navel.

“Oh my God, did I get you?” She asked anxiously when she’d finished the call.

“It’s only a flesh-wound” I replied in best Monty Python style. “It’s a good job those shoes are red, so the blood won’t show”.

Being patent leather, it should wipe off all right




As I mentioned before, I am currently undergoing training to become qualified as a sex therapist. In connection with this I would pleased to offer free advice on any questions or problems related to sex, personal relationships and related subjects.

I can be contacted by e-mail at eccles@privat.dk

Naturally all communications will be in absolute confidence. No details will ever be published on this blog or in any other place.