Welcome to Bed Shoe Diaries…

Posted in About with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 18, 2008 by Kitty Stiletto

Warning: This blog contains content of an adult nature.Strictly no under 18′s. 

This blog is dedicated to my ever-growing obsession with shoes he wants you never to remove, shoes you never want to remove…and not because your feet look like they’re perfect for climbing trees or digging for lost treasure, but because they’re soooo damn sexy on! You’ve heard it before: shoes speak volumes about the wearer, and so besides musings about the multitude of glorious (and less than glorious ) heels and other sexy things around us, I’ll have a go at what they’d say…       

Welcome to Bed Shoe Diaries…

mystyletto@gmail.com

A new facebook group has been set up for Bed Shoe Diaries:

http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=31705110846

It’s still very basic, but please feel free to join.

I’ve had a few questions as to whether I really do exist or if I’m a pot-bellied beer-drinking hirsute man pretending to be a sexy mistress…and some of you apparently need me to prove that I’m not.Not one to turn down a dare, watch this space for more Kitty Stiletto pics…  

Follow me on twitter : kitty_stiletto

xxx

NEW BLOG:Kitty Stiletto plays MakeBelieve

Posted in Uncategorized on April 18, 2011 by Kitty Stiletto

Check out my new blog kittystiletto

Welcome to Kitty  Stiletto plays MakeBelieve.

Which one of  us girls (and guys) didn’t like a bit of make believe when we were growing up? How much fun wasn’t it being an Arabian Princess, Cinderella, Snow White etc when we were little girls? We could conquer the world being queen for a day. The thing is, somewhere along the road, many of us stop playing make believe. We’re too old or too grown up or just too scared.

Well I say f**k that.

This is Kitty’s glitterbox where I dig in to all sorts of fabulous make up, hairstyles, fashion and, as the site says, play make believe. And hopefully inspire you to play make believe too.

After all, if you could conquer the world as Barbie when you were 10, imagine what you can do as Brigitte Bardot, Audrey Hepburn, Rihanna, Angelina or even Cleopatra for a day.

What are you waiting for? Come play with me.

xxx

Kitty

Lived out my nine lives?

Posted in bed shoe diaries on January 4, 2011 by Kitty Stiletto

So I know it’s been forever, and those of  you beautiful peeps who have read my posts might have wondered what happened to me..or not, lol .Either way, I have been around, relocated, a bit unemployed, changed my hair colour, bought more shoes and…

OH MY GOD, MY NEW HEELS!!!

So this is a land of REALLY bad make-up (like, did they not hear of ‘blend’ and ‘subtle’ around here?) , REALLY bad hair (Girl, did yo mama let you out the house looking like THAT?) and REALLY bad style (Girl, did yo daddy let you out the house looking like THAT?), but one thing they do have in this plastic oasis is gorgeous shoes!!! Yes, if you’re willing to sell your soul a bit, you can get some awesome sole in return. :) Not such a bad compensation for being surrounded by everybody else’s  SO MUCH FUCKING BAD TASTE HOW’D THEY FIT IT ALL IN ONE CITY??

So to start off a newish year on a sexy note, have a peek at my betty boops, as I call them.

More soon.Promise.No really.

xxxx

ks

Fables Erotica: Interlude

Posted in bed shoe box, bed shoe diaries with tags , , , , , , , , on March 17, 2009 by Kitty Stiletto

Read Stacy’s story: Would you be my Valentine 

 

They spent the whole night making love in the room?”“Why are you surprised Sultan?” Scheherazade teased the Sultan.

“Didn’t her friend look for her? They couldn’t have been there the whole night. ” the Sultan said, slightly annoyed.

“When there are countless ways to please your lover, then one whole night without sleep is nothing.” Scheherazade said, taking a sip of the sweet wine in her crimson and gold goblet. The sultan leaned in and whispered to her.

“Perhaps you should tell me of these ways.” He said, kissing her forcefully on her soft lips. She moved her hand down to his stomach, tracing a pattern to his crotch, stopping just short of his swollen cock. He breathed in sharply.

“Since you so graciously asked, My Sultan, I shall tell you. It happened the night after the masked ball. The night the entire city experienced a black-out.”

“A black-out?”

“Yes, but regardless of the lack of electricity,  it already was a dark and stormy night.”

Read Sky’s story: In the tower lived a princess

 

“We should have a fireplace in the palace. Why do we not have one?” The Sultan asked one of the maidens.

She shrugged her shoulders, with a blank expression painted on her face.

“Because it never gets cold enough for a fire?” Another maiden eagerly offered.

“Cold has nothing to do with it, much like Scheherazade’s story.”

“I’ve always loved fireplaces, it’s a good place for-“

“Making love?”

She smiled. “Right you are my sultan, but also a good place for telling stories, and much like making love, you don’t need a reason for it.”

“This palace will not go another night without a fireplace.”

Fables Erotica: Preludes

Posted in bed shoe box, bed shoe diaries with tags , , , , , , on February 26, 2009 by Kitty Stiletto

 The centurion looked at the sleeping maiden, planting butterfly kisses all over her face, kissing her through her sheer robes. She began to stir, but her eyes were still closed, and she pulled him closer to her, her body arching towards him.  She moaned as he kissed her deeply, grabbing at him in her slumber. The centurion ran his hands over her ample breasts, down her soft skin, to the hot aching place between her legs. He moved his eager mouth down her body, massaging her breasts as he opened up her white robe, parting her legs as he explored the tuft of golden hair, waiting for him like the sweetest fruit, ripe for plucking.

“Oh how I’ve missed the taste of you!” He said as went down on her, his tongue thrusting into her already wet pussy.

She opened her eyes, gasping from the sensations spiralling through her body.

“Antonio, my darling love! I thought I had lost you forever!” She cried out, joyously, and pulled him up from between her legs, as they embraced.

“My sweet Julietta, I would defy death to be with you, don’t you know that?” The blonde Julietta cried tears of happiness and relief to have her Antonio back.

“Remember the last time we were together you said: make love to me like there is not tomorrow.” Antonio smiled and shook his head, removing his uniform. They stood naked, staring at each other as if they couldn’t believe their eyes. Antonio lifted her in his arms, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her and carried her out of the room.     

 The music started to play, and the small group got up to leave the dark theatre.

 “Well, this sucks!” A tall blonde guy at the door said. Asia looked at Jason who shrugged his shoulders, as confused as her.

“It’s locked.”

“What?” the rest asked.

“It can’t be locked,” a dark-haired guy said, looking very annoyed as he tried his hand at the door.

“I told you.”

“Well, I’ll go look for an attendant. Someone has to be here. Coming babe?” Asia hooked him in as they went to look for help. There was no one at the front desk.

“Maybe we should go look in the projector booth? It’s worth a try.” He walked behind her, watching the way the silky pink fabric of her dress clung to the curves of her body as she moved up the steps. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from her body, wanting to touch her, feel her naked skin against him. Her kisses earlier the evening, and feeling her breath against his neck and the heat between her legs as he fondled her, drove him insane with lust. He wanted her, wanted to fuck her.

Asia

Exotic Asia

 

 

He watched as her voluptuous ass stop swaying as she reached the top step.

The room was dark except for the light streaming in from the projector.

“Hello. We’re locked in. Can you maybe let us out of the theatre?” Her husky voice echoed in the projector room. They had to keep their eyes shaded as the light from the projector made visibility difficult. Jason smiled, looking at the shaft of light with the thousands of smoky dust particles dancing in its stream.

“What’s so funny?”

“My dad used to work in one of these back in the early days. I loved the place, used to get lost for hours, watching movies in the light, as I used to call it.”

“Cinema Paradiso?”

“Wow, not many people I know have seen the movie.” Jason pulled her up close to him, wanting her to feel his growing erection.

“That’s why you’re so damn sexy. We can talk…about anything.”

She laughed “It doesn’t feel like you want to talk right now! What are you doing? We’re going to get caught. The projectionist-“

“I don’t think there’s anyone here.” He said, as he removed the straps of her dress and trailed his tongue along her neck, down to between her breasts.

“Jason, are you sure?”

“I think he would’ve moved by now.”

Jason slipped the dress off her body and it fell in a silky pink pool around her slender ankles. He pushed her up in front of the projection box. Except for pink stilettos, she was totally naked. As he bent down in front of her, he looked up, and her entire silhouette was blacked out against the light.

“You look like an onyx angel, suspended in the light.”

She smiled at his words.

“God you’re sexy, you taste divine.” He said, spreading her pussy lips with his fingers and tongue. Asia arched her back, taking in the pleasure of his tongue on her hot, slick pussy.

Her phone rang and reluctantly she answered.

“Hey, no we didn’t have any luck. There’s no one around, it looks like we’re stuck here for the night. Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea. Let us know if there’s any news. Oh, okay. Thanks babe.”

“Misty?” Jason asked as she ended the cal.

“Yeah, she said they’re going to make some calls, see if there’s anyone who can get us out before morning. And they’ll probably hang out in the theatre again in the meanwhile.” 

Asia got dressed. “What’s this?” She said looking at a film reel that had rolled to her feet while they were getting frisky.

               Bed Shoe Diaries:Fable Erotica by Kitty Stiletto 

“Bed Shoe Diaries. Why does that sound familiar?” Asia said out loud, with a frown on her face, testing her memory.

“Red Shoe Diaries? You know that series with David Duchovny reading sex scenes.” Jason offered.

“No, I mean, I think it is a play on that, but Misty was saying something about shoes and sex and-“

“No kidding!”  He smirked. Asia pulled a face at Jason who winked at her. He picked up the reel and moved to the projector.

“What are you doing?” Asia asked, flattening her tufted black hair, and reapplying some gloss to her naturally rosy lips.

“Well, there’s only one way to pique your curiosity.”

“You know how to work this thing? Can we do that?”

“Told you, my dad used to bring me into the projection room it doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere tonight, and seeing as we are at a cinema, we might as well watch a movie.”  

Jason hooked the reel to the projector, and shortly afterwards the movie started playing.

 The scene opened on a darkened room, punctured with pillars draped with silk in reds, oranges, deep pinks and soft gold. Ornate ruby lamps hung from the ceiling, giving a intimate warm glow to the room. In the centre of a raised platform sat a regal-looking man, dressed like a Sultan, on his low throne.  At his feet were scattered hundreds of silk and velvet pillows in tones of red and orange and pink, covering the rest of the platform and spilling down the steps to the ground level. A dozen or so women covered in nothing but whispers and veils, reclined on the cushions at the foot of the throne, visibly mesmerised. Their attention was not held by the strapping Sultan though, who sat equally entranced in his royal robe that covered nothing but the throne and only emphasized the size of his crown jewels and the cock ring adorning it.   

 “Hey, isn’t that that Prison Break dude? What’s he doing in the Arabian Nights?”

“It’s not Wentworth Miller.” Asia said, barely taking her eyes off the screen.

 The camera zoomed in on the object of everyone’s attention.

She had long, glossy hair the colour of night, and honey-brown eyes, she was wearing an ornate costume, which consisted of nothing but gold jewellery around her neck, on her nipples, a belly ring, as well as a gold crocheted g-string. She wore gold roman stiletto that went right up to her thighs. She’d occasionally play with a scarf as she spoke to the strapping bald-headed sultan.

 “Go on Scheherazade, what happened to the girl in the tower?” The Sultan asked, clearly aroused.

“That’s a story for another night, My Beloved Sultan.”

“No, you will tell me now!” He leaned forward, grabbing her chin in his hand. 

  “What do they give these guys? He looks like he has a permanent erection.”

“Whatever it is, they should bottle it and sell it.” Asia said, eyes still peeled on the sultan.

Jason wrapped his arm around her waist and pushed his hardened cock against her ass.

“Oh really? A permanent erection? You think you could handle that?” He teased.

“I could die trying.” Asia said, laughing throatily.

 Scheherazade leaned back and stretched out a long shapely leg, seductively brushing the Sultan’s thigh with her heels.

He pulled her up to him, wanting to kiss her, but she turned her face so his lips landed on her cheek. She sat back down on the pillows, while two of the harem women caressed her, kissing her neck, while another bent down and put her face in between Scheherazade’s parted legs. The sultan got up from his throne, in an obvious rage, cock still erect and throbbing.

“Enough!”

“Of course, my sultan, but you will never know what happened to the girl in the tower, or Miss Valentine and her masquerade.

The Sultan stopped in his tracks. “Who’s Miss Valentine?”   

 Scheherazade smiled, watched the Sultan narrow his eyes as he looked at her, and sat down on his throne once more. She began her story: 

And I’m back, in cyberspace…

Posted in bed shoe box, bed shoe diaries with tags , , , , on February 26, 2009 by Kitty Stiletto

Hey sexy peeps,

Apologies for not visiting this space recently, there’s this thing called life which sometimes pushes its busy head in the way. Anyway, I hope you all forgive me, I am slowly getting back into the swing of stories.

 

Hope you enjoy today’s post, some of it might sound familiar.

xxx

kitty

WISHING YOU A KITTY CHRISTMAS!

Posted in bed shoe box, bed shoe diaries with tags , , , , on December 24, 2008 by Kitty Stiletto

 

KITTYCARD

KITTYCARD

Max Mission & The Lady Caramel

Posted in bed shoe diaries with tags , , , , , , , , , on December 11, 2008 by Kitty Stiletto

 

Max Mission takes a last drag on his cigarette before squashing it into the overflowing ashtray.

“Night Joe,” he winks at the bartender as he makes a move to leave the bar. And then he sees her. She is without doubt one of the most beautiful creatures he’s laid eyes on, and also one of the loneliest. He watches her for a few moments, certain if he moves she will vanish like the thinning smoke from his dying cigarette.

Joe looks at him knowingly but says nothing.

 Her skin is smooth: the colour reminds him of a crème caramel he’d tasted on another night like this. Her hair is pure white, like a displaced Lana Turner. She sits with her eyes close, chin resting in her hands, oblivious to the world around her. His eyes linger on her shapely legs, dressed in seamed stockings, heels almost too high to walk on. He thinks about what she looks like when she walks. She walks from her hips, he decides: somebody that looks like that can only move like that. He has heard about her. He makes his way to her.

Real Lady Caramel

Real Lady Caramel

 

 

“Is it true, you think, if we keep our eyes closed long enough the music just melts into the background?” He asks, sitting opposite Lady Caramel. The pianist is still tinkering away on his piano even though no one’s listening.

“He doesn’t care, does he, playing for no one really.”

“There’s someone. When you play like that, there’s always someone.” She says. He knows she is right.

“Is there always someone?” he asks.

She doesn’t open her eyes, answering. “I’m still waiting.”

He smiles; she is making this too easy.

“What are you waiting for?” He asks.

“You think you’ll come over, as you are leaving, just by the way, because I catch your eye, because I intrigue you, and I’ll say: I don’t know, you tell me.” She almost whispers, her smoky voice increasing the heat of the heady night. The sound sticks to his ears like sweat after a quick hard fuck. She opens her eyes. Max blinks. Her eyes are extraordinary. Black magic lay in their dark depths, and she knows. He likes this magic: he is Max Mission, after all.

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell me.”

She looks at him, deeply and says: “I am. I am going to tell you what’s going to happen. I am waiting to die.” She says it matter of fact, as though she were waiting for a bus that was running late.

“Oh,” Max can’t think of anything appropriate to say. He’d always been well-equipped with charming responses, quick on his feet, but he’d never yet met a young woman who was waiting to die, matter of fact, and more so, an unusually beautiful woman. She could only die young.

She leans over with her smoke and he lights it up for her, both of them aware of the intimacy of this intricate dance of smokers, conspirators in lust, in poison, in addiction. He looks at her closely, feeling guilty as she inhales the toxic stick as though her life depended on it.

She notices his hesitation and shakes her head.

“Don’t worry, it’s not cancer, and anyway, if it were, it’s not like one more smoke would’ve made a difference.”

“Some people would argue-“

“Some people should get a life.” She takes the cigarette out of her ruby mouth, the lipstick stains like blood on a white bandage, and as she gets up she puts the smoke in his mouth. Her neck scarf trails along his shoulders as she languidly strolls to the staircase.

He removes the cigarette, looks at it, and watches her glide up the stairs, slowly, deliberately, snaking her way up, every move a show case for the audience.

“What did you go do that for?” He holds up the cigarette.

She turns her face very slightly to the side.

“In some countries it’s called foreplay.” She says before continuing up the stairs and disappearing behind a door.

“One day, Max, you’re going to tell me how you do it.”

“Just a man with a mission Joe, a man with a mission,” Max says as he gets up, winks at the barman who nods as Max puts a plump envelope on the table and makes his way upstairs.

The lights are dimmed, and all that is visible in the shaft of light filtering through the door is the naked silhouette of Lady Caramel on the bed, her legs laced in silk sheets, her skin enchanted with delicate perfume. She lay on her side, head leaning in her slim hand, black magic eyes catching the glimmers of light. They don’t say anything. He moves to the bed, unwrapping her from beneath the sheets like she had ‘Handle with Care’ stamped on her skin.

He runs his hands down her warm silky skin, vital under his fingers. Her breasts are full and heavy as he cups them in his hand, he sighs with satisfaction.

“A perfect fit.” She whispers as he trails his mouth along her slender neck.

“My hands are big.”

“Are you complaining?” She teases.

“Au contraire, Lady Caramel. May I call you that?” He says with his mouth on her breast, rolling her coffee coloured nipple in his mouth, feeling it harden. The sensation shoots straight to his already bulging cock. He shifts on the bed, to a more comfortable position.

“Does it matter? I won’t be here in the morning.” She feels his urgency, and reaches down to between his legs, touching his erection through the pants. He moves away from her, holding her so she can’t touch him.

“Why not?”

“That’s the very same thing Eve asked, and we know how the story ends,” Max moves his hands down below her navel to the soft mound of her pussy, feeling the heat between her legs. He cups his hand around her already wet heat, and moves his mouth to cover hers, but finds her fingers pressed between their lips.

“Yours aren’t the last lips I want to remember.”             

  “Oh yes, I forget, you’re dying tonight.” He kisses her face, her neck, down her body, trailing kisses along her skin down to between her legs, lingering, his tongue massaging and sucking her slick hot pussy, drinking her sweet, spicy juices before moving up to her mouth again. Again she denies him. He wants it even more now that she denies him, but every time he tries to kiss her lips, she stops him. As much as Max hates being denied, he understands what no means. He pulls her close to him, and she struggles to hold him, like a knotty clinch between ex-lovers. 

“We both know why you’re here. Do it,” she whispers in his ear. Max holds her tighter, shocked.

“How did you know?”

“I told you, I’m waiting.”

“You knew all this time, and still?”

“What better way to die than in the arms of a lover?” She looks at him, holding his face in her tiny hands.   

Max kisses her as he thrusts the knife in, quickly, and pulls it. He cleans the knife and puts it back in the ankle strap. He closes the window, looks down at the dishevelled sheets on the bed. He shrugs his shoulders knowing Joe will do a good job. Max picks up Lady Caramel’s cigarette and walks out of the room.

“Lovely shade of lipstick,” he says, putting it back in his mouth and lighting it. A threadlike trail of smoke lingers as he leaves the bar.   

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