VEE. Michael and I had been seeing each other for just a few days short of a month. The relationship had not, at any point in time, advanced along sexual lines. Knowing someone and being compatible in all respects was first and foremost as far as I was concerned. If the relationship could flourish without sex, it would without a doubt be more stable with it. Sex, on the other hand, was nothing more than fucking if there was not a stable foundation of a relationship or a level of compatibility between the two people investing in it. Knowing Michael and being comfortable with who he was stood as the single most important thing to me in the development of our relationship. It was satisfying to get to know a man who was his own person and didn’t comply with what society expected him to be or become. Michael, by his admission and my careful observation, was truly his own person. This one thing, more than all other things combined, was certainly his most attractive quality.

My profession afforded me the ability to be exposed to all of what life offered regarding personalities and character of people. I had defended drug traffickers, firearms traffickers, murderers, financial criminals, and the occasional human trafficker. Some were innocent and some, although incapable of expressing it, were certainly guilty. I defended them all the same, and gave the best defense, as a matter of law, I could possibly offer. I never became friends with any of my clients, but I admired a few of them. Some had proven to possess an extremely high degree of moral fiber, character and confidence.

Michael, although somewhat of natural goofball, exceeded my expectation, hope, and had even set a new standard of comparison for me in regard to moral fiber and character. Being in his presence, now, was increasingly difficult. I wanted more of him. I yearned to have him sexually.

“So, you’re in business to sell shoes, right? You want to sell ‘em, not just display ‘em, right?” he asked the clerk.

“Well, yeah. We sell shoes. That’s what we do. These are the display models,” the clerk responded as he waved his arms over the display.

“Well, how in the fuck you suppose you’re gonna sell a pair of tangerine Chuck’s if you ain’t got a pair of tangerine Chuck’s?” he placed his hands on his hips, cocked his head to the side and waited for a response.

“Well, I suppose we won’t. We can order them. We have all of these in stock. The tangerine ones are sold out,” the clerk apologized as he waved his hands in front of the display.

“Well, you should take ‘em off the little rack. It’s like false advertising,” he said as he lifted the single tangerine shoe from the display and handed it to the clerk.

“I like the mint ones,” I said softly.

“Which ones are mint?” he asked.

“That sir, would be these,” the clerk sighed as he lifted the mint shoe from the display.

“That’s green,” Ripp said as he stared at the shoe.

“Mint is green, sir,” the clerk responded as he tried to refrain from laughing.

“Well you don’t have to be a little prick about it,” Ripp said through his clenched teeth.

As Ripp turned toward me, I shrugged, “I like them.”

“Well, bring us a six in that color,” he demanded as he sat down on the bench in front of the display.

“Do you like them?” I asked.

“Yeah, they’re alright. I’ll see what they look like on your feet,” he responded as he patted the bench beside where he sat.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I turned to sit on the bench.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Just kind of blah. You know?” he said as he rested his chin in between his thumb and forefinger.

Eagerly, I sat beside him and inched close enough to allow our thighs to touch. Having him touch me in any way allowed me to feel a degree of safety which was difficult for even me to explain. It wasn’t necessarily his size, although his size helped. More of what made me comfortable was the knowing - knowing he would never let anything happen to me, no matter what. In Michael’s physical presence, I felt as if I, too, was invincible.

“Not a virgin for much longer,” I said as I looked down at my sandals.

“Excuse me?” he said over his shoulder.

“A Chuck’s virgin. Not for much longer,” I smiled.

“Oh, yeah. It’s exciting. They’re the best shoe ever,” he said as he raised his foot in the air and inspected his shoe.

“Here you go,” the clerk said as he placed the box in front of my feet.

“I brought you a pair of socks to try them on with,” he said as he handed me a pair of foot stockings.

I nodded at the clerk and opened the box. After taking off my sandals and pulling on the stockings, I removed the shoes from the box, slipped my feet into them, and laced them snug. As I stood, Michael looked down at my feet and slowly stood up. He raised his right hand to his chin and looked up and down my frame, smiling. As I walked through the store, I was pleasantly surprised at the comfort of the simple sneaker - it felt as if I were barefoot. The shoe was light and comfortable, with minimal support and maximum comfort. As I walked in front of Michael, he smiled and slowly raised his eyebrows.

“I love them,” I said.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I continued to admire the shoes.

“I’m fine, let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said nervously.

“Did I miss something? Did something happen?” I asked.

“Something’s gettin’ ready to happen,” he said as he pointed his index finger at my face and shook it.

“What’s going on?” I asked, uncertain of what had changed, but something clearly had.

He leaned close to me, lightly placed his hand on my neck and moved his mouth to my right ear. As his left hand brushed my hair away from my face, his warm breath caused goose bumps to rise along my upper arm.

“I’m done, Vee. I’m fucking done. I’m done not fucking you. From this day forward, I’m not going to spend one single day not fucking you. Now Vee, right fucking now, if you’ve got something to say about this, say it,” he paused and squeezed my neck with a little more force.

Silently I stood there, unaware of everything else around me. For an instant, the entire world consisted of four things; Mike Ripton, me, the thought of his ten inches of pierced cock, and my now dripping pussy.

“That’s what I thought,” he breathed into my ear, “that’s what I fucking thought. This little pussy of yours…”

He reached down with his left hand and tapped his fingers against my soaking wet pussy.

“That’s mine. My pussy. Now,” he whispered as he squeezed my neck a little more aggressively, “tell me who’s fucking pussy you’re carrying around with you.”

I swallowed, or at least attempted to swallow the dryness which had developed in my throat. My lips parted as my eyes fell closed.

“Yours,” I squeaked in an almost inaudible tone.

“Say it like you fucking believe it, Vee. Convince me,” he grunted into my ear.

I squeezed my thighs together and bent my knees. The whispering, his hands, his presence, his size, the thought of what may become of this; it was simply more than I was prepared for. I stood, soaked, not knowing what had happened to my will, my ability to resist womanly desires or my lack of necessity for having sex. At that particular moment, he could have fucked me in the shoe store. I wanted that. Gradually, his hand released some of the pressure on my neck.

Oh God, no. Don’t stop.

As if he knew what I desired, the pressure of his grip on my neck slowly increased.

“Where’s your head, Vee?” he growled.

The warmth of his breath caused goose bumps to rise on my legs. I shivered. Confused, horny and soaked from my pussy to mid-thigh, I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again.

“Uhhm,” I stammered.

“Who’s little pussy is this,” his said as his left hand slapped against my pussy.

“It’s yours, Ripp. That’s your pussy,” I sighed.

“And, the last question, Vee. Starting today, what are we going to do?” his lips touched my ear as he spoke.

“Whatever you want to, just name it,” I breathed.

He released my neck from his grasp, slid his hand to my face, and formed his thumb and index finger along my jawline. As I opened my eyes, he kissed me. The kiss wasn’t long, nor was it overly aggressive. It was, in my wholehearted belief, the most passionate kiss I have ever had in my life.

“You’re mine, Vee. Starting today. You are fucking mine,” he said as our lips parted.

I nodded, and as with all things Mike Ripton, I knew he meant it.

He looked down at my sandals and up at the clerk; who had moved fifteen feet away from the display of shoes. Perfectly, Michael kicked the empty box from where he stood across the floor to within a few inches in front of the clerk’s feet. As the sales clerk looked down at the empty box, Michael individually kicked my sandals to the exact same spot.

“She’ll wear ‘em out, box up the sandals, bro,” he said flatly.

The clerk picked up the box and placed my sandals in it.

“I’m going to fuck you in those shoes, Vee,” he said over his left shoulder.

“Okay,” I squeaked.

Mike Allen Ripton.

Holy fuck.