written by Unknown author
original source of the story was Unknown source
I have to tell you about what happened to me back in 1959, because I can’t let go of it. It’s still twisting my mind round and round. That was the year that I entered puberty, but I suppose even before that I had a thing for women’s feet. I also especially loved watching women crush things.
The memory that was seared into my mind was how my friend’s mom had crushed a large beetle. This was in San Antonio, Texas, in the summertime and believe me, the beetles there were huge–they could fly, too. My family and I were from back east and my dad was stationed in San Antonio with the army, so I had never seen beetles that size. They actually scared me. My friend’s mom did the deed right in front of me when I was arriving at my friend’s house just as she was coming out the front door.
All housewives wore high heels back then, it was the thing to do and she was no exception, especially since she was dressed to go out. As she said “Hi” and held the door open for me, one of those giant flying beetles landed on the concrete right in front of the two of us and started walking into her house. She just looked down and said, “Oh, let’s not let him in.”
Then, as I looked down between us, I saw her carefully covering the large lumbering insect with the sole of her very sexy high heeled pump. She leaned forward to apply all her weight, almost bumping into my face with her chest as she did so. The giant beetle crackled loudly and I saw rays of colored juice shoot out from under the sole of her shoe. I was standing so close to her that I was overwhelmed by the beautiful musk scent of her perfume as I watched her grind her sexy pointy toe back and forth again and again on the giant beetle like she was doing nothing more than putting out a cigarette. I hadn’t been ready for that. It just took my breath away. I couldn’t believe that she hadn’t hesitated for even a second because it was such a large beetle. But giant beetles were no big deal to her. She had lived in Texas all her life. As she stepped off of her victim and walked away I just stood there holding the door, watching he go and listening to her spike heels clicking loudly on the sidewalk.
Then I squatted down to get a closer look at the one quivering bug leg sticking out of the crushed goo that was all that was left of her little victim. I swallowed hard and entered the house. She had gone on her way without giving another thought to what she had done and probably forgot about it an hour later. But not me; those images were seared into my mind forever.
To this day, whenever I small musk I immediately recall that moment when I started looking down my friend’s mom’s long shapely stocking leg as it twisted back and forth–all the way down to her shiny black spike-heeled pump–watching as it mercilessly ground and ground and ground that helpless creature to death beneath the weight of a full-grown woman.