written by Unknown author
original source of the story was Unknown source
Some years ago my female neighbor at the time, Jenny, had no idea about my fetish for crush or women’s boots and shoes. We became good pals after I helped her sort out some issues with her car. She was a very attractive with a petite figure, sparkling blue eyes, longish brown hair and a gorgeous smile. Jenny’s love for sexy boots and shoes was a gift to me as she was almost always wearing them. And of course I set up Jenny as often as possible to crush and trample things under her wicked heels.
One particularly good set up happened on a clear Spring night after a long day of drizzles. I picked Jenny up for a dinner date and she appeared at the door as a vision of loveliness. She had on a red cardigan sweater which highlighted her breasts and a tight pair of blue jeans. Pulled up over her skinny jeans were Jenny’s favourite black knee high boots with three inch stiletto heels. She wore them often, to both her and my delight. The boot’s soles were yellow leather which had been blackened by months of use. Little did Jenny know these boots had already been secretly licked and worshiped when I was minding her place when she was away.
As I was waiting for her to finish getting ready I went out to her backyard for a smoke. That’s when I noticed a bunch of snails and slugs on the brick tiles of her patio. All of the rain during the day must have encouraged them to come out. My heart started to race at the thought of her squishing and stomping on them with her sexy high heel boots – it was too good an opportunity to pass up on. So I collected a few of the big ones and place them in the center of the pathway, knowing that she would have to walk over them to get to me.
After a few minutes I could hear her say she was ready. I told her I was just having a smoke out the back and that she should join me. I saw the back door open and heard the distinct sound of her high heel boots approaching down the path – click clack click clack. Then I saw her stop for a second and look down at a big snail right in front of her. Jenny picked up her right boot and slowly placed it on the snail’s shell. Then I heard a loud crack and crunching and grinding noises. Her little hips swung back and forth as she crushed the snail completely beneath her boot. She must have ground the snail 7 or 8 times, bearing down with all of her weight. No snail was going to survive that. Jenny said “I’ll teach you to enter my patio and eat my flowers!”.
I came closer to her so I could watch better and never took my eyes off of her gorgeous boots. I asked as innocently as possible “What you stepping on Jen?” She said “these fucking snails” as she stomped down hard onto another fat, juicy one which spurted out from both sides of her pointy toe. It gave me a great excuse to just stare at her boots. With another sharp step Jenny took out a third snail that was trying to get away. Jenny viciously stomped her boot a couple of more times and then slid her foot back, leaving a wet, greasy trail of mush and shell pieces. Her young, slim face looked up at me in utter disgust. At this point I was about to explode in my pants! Seeing her stomp on these poor creatures with no mercy was almost too much for me.
Obviously worked up, she snatched the lit cigarette from my hand and started to smoke while also grinding and crushing the other hapless snails into paste. Jenny didn’t speak a word – she was completely focused on her task. She was systematically crushing every snail she could see under her spike heeled boots. And each time she’d finish, only a wet spot would be left on the patio where the snail used to be. I said jokingly “Its no fun being a snail in Jenny’s backyard” (though I secretly longed to be one at that moment!). And with that comment she became even more determined and started seeking out the snails that I hadn’t even placed in the path. Every snail on a hard surface was eventually stepped on.
Then, with all of the visible snails completely squashed, she finally seemed to relax. Jenny took one last drag on her cigarette and then crushed it out and asked if I was ready to go. She gave her boots a quick wipe on the bricked pathway and we were on our way.
As I followed behind her I could not stop looking at her boots. When the evening was over I even found some tiny crushed shell fragments in the passenger’s side carpet of my car. What an incredible (and unknowing) crush mistress she was.