She has her feet up and her legs parted. Her skirt’s up round her waist. Today she’s doing things properly, using a ribbed pink vibrator to administer pleasure to herself. As always, whenever he glances at her, he’s not looking at the spot where the toy teases out a trickle of moisture, but at the red lace-up ankle boots on the dash.

She senses movement and hears the sound. “Where are you going?”

He doesn’t answer, but pulls off the main road. They’re on a country lane passing through undulating fields. She tries again. “We’ll be late.”

“There’s plenty of time,” he says, navigating two sharp bends before finding a place to pull over. “Take off your boots and get out.”

“I hope you’re not planning on leaving me here.” But she knows he isn’t. Of course he isn’t. Reluctantly she puts the toy back in the glove compartment before removing the shiny footwear, wishing the ground was a little softer on her bare feet as she stands by the vehicle.

He rounds the car, running his eyes up and down her for a minute. Her top is cut low, and he can easily yank it down, exposing her breasts to the bright sunlight. The black, faux-leather mini-skirt is quickly dispatched. There’s a sound from the field in front of her. “I think we might be scaring the sheep,” she smiles.

There’s no reply. He’s reaching into the car to bring out the red ankle boots. Having used the laces to tie them together, he hangs them round her neck. His mouth is inches from hers and she leans forward, but he ducks away, planting his lips not on her mouth, but on red leather.

“Baa-aaa-aaa!” one of the sheep says.

She giggles. “See, even the sheep think this is weird.”

There’s no reply; his lips busy with the red leather. He’s such a kinky sod, but somehow this perverse attachment to her footwear is a turn on for her. Fingers meet snatch, so that she can pick up where she left off with the toy. She checks his face for the signs of rapture as his lips touch the tapered heel. Then she checks the bulge in his trousers, wondering how he can bear to keep it inside.

“Baa-aaa-aaa!” The sheep are moving gingerly towards the barbed wire fence. She scans the area, seeing no signs of human life.

“I won’t faint if you take your cock out,” she says. “But I can't vouch for the farm animals.”

She rubs two fingers against her clit, watching him extract his swollen girth. At this point any normal man would spin her round and roger her from behind up against the car. Knowing that he’s not a normal man, she grabs the red boots, angling them so that sharp heels meet hard nipples. She watches his Adam’s apple, the way he swallows hard. Oh yes, he’s loving it! He leans in, his lips caressing the red leather as she continues the coarse treatment of her hard nubs.

A sense of frustration reasserts itself. Besides, the sheep are eyeing her quizzically and she doesn’t like it. She pulls away, bending over to stick her head in the car. There can be no clearer sign of what she wants, but she knows that there’ll be a twist. He’s behind her, his cock firm against a buttock. He’s reaching for the boots, pulling them round.

The laces tighten on her throat as he penetrates her. She can imagine his oral boot-worship behind her, but all she really cares about now is that he uses his hard cock to his fullest ability.

“Baa-aaa-aaa!” It’s a chorus of sheep. Never mind.

“Just fuck me,” she gurgles, feeling the laces chafe her skin. “Pump me full!” As she reaches back to re-engage her clit with her fingers she can feel the first stirrings of a mind-blowing climax. She moans, he moans, sheep bleat. With his dick slamming into her and the menacing laces on her throat she rubs and slaps her clit, feeling that there’s no such thing as too rough.

She thinks the high-pitched squeal might frighten the sheep, but their bleating sounds positively voyeuristic. He slows as she tightens, so she cries out, “No! Don’t stop! Fuck me and cum in me!” Then comes the explosion as he speeds up again. Dimly she can still feel the laces molesting her throat as he twitches, expelling a torrent of semen deep inside her.

She realises that the laces have gone, that he’s removed the boots. Something’s going on, but she’s in too much of a daze to fathom what. At least at first. Then she realizes that he’s opening her up. She feels leather between her thighs, the rim of a boot, then his semen trickling back out of her.

He’s a pervert, but he’s her pervert. She turns on command. He’s holding the red boots, offering her one of them. “Drink!”

She watches as he tilts the boot, seeing the semen she’s just expelled as a little pool in the heel. She opens her mouth and extends her tongue. “Baa-aaa-aaa!” one of the sheep says. She hopes it’s not being traumatised.

He holds the boot above her face. Semen slowly dribbles onto her tongue, which she curls to make sure the thick fluid slowly but surely makes its way to and down her throat. There’s delight in his eyes, and when she’s swallowed everything there is to swallow, she sees that he’s as hard as he ever was.

She takes the boots and hangs them from her neck again, offering them to him. “Name your pleasure,” she breathes. “Cum in my other boot and make me drink from it or wear it, or whatever you like.”

He looks tempted, but says, “Not now; we don’t want to be late, do we?”

“Baa-aaa-aaa!” the sheep agree, as one.