2 comments/ 14563 views/ 3 favorites New Shoes By: The Fisherman Alex had many passions. Among them were shoes. And she did have beautiful feet to show them off. Narrow size eight and a half with a high arch. Too bad her Master didn't have a foot fetish. He did appreciate her feet. There wasn't a part of Alex that wasn't beautiful to him, or to most men who saw her. From her silky blonde hair, to her ocean blue eyes, and perky breasts with nipples larger than a primary school pencil eraser. And an ass most girls a generation younger would die for. Tomorrow was their anniversary of the first time they met in person. Master was good about remembering such things. He had already told her to have her schedule cleared for the day, and to be at the nail shop at nine for a pedicure. He had made the appointment, and paid in advance. She was a pampered little pet. It was a Saturday in early October and the first cold front of the year had swept through Kentucky leaving a freshness to the air. Alex nursed her coffee as she opened her email. One was from Master telling her to come over after the pedicure and let herself in. He would be in soon. And there would be a box on the kitchen table for her with a note attached. During the pedicure, she let her mind drift back in time to the last time she was with her Master. His creativity amazed her. No two days were ever quite the same. Sometimes he would take her hard and fast just as the door shut behind them. Other times he would tease her for what seemed like hours before letting her cum. And even though he had just turned forty-eight, he had the sex drive of a college student. She was always sore, but smiling the next day. Alex had to remind herself to slow down as she drove to his house. She knew he wouldn't be there, but that didn't matter. Just to be where they created so many memories was thrilling to her. And there was the box. She wondered what it could be. For her birthday he got her a French corset and stockings. And then he made her accompany him to Firebricks where he picked out matching panties and had her say "Thank you, Master," in front of the young clerk. Thank God they were out of town at the time. She was hoping he'd be there when she arrived at his house. It had been a week since they were together. She hurried into the kitchen to see what he left. It was a shoe box with a note taped to the lid. She opened the box. Black Antonio Melani stiletto heeled shoes. She pulled the box to her nose to smell the Italian leather. Then she read the note. "My Darling pet. Another year has come and gone. So today we celebrate. Take your shoes down to the green room. Once you get there, remove all your clothing and put the shoes on. You'll see two chalk circles on the floor. I want your feet inside the circles as you face the fireplace. Relax and I'll be there very soon." Your loving Master. The Green Room was his basement. You have to enter a key code to enter. Only Alex and Master have the code. She hurried down and punched in the code. As soon as she entered, she noticed the wooden platform in the middle of the floor. It was four feet by four feet and six inches high. In the center, between the two chalk marks, was a cock shaped vibrator raised six inches above the platform on a short brass pole. She quickly undressed and stacked her clothes neatly in a chair and took her place above the dildo. She was curious to say the least, but also accustomed to his kinky and creative ways. She checked the left wall for any changes. That's where he hung all his toys. Various whips, floggers, bondage gear, vibrating toys, canes, and crops. Some she loved, some she feared, and many she hadn't even been introduced to yet. Throughout the room there were assorted pieces of bondage furniture he had made himself. The room was soundproof, so she didn't hear his footsteps. Not until the keyless entry clicked and he entered the room. "Ah, a vision of loveliness. Hands on ankles, pet." She was thrilled at the sound of his voice. Early on, she would have been a little upset at such a greeting, preferring a hug and a kiss, but that was not Master's way. She resisted the urge to look at him through her legs. She felt something cold and slick applied between her spread buttocks. "Another present, pet. A new pink buttplug just a fraction larger than your personal one." She felt the tip of the plug open her up slightly, then stop. "Now pet, I want to you say 'my ass is for your pleasure, Master' three times slowly." "My ass is for your pleasure, Master. My ass is for your pleasure, Master. My ass is for oh God Yes, mmm for your pleasure, Master," she moaned as it slid deep to the flange. "Now, stand up straight and put your hands behind your head." She wished she could look into his eyes, but kept her eyes cast downward as he enjoyed her beauty. He gently lifted her chin and brushed her hair away from her face. Then he grabbed the back of her hair and pulled down until her neck was stretched and kissed her deeply on the lips. "I have missed you pet. Have you missed me?" "Terribly so, Master." Master left her briefly and dug through a drawer. He came back with a four-foot chain leash. At one end were two clothes pins each attached with a six-inch leather lace to the ring. The free end he clipped on his necklace. Her nipples were already hard from her excitement. He gave them both a few hard pinches before attaching both pins simultaneously. "For safely sake, you should take your shoes off now, pet. See the red button on the platform? I step on it and the vibrator starts. I want you to squat down on it when I give you the command. And suck my cock till I cum. When you need to cum, raise your hand and when you feel the pins remove you may cum. Cum at will after the first orgasm, but don't stop sucking my cock until I'm finished." She let out a moan as her very wet pussy swallowed the vibrator. She took his thick cock deep in her mouth. At that moment he stepped on the red button. As hard as she tried to concentrate on his cock, her pussy began to win the battle. He grabbed her head and began fucking her face. The feeling of having all three holes filled at once was almost more than she could handle. The vibrator hummed deep inside her pussy as his cock deep throated. He felt her moaning against the pressure of his cock as she fought the coming orgasm. Release was a moment away. She raised her right hand. He grabbed the chain and jerked off the pins. She screamed into his cock as the buttplug shot out her ass. Her juice began to puddle on the platform. The rest was just a burr. She couldn't remember if she had multiple orgasms or if it was just one long one. It was all she could do to keep from biting him as he pounded to the back of her throat. She did remember his increasing moans right before he emptied into her mouth with a series of powerful squirts. "I have to go upstairs and make a phone call. I'll be back in ten minutes. There is bottled water in the fridge. By the time I get back I want you cuffed and collared and on the spanking bench." The play collar was an inch wide with three large rings that rested at the top of her breasts once she put it on. And then she put on the matching wrist and ankle restraints. They served two purposes. To prevent marking, she had a very public job, and also with the metal connectors he could restrain her in a matter of seconds in so many ways. The spanking bench had dense padding for comfort. It placed her in a doggie style position, but elevated so her pussy was the same height as the standing height of his cock. She grabbed a bottle and took a few long draws before positioning herself on the bench. The door clicked, and he entered. He fastened the D rings of the wrist restraints to the base of the bench. She felt his fingers on her sex, and shuddered, remembering the time he fingered her for an hour. That was pure torture. But then she felt the heat from his cockhead moving up and down her slit slowly, but not entering. "Tell me your required P.C. muscle exercise routine, pet." "One hundred contractions when I wake up. One hundred after lunch. Two hundred before I masturbate, and one hundred before I sleep. And for the duration of every red light when I'm in a car." "Very good, and what is the purpose of all the squeezing?" "To better serve and please my Master who is the rightful owner of his tight pussy," she said. "Very good. Now you can practice on my cock. I want one hundred. But you only have say out loud the tenth and every tenth one after. Do you understand?" "Yes Master." She closed her eyes and moaned as he drove his cock in deep. It felt so good to have him inside her. She began to squeeze and release counting them silently. "Ten Master." He held firmly to her hips pulling her tightly to him. "Twenty Master." "Thirty Master." "Hold on," he said, pulling out of her. "You are cheating. I expect maximum effort on each squeeze." "I am trying Master." "Well, trying isn't good enough. I don't want to feel any difference in effort between six, or twenty-eight, or seventy-seven. I give you one task and your mind wanders. It's time to spin the 3-D wheel." Master's 3-D wheel was a roulette wheel. But instead of numbers each slot contained one of four different spanking toys. Nine slots for the paddle, nine for the large hairbrush, nine for the cane, and nine for the tawse. The two green house numbers would give her a free pass, but she had yet to land on those and secretly wondered if it was rigged. "Since you are tied up, I'll spin it for you." He spun the wheel and she watched as the ball dropped in and hoped for green. All of the toys were evil in their own way, and she didn't have much of a preference. The ball dropped into a hairbrush slot. "Ah, the hairbrush, lucky you," he said. The hairbrush was wooden and a half in thick. The business end was three by four and a half inches. It was probably the mildest of the four, but its size meant that one buttock would get the full effect. She braced as he spanked each cheek four times and managed to not cry out. "I am feeling merciful and also wish to save your ass for some fun later. Tomorrow we will try this again and I expect a more consistent effort or you will spin again and I will show no mercy. Do you understand?" "Yes Master, I will do better tomorrow." "No more counting today. I am ready to fuck my pussy now. Is it ready for my cock?" "It is ready day and night, Master." He slid back inside her velvet slick pussy. The bench creaked with each viral stroke. She squeezed tightly on each in stroke. She was very wet. "Tell me you love my cock." "I love your cock, Master," she groaned. "Keep saying it, over and over, until you need to cum." "I love your cock, Master. Oh I love your cock, Master. I... love oh God your cock Master. I love your cock Master. I love , oh damn, your cock Master. I love cock Master.Oh may I cum, Master, please?" "No!" "I oh Love oh God, oh please, your cock. Please Master, I... love Oh GOD please Master let me cum!" "Fight it, Alex. Wait for your Master. Remember I own every inch of you and all of your orgasms. Squeeze my cock. Suck it off with your tightness." "Oh Master, oh damn yes I love your cock ohhh God yes fill my pussy with your cum. Please Master, fill me up. Fuck me harder. Oh God I can't hold on much longer." "Oh Alex, you feel so good. I'm almost there. Oh yes, cum with me." They came together in an orchestra of moans, groans, and grunts. Their cum mixing together and streaking down both her thighs. "Now, for some of my kind of fun, pet." Master lead her over to the Saint Andrews cross in the corner. It was made of sturdy oak and looked like a large six feet tall X. He clipped her wrist restraints high on the X and then her ankles to the bottom. She was facing into the cross with her back to him. Master stepped back to admire her pale curves against the dark wood. She heard the music start. Something classical she didn't quite recognize. She felt hands on her body. Down arms, back, buttocks, legs, as if he was seeing her with his hands. Then hands on her belly moving up to her breasts. Fingers locked on nipples and squeezed harder and harder until a sound was forced from her lips. A bite on her shoulder and then her neck. A whisper warm against her ear. "Relax, princess." She felt the riding crop drip slowly down her spine, between her buttocks, down one thigh and up the other. Tensing as he brought it up between her legs and spanked the swollen lips of her pussy. He spanked her ass a few times, not hard though. Dropping the crop, he spanked her with the full of his hand on each cheek several times. Almost teasing in a gentle way. And then she felt the string flogger that amused her the first time she saw it. True, it had little bite, but after five minutes it did flush and warm the skin of her upper back, buttocks, and thighs. "Yes, pet, we go slow. I want you oven roasted not microwaved." He grabbed the bison flogger. The delightful and distinctive sound of forty leather tails on flesh reverberated in the room. He worked her upper back, on each side, the floggings landing every second or so. The thuds finally found her ass. He flailed harder, hitting on the up and down stroke. He picked up a second flogger in his right hand and flogged each cheek at once in alternating figure-eights. Her once pale ass now a rosy red. She felt nothing but a peaceful numbness. Floating in and out of the moment. She was in a dreamlike state. He dropped the floggers and picked up the tawse. Two thick leather straps split down the middle, side by side, twelve inches long and then attached to a twelve-inch wooden handle. He smacked her across both cheeks six times. Her body reacted, but she barely made a sound. Then he went to the small four foot single tail. He cracked it to the side of her, then began throwing the popper against her skin, each time leaving a pencil mark thin red mark. He marked her back, buttocks and upper thighs. She remembered his voice speaking gently to her while she was still on the cross. But little of what he said. He freed her legs and then her wrists, and carried her to the king-sized bed. He laid her on her stomach and began rubbing an ice cube over her marks. Her ass was beet red from the tawse. And would turn partly to black and blue in spots over the next day or two. He pulled the sheet over her and cuddled up next to her until she fell asleep. New Shoes Jason was in a hurry. He just found out he had an out of town meeting the next day, one where he needed to wear his best suit, the one that was at the cleaners. After finalizing his travel arrangements he left work early and rushed to the cleaners and grabbed his suit. Only then did he remember that he had all but ruined his black shoes during the last heavy rainstorm. He didn't want to go to the mall and get in the middle of all the Christmas traffic, but he also didn't have time to go across town to the discount shoe place. Remembering seeing a new shoe store in the small shopping center near the grocery store he tossed his suit in the back seat, climbed into his car and headed toward home. Sure enough, just a couple of blocks from his house he spotted the shopping center and at the far end was the S&M Shoe Market. Pulling into the parking lot he pondered the name of the store, "Shoe Market," he thought, "has a homey, but interesting ring to it." He headed on in and was pleasantly surprised by the selection of nice looking men's shoes. Jason was even more surprised when he saw how reasonably priced the shoes seemed. He heard a deep woman's voice from behind him ask, "May I help you?" Without turning his head from the racks of shoes, he held up a shoe in each hand and asked, "Do you have these in an eleven D?" Then turning towards the woman he continued, "And one of..." He suddenly felt tongue-tied as he looked up at the woman. Jason was just over six feet tall and he found himself looking up at the woman's face. "You were saying," she asked, tossing her long blond hair and letting it cascade down her shoulder and over her breast. "Ah, oh yes, I also would like to ah, try on one of these in an eleven d," he replied nervously, trying not to stare into the cleavage so wonderfully framed in her low cut blouse. "And when was the last time you had your feet measured for shoes?" she asked. He accent was compelling, it sounded like Russian, or some other Eastern European country. "I don't need to measure my feet, I know I'm a size eleven, it's the only size I've bought for the last five years." "Here we measure all feet. We want to get it right, so no measure, no shoes." "Okay, it's just that it's almost closing time," Jason replied. "Well then we better measure quickly," she replied pointing to a nearby bench. Jason sat down and watched as the tall woman bent over and grabbed one of those odd seats they had in shoe stores, the one with the angled footrest on the front. He couldn't help but notice the way her hips curved out from her waist. If she were perhaps a foot shorter she'd have the absolute perfect body, he thought. She slid the seat up facing him and then sat down. As she settled onto the seat, Jason gasped, noticing that she straddled the foot rest, which hiked up her, already short, skirt to the point he had an unobstructed view of her panties. These panties were actually so sheer, that he had a complete view of her matted blond pubic hair and a very inviting slit. Fortunately the woman didn't seem to notice him gawking at her pussy and he was able to regain his composure as she slapped that foot measuring device down in front of him and grabbed his right foot, pulling off the shoe. Placing the foot on the device she jotted down a notation and then flipped the device over. Not waiting for her to remove the shoe, Jason slipped off his left shoe and then let her put it on the foot measurer. All the while she was measuring, Jason kept glancing back between her legs. He imagined running his tongue up and down that beautiful slit, tasting her, slipping his lips over her... "Excuse me?" he asked, realize she had said something. "Please stand up now," she replied. "Oh damn," he thought, he couldn't stand up now, not with the raging erection he had. Stalling he stammered, "You want me to..." "Yes, you stand up now." "Stand up, ah..." he squirmed in his seat, trying to get himself adjusted. "Yes, you stand up," she said, tucking her hands under his arms and lifting. Surprised at her strength Jason felt himself lifted up from the chair. Standing now, he hunched over trying to conceal his erection. "No, you stand up straight, so I can..." She had reached around behind him and pushed his back forward, forcing him to stand up straight. When she nearly got poked in the face with his cock she stopped talking and then looked up at his face. "I'm sorry it's just that... you, you are so tall and ah, beautiful and seeing..." "You looked up my skirt?" "I couldn't help it, I mean you..." "You want something besides shoes?" she asked matter-of-factly. "I need shoes." "What is it you want?" "Just shoes?" he asked meekly. "You are asking me?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Wait here," she said, standing up and walking over to the store entrance. She pulled out her keys, locked the door and then turned out the lights. Several of the lights in the store remained on so Jason could see as she walked back to him. "What are you doing?" "Don't worry, I get you shoes. Now follow me little man." "Little man?" Jason thought. Last time he was called that he was like in second grade. Of course, as he stood up and then followed the tall woman he realized it was appropriate now. He followed her through some curtains and then down a dark aisle that was stacked top to bottom on each side with shoe boxes. They stepped into a larger room with chairs along one wall. The woman pointed at the chairs and said, "Please, sit over there. I will be back in a moment." Jason sat down wondering what he had gotten himself into. All he wanted was a pair of shoes, well, that and the saleslady's legs wrapped around him. He knew he could get the shoes. A door opened and the woman stepped through wearing a pair of long black boots that laced up to her thighs. The rest of her was strapped and buckled into a black leather outfit that exposed her full and very naked breasts. Looking down Jason also saw the soft pubic curls, this time not matted down by panties, they were uncovered, as was the slightly swollen lips of her pussy. Walking into the room, she shook her head to toss her long hair over her shoulders and then he noticed she was holding a riding crop. "What is going..." "Quiet," she said sternly. She stepped up in front of me, pressed the end of the riding crop under my chin and said. "You will remove your clothes, all except your socks, do you understand?" Jason nodded. "Then you will put these on," she continued handing him a pair of shoes. "But they are too small," he replied, after looking inside them. "Regardless, you will put them on if you wish to continue our little, how do you say it? Session." Jason looked down at the shoes, then back up at the tall sales woman with exposed breasts and pussy and those long, thigh-high boots. He then placed the shoes down on one of the chairs and quickly began removing his clothes. When completely naked except for his socks, he tried pulling on the but he couldn't work his heels in. When the woman noticed his predicament, she brusquely stepped forward and handed him her riding crop, which actually turned out to be a long shoe horn. He was able to work his feet into the shoes using the shoe horn. Handing her the shoe horn, he complained, "These are uncomfortable." "Good," she said flexing the shoe horn like a riding crop. She suddenly turned, held the shoe horn over her shoulder and slowly walked to the other side of the room, sitting down in one of the chairs. She sat down in the chair, crossed her legs at the knees and asked, "Whatever could this little man be thinking. You, perhaps, want to taste my pussy?" Jason nodded vigorously. "Even in those uncomfortable shoes?" "Can I take them off?" She smiled and shook her back and forth. "If you want this you will need to walk over here," she said, uncrossing her legs and opening them. Wincing, Jason took one slow step forward and then another. The pain in his feet was bad, but not bad enough to divert him from his goal. He continued until right in front of her where he kneeled down. Leaning forward, he was about to dive in when the saleslady blocked his progress with the shoehorn, "Ah, ah, ah, ah..." she chimed. "I don't want you on your knees, I want you to squat down to do this." "But my shoes..." "So, do you want comfortable shoes, or uncomfortable shoes and my pussy?" Jason quickly got up into the squatting position, wincing with the pain, he leaned forward and this time she left him unimpeded. Trying to ignore the pain, Jason leaned forward, resting his hands on her soft thighs, while moving his face close to her pussy. He breathed in her fragrance and the pushed his tongue between her lips, sliding it into her wet opening. Pushing further, he moved his tongue in and out of her, savoring the tangy flavor. Withdrawing his tongue from her opening, he slid upward between her flowery lips until he found the tiny nub at the top of her slit. He began circling her clit with his tongue, listening as she began to moan and breathe faster. Pushing his face to her, he slipped his lips around the clit and gently sucked it. Pinching it between his wet lips he felt her responding. She lifted her hips, pushing against him while her hands moved down and ran over his head and through his hair. The pain in his feet forgotten for the moment, Jason moved his tongue over her clit faster and faster, feeling her pull his face onto her pussy, his face in between her lips. He was breathing though his nose now, nearly as hard as she was, but he kept his tongue moving on her, all over and around her clit. Suddenly, he felt her hands tighten on his head as she lifted her hips and moaned loudly. He move his right hand from her thighs and pushed two fingers into her. Now he could feel her coming, feel the contractions in her pussy as she moaned and moaned. Jason kept his fingers inside her until the convulsions subsided. Easing them out of her, he moved back and then felt the pain in his feet. He looked up at her face and when she nodded, he stood up, sighing in relief as the pain subsided. The woman took the shoehorn and pressed it to Jason's chest, moving him back from the chairs. She stopped pushing him when he was out in the middle of the room, then she moved over in front of him and kneeled down. Jason felt something cold on his balls and realized she had pushed the shoehorn up beneath him, pressing it to his balls. She then grabbed his cock with her free hand and began stroking him. While the stroking on his cock felt good, the woman would change the angle of her stroke making him lean backward or forward some to keep his balance. Each time he leaned, he felt a shot of pain from his shoes. Trying to concentrate on the pleasure, he suddenly lean back and wince in pain, he'd then feel himself getting closer to coming and then have to lean forward and feel the pain. He had hoped this would stop when she slipped her mouth over his cock, but just by the way she moved her head, and pushed him with her free hand had him slipping from pleasure to pain and back again. He'd just about reach the point of coming and damn, the pain sliced through him. And then again he'd be ready to spurt into her mouth and she'd bump him with her head, making him lean back and feel the pain. Jason hovered on the edge of ecstasy and agony for an interminable length of time. Finally, she let him stand without leaning and he felt the pleasure rise in his cock, more and more, and then finally he exploded, splashing her mouth with spurt after spurt of his cum. He grabbed her shoulder and steadied himself as his cock continued to twitch in her mouth as she sucked and sucked the last droplets of cum from him. When she pulled her mouth away, wiped up the bit of cum running down her chin and then swallowed, she said, "You can sit down and take off your shoes." Jason fell back onto the chairs and eased the shoes off his feet. He pulled off the socks and looked over the red streaked pressure points. Blisters were forming in some areas. She handed him a tube and said, "Use this on the blisters, if they break, cover them with a bandage until it dries." She then walked out of the room. Jason got his clothes together and got dressed. He eased his socks back onto his feet, but waited before pulling his shoes on. In a few minutes the woman appeared, fully dressed holding two boxes. She opened the first box and said, these are the shoes that I measured you for. They should be very comfortable, you can try them on now. Jason slipped on the shoes and even with the blisters and raw spots on his feet they felt great. "These are very comfortable," he said in surprise. "You see how good they are when you let me measure. You wear those to your meeting and whenever you need something comfortable." "Okay, and the other box?" "We are having a two for one sale today. This box is for these shoes," she said, grabbing the painful shoes he had just taken off. "These shoes are when you want to be uncomfortable and remember me." Nodding, Jason handed her his credit card. She ran the card and then led him out of the store, unlocking the entrance. "Goodbye," he said. "Be sure and come back soon, I have a lot of comfortable shoes and even more uncomfortable ones." She gave him an evil looking smile then locked the door between them. New Shoes I wrote a story about a gal buying shoes when I was using the name LynnGK. This is another story about a woman buying new shoes. Any woman who has ever bought shoes from a male salesman (and most shoe salesmen are male) will identify with this story. Some of you gals may have experienced at least SOME of it. I know I have. Never this far of course. * I had to buy a pair of nice dress shoes for the club party next month. I knew what I wanted and I knew where I wanted to buy them and as I sat in my office at the accounting firm I planned my shopping trip to St. Louis. There were a couple of top of the line shoe stores just off Forrest Park and they had a fabulous selection. I'd take Friday off and shop two days staying at the Chase. Of course I needed a lot more than just shoes. My name is Erika Williams and I just turned thirty-five and made senior partner in my accounting firm the same month. My husband and I had divorced, amicably, a year ago and I had been dating a little. I was luckier than most of my women friends in that I still had my figure and could wear spikes. I had been told that I could pass for a lot younger than thirty-five, and I hoped it was true. I looked good but I lived in a small Missouri town and finding a husband was gonna be difficult. There were some divorced guys with reputations of having been lousy husbands. There were some never-married guys who were either lechers or losers. But damn few guys that a successful businesswoman would consider eligible. And I needed to get fucked! My husband, for all his financial problems and they were legion, knew how to fuck. I'll never forget that last time. Our divorce had been final for two months and Jim had just checked out of his hotel and was driving to his new job in Louisville. He stopped at the house to drop off some final papers late Friday afternoon and I met him in my bathrobe, naked underneath. He hadn't had a piece of ass for months and I was as horny as a mountain goat. That horny bastard could read me like a book and he just stepped inside and took me in his arms and peeled that robe off of me. He knew I needed to fuck and he fucked me. He fucked me all Friday night and then Saturday morning and Saturday night and Sunday. That fuck lasted me for two weeks! But I haven't had a hard one since then! I really missed fucking, but didn't dare try it in my small town. It's different with guys. A guy who needs to fuck can go to the hill in St. Louis and find a high-class hooker or fly to Vegas and buy legal pussy. Gals can't do that − all we can do is play with ourselves and fantasize. But wait a minute, I suddenly thought as I tried to remember what a hard cock felt like. My need for shoes made me suddenly remember a shopping trip to St. Louis a year ago when the very handsome owner of a small shoe store in Forrest Park sold me a beautiful pair of spikes and examined my thighs and panties as he fitted me. I decided to try that store first. Maybe I'd get lucky. I left after work Thursday and drove up I-44 to St. Louis and into the Chase reception area in my Lexus GX470 with most of my stuff on hangers in back and only a small suitcase. The guys grabbed my stuff and the valet guy drove my car away and I checked into a nice suite. It was just after six in the evening and the shops would be open another couple of hours. I changed clothes and got a cab to the store of my choice. My pussy gave a pleasurable tingle when I walked in and saw my favorite shoe salesman. Fred was about forty with dark wavy hair and a small Clark Gable mustache. He recognized me right a way and smiled. He had looked up my skirt on more than one occasion and I could tell he was looking forward to another panty-viewing experience. "I'll take care of Mrs. Williams," he said to his young assistant, a not unattractive guy in his early twenties. Fred's eyes swept down my figure noting my narrow waist, nice hips, and great legs, made better by three-inch spikes. My outfit showed off my wares nicely. I could tell he was thinking about my panties and inner thighs, which he had examined carefully when he fit my shoes several times last year. This time he would not see my panties − they were in my purse. I was wearing a miniskirt, which showed off my legs and of course I had on hose and a garter belt. I was gonna give him a good show! I had already made up my mind that if he propositioned me I was gonna take him back to my suite at the Chase and fuck his brains out. God knows I needed it! He escorted me to a fitting chair situated out of sight of most customers and facing a wall so he would be the only one seeing me with my legs spread. It was obvious to me that he planned to spread 'em. Spread 'em as wide as he could get away with and I was gonna let him get away with as much as he wanted. He checked my size and came back with a stack of boxes, all with dress spikes. He sat on the stool and put my right foot on the low platform between his legs. Off came my shoe and he cradled my foot in his hands almost like a foot fetishist, which, for all I knew, he might have been. Then he spread my knees just a little and my mini started that trip up my thighs that I knew we both would enjoy. I was careful not to pull my mini down or move my knees back together after he spread 'em. I was not even gonna hint that I objected to him spreading my legs as wide as he wanted. And, by the third shoe he was enjoying white thigh above the top of my hose, held up by a red garter belt. He looked up at me, smiled and said, "Very nice." His smile was subtle but we both knew he was talking about my thighs and not the shoe. The fourth shoe was the one I wanted and I said, "Put that one aside. I might want to buy those. But let's keep trying on more shoes. I'm having fun." He smiled again. "So am I," he said. By now there was no doubt in either of our minds about why we both were having fun. I think he suspected that there was a little bit of exhibitionist in me − maybe more than just a little bit. But this was not exhibitionism. I wanted to fuck and I was showing him my merchandise as he showed me his. He just hadn't figured it out yet. Maybe when he got my legs spread wide enough to see my pussy he would get the message. He hit pay dirt on the sixth shoe. He spread my legs a little wider and my knees were now almost a foot apart. My skirt slipped up a couple of inches more. It was now even with the top of my garter supported hose. I knew from his expression that he had seen pussy not panties. Now's the time I thought. Show him what you got baby. I shifted my position moving my butt further forward in the chair and leaning back. Then I spread my legs wide enough to give him a real good view. No man could miss that signal. His eyes just froze staring at my crotch. I had been thinking about showing Fred that hairy thing since I started my drive to St. Louis. So I was real horny and I think my inner lips were engorged, hanging out a bit, and wet. That thirty-five year-old, experienced pussy must have made a pretty sight for his eyes. "Now that's REALLY nice," he said softly, staring directly up my skirt at my pussy. I didn't move and neither did he. He sat there looking and I sat there letting him look. It was a good thing the store was almost empty. I could feel a tingle in my naked pussy as he stared up at it. Pussies like to be looked at − especially when they're horny. It makes 'em tingle. "I've been divorced for a year," I said, softly, almost a whisper. He got my message loud and clear. He knew I WANTED to fuck. He knew I NEEDED to fuck, if I was willing to spread my legs for a shoe salesman. And he knew I was READY to fuck if my wet pussy meant what a wet pussy usually means. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight," he said without taking his eyes off of my pussy. English translation: Would you like to fuck? "I'd like that very much," I said. "How about at my hotel? I'm at the Chase." English translation: Hell yes! I'd love to fuck! And I gotta place to do it. "I have to make a phone call first," he said, still staring at my pussy. He finally tore himself away from that beautiful vista, excused himself, and headed for his office, no doubt to call his loving wife. His wife was gonna hear some outlandish excuse for him not being home till midnight. I was gonna rush a light dinner thinking about getting laid for the first time in a year. And he was gonna sit through dinner with a hard on wishing he didn't have to eat first. And that's exactly what happened. I gobbled my food down at record speed, as did he. When we got to the suite I disappeared into the bathroom and stripped down to heels, hose, and garter belt. I was in the mood to fuck, not play lovy dovy strip tease. I checked my tits in the mirror and those 35C babies looked great. Milky white compared to my bronze tan body and firm with nipples already erect, pointing straight out. My beaver, dark and hairy, covered my clit. This was amazing because that damn clit was as big and hard as she ever gets. She was waiting expectantly. I turned and looked at my ass in the mirror − twin triangles of milky white bikini protected skin. And my legs! Jesus they looked great held up by those three-inch spikes. And my garter belt and hose made me look obscenely naked − more naked than just buck-naked. Hell! I could be twenty-five! Well, maybe, almost, I hope. Most importantly, in this outfit I looked like a horny bitch eager to fuck, which was exactly what I was. I walked out into the living room of the suite with my shoulders back and my tits jiggling proudly. As he looked at me his face told me everything I needed to know about the appearance of my body. I watched his eyes move from legs to beaver to butt to breasts and then back down that sequence again. He did it several times and he seemed to ignore my face, which suited me just fine. It was my pussy I wanted him interested in. "It's your turn," I said. "Get naked." And he did. I was not disappointed. He had a hairy chest − the kind that tickles my tits. He had a circumcised six inches, hard and sticking straight out. Thank you Lord I thought! I had hated unclipped studs since high school because too many of them did not wash under their foreskins properly. Six inches would work if he knew how to use it. And if he didn't I'd show him! But that's not what he planned to use first I concluded when he sat me in a big easy chair and kneeled before me like a shoe salesman. Spreading my knees, he looked up at my pussy and admired it, exactly as he had done in the store. He didn't look at anything else. He just stayed kneeling at my feet and staring at my pussy. My pussy was throbbing with my need for him. Then, just when I thought my pussy would explode, finally, he reached around and grabbed my ass and pulled me closer to him. He admired my pussy again, his nose six inches away, for a full minute until finally he spread my legs as wide as the chair allowed and chowed down on what was by now, a wet, dripping, and very eager pussy. He buried his face in my curly haired beaver and his tongue explored my pussy lips from top to bottom slowly and sensuously. Then he tongued my vagina thoroughly. Next he explored my clitoris from top to throbbing head and finally he put his upper lip on the shaft of my clit and reinforced it with his teeth so I could stimulate myself by humping like I was fuckin him in the mouth. His chin was on the cuckold's chin rest, or ball rest as my Ex called it. And at long last, just before I went out of my fucking mind, he went to work industriously on the head of my clit with his tongue. I was dealing with an expert. Fred was not your ordinary muff diver. He was a gourmet muff muncher. A cunning linguist. This is what women dream about. I remembered a classmate at UMKC who said, "Show me a guy who won't eat pussy and I'll show you a guy whose girl friend I can fuck any time I want to." I put my hands on the back of his head to set a rhythm I liked. This was my favorite position for a muff muncher because I could control the amount of pressure on my clit. I did my share of the work humping and he did his share with his talented tongue. That horny shoe salesman brought off this horny CPA in record time. I lay back in the chair panting to catch my breath. He looked up at me and smiled and said, "This was a shoe salesman's fantasy, you know. You have no idea how many women want to show off their pussies. I see one or two every week. They sit there with their legs spread and no pants on. And I sit there and look up at those beautiful, hairy things and fantasize spreading their legs and eatin as much pussy as I can. I've tried once or twice to do more than just look but these broads just want to show it off naked and tease." Then he picked me up and carried me to the big king sized bed and fucked my brains out. I had him over Friday afternoon and Saturday before I checked out. By the time I hit I-44 headed home my shopping was done and my pussy was fully satisfied. Every muscle in my pelvis was totally relaxed, and I was prepared to go back to work no longer annoyed by a nagging pussy. A man just doesn't understand what seven or eight orgasms will do to a peter-hungry pelvis. I had told Fred I was gonna shop for shoes every couple of weeks and he was appropriately enthusiastic. Those regular visits to St. Louis would allow me to keep my mind on business so I could build a good 401K while I explored my little town looking for a proper husband. Fred had hinted that on occasion his young assistant might have to fit my shoes but that was okay with me because what interested me was a pecker not a personality. If I got lucky I'd find a husband before I owned more shoes than Imelda Marcos.