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It started at Stein Mart. I went in to get my mother a present, and found myself gravitating to the back of the store. I knew what was back there. I pretended that I was just browsing, but then I found myself trying them on.
Shoes. I had never given much thought to shoes, or to feet for that matter. They were just what I walked on, and my shoes were always practical. Danskos, Birkenstocks, Clarks, shoes your mom would wear. Other shoes just seemed, well, ridiculous. Plus, not being very graceful, I needed all the stability I could get.
And then one night, when talking to you, I got it. It had nothing to do with walking. You didn’t want me walking in the shoes at all.
You want to come shopping with me, to one of the tiny expensive shoe stores lining the city. You want me to have perfectly manicured toes and feet that cry out for beautiful shoes. You want me to sit down in the store, while you bring me the shoes pair by pair, as if I am a queen. You want to kneel before me, gently glide my shoes off, caress my foot, and then slip the new shoe on. As you do this, you want me to open my legs a little too widely, and reveal my lack of panties to you, and anyone else in the line of view.
After you pick the pair you like best, you want me to go to dinner with you. You want to sit in a booth, where we can hear each other talking in the slightest whisper. You want me to put one foot slightly up, so that you can reach it under the table and remove the shoe. You then want to rub the foot and caress it, even with all the other people in the restaurant. You want to hear me moan when you rub my foot, and hear my breathing get shallower and faster as you rub deeper and deeper.
You want me to lean into you, tell you very quietly and very slowly how sexy you are, so gently that only the tiny hairs on your ear feel the breeze of my breath. You want me to dart my tongue out barely, and just graze the lobe of your ear, knowing it will send blood rushing to your cock.
You then want me to subtlely put one hand under the table, unzip your pants, and release your cock so that it springs forward, still covered by the tablecloth. Then you want me to lean back, gently raise my feet under the table, and stroke your cock with my cute little painted toes.
When I feel the precum on the head of your penis, you want me to put my hand back under the table, use one finger to collect it, and then put the precum soaked finger in my mouth. Then, you want me to put my finger in my pussy, and then reach across the table and put the finger in YOUR mouth.
When your cock is so hard that it feels like it will burst, you want me to take a little butter from the bread basket, put it in my hand, and grab your cock under the table with my slick hand. You want me to look you right in the eye while I stroke your cock up and down, very quietly, and very discreetly. You think you will die, and start screaming at the table, but I tell you with my eyes to be quiet. When you come, you come so hard that some of it gets on the table cloth, but most of it gets in my hand. You then want me to take the come covered hand, reach down, and rub it all over my feet before gently placing them back in the shoes.
You then want me to bring my hand back up, slyly lick any remaining come from my fingers, and watch you, watching me.
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