“Ooh, I just have to have those black ones!”
“Yes, Imelda, but don’t you already have 18 pairs of black pumps, on top of the 14 pairs of black slides, and the six pairs of black flats?” I offered, trying not to sound overly sarcastic. I knew this because I kept a running count, a count which never decreased.
“But I don’t have any like these,” which was stretching credibility since there are really only a finite number of styles, all of which already resided in her closet, carefully arranged in various hanging shoe sorters, behind the door racks, and under the bed boxes.
We went back and forth for several minutes debating the merits of adding to the quantity and quality of “The Collection,” as I had taken to calling it. “The Collection” was not, of course, limited to black. The brown section was the next largest, followed by the various shades of red, a few special occasion silver, purple, and green, but almost no white. White was a tad too tacky.
The now helpless saleswoman sporting the Aldo nametag looked bored but not unfamiliar with the scene. She had doubtless lost more sales than she cared to remember because of partners like me who know their lover’s footwear inventory better than she knows her own. Stifling a fake yawn, she turned to attend to a single woman unaccompanied by the thought and budgetary processes.
As my beautiful wife tried them on, I had to admit that they did wonders for her legs. Not a particularly tall woman, she always had to work hard at finding clothing and footwear that could help the bottom half better complement her amazing top half. These definitely helped. In fact, they helped so much I almost gave in right there and reached for my credit card.
But a combination of reason and inspiration prevented me. Seeing her standing there barelegged with a skirt that now rode up a little higher in the back thanks to Aldo not only brought me to attention below the belt buckle, but above the neckline as well.
“How badly do you want them?”
“Oh, I want them!” came the almost uninterested reply, so enamored was she of her prospective purchase.
“No, I mean how badly do you want them?” I said again more pointedly
She looked up at me, her head twisted and her ass in the air while still holding on to the straps around her ankles. Her posture couldn’t have been more appropriate for the subtext of my question.
Drawing closer to her without even checking to see if the bored sales clerk was watching, I moved my crotch to the location I had long wanted it to be. “I’ll make you a deal,” I whispered. “You can buy all the shoes you want, and I’ll even pay for them, but they are going to cost you.”
Remarkably, she didn’t miss a beat. “Will it cost much?”
“Only your ass,” I said a little louder, and gave her behind a little push with my now wickedly hard cock.
“Is that all?” she said, and pushed back, giving me a foretaste of things to come.
As she took off the pair on her feet and handed them to the clerk for wrapping, I couldn’t believe how easily I had extracted a promise of anal sex. The very subject of entering that taboo enhanced hole had met with more resistance than my cock would have, and despite dropping numerous hints, casually leaving in her path articles extolling the virtues of anal play, and even eliciting personal and enthusiastic testimony from other couples, the answer had always been a firm, but never optimistic sounding, “maybe.”
“But here’s the deal,” I said, perhaps pushing my luck but knowing that the payoff, if I struck it rich, would be worth the gamble. “You can’t wear them in public until we do it while you are wearing them, and you can’t buy any more until we break these in.” The thought of holding onto those hips and filling her ass with my cock while she wore nothing but those black Aldos had me wishing they had fitting rooms in shoe stores.
“In that case, I’ll take three pairs,” she said and winked as I couldn’t get my wallet out fast enough.
* * *
A few days, and several hundred fantasy filled thoughts later, I began to wonder if her promise was merely a ploy to add to “The Collection.” My wife was generally not given to making promises she never intended to keep, but these were shoes we were talking about. What kept me from certainty that I had been duped was that all three pairs remained in their boxes, a hopeful sign knowing how quickly she usually broke in each new pair. But I grew suspicious.
As my Friday office duties came to their end, I resolved to ask if, and when, she planned to make good on her pledge, or, as I planned to phrase it, when she planned to debut her newest acquisitions. I was just about to reach for my phone to call her when it rang.
“Yes, dearest?” I loved the way caller ID made me look psychic.
“Are you coming home soon?”
“Well, I was just about to call and see if you wanted to meet me somewhere for dinner so we could talk about a few things.”
“Oh, not tonight, my love. I’m not up to being among strangers. Besides, I’ve already cooked something up.”
It wasn’t the response I was hoping to hear since I thought a nice meal might create an atmosphere conducive to the conversation I wanted to have, but at least it would save me a few bucks I could spend on more shoes if my fantasies ever became realities.
“OK, I’ll be home it a bit.”
I half-dreaded, half-craved pursuing the matter. On one hand, I liked the suspense and the incredibly sexy images it conjured up in my mind. But on the other, I desperately hoped I wasn’t going to be both disappointed and out more cash than anyone should spend on a lifetime’s worth of shoes, much less three pairs. I certainly wasn’t going to divorce her over it, but it wasn’t a precedent I wanted to see established. All the way home, I debated with myself the wisdom of bringing it up. Even closing my car’s door once I was in the garage, I was still undecided. And then I saw the box.
Just inside the door to the house was a lidless Aldo box, empty save for its white tissue paper spilling out over its deep red sides, as if artfully arranged for the occasion. Its lid was a short toss away. Both lay in a shaft of light thrown from the living room.
Following the light into the other room, I discovered the shoes themselves, the hot black stilettos that had so stoked my sexual imagination in the store. They were now adorning the feet of my lovely wife who had arranged herself so that only her bare legs from the knees down were visible in the light. I could see newly polished nails and recently shaven legs shining in the light. The conversation had obviously begun without me.
“I changed my mind.” Her voice floated flirtingly forth from the darkness. “I thought maybe we should go out after all. But the only shoes I could find to match my dress were these old things.” She drew one silky calf over the other shiny shin, as if I needed more of my attention called to her footwear.
My knees buckled. I wanted to turn on the light, to see her in all her beauty and then to grab her and kiss my way down from her neck to her ankles, but I found myself unable to move.
“Do you think you could help me take off the price tag?” she asked almost innocently. “It just wouldn’t do to be seen in public with everybody knowing what they cost.”
She then stood up so that I could now see her in her little black dress, my favorite one. Though her face was still in darkness, this new revelation had the double effect of taking my breath away and sending out a call for even more of the blood which had already made me hard. If it was possible, my wife was almost too sexy to touch.
But it wasn’t possible and I could resist no longer. I kicked the shoebox out of the way and made my way toward her darkened face, taking it in my hands and pulling her toward my waiting lips. Wanting to hold on to this mysteriously sexy moment, I kissed her with closed eyes but open mouth and she followed my tongue’s leading in a familiar and well rehearsed dance. We parted our lips and let our bodies continue the dance, with our faces still shrouded in darkness. Music would have spoiled this dance; the intoxicating silence, given erotic rhythm by the raw pounding of both of our hearts, was all we needed to sustain our sexy movement together. When I could bear it no longer, I moved away slightly, took her hand, and twirled her out into the light. Oh, how my beautiful wife’s face can move me.
We laughed and I twirled her again, this time so her back was toward me and I could see all of her lovely legs finished off with those magnificent pumps. When I brought her back to me, I embraced her from behind and drew her skirt up her thighs, sliding my thumb back and forth beneath the waistband of her panties once they had been revealed. She responded by trying to raise herself up so that I could touch her in lower, more sensitive areas. Rewarding her efforts with a stroke of her clitoris, I pressed my cock into the gentle crack of her precious little behind.
“Not so fast, my love. I’m definitely already warmed up, but for this, I’ll need to be really hot.”
“Fear not. We’ve got all night and I have just what you need.”
Taking her by the hand, I led her to the living room’s broad, brocaded sofa which was fully in the light. The dress looked fabulous on her but it had to go. Left were her bra and panties, black and matching, but also a distraction from the main event. They lasted a little longer than the dress but they too were kissed off before she knew it. All that remained were sexy legs adorned by black stilettos and these were soon draped over the arms and back of the sofa. My own clothes followed.
I knelt to let my tongue begin its work preparing the way for the long awaited experience. I began with her thigh, moving slowly toward that line where it becomes ass, like that children’s game, the object of which is to guess when the meandering fingertip no longer touches the forearm but has met the crook of the elbow. A flick of my tongue to the pussy side met with a twitch of the hips, a sign that she knew the line had been crossed and that game was over. I moved straight for her waiting clit and let it receive its desire. Soon my wife’s twitching hips could not be stopped and I pushed my tongue deeply into her sweet and now dripping pussy. She pushed herself hard onto my face and I knew that the time to turn her over was just moments away.
But making her wait just a little longer seemed like more fun for both of us. Taking her bucking ass in my hands, and parting her crack with my thumbs, I rimmed her sweet asshole, perfectly prepared in advance for this special occasion. This sent her over the edge into a clutching, gasping orgasm, the kind that just begged for even more stimulation. I returned to directly sucking on her clit which made her to grab my hand and lead it to her pussy.
“I need you in my cunt,” she gasped, and who was I to deny her. Dispensing with the subtle approach, I began with two fingers thrusting in her and quickly moved to three, her cunt devouring what I was offering. Her drenched pussy had by now well lubricated my fingers, making the time right for opening up other avenues. Slipping all but my forefinger out, I resumed stimulating her clit with my thumb and waited for her next lunge to insert my middle finger gently into her waiting anus. Filling her second hole made her gasp in a way I’d never heard from her before and she began moving her hips like never before. She was clearly ready and clearly prepared. The lube was within my one handed grasp on the side table and I applied it abundantly to my cock.
“Are you ready, my love?”
Her cross between a whimper and an “uh-huh” told me the long awaited moment had come. I pulled my hand from within her and helped her to her feet, arranging her so that she’d have the sofa to hold onto while I plowed my way through her asshole. As I sized up her writhing behind, and admired the lean look of her Aldo enhanced legs, she turned her head to meet my eyes.
“Do me now. But do me gently.”
Needing no more encouragement to do away with our respective anal virginities, I squeezed out a little more lube and buttered her anus with it. Taking hold of my quivering cock, I guided it to her opening and ever so gently pressed forward. I heard yet another new gasp from my horny wife’s throat as the head of my cock successfully breached the gap.
“Hold there a minute,” she breathed, and that was fine with me. I wanted to savor both the moment and the graceful body of my wife splayed out with her fully extended arms clutching the back of the sofa, her ass pointed in the air, and her long black hair flowing down her back. I didn’t know if my heart was pounding so hard just to supply the pressure needed for the hardest erection of my life, or from the sheer excitement of this moment of trust and heat.
Grabbing her hips with two hands, I inched forward, her tight hole feeling like it was willing me in. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t go any deeper and began a gentle and excruciatingly pleasurable retreat. In our slow back and forth, not a single penile nerve ending went unstimulated. My moans must have relayed to her the possibility of a too quick end to these unbelievably powerful sensations.
“Touch me. Touch my clit,” she panted. Making way as deep as possible again and stopping there, I reached around to give her button’s nerve endings the attention they deserved. Alternating between rolling it around between two fingers, and flicking it, I soon had her within a few caresses of another orgasm.
“I want us to come together,” she groaned, bringing her hips forward to prompt my return to thrusting. This time though, she sped up the tempo, meeting my thrusts with her own and gradually increasing them until we were really pumping away. No longer needing my hands to pace the action in her ass, I swapped her hips for her tits and used them to steady myself for the mutual climax that was not far away. Her body trembled.
“Pinch me. Pinch my nipples,” she begged, and as if it weren’t going to happen soon anyway, those words triggered that familiar and heady home-free feeling of knowing that heaven is just a few strokes away.
So I pinched, she flinched, and we came together, my final thrust lifting her up on the tiptoes of her now publically presentable black shoes.
We stayed that way, hearts still pounding through our chests, until we started laughing. Our laughter grew so overwhelming that if we hadn’t separated, somebody would have gotten hurt. Gathering her up from behind in my arms, I kissed her neck.
“God, that was good. What made you pick tonight?” I asked, suddenly remembering the conversation I had intended to start until her plans changed mine.
“Oh, there’s a big sale next week at Aldo and I still have two more pairs in their boxes in the closet. Dinner?”
I love shoes.