Casey and Lacey Go Shopping

To Our Dear Readers,

Thank you for taking the time to read this. All votes and comments are truly appreciated. I would request a vote when you get to the bottom of the story. It is one click.

Thanks in advance,

Casey.

Saturday

As always I begin these stories by apologizing for the cutsieness in our names. It is something we've apologized for since we met and hit it off.

A Saturday without the kids. A time for Lacey and I to spend together. A more recent period in our relationship. A period when we feel comfortable with our definition of relationship. We've stopped trying to fit it into a mold. We are comfortable with what it is.

It's a glorious Saturday morning. The sun is shining through our window. We are Naked and basking in the afterglow of morning sex where Lacey came first and then I came quickly afterwards.

"What's on our agenda today baby?" Lacey asks while running her fingers through the hair on my chest.

"Sweetie, I know money is tight, but you really need new shoes. Before you protest, I realize this is a need and not a want on your part. We are going shoe shopping."

"But, I can make do with the shoes I have."

"Isabelle, I love you, I need you I want you. Today is shoe shopping day."

There it is: Isabelle. My power word. If you've read any of our other stories, you know that our relationship has nuances of power, but not as most people think. It is sort of the opposite of a classic BDSM relationship. I love Lacey/Isabelle dearly, and she loves me. She knows that when I call her Isabelle, I am putting on my Dom role and I am expecting her to take on her Isabelle role. However, it is not to dominate, but to comfort, to let her know that I desperately want to take care of her. I am no longer Casey, but rather I take on the personna of Alex. As I do so, she knows it is because I feel this is what she needs. That I am making an unspoken request that she capitulate to my will. If she does, we will be Isabelle and Alex for the rest of the day.

She protests, but weakly, I've won this. Shoe shopping for her, with us as Isabelle and Alex is what our day will be.

We kiss and snuggle; we are in no hurry to get out of bed. When we do, we head to the shower together. This is a ridiculous enterprise. When we purchased our house we were still in the very early stages of defining our sexuality. We were both of the opinion that showering was a solo activity. We hadn't considered the possibilities of the sensuality of washing and caring for each other. As a result the shower stall in our house is very very small. Nevertheless, we head to the shower together.

When the water is adjusted to a warm comfortable temperature for both of us, Isabelle and I squeeze into the shower. Since we've started showering together, this has become a comforting ritual. We kiss under the water, then I move to take up a corner and Isabelle moves into the stream coming from the shower head. I thoroughly wet her hair, while she just snuggles into me. Her arms are wrapped around me, she's feeling playful this morning; more fingernails digging into my back than fingertips. My fingers massage her scalp until it is thoroughly soaked. Then I reach for the shampoo and use that to wash Isabelle's beautiful thick mane. It is a sensual experience. I massage the shampoo into her scalp, spending time at the back of her head in the crevice where her neck meets her skull. Throughout this her hands are wandering, feeling the muscles of my back. I rinse and repeat the process of putting the conditioner in.

With the conditioner in her hair, I take up the soap and the sponge and wash her body. As I do the shower fills up with dewey scent of a lemon blossoms. I sponge her shoulders down, then move to her chest. I do her breasts, and then she lifts her arms. It raises her breasts, and I appreciate the view. Seeing her with her arms outstretched over her head is one of my favourite sights. I wash under her arms, soaping her up. I take a razor and shave for her. I continue down her body washing her stomach. I then squeeze back into my corner and she turns around. I wash her strong beautiful back, stopping and paying special attention to where the crack of her bottom turns into her back. I am rewarded with a moan for my efforts. She turns back around, and I wash her beautiful full bush of pubic hair and her vagina. I wrap my arms around her and do her bottom. She raises each of her legs and I soap them up, and then she shaves them.

I run my hands completely over her body to make sure she is rinsed off, which is silly because with the size of our shower as soon as she soaps me up, she is just as covered. I do take the moment after I've rinsed her breasts to take a nipple in between my teeth and apply a little pressure.

Then it is my turn. Isabelle takes the sponge from me and begins to soap me up. Now the air in the shower takes on a much more masculine scent of sandalwood. She does my chest first. She spends time on my nipples and then pushes my arms up. My arms go over my head and she does under my arms. Working downwards, she decides to be cheeky today and avoid my cock until she's done all of the rest of me. Finally she takes my cock in her hand and soaps it up. It is semi hard. Full but not straining. She plays with me for a bit, making sure to run her fingers over the crown of the head of my penis for a few minutes. When she rinses me, she remembers what I did to her nipple. To keep her cheeky streak going, my cock simply and quickly disappears into her mouth. I am surprised and I let out a moan of appreciation. After one or two strokes of my penis, she comes up and we kiss. It is an open mouthed passionate kiss that speaks of our love for each other. Finally I rinse the conditioner out of her hair and we get out of the shower.

We dry off, as Isabelle does her hair, I shave and then head down and make some breakfast for the two of us. Then we head off for our day of shoe shopping.

As we arrive at the shoe store, I am Alex, and Lacey is Isabelle. We browse and Isabelle gives me an idea of what she is looking for. I am her protector; her Alex; this will be my choice. Isabelle will try on anything I bring over to her and I will have ultimate say in what we buy for her. My responsibility is to choose something she will love.

Isabelle, at my request is seated over on the chairs assigned for trying on shoes. Both her shoes were off and she's waiting with a devilish grin on her face. This is my baby girl, enjoying giving herself to me completely and being pampered by me completely. I am as happy as I've ever been.

I pick out a number of pairs of shoes for her and then find a clerk.

"Excuse me ma'am, can we get these in a size 7.5, the last pair look small, can we get those in an 8 as well?"

"Certainly, I'll be right back."

The clerk brings the boxes of shoes back and helps me carry them to Isabelle. My job involves picking out the shoes, and all of the discussions with the clerk. Isabelle tries them on and walks around with them so that she can determine if they are comfortable or not, and I can see her bottom while she was walking.

We are shopping for casual shoes for her. But I also have the clerk bring me a couple of pair of outlandish shoes with a ridiculous heal, and very little in the way of materials. It seemed the less material that's put into a shoe, the more expensive it becomes.

We don't have a shoe thing but I do take the time to put each pair on her, beginning with the casual shoes. It's is always a wonderful experience to lift a woman's foot and place it in a shoe. It is an incredibly erotic experience. It is almost exhibitionism, almost taboo for where we are.

As we try on each pair of the casual shoes a clear choice emerges. I make the choice, Isabelle is pleased and tells me afterwards they were more comfortable and more expensive than the shoes she would have picked for herself.

As I opened the first box of ridiculous shoes, her eyes light up. She knows we were really playing now, and she's happy. As I put each pair on her, she walks in them ensuring that the swing in her bottom is just a little bit more pronounced than I am used to seeing every day.

Looking in her eyes, I can see that there isn't a comfortable pair here. We do one more round of different styles and sizes. As I put the last few pairs on her, every time I do them up, I would dig my nails into her calf. Little gasps escaped her. Isabelle falls in love with a pair that is a deep purple patent leather. They have a heel that comes to a point that you could stab someone with. They criss-cross across her toes and have a small heel cup and a single strap to hold her foot in place. In my mind these shoes were never meant to be worn with clothing.

As Isabelle was putting her shoes back on, I purchase the comfortable and the purple pair. I am sure she is expecting only the comfortable pair. I am certain she figures the outlandish pair were only for playing in the store. She joins me as I am finishing paying, and she is ecstatic with the two pair of shoes.

~~*~~

As we leave the store, we walk arm in arm and our thoughts turn to a meal. As it is Saturday and we've woken up late, we wouldn't call it lunch nor would we call it dinner. Somewhere in between. We head to our favourite pub. It is a neighbourhood pub that features live music in the evenings. In the afternoon, it is still a lively place as this pub has a unique cross section of all echelons of the social sphere. In one corner there are obviously workers grabbing an afternoon pint. In another a woman and a man on a first date, and yet another there is a regular, telling the bartender how to save the world from the evil politicians. It's good people watching.

We are semi regulars. We've had this waitress before, it will be interesting to see if she remembers us. As she comes over, I know she remembers us, as she bring us only one menu and hands it to me. Again this brings the dichotomy of our relationship into sharp focus. She is my Isabelle.

She may offer up suggestions of what she feels like or she may not, but my job is to select a meal for her that she would enjoy at least as much as the one she would select herself.

A woman seated next to us is watching. She doesn't seem impressed that I have ordered Isabelle a red wine and myself a beer without consulting with my lovely wife. Isabelle and I chat about the weather and her shoes. I glance at the single menu without consulting with Isabelle; We continue to chit chat. The woman, obviously a busy body, decides she is going to stand up for Isabelle's rights.

"You know you get a choice too." She says.

We've done this before. Isabelle is prepared and smiling. I see her wicked grin and know she was hoping for something like this to happen. She looks at me pleading.

I touch my breast pocket and look as though I've lost something.

"Isabelle, sweetheart, I seem to have lost my kerchief."

Without saying a word, Isabelle gets up and excuses herself and then heads to the washroom. I continue to peruse the menu. The woman has now gone back to chatting with her husband, and giving me dirty looks. The husband is trying everything in his power to avoid eye contact with me.

After a moment, Isabelle comes back and kisses me deeply. Her body is blocking the woman's view. I feel her hand on my chest. As she pulls away and sits down, we continue to have our conversation.

I know what she has done, and through our conversation we are ignoring it.

The husband obviously sees it, his eyes are as big as saucers. Miss Nosy sees it and harumphs, Get's up grabs her husband's hand and they leave.

As they leave, I smile at Isabelle, reach into my breast pocket, grab her knickers that she has draped there like a kerchief and return them to her. She tucks them away.

The waitress appears and I order.

"We'll have 2 cream of broccoli soups and a turkey club to share. Sweet potato fries on the side."

As the waitress leaves Isabelle and I giggle like school children.

~~*~~

After our meal, we head back to our place. It has been a wonderful day. As we walk into our bedroom, I take a handfull of hair and pull her head back. I am overcome with a passion for my wife and partner that will not be denied. I kiss her exposed neck. I place my hand at the base of her neck not to choke her but to let her know she belongs to me. I kiss her deeply. Isabelle responds to my kisses with a passion of her own. She is pushing into me. She is kissing me with a ferocity that is familiar and all too sexy. Soon she drops to her knees in front of me and opens my pants. As she drops my briefs, my cock springs out. She takes it into her mouth and starts to move up and down the shaft. She suddenly pulls me into her and pushes herself onto me with a lot of strength. I feel the bulbous head of my cock go "pop" as it passes from her mouth to her throat. It is a feeling I've never experienced before. It is something that cannot be described. My knees go weak.

I pull her up and strip her. It is not a slow sexy strip. I rip her clothes off. Buttons pop. Pants end up in a heap, panties are torn. Soon she is naked beneath me, small whimpers emanate from her as her hips gyrate in anticipation of what is to come. I lay Isabelle back on the bed, spread her legs and plunge into her. Our desperation fuels our passion and our need. We roll and Isabelle is on top of me, moving up and down my shaft. I hand her the Hitachi Magic Wand vibrator. As Isabelle places it on her clitoris, it sits on my pelvis. The strength of the vibrations from the wand is such that I feel it right in the head of my cock. Soon she is coming. I feel her moisture running down the base of my shaft and between my legs. I follow quickly telling her she belongs to me, filling her with my seed.

As we come down, we snuggle. It has been an intense day. We know that we will need to be extra attentive to each other over the next few days as the endorphins from our day today leave our systems.