It's always been the shoes. No matter if the woman was young or mature, shaved, bushy, blonde, brunette, pale or bronze; the shoes were always the required accessory for a thunderous ejaculation.
My earliest memories of sexy shoes were from the glossy black and white porn mags I had enjoyed as a senior in high school; mature beauties posed a la Betty Page in seamed hose and tall patent pumps. Perhaps it was the expressions on the models' faces; a look that hinted at some dark bizarre sexual knowledge. Perhaps it was the way the six inch pumps shaped their well toned calves and thrust their tight buttocks higher in the air. Or, perhaps it was how they parted their labia with the tip of the stiletto heel, but I clearly remember stroking myself into a frenzy while gazing at two or three of those magazines laid open on my bed.
When the opportunity arose, I would examine my mother's collection of footwear; rich Italian leather dress pumps in black, red, and ivory; both closed and open toe. Then there was a variety of white strappy sandals for summer and several kinds of espadrilles; some with long jute laces. The leather's musky aroma was intoxicating. I wondered if she admired herself in front of the full length mirror, trying on different pairs as she prepared for an evening out on the town.
There was a long hallway that led from mom's bedroom to the living room, and I distinctly remember the sound of her heels clicking on the hard tile floor. Her Italian pumps produced a rather sharp, deliberate report and the clunky 40's platforms would resound with an additional heavy thump.
Occasionally, whenever she was out of the house, I would pick up one of her black patent pumps and rub the smooth, glossy toe under my youthful erection. The feeling was almost indescribable. Once, I nestled my balls in the heel end of a burgundy suede D'Orsay and held my throbbing erection across the gold instep. There was no stopping my ivory explosion into the toe of the shoe. I spent the next hour cleaning it; making certain that I left no trace of my sordid activity.
Whenever I was out in public and an attractive woman walked past, my eyes would immediately scan down to see what kind of shoes she wore. Flats might indeed be comfortable for walking, but they held no attraction for me. Only shoes that elevated a woman and shaped her legs were really arousing. I found that I had a particular liking for mules due to their minimum coverage. The nude heel and bare toes always made my head spin.
I came to believe that some women revealed as much about their sexuality through their choice of footwear than they ever disclosed with their eyes. Ankle-strap pumps always hinted at kink or domination. Rich, expensive leather heels told me that their owner was accustomed to the finer things in life. She would want her pussy licked long and properly. A good pair of running shoes suggested a woman who was a healthy fuck. She might wear them during sex for traction. A pair of Doc Martens would be the choice for someone with a pierced clit; someone who might enjoy anal sex. And a pair of simple white, canvas tennies with lace socks, well...there was a woman who'd tie her hair in pigtails and lick a cherry lollipop while you slammed her hips into the mattress.
And then came the day that I met Kira. It happened in a shoe store - imagine that! My western denim boots were getting a bit scuffed and it was time for a new pair. Those gray snakeskin ones in the display window looked very appealing, so I waltzed in, sat down and asked for a pair in size 12. It was a busy day at the mall and most of the available chairs were filled with mothers and children. As I waited for the store clerk to return, through the door walked one of the most incredible young women I'd ever seen.
She wasn't terribly tall, but her legs were breathtaking and when I saw that her tiny feet were perched atop a pair of wooden soled sandals, my cock began to stir immediately. Her toenails glowed a fluorescent fuschia. At the top of her athletic thighs were a skimpy pair of ragged, faded cut-off jeans that barely covered her hips and well rounded ass. Above that she wore a whispy multi-colored tie-top over a white lace bra. And she was walking right toward an empty seat next to me. God, if I had run across her picture in a magazine, I'd have been whacking up a storm!
