Author's Note: This story was originally written at the request of one of my favorite shoeplay youtubers. It casts her as Lisa, the person I'm addressing through the story, as though it were a recounting of what had happened between us. This isn't my usual style, but it was a very fun experiment.
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"If you want to do more than stare, meet me at the address below, 8 pm. Signed, Lisa"
I ran my fingers over the lipstick mark on the note as I confirmed the address. I couldn't believe this was happening. I'd been watching you come in and out of the store where I worked for months. Those perfect legs and flawless feet, popping or slipping out of a variety of sexy flats, heels, and sandals. My heart jumped as I remembered the first time our eyes met as you dipped out of your black Dexter heels in the check-out line, your smooth bare heel giving way to an attractive sole and those impeccably formed toes. When I looked up and met your gaze, the arch of your eyebrow and the crookedness of your grin told me everything: you knew exactly what you were doing with your feet and shoes.
It wasn't idle shoeplay, oh no. You were fishing, fishing for pervs and connoisseurs of the lower body like me. And what's more, you must've enjoyed it. That gave me a thrill I'd never known. It got to where I would blush and be terrified to meet your gaze when you came in the store. Until earlier today of course.
My cheeks burned red as I took your card, but what was that? You'd slipped me a note with it. My eyes flicked up quickly to catch a glimpse of your wry, superior grin. To tease me, you leaned forward and lifted your leg behind you slightly, just out of my sight, then loudly dipped out of your Dexter pump, it struck the tiled floor with a loud "thlock" as you pretended you weren't doing anything intentionally.
"Read the note later," you cooed quietly, after I handed back your card. I nodded, stunned, as I mindlessly bagged your purchases, the note burning in my pocket, begging to be read. You made a small show of it as you worked your ankle back and forth, wriggling your heel back into your pump. "Bye," you said normally as you left with your bags. I couldn't help but watch the wiggle in your silhouette as you left.
And now, my head swimming, my erection throbbing in anticipation, I knocked on your door. The door opened immediately, and there you stood, wearing nothing but a black silky negligee, lacey matching panties, stockings, and those incredible Dexter pumps. Your toe cleavage peaked up at me enticingly. I watched your nipples visibly harden from the cold breeze whipping through the doorway.
We stood there a beat, my erection visible as it strained against my trousers, your body a feast on display to be ravished. The compact between us was instant and intuitive. You stepped back from the door, your heels clacking on the hardwood floor. As soon as I stepped in, you pushed the door closed and didn't waste a moment. "Take off your jacket...and your pants," you said. My ears prickled as I fumbled with my fly. I'd never heard your voice outside of the store; that calm outside voice we all adopt in public. Now your words rang with a hungry, jagged edge barely restrained.
You wrapped a leg around mine and your arms around my neck before leaning into my body, the lace of your panties grinding against my erection, milking out a few drops of pre-cum. "This is what's going to happen," you growled into my ear. "I want to put you through your paces." You dug the tip of your high heel into my calf. I moaned into you; your smile widened. "My tits, my pussy, my ass, my legs, and," you paused to laugh.
To my surprise, you raked your Dexter pump off against my calf. It fell to the floor with a loud clack as you pressed your stockinged toes and footpad against the back of my leg. My cock surged and grew even harder against you. "And my feet of course. I know how perfect they are. How they captivate people. People like us." You smiled as our lips met briefly. "Now put my shoe back on." You quietly commanded. Your hard nipples rubbed against my chest through your negligee.
I finally managed to pull myself from your embrace and knelt down. You raised your stockinged leg. For the first time, I marveled at your foot and toes up close. I wanted desperately to worship them, to suck your toes, to lick your soles, and to fuck your arches. You already knew my thoughts. "Not yet. Shoe me, please."
I nodded; my hand drifted to your discarded shoe. As I picked it up, I eye-fucked the in-sole: that sacred cradling platform where your foot rested. Just like with your foot, the same urges wracked me as I wondered what the in-sole would feel like against my cock. "Is this gonna take all night," you asked chidingly as you lifted my chin with your toes, your divine scent filling my nostrils.
"Maybe," I joked back as you lowered your foot. You giggled mildly. And then I took your foot in my hand. "God, your feet are incredible," I breathed; the sensation of your stocking and the smooth soft sole beneath driving me wild.
"I know right?" You asked rhetorically and I finally began to slip your shoe back on. In an instant it was over and I was tantalized beyond belief. "Now, upstairs then." You gestured to the stairs.