Those Damn Shoes

Most of my stories are written for my wife's reading pleasure. She sometimes is the character and others she is not. Most are written from an aspect that places her there or gives her the most realism that I can possibly give. I hope you enjoy.

1

I'm sitting here with the aroma of fine leather, cedar plank floors and Yankee candles bombarding my senses. Around me are reminders of why we entered this little shop.

Leather boots, sexy shoes, handbags and candles of all kinds abound. They speak as to why we are here, but not to how we got here in the first place.

When I say "Place", I don't mean the shop. I mean this place in our lives.

I'm alone in this room, but you're not far away. You're in the adjoining room not twenty feet away, behind a doorway with a thin curtain covering it.

For nearly an hour, I've listened to your moans, grunts and sighs. I can't see you, but I know you're safe. I also know you are giving yourself completely to another.

From time to time, I can hear him speaking to you and sometimes you reply, but the words are muffled and distant.

If I stepped over and pulled the curtain aside, I could watch you, but I'm not allowed.

I was told to wait and you'd be fine. Your smile affirmed this as he took your hand and led you away.

2

How did we get here?

Is this reality or am I dreaming?

Is this a dare?

I don't remember. It all happened without any warning.

To really understand how we got here, we need to go back a few months.

To say that we are in love is a no brainer.

We are perfect for each other, again a no brainer.

That is all true, but somewhere along the line, we were sidetracked and things just seemed to slip away.

Thank goodness, we were able to work through it with newfound communication and understanding.

Along the way, you acquired a new pair of boobs and the package was complete.

Once we put things in order, our sex life changed.

Ah hell, our lives changed.

We seemed to be more in tune with one another than ever before and we can't seem to get close enough to each other. Our lovemaking has gone crazy awesome and our attitudes have followed suite. We breathe each other in and love like there is no tomorrow.

This place and this weekend were not planned. It happened because life and work just pushed to hard and we needed to get away.

We packed the car with clothes, snacks, cameras, toys and maps and headed north. No destination planned. We would just drive until it felt like we were far enough away from Pickens and the everyday rut.

Four hours and a bunch of miles later we pull in to a quaint little town in Tennessee. It's a Bed & Breakfast community filled with curio shops and eclectic little restaurants. It reminds us of Cashiers, North Carolina, so we check in for the weekend at one of the B&B's. We take some lunch back to the room and settled in.

We decide to walk around town. Maybe visit some shops and get a drink before dinner.

Before going, you decide to change into something nicer and when you come out of the bedroom, you have on that little black dress that you wore in St. Augustine that got you so many looks.

I swear it looks even shorter than before, but you just giggle when I mention it. Your nipples are rock hard and I know there's no bra under that dress. The black pumps make you look six foot tall and I just smile at how sexy you look.

Like a fool, I actually ask you, "What's the occasion" and you say "No Occasion, I just wanted to dress sexy for you and no one knows me here".

I keep staring at your nipples and you catch me and lean into me and say, "No panties either" and with that, we set off for some fun.

We visit a few shops, but they're really no different from any we had seen before, so we move on.

We spot this little hole in the wall pub that has some great tunes emitting form its entrance and decide to go in for drinks.

All eyes are on you as we enter the pub and take a couple of stools at the bar. We order some drinks and take in the little pubs ambiance.

The pub appears popular and most of the tables are occupied. There's a jukebox with a small dance floor near the center of the room with tables positioned all around it. A few couples are up dancing to some slow sexy tunes and some guy keeps feeding quarters to the jukebox.

The drinks seem to be doing their job and you sway to the music as we sit at our stools.

The guy on the stool next to you asks me if he can dance with you, but before I can reply; you're off your stool with his hand in yours and headed to the dance floor.

Again all eyes are upon you as you get to the dance floor.

You don't disappoint your admirers as you dance seductively with your partner. They get a nice show and he gets the dance of his life.

He pulls in close behind you and runs his hands up your thighs. As he does, he raises your dress ever so slightly.

Funny, but he thinks, "He's" in control! That doesn't last but a few seconds.

You feel his cock pushing against you and you push back and rub your ass roughly against him.

Again, he caresses your thighs and as he moves higher, your dress follows.

I watch as he moves higher and higher and your bush comes in to view. He doesn't realize what he's done, but the guys in front of you haven't missed a thing.

To the disappointment of the guys in front of you the dress falls free from his hands and falls back to cover your bush as he moves above your hips. He moves his hands over your stomach and then to your breast.

He lingers there for a moment before continuing to the bare skin above your dress and then easily pushes the dress down to expose your perfect tits.

He grabs two handfuls and begins to massage them. He shares his victory with those in front of you.

He thinks it's a victory.

Silly Boy!! You're the one in control and he only succeeded in doing exactly what you wanted him to do.

As he massages your tits and pinches your nipples, you push back and rub vigorously against his cock. You slide up and down with the crease of your ass until you feel him tighten against you.

He releases your tits and he grips your hips tightly. He frantically tries to get you to stop, but just as he tries to say something to you, he lets out a deep groan and explodes in his jeans.

The song ends and you pull the dress back over your tits. You turn and give him a quick kiss on the cheek and then head back to me at the bar.

You get a standing ovation from some of the guys and the yell for an encore, but we grab our things and make a quick exit. Not much could top that, so we figure it best to leave while it was still safe to do so.

Back on the square, I pull you to me. We have a good laugh about the dance and how you left the guy with a sticky problem to deal with.

I don't say much about what I just saw. It was one of the most exciting and erotic things I had ever seen and it was my wife that did it. I figured it best to keep my mouth shut and just enjoy the moment.

Still carrying a good buzz from the drinks, we walk across the street to a little shop that seems to still be open. I'm not sure if this was a good thing or not. You immediately spot a pair of shoes in the window and you just have to go in and see them.

It's nearly 8:45 by the time we enter the shop and we notice the sign that says closing time is at 9:00.

We turn to leave, but the gentleman behind the counter says, "It's OK, come on in".

The man introduces himself as Foster and tells us this is his shop.

We exchange pleasantries and he of course asks all the questions that people ask tourist that visit their shops.

Foster seems to be very genuine and I get the feeling that he really just wants someone to talk with.

He tells us that he and his wife have owned the shop for thirty years and that he designs custom shoes and boots in the shop as well as the many purses and handbags. He explains that his wife passed away last year and he just keeps it open, because it's a piece of her.

Foster appears to be in his late fifties to early sixties. He's a big man, standing over six foot tall and probably 225 lbs. with gray hair and big blue eyes. His hands are large and strong looking, probably from many years of working leather.

You take to Foster and he offers to show you around the shop. He asks if you want to try on some shoes and you say, "Yes.. All of them".

You both have a laugh and before you head to the back of the store to the ladies shoe area, he asks if I would mind turning the closed sign and locking the front door.

I spend some time checking out some guy things that interest me. It's a beautiful rustic shop and I love the feel of it. I lose track of time and don't put much thought into your tour of the store.

That is until I come back to the area where you are sitting and trying on shoes. I approach from behind Foster and again, I have no other thoughts than us just doing some shoe shopping and wondering how much this stop is going to cost me.

I move through the racks until I'm just behind him, but I quietly take a step back as I see what is happening before me.

Foster is sitting on a salesman's stool in front of you and has your right foot up on the shoe block fitting you for size.

I can see from my vantage point that your dress has risen and I can see between your legs as clear as day. You don't notice that I've approached, so I slide back a bit more to conceal myself and watch. I can't hear your conversation, but I can tell that it's friendly.

Foster continues to work as though nothing is different you both have a laugh about something.

He slowly puts on and removes each shoe as he searches for the best fit. All while you make no attempt to conceal yourself. As a matter of fact, it appears you are spreading your legs wider as he works. I watch closely as he's placing a shoe on your left foot and watch as you allow your right leg to fall to the side, exposing yourself completely to him.

Then it happens. As I stand in the shadows watching, Foster slides his hand up your leg and caresses you pussy. He dips a finger or two in to your opening and you tilt your head back as you feel them enter you. His left hand caresses your leg as his right hand explores your most private area. He moves slowly and with purpose. His fingers glisten more, each time he pulls them from you. He adds two more and with four fingers in you, he cups his hand and I can see he's applying pressure to your G-spot.

He's still talking to you, but I can't hear him. I think he's talking you toward an orgasm and a few moments later, I'm proven correct as you grip the arms of the chair and raise your ass and arch your back. Your body shakes and I watch as you go rigid at the hands of this older man. It seems like forever before you finally relax and settle back in the chair, totally spent.

Foster keeps his fingers in you, but turns and looks directly at me. He knew I was there the entire time. He asks if I locked up and I tell him yes, but forgot to turn the sign, so I go to the front to do so.

As I return, I see Foster help you out of your dress. You stand before him with only the pair of shoes from the window. He caresses you and pulls you to him for a long embrace and kiss. I watch as this older distinguished man holds you close and explores your mouth with his tongue. He's so gentle with you and treats you like a china doll. His touches are soft and his kisses longing, as though he were remembering moments spent with his loving wife.

He again turns to me and asks me to wait. He walks you toward a door with a curtain covering it. He tells me that he would prefer to have you in private and that you are safe and he will take good care of you.

Before entering the doorway, you turn to me and without a word between us, you smile as if to say all is good and not to worry.

I watch you disappear behind the curtain. I know that you will be OK. Foster is a nice man and he has treated you like a lady from the moment we came in. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit jealous and nervous, but that's only to be expected.

I settle in to the chair you were just sitting in and I listen as he makes love to you behind the curtain.

It's crazy I guess.

I'm here on this side and you are in there with him. A man we met less than an hour ago. He's doing whatever he wants with my wife, yet here I sit.

I close my eyes and imagine the actions behind that curtain.

I know he's a big man and I wonder if he will handle you gently or if he will take you like you like being taken.

I won't go beyond the curtain. If you had wanted me to be there, you would have made it so.

I know you want it to be this way. Not that I can't see you, but that I'm left to my own imagination.

So, I can only sit and listen. I can only fantasize. I can only imagine.

I know that I will live it all through your words later and that will have to be enough, because tonight at this moment, you belong to him.

Those damn shoes!

The End