He had seen the announcement for the new shoe store in the fall-out ads of the Sunday morning edition. "All Shapes And Sizes," the ad promised. "New Spring Line of Strappy Heels For Sunny Days," it tantalized. He couldn't resist.
The next evening, after work, he found himself gazing into the store window at the little display shoes, standing pertly on their clear plastic shelves. His stomach lurched with anticipation. He sidled up to the door that commanded him to "Pull." Obediently, he pulled the metal bar and was assaulted by the sensuous smell of shoe leather. He stepped inside tentatively; must not seem too eager.
The twenty-ish girl behind the counter looked up from her Vogue and smiled dutifully. "Welcome to Sherry's. If there is anything I can help you find, please let me know," she recited, and without waiting for an answer, turned her attention back to her magazine. Good, he thought, no one to look over my shoulder.
He muttered a perfunctory thank you, and wandered nonchalantly to the closest aisle, checking the placard above the row, which declared "Ladies 11." Without pausing, he headed toward the opposite end of the store. His quarry within sniffing distance, he felt that light-headed rush that signaled the beginning of his arousal.
Carefully keeping his back toward the oblivious salesgirl, he sped up a bit, arriving at the far aisle. He took a breath and glanced up at the placard, which beamed down a glorious "Ladies 4-5" upon him. God Almighty, he thought, the mother lode!
He looked down the aisle eagerly, but quickly ascertained that there was only a four foot section which contained the precious size 4's he craved. A little disappointed, but comforting himself with the fact that four feet was better than no feet (he laughed at his own little joke), he stopped in front of the racks.
His eyes scanned voraciously over the open boxes displaying the objects of his lust. Here was a pair of little slippers, with pink and white ties. There was a pair of low pumps in black, and also in russet.
He felt his crotch twitch at the sight of all those tiny shoes. It was the same every time. He felt this way in the library too, from the very first time he had surreptitiously pulled a book from the ladies' fashion section, and let it fall open. He coveted that secret arousal. He loved keeping it hidden from the librarian, Mrs. Mueller, although he was sure she had eventually been aghast at the amount of pages in that one particular book that were stuck together with his own special sort of glue.
He laughed, remembering high school, where he had been the only male sophomore perhaps in the history of the school to do a research report on The History of Feminine Footwear, for which he had proudly received an A+ from Miss Hofstead, and a note in the margin, "Curious choice of subject, but thoroughly excellent in every respect. RF." She had been a 6, which wasn't too bad, but her heels were never even remotely high enough.
He sighed fondly at the memories, and turned his attention back to the Christmas morning in front of him. Finally, after lovingly caressing each little pair with his eyes, he chose the ones he wanted that day. They were black patent leather, open-toed, with straps that went across the width of the toes, and straps that wound from the heel up around the ankle and back down again. They were lovely. He thought about the feet that would be encased in those tiny little black bindings. Delicate feet, smelling of lavender, with little straight toes, and shiny purple-painted toenails.
As he held them in his hands, he brought them up to his mouth for a furtive lick. Sliding his tongue again then, lingeringly across the shiny smoothness of them, he felt his crotch twitch plaintively.
After a guilty glance in either direction, and no sales girl or security camera in sight, he quickly unzipped his fly and let his erection out to breathe. Keeping his back toward the end of the aisle, he lowered the shoes down to brush over his stiffness.
He slid his cock into the shoe as if it were one of those tiny feet, letting the straps rub it and bind it. He thought again of the toes, peeking out, trapped and pretty from between the straps, open just enough to take the attentions of his dutiful tongue. Maybe oriental feet, with tiny ankles above, rising up to smoothness and musky dampness and soft giggles.
He was throbbing now, stroking his dick with the shoe, glancing around, thinking about what his tongue could be doing. He felt the surge start, and closed his eyes, knowing that if he were caught now, he couldn't stop anyway. He rubbed his dick furiously against the shiny leather, and felt it swell and then dribble. He pulled it slowly across the sole, leaving a shiny snail trail of cum, smearing it across the pretty little straps.
He replaced the shoe in its box, and tucked himself back inside his pants, breathing a deep sigh of satisfaction. As he turned to go, his eye was caught by fluffy white fur on the top shelf. His mouth made a perfect "o" as he reached up and pulled down the box containing the white bunny slippers. Something for bedtime!
He took them up to the salesgirl, now deep in conversation on the telephone with someone named Hon. She barely looked up as she rang up his purchase, took his cash and doled out change. But as the bell hanging on the chain at the door pronounced his departure, she called out, "Come again!"