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Wine is served, ma’am
There is only one body part I pamper more than my puss, and that’s my feet. I give my pussy milk baths twice a week, and wrap it expensive lingerie everyday. For my feet it’s cucumber and mud baths, and Italian leather shoes. Expensive ones, of course.
No, I’m not a rich snob. Middle class all the way, but what money I do splurge is for shoes.
A few weekends past I woke up with a craving to shop for a new pair of low heels. My collection was in need of a nice cognac brown to go with a new skirt I purchased. It came with a belt I loved, and I wanted to find a match for it.
I put on the skirt and belt along with a simple white blouse, and headed for an upscale shopping district.
It’s been a few months since I have been out, so imagine my surprise when I saw that a new shoe store had opened. I made it my first target.
Once inside I was welcomed by the rich scent of leather. I sucked in a deep breath.
There are only a few scents that excite me. Fresh-brewed coffee is one, along with chocolate. There are a few flowers I like, raw silk of course, Italian leather, and pussy – my own of course.
I toured the selections of the new store. They had some of the best I have ever seen, and I guessed the owners might even be Italian. As I fondled the showroom samples, a young man, maybe eighteen, came out from the back. I’m used to dealing with an older and experienced sales person, and my first thought was to leave. What could a kid know about shoes?
He introduced himself as Bernard, and certainly looked and even sounded Italian. I showed him a few styles and colors I was interested in and he asked me to sit so he could measure my foot.
I informed him of my size, but he insisted. I sat in a fine leather chair and extended my foot to him.
His touch was quite gentle as he removed my shoe and measured my foot. I thought to myself, what other job can a man – or boy – feel up a woman’s leg and get away with it?
He removed my other shoe with the same gentleness, like he was holding the tiniest of kittens, and then measured my foot. I could see his eyes discreetly wander the length of my legs up to the hem of my skirt, and then back again to my feet.
I’m forty-six. I’m not what I was at twenty, but everything is still where it was back in those days, and my legs get a lot of exercise. My skirt was just above mid thigh when standing, and slightly higher when sitting. I had put on a very pale pink panty and bra with an abundance of silk lace and sheer fabric. I felt sexy the way Bernard looked at me legs. I was more than twice his age, yet he found me attractive.
“I’ll be right back with a few selections for you, ma’am,” he smiled, his hands still holding my calf and ankle.
“Great,” was all I could say. It dawned on me I found him attractive as well, and my pussy responded to the gentle touch of Bernard’s hands. After nearly thirty years of having sex, my pussy instinctively knew who would be a good lover by way of my other senses, touch being one of them.
I watched Bernard’s butt as he headed for the back room. It was one of those butts a woman likes to bite – well, speaking for myself of course.
While he was in the back, I moved my hem up a few inches, then bent over pretending to brush a little lint off my foot, but in reality checking to see if my panties were visible. They were, and I’m guessing when I was sitting up strait, my chocolate-brown pussy hair would be visible through the sheer panty fabric.
I popped a button on my blouse, and sat back to wait for Bernard. No harm in teasing him a little, I thought. I really can’t remember the last time a man as young as him even took a second look at me. Sadly most young men don’t see older women as sexy, yet little do they know we could bounce their inexperienced ass right off the mattress. Maybe that’s what they feared.
Bernard retuned, and sat where he could easily peek up my skirt. With all the innocence I could muster, I sat up straight and reached for my purse on the chair next to me. This of course opened my legs a good inch or two, which was just enough to advertise the pale pink panties and what they were stuffed with.
When I turn back, I could see his eyes were glued to my puss. I moved my legs together as I fumbled in my purse to look busy and disinterested. I took out my cell, pretended to check messages, then went through the whole dance again as I set my purse aside, this time opening my legs at least six inches so Bernard could see my panty crotch as well. I have thick labia and can fill a gusset with no room to spare. I’m sure Bernard could see the outline of my long petals, and even where my clitoris was.
He managed to get the shoes out of their boxes and showed them to me. They really were top of the line.
He handed me one shoe, and I instinctively smelled the leather, my eyes closing as I savoured the aroma.
“Very nice,” I smiled.
“Shall I fit it for you?” he asked.
I nodded yes, and he took up my calf to place the shoe on my foot. His exquisite touch had me wetting my gusset, and with this thin silk, that would only make it all the more sheer. If I were to open my legs now, he would see the crimson color of my labia and clitoris, not just the outline.
I decided to wait. I wanted him to earn just such a peek. We went through four pairs of shoes, all of which were perfect, but I came here to buy only one, two if the price were affordable. By the time we tried on the forth pair, I was in need of an orgasm.
I could smell my scent, and I was certain Bernard could as well. Leather and pussy. It’s like they were made for each other, and the two scents together had me drunk with a desire to shove my pussy in Bernard’s face and demand a licking. I am much too a lady to really do it, but it was hard to get the thought out of my mind. I figured I’d play this game a few more minutes, buy two pairs of shoes, then go home and masturbate myself into a blissful afternoon nap.
I asked to try the first pair again. By now I was nearly peeing the chair, and wanted Bernard to see my very wet pussy through the sheer gusset.
He obliged my request and slipped the first shoes on my feet. I leaned back to hold my leg up and admire the shoe. Since Bernard was directly in front of me, I had to open my legs a bit to do so.
“Beautiful,” I remarked, not wanting this moment to end.
Bernard’s eyes were on my very visible panty crotch.
“Yes it is,” he responded. I doubt he was taking about the shoe.
I switched feet, and held up my other foot, again parting my legs to do so. I held my foot up a good thirty seconds, with my legs now wide enough apart to comfortably fit Bernard’s face. The scent of hungry pussy was pumping from between my legs, and I’m sure Bernard was more than tempted to nuzzle in and give me some pleasure.
These leather chairs had tall backs, and the shop windows were behind me. Bernard could do just about anything he wanted and not be seen. Next to the two chairs was a tall back leather settee which would be a great place to make love right under the passing public’s nose.
No, I told myself. Buy the shoes and go home.
“I’ll be right back,” Bernard muttered, bringing my thoughts back from fantasy land.
He didn’t even wait for a response, and was gone before I could get my legs together. Curious what he was seeing I peeked between my legs. There was really nothing much left to see, other than my pee hole and the deep pink color of my opening. The rest – my clitoris and my labial petals, were all but naked.
I’m not an exhibitionist, but for reasons unknown, here I was flashing my pussy to a complete stranger, and loving it. My pussy was loving it too. It was like letting a little pussy cat out of a silk bag.
I walked around to feel the comfort of the shoes. Italian leather never disappoints. They were perfect. Unaffordable, but perfect.
When Bernard returned, he was carrying a bottle of wine, but no glasses. I thought maybe the wine was a free gift with purchases over five-hundred dollars.
I sat on the settee as he approached, and made sure my skirt was not tucked under me so as to not cream it. The cool leather was a welcome relief to my smouldering pussy.
“Changing places, ma’am?” he asked.
“This looks more comfortable,” I blabbered, wondering how all this was going to play out.
Bernard knelt in front of me again. I kept my legs together so not appear like some wonton and horny older woman.
He showed me the wine. It was expensive, probably as much as the shoes.
“Do you keep a wine cellar here as well?” I joked.
“Only a few select bottles for preferred clients,” he responded, and then produced an opener.
“I know my wine,” I told him. “And that particular bottle is valued at roughly four-hundred seventy dollars, depending where you shop.”
“Four-hundred ten a few years ago,” he smiled.
A few years ago he was probably just finishing up puberty. What did he know about wine?
Once he opened the bottle he let me smell the cork. Earlier when I mentioned some of my favourite scents, I left out good wine. Now my nose was overwhelmed; good wine, the finest leather, and anxious pussy combined to make quite a perfumed air.
Bernard had this look in his eye I can’t say I have seen before. Was it hunger?
“If I may,” was all he said. With that he slipped one of the shoes off my foot, then poured in a little wine. Well, my first thought was that the shoes were ruined. Red wine on cognac leather is not something one can easily fix. I forgave him when he drank the wine from the shoe. That was the sexiest thing that has ever happened to me. The kind of thing one sees in fairy tales, with some Prince Charming.
Bernard savoured the wine before swallowing.
“Exquisite,” he whispered. I creamed my gusset - again.
He poured another sip and offered it to me. I drank it and was very pleased with the combine flavour of the wine and leather. That was certainly a first for me.
“Expensive wine glass,” I smiled as I handed the shoe back.
He shrugged it off, then glanced down to my skirt hem and legs.
“If I may,” he said again.
I was unsure exactly what he wanted, but his gaze told me to open my legs for him. I did, and this time it was wide, with every intention of showing him my pussy with out the coquettish games.
He wasn’t shy. He leaned in and inhaled my scent before putting two very gentle and loving kisses on my gusset. Electricity shot right through and up to my nipples. I was really wet.
Bernard placed a shoe just under my pussy, then poured a little wine on my belly. The wine ran down into my panties, over my sex, and into the shoe. I’m sure his intention was for the wine to mix with my pussy honey, and then spill together into the leather shoe, and I’m sure that is exactly what happened.
Bernard inhaled the combined aromas of wine, pussy, and leather, then drank. His eyes fluttered with ecstatic pleasure.
“And for me?” I asked, anxious to know the flavour for myself.
“We’ll need to replenish your feminine offering, ma’am,” he smiled.
He then leaned in, pulled my panties aside and took a long gaze at the wine-soaked pink. He then blew small gusts of air over my clitoris and labia before giving me a few exquisite licks. I could feel my puss milk ready to spill.
He smiled and again placed the shoe under me, then poured another few sips over my belly. It ran down and over my exposed sex, and into the shoe. He then offered me the shoe, and I sipped it down. Wow, I really could taste me in the mix.
As I was contemplating this, Bernard leaned forward and starting eating my pussy. I settled back in the settee to give him all the room he needed to pleasure me. I don’t know where a young man such as Bernard learned to eat a woman’s pussy better than most forty or fifty-year olds, but I was in pussy-pleasure heaven.
He stayed with me until I had that long-overdue orgasm. It was so strong I nearly blacked out. His gentle kisses were all that kept me lucid enough to know what just happened.
He sat up and kissed me on the mouth. I could taste the wine and my orgasm on his lips. As we were kissing, I felt his penis slide up inside me. He wasn’t all that big, but it was the perfect after-orgasm pleasure my pussy likes. Slow strokes and a few bumps against my clitoris made me one happy lady.
He came quickly, pulling out to finish under the settee, and give me a few final pussy kisses before zipping his pants and helping me sit up. I was flushed and just a little sweaty from all the pleasure.
“Thank you,” I whispered, meaning it sincerely. He did me beautifully, and a thank you was the right thing to offer.
He looked again at my panties, then reached under me to slip them off. I guess we weren’t done, which was fine with me.
“Your perfumed silk for my Italian leather?” he asked.
I guess we were done, but I had to think about this offer a second. Those panties were expensive, and the shoes were ruined. He could sense my hesitation, and produced a box and handed it to me. I looked inside to see the same shoe, without the wine and pussy colorings.
“You have yourself a deal,” I winked.
He tucked my panties into the wine glass shoe, then stood and offered me hand. I took it and he helped me stand on buttery legs.
“What does one say to a salesman who just gave me the best pleasure I have ever know?” I asked with a blush.
“That you will come again,” he smiled, seemingly unaware of the double meaning.
“That I will,” I winked in response. “Count on it.”
I thanked him for the shoes.
As I headed for the door, an older couple, maybe in their fifties, was just coming in. The woman looked like a real bitch, but the gentleman looked like a man who knew his leather – and his pussy. His nose scanned the air as they entered. I’m sure he knew what was lingering by the way he glanced at me as I passed.
“Good morning,” I said with a wink.
The woman scowled just before being sucked over to a display of fine heels. The gentleman, however, just smiled a knowing smile.
“I’m sure it was,” he teased. I blushed as I exited with one last glance back at the refined older man.
“Absolutely,” I said with a satiated grin.
My feet suddenly froze. He was too good looking to just pass by and never see again. I pretended to make a phone call on my cell. If this gentleman was keen, and had a good memory, I could take more time to tell him all about my unexpected morning.
I left a message on the cell, giving the pretend recipient my phone number. I could see he was recording it in his brain.
I hung up the cell and gave him one last glance before leaving.
I had been on a sexual dry spell for nearly a year, and I wanted to make up for lost time. My sales boy looked to be a promising regular pleasure giver. If I could add this fine gentleman to my collection, things will be looking bright.
I gave my pussy a little pat and thanked her for being so cooperative, then headed for my car.
*****
A.W.
*****
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