Will Work For Shoes
On the ground floor of the Galleria Mall in Houston, Gavin Taulbe leaned against the parapet that surrounded the ice rink, watching two of his grandkids ice skating. His daughter-in-law, Graciela, stood next to him, tracking the kids' progress across the ice. One of the kids was hers; the other belonged to his daughter Geneva. Graciela had invited her because she knew Angelica loved ice skating, and said she could also spend the night.

Both Gavin and Graciela had come up in coastal Texas. Gavin came from blue-collar, redneck origins, and Graciela from a middle class Hispanic family, but if they had any common ground, besides the love each bore for his son Branden, who was stationed in the Middle East, it was that both were mystified by the appeal of ice skating. That they were there at all was a labor of love.

"I don't care if the ice rink does have its own hours," Graciela said. "When the stores close, it will be time to go home. Corbin will just have to deal; Angelica, too."

"I agree with you," Gavin said. "Whenever my wife catches up with us, we're out of here." He looked at his watch. "That shouldn't be long. They're starting to close up the stores already." All up and down the wide corridors of the mall, the employees of the various shops were shooing out customers, totaling out registers, and pulling displays back. Iron security gates were clanging down like portcullises everywhere.

However, at 9:30, they were still waiting. "What can possibly be keeping her?" said Graciela. "Where can she be? There's nothing open but the restaurants and the movie theatres—and here. What do we do?"

Gavin pulled a cell phone out of the pocket of his khakis and punched in a code. "That's strange," he said. "Her phone's not on. Tell you what, if I don't hear from her in the next ten minutes, I'll call security. Maybe she went to one of her favorite places and managed to get herself locked up in the store. Hey, it happens. Get Genny to tell you about the time she got locked up in Waldenbooks, and that was on purpose. She'd always fantasized about getting herself locked up in a bookstore and so one night she hid while the employees locked the store."

"Did she have as good a time as she hoped?"

"No," said Gavin. "She got cold and lonely. Especially cold. They set the thermostat low overnight."

Ten minutes later, the adults were ready to pull the kids off the ice and go to the security office, when Gavin's pocket chirped. He answered his phone.

"Where the hell have you been? Oh, yeah? You what? You're what? You want me to do what? All right. I'll be there." He snapped the phone shut and put it back in his pocket.

"What happened?" asked Graciela.

"Pretty much what I thought. She stayed too long in Neiman-Marcus, and had a hard time getting out. Graci, I need you to do me a favor. Sidonie wants me to come ahead of you all and meet her in the parking garage—says she has something special to tell me. Will you be OK by yourself to get the kids off the ice, and can you give me about ten minutes?"

"I guess so," Graciela said.

"Thanks!" Gavin gave his daughter-in-law a smile which made Graciela forget that some people considered him a homely man, and took off in the direction of the parking garages without a backward glance. He was a short, powerfully built man with faded brown hair that he kept in the same military cut he'd had since the sixties, and sharp, golden-brown eyes like a hawk's. He did not look particularly grandfatherly. He kept himself fit through working out and his day job, which was repairing cable for one of the local cable companies. His black polo shirt strained over his broad shoulders and biceps. He steered clear of the baggy-pants look the young guys were sporting. For a middle aged white man, he had not much gut and had not lost too much ass. He covered the distance to the parking garage entrance in the ground-eating pace of the infantryman he had been a long time ago.

He got to the van first. He heard the staccato click of heels on a concrete floor and saw, coming from a different direction, his wife Sidonie. She was wearing a black-and-white geometrically patterned dress made of some kind of flowy material, probably rayon, that fastened with a lot of little black buttons; it had a deep V neck, and correspondingly, the kind of hemline in front—there was a name for it, but he didn't remember what it was—that formed an asymmetrical, inverted V and revealed an interesting amount of long, well-shaped, muscular leg. As she bore down on him at a rapid pace, he enjoyed watching the knitting motion of those legs. In her youth she had done a little modeling and she remembered how to walk. And get a load of those shoes! She hadn't been wearing those when they'd come into the mall. Four-inch heels they had, and they fastened around her slender ankles with silver chains. The strap over her classically proportioned toes was another silver chain. He figured the shoes had come from Neiman-Marcus, and he didn't even want to think of the figure that would turn up on one of their next credit card statements.

Her eyes, which were a pale gray with a tinge of yellow—some called them wolf's eyes—blazed when she saw him. Her mouth, a lush surprise in her rather severe, angular face, had been open a little as if the lips were too swollen to close it properly. But she could close it, which she did, long enough to swallow; and then she broke out into a skewed grin that promised a world of carnal pleasure. Gavin felt his cock twitch and start to thicken and fill at the sight of it.

He opened the door of the van, which was parked next to a stanchion. When Sidonie came up to him he took the shopping bag and her handbag and tossed them inside; then, leaning against the side of the van, he caught her by her waist and a handful of her chestnut hair and pulled her close to him, between the van and the pillar. Her mouth fastened on his in a voracious kiss; she clutched at his shoulders and molded the front of her body to his. He slid one of his thighs between hers, and she rode it, gripping it hard. She was strong; she could press her weight and then some. He let go her hair and slid his hand down her back to her ass. Under the soft material of her dress, she wore nothing. When had that happened?

Most of the blood in his brain rushed south into his cock as he realized that there were only a couple of layers of material, easily breached, between them. There were advantages to having a slightly-taller wife, and she had every damn one of them; all it would need would be for him to unzip and her to hike her dress up a bit and with those tall shoes she'd hardly even have to cant her hips to have that hot, slick sheath of hers covering him right down to the root. What a shame it was that they were here in this garage and the kids or somebody else would be along any second plus Sid had this tendency not to keep her voice down unless they were in a tent and sometimes not even then, and just think of it with these acoustics, plus there was probably a security camera trained on them somewhere as it was—

—He slid his hand into the V opening of her dress and grasped her right breast. It wasn't as firm as it had been when she was a girl, but the nipple was as hard as a pebble. He squeezed it between his fingers, and Sidonie groaned into his mouth, biting at his lips and sucking on his tongue. Her hands gripped his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. He could hear her accelerated breathing, and could feel it too, coming through her nostrils. She continued to thrust against his thigh and his now-erect cock; under his hand, her butt muscles flexed spasmodically.

She released his mouth and buried her face in his neck, continuing to lean on him while she recovered a little. Only a little; when she pushed away from him, still breathing hard, he could see that she was still revved up. Her eyes were bright and hot, with that smudged look they had when she had just gotten off. She looked down at his groin, and trained that lecher's smile on him again. His cock was so hard, it almost hurt. His balls already did.

"Let me fix that," she said.

"Later."

"You look like you need it now." She licked her lips and swallowed, as if her mouth was just watering for a taste of his cock, which he knew it was. There were times when all she had to do was give him that look, and he would be hard for her at once; when they had been younger, he would not only be hard, but would also be ripping his pants open, in such dire need of that hot mouth and her tongue twisting its way around his head and shaft that he didn't give a damn if people were looking at them.

"No time," he said.

"Damn," Sidonie sighed. Gavin adjusted his cock in his pants to where he hoped that the bad light in the garage and the van would conceal its condition until it had a chance to deflate. The squeak of rubber-soled shoes on cement, and a burst of treble voices chattering in English and Spanglish helped with that. Graciela had corralled her daughter and niece and they had caught up.

"We were beginning to think you fell in," said Graciela. "Did you find everything you wanted?"

"Not quite," Sidonie said. She made a production of helping Graciela to hand Corbin and Angelica into the van, making sure their seat belts were fastened and stowing the packages where they wouldn't shift all over the floor.

Graciela's eyes lit upon the bag from Neiman-Marcus. "What'd you get at Needless Markup?"

"These," Sidonie replied. She extended her left leg backward so that Graciela, who had settled in the seat behind her, could see one of the shoes.

"Wow!" breathed Graciela. "¡Ay, caramba! Those are Manolos! Did one of you guys get a bonus or something?"

"Not that I know of," Gavin said. Graciela heaved the van door shut. Gavin started it up and backed out of the parking space. They made their way through the nasty Galleria traffic and got on 610. Even before they had cleared the parking garage, Gavin had rolled down the window on his side. He was almost sure he could smell the heat that was still radiating from his wife's pussy, and while he didn't mind it much, except that it was driving him crazy, he wasn't sure Graciela and the kids needed to smell it too. Maybe he only thought he still smelled it, because he knew it was there.

"Abuelo, can't you turn on the air conditioner?" asked Corbin. "It's hot back here."

"What's the matter, you don't like fresh air?"

"It doesn't come all the way back here," said Angelica.

"We're in traffic. If I run the air conditioner right now it'll use too much gas. I'll hit the air conditioner as soon as we're on the freeway."

Sidonie was half turned around in her seat, talking with Graciela, while they inspected each other's loot. Graciela leaned forward and whispered something into Sidonie's ear.

"Graci, you're bad!" Sidonie exclaimed. "Nobody! Lord, what a question!" The two women laughed. Gavin turned the radio on to KIKK and upped the volume until the kids complained. He got onto the Interstate, turned the radio back down, rolled up the window, and switched on the air conditioning.

The ride back to Glendene took less time than he'd feared. He and Sidonie chatted with Graciela and the little girls. Occasionally he glanced sideways at the strong profile of his wife, with its long, straight nose and full mouth; most of the time, when she wasn't swiveled around to direct a comment to her daughter-in-law or the grandkids, she looked at the traffic with an inward, secretive gaze like a cat's, except when she threw a tender, heavy-lidded look his way.

They got to the subdivision where Branden's house was and he pulled up into the driveway.

"Thanks for taking the kids ice-skating," Graciela said as she opened the van door and let them out. "Personally, I could have done my shopping in the Glendene mall, but it doesn't have an ice rink!"

Nor a Neiman-Marcus either. "No problem," he said. "I'm glad they had fun." Gavin waited in the driveway until he had seen Graciela open the door, turn on the porch light and the foyer light, and wave to let him know that she and the children had gotten into the house OK.

He and Sidonie were relatively silent on the drive to their house. Sidonie sighed, and shifted in her seat, and he was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking: she was regretting the exigencies of affluence and family life that had them in this van instead of in their car, because if they were in the car she would be close enough to have her hand on his dick. There had been a few times when, on the very dark stretch of road between Glendene proper and their subdivision, she'd leaned over and taken it in her mouth, just to see how well he could drive under those conditions, but after they saw The World According to Garp she never did that again.

When they got home they fed the cat, set the coffeemaker up to go in the morning, and went into the bedroom.

Without any preamble, Gavin said, "Ok, Sidonie, this is going to be good. I can't wait to hear what happened in Neiman-Marcus that got you so damn worked up you had to hump my leg practically in front of our grandchildren in a parking garage. And about those shoes: like Graci said, who did you have to fuck to be able to afford them?"

One of the things they liked best about their house was that the master bedroom was big enough so their furniture didn't have to consist of the bed with the dresser and the bureaus crowded around it. About six feet away from their bed was a padded chaise, a charming replica of an antique fainting couch, which he had found in an estate sale on Westheimer and purchased for the sole purpose of painting her while she lay naked, with one leg bent and the other foot touching the floor, her left arm flung casually over her head and her right hand resting casually between her thighs.

She lay down on the chaise in a similar pose, although she kept her clothing on.

"Nobody!" she said, grinning.

"How much did you pay for them anyway?"

"Nothing!" Sidonie replied, still grinning.

Gavin snorted, logged on to the computer that lived in the far corner of the bedroom and got onto the Internet. He hated like hell that he had to have a day job, but he'd learned a while back that every time he tried to depend on his art alone for money, something happened that threw their finances into disarray, and he couldn't. Still, working for a cable company; if he had to have a regular job, this was the one to have, with Internet access for next to nothing and no slow-as-molasses dial-up connection.

Nothing indeed.

"If I am not mistaken, what you've got on your feet is the 'Purisca' style, which retails for $530. Hey, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to; I just wanted to be able to plan what accounts we'd have to let slide to pay on whichever one you used."

"None of 'em, I tell you! I got these shoes for nothing."

Gavin stopped and considered where he was going to go next. It was not exactly that he did not trust Sidonie—he'd had her heart practically ever since they'd been kids, and she had never, never become emotionally involved with another man. But she liked sex the way he'd always heard, growing up, men did and women were not supposed to, and sometimes she saw it as challenge and sport, the way men did. And when she combined this attitude with that terrifying expediency with which some women adjusted to living in what was still very much a man's world, it sometimes led to situations that an outsider could…misunderstand. Hell, sometimes he misunderstood them.

He came back to the chaise and sat down next to Sidonie. When he ran his hand up her firm thigh, the fluid material of her dress slid aside and he could see her trimmed pussy. When she was a wild young girl her hair had been shaved in a "Pi" shape, but with the passage of time, enough of the hair on her labia had become discouraged and gone away, that now she kept just a neat inverted triangle on her mons, the point just north of her slit. Her labia, outer and inner, were swollen; the inner flushed dusky-rose and glazed with the fresh marine-smelling nectar of arousal.

He put his hands on both her thighs and she parted her legs further. He slipped off the chaise, kneeling on the floor next to her; he kissed her belly, with its faint striations, and trailed the tip of his tongue from her navel to her slit. Her hips undulated beneath his hands, and he held her down, the muscles of his brawny forearms tensed. Sidonie giving pleasure could be gentle and subtle, knowing more things to do with hands and mouth, more about where a man liked to be touched, how soft and how hard, than most men could afford. Sidonie taking pleasure could be downright uncivilized and inconsiderate, not for the weak or unfit.

Her vagina nipped at his plunging tongue and he slid it out coated with fresh hot juice, bringing it up to flick over the hard ridge of her clit. Having the answer to his question, he permitted himself a soft luxurious wandering kiss on her hungry and perilous cunt. She was abundantly slick, warm and alive. Beneath his mouth, her pelvis undulated again, reminding him of the negligent and dangerous strength of some natural force. She put her hands on his head. He looked up, wiping the excess juice from his mouth on her thigh, and grinned. He had no intention of letting her come at this time.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, and her nostrils dilated.

"You just wouldn't take my word, would you? You just had to see for yourself, didn't you? Damn it, Gavin, if you're looking for a cream pie I'm sure I can make arrangements for it."

He shifted so that he could make another adjustment to his cock, which had just made another escape attempt, and gave her a brooding look. He hadn't tasted any man's spunk besides his own in thirty years, and she knew it.

"Come on, Sid, you've got a story to tell, and I'm all ears. I know how you get sometimes. I'll bet it's a damn good one."

"Ok. I'm warning you though, it's strange."

"Yeah?"

"As strange as they come. Strange as anything I've had happen to me, anyhow. Say, aren't you going to make yourself…more comfortable? I'm showing you mine…"

Gavin got up off the chaise and leaned against the bed, which was one of these antique tester beds that were so high that they came with a little set of steps so you could get up into them easier. Not that he was going to be caught dead using them when he knew Sidonie never did. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped, tugging his pants and his jocks down a bit and letting his cock spring out. A lot of men's were longer, but he'd seen few that were as thick. He took it in his hand, enjoying its hardness and its lively, twitching response to his own touch. A clear, thick drop of pre-cum like a crystal bead slid out of its pee-slit and clung there for a minute before he massaged it into the silky, sensitive head with his thumb. Sidonie stared at it and licked her lips. "What're you doing way over there, darlin'?"

"Keeping a safe distance from you, sweetheart!" Gavin said, doing a fair Bogey impression. "You aren't getting any of this until I get some story."

"Oh, all right." Sidonie sighed and sat up on the chaise, folding her long legs up to one side. The problematic shoes had remained on her elegant feet. "Have you ever had something in your possession that you absolutely did not know that anybody valued but yourself, or that anybody would want, and then all of a sudden someone came along and wanted to give you something for it?"

"I can't say as I have," he said, trying to remember, to think of an example. "What's that got to do with your story?"

"A bunch. Ok, I was in Neiman-Marcus, looking at these shoes. You can't blame me for being interested. I used to model the things, after all—none of them as pricy as these, of course. It still just boggles my mind to think that anybody would ask for five hundred and thirty dollars for a pair of shoes, let alone the twelve hundred I've seen them asking for some of the others in this line. It may date me, but damn, for that much they ought to be seven league boots. But I thought there wasn't any law against my trying a few of them on—hey, it wasn't like I was messing about with a Steuben glass thingy that I might be unlucky enough to drop and break.
"So I had the shoe clerk bring a few boxes out for me to look at. The ones with the pointy toes, I put aside—I just couldn't deal with them, although I tried a pair or two in case they were more comfortable than they looked. They weren't. If I'm going to even think about paying five hundred for a pair of shoes I want to be able to wear them. But the sandals suited me just fine.

"All the while I was thinking that the shoe clerk seemed just a little more interested in me than usual—I figured it was just the way they did things in Neiman-Marcus; you expect a little better service for what you're paying in there. There was something about the way he was handling my feet, helping to insert them into the shoes, doing up all the little buckles and straps himself. And when he took the shoes off, I swear it was like he was feeling my feet up.

"Tell me about the shoe clerk," Gavin said.

Sidonie raised one of her overemphatic eyebrows. "Young, early twenties maybe; slim, dark-haired. Beautiful hands, in a masculine sort of way, with the longest thumbs I'd ever seen. Something kind of foreign, exotic about him, although I couldn't put my finger on it…"

"You thought he was…attractive?"

"You know I like 'em a little rougher around the edges than that." She gave Gavin another one of her havoc-inducing grins that caused his cock to jump. "Although, come to think about it—young and dark-haired, I bet I know somebody who'd—"

Gavin removed his hand from around his cock and gave it a firm tap with his forefinger, a primal, primate's gesture. It dipped down and sprang back up again.

"Stay on purpose, Sid!" he said.

"Ok, yeah, he was attractive. Especially those hands, the way he kept massaging my ankles and insteps and brushing those long thumbs over my toes." Sidonie stretched her legs out in such a way that once again, her dress fell to one side and it was hard not to see her pussy. "Anyway, he kept bringing out more shoes, most of them Manolos, and I was getting into trying them on, like I was Carrie Bradshaw or something, and…I sort of didn't notice that the store was getting emptier and emptier. I noticed the other clerks punching out, but I figured, hell, if this guy wanted to go into overtime or work off the clock or whatever on the chance that I might buy some of these shoes, it was his business.

"Next thing I knew, there was nobody around in the shoe department except him and me, and I thought I'd better put him out of his misery one way or another. I was just about on the verge of getting these sandals, the ones I wore out of the store. I looked up and noticed two things: one, the lights had been dimmed in the rest of the store, and two, this other guy turned up that I'd never seen before; the shoe clerk must have called him on his cell, and he'd been there, watching me try on shoes—I just hadn't noticed."

"Sidonie," Gavin said, "Any normal woman by now would be frightened out of her mind."

"Well, don't think I wasn't—somewhat. I mean, the concept of having two guys paying attention to me isn't entirely foreign, but I like to be more involved in the set-up, thank you very much. I was thinking to myself, well, I've gotten in over my head at last, and what's it going to be? I didn't have any faith in the security people; it seemed clear to me they had been paid to be somewhere else. I thought I might could outrun the guys; and I had the phone, if I could get a hold of it and use it before they noticed and tried to take it from me; but suppose I didn't? Was I going to be able to fight them at all, or—"

Obviously, there had been no fight, whatever had happened.

"What did the other guy look like?"

"Oh, older than the first guy, very kind of Euro; but I thought there was something vaguely Asiatic in there, although he was heavier built than most of those guys are; dark hair and naturally olive skin. He wore an Armani suit—at least, I'll call it an Armani suit. It was Continental cut, and expensive as hell; I could tell that.

"Anyway, there I was, sitting down, and they were grouped in front of me—not exactly surrounding me; in fact, they had drawn up those shoe clerk's stools and were sitting down on them; I suppose, to make me feel less threatened than if they were standing up and I was gazing into their crotches. Not that I could tell anything from that at this point—you know how those expensive suits are—cut so that nothing, not your wallet, not a set of keys, not a gun or a blackjack, and certainly not anything so déclassé as a woody, is going to ruin their perfect, perfect line.

"Armani Suit said, 'Madam, I hope my associate and I have not alarmed you, but I just have to tell you: you've got the loveliest feet I've seen in years.'"

Gavin couldn't argue with that. Sidonie did have lovely feet, and she was justifiably proud of them. It had bothered her so much that she could not maintain a pedicure to her standards during her pregnancies, due to not being able to reach over her belly, that he had not only taken care of that for her, but had gone to the trouble of taking acrylic paints and putting little oriental-style miniature paintings on her toenails one week, and abstracts the next; and this was decades before anyone had ever heard of nail art. All of her friends had been impressed, and one of them offered him $100 and a blowjob if he'd do her toenails the same way. He turned her down, however.

"Then he went on to say that if I really didn't want to be there, they would escort me to the door of the store with no hard feelings, but then…he offered to buy me these shoes, let me walk out of the store with them for nothing, if I would just—allow him to massage my feet and give them the loving homage they deserved.

"You know how it is when you're so—well, maybe not necessarily frightened, but so, so keyed up that your whole system is just flooded with adrenaline and everything is on go, including your sexual response."

"Yeah."

"Right. I was primed to run, and my heart was going like a drum, but I could also feel my pussy getting all hot and juicy, and when the guys put this proposition to me, I found that I wasn't really frightened any more, but I was still excited."

"What made you decide?"

"Well, I'd decided they weren't going to hurt me. I wanted the shoes. Besides, recently I'd…do you know what it's like to have guys that would have been looking you over and checking you out a few years ago calling you 'ma'am' and…not really seeing you? There was some of that. But above all…I was curious."

Gavin sighed, bemused. "That's my girl. So what happened next?"

"Armani Suit took off his suit coat and moved the clerk's stool in front of me, and took my feet in his hands and put them on his lap. He got out a little bottle of oil, poured some into the palm of one hand and began giving me one of the best foot massages I'd ever had in my life. It felt so good I wanted to purr. In fact I did relax so much that I let my knees fall apart; as soon as I realized it, I clapped them together again. He said I didn't have to do that—in fact, he asked me to take my panties off, because he was sure that my pussy was as good looking as my feet were. I didn't plan to, but then I thought, why not? So I slid them down my legs, he handed them to me, and I put them in my purse. Like I said, my feet were in his lap and I could feel how hard his dick was; it felt like a piece of warm pipe under my toes. I started caressing it with my toes and sort of rolling it around under the balls of my feet. I could tell he liked it. He spread his legs a little and began to nudge back at my feet with that hard dick. Oh, he was getting into it, all right!

"And can you believe it? I started getting into it too. His excitement was feeding into mine. In a little bit I reached out with my toes and began working at the buckle of his belt. I managed to get my toe under the free end of his belt, and worked it out of the buckle; then I got it between my toes and pulled it free of the tongue. I tried to undo his trousers with my toes, but I couldn't do it—not enough reason to practice such fine motor skills with them, plus there really wasn't any slack in his pants in front, because by now he was making a fine tent. Ha, so much for spoiling the line of his suit. He let go my feet long enough to help me out; he undid his pants—he was wearing white silk boxers underneath—and tugged them down enough so that my feet rested on his naked thighs. He had a big old woody." Sidonie grinned with mischievous amusement.

"How big was it?"

Sidonie made a how-should-I-know gesture. "Longer than you, but not nearly as wide…respectable, anyway. I started rubbing it with my feet, spreading the pre-cum all over the head with my toes, and every now and then I'd stroke his balls, too. He liked that—all of that. He was getting pretty hot and bothered, and I told him to put a little more oil on my feet, especially the insteps. He did, and I trapped his dick between my feet and started sliding them up and down. Sort of a treadle action like when you're operating one of these old style sewing machines like they had in those shirt factories. He was holding onto my feet again, squeezing them together and helping me pump. I could feel how hard and hot his cock was, and the way it kept emerging from between my feet like a piston was an interesting sight. He began to breathe heavily and groan…"

"What was the shoe clerk doing?"

"Watching all this, of course. He had his cock out of his pants, too; he was stroking it, not too hard; it was like he was saving his shot…not unlike what you're doing now, darlin'…

"Armani Suit was getting more and more excited, and the more excited he got, the more I started to get, too. Besides, there was that treadle action I was doing…something about the way my thigh muscles were flexing. And my dress had ridden up, too; and the slit had fallen away to either side of my crotch; I was sure the guys were getting a pretty good look at me, especially when I'd vary the stroke by taking his dick between my soles instead of the instep, because then I had to part my knees. I thought, I'm going to hold out as long as possible, but it's just a matter of time before I'll have to have some relief.

"But just as I was thinking that, he molded my feet around his dick really hard, and started helping me press them up and down; and I could see he was about to come. He breathed faster and faster, louder and louder, and then I saw the very moment the cum spouted out the end of his cock. It poured down in hot streams all over my feet."

Sidonie stretched one leg out in front of her, with its foot clad delicately in chains and straps; the other she drew up, so that her dress once again fell away on either side of her hips. Dreamily she stirred one finger between the juicy petals of her cunt, circling it tantalizingly over the engorged bud of her clit; then she sucked the warm liquor off her finger.

"Then what happened?" Gavin asked hoarsely.

"Well, here I was with these cum-covered feet. Things went quickly after that. Armani Suit moved and the shoe clerk sat down where he'd been; pulled the stool up pretty close, lifted each of my feet and started licking them. He licked the other guy's jism off them, then he kept on licking them, rubbing them all over his face, getting between the toes like a cat, sucking on them. I had thought I was going to be doing the same for him that I'd done for the other guy, and wondered if I was going to get tired, but while he was lifting my feet up to his face, Suit Guy got down and started chowing down on his cock. I couldn't see anything except Suit Guy's head bobbing up and down, but I could hear the moaning and the groaning, the slurping and slobbering, the mmf-ing and gulping. Being kind of young and all, the clerk didn't take long; he'd barely gotten my feet clean when he was letting it all loose into his friend's mouth, going Hunh Hunh Hunh! while Suit Guy was gulping it all down. God, what a turn-on! I think it was mostly the excitement and the noise, but man! I was horny as hell, and needed to do something…however, I didn't want to get it on with either of the guys, and as for them, they'd had the part of me that they wanted.

"It was over fast after that—the guys pulled their pants back up and Suit Guy put his jacket back on. The shoe clerk tenderly buckled the Puriscas onto my feet like nothing out of the ordinary had happened, and took my hand and lifted me to my feet. Suit Guy had him ring up the shoes. They politely escorted me to the door and let me out. I never knew who they were; they never knew who I was. I was still so horny I could barely walk. And…you know what happened after that."

"Yeah." Gavin looked down at his cock. It was twitching with the rhythm of his blood, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. He looked at his wife, stretched out on the chaise. "Unbutton your dress the rest of the way."

She began to slowly undo each of the tiny buttons in front of her dress, and while he watched, he quickly got out of his clothes, letting them fall in a heap on top of his shoes. A sketch was forming in his mind, and he thought of how he'd work on it later, when he had time for it: she, lying on the chaise with her long legs spread, her face remote and eyes faraway with the memory of the thing she had seen and done, the length and definition of her legs, the rest of her body, barely suggested with shadows and lines, but her engorged and lubricious cunt, and her beautiful feet in their straps and chains and four-inch stiletto heels, rendered in baroque detail.

He crossed over to where she lay on the chaise, his thick cock bobbing a little at each step, and stood next to her. Another bead of precum slid out of the end of it and headed for the floor in a slow-motion, growing thread, but before it could get anywhere, Sidonie leaned over toward him and caught it on her tongue. Taking the cock in her hand, she pulled him gently closer and swirled her tongue all around the head before closing her lips on it. He could feel it being bathed in fresh warm saliva, and let himself be pulled deeper in. The hair he did not have on his body stood up as he felt a mélange of her agile tongue flicking his pee slit, frenulum and sensitive underside; the corrugated roof of her mouth, and the grip of her throat muscles. She hummed a low note that he felt more than he heard. She brought up her other hand to lightly graze his scrotum with her well-kept nails. He felt his balls draw up not in fear, but from a wracking need to deliver their aching burden into this woman's mouth; he thought of how it would feel; the way she would look and the sounds she would make as she drank his cum as if it were melted ice cream. That was almost a fatal error. He backed, and watched her cheeks grow concave as she attempted to keep up a perfect suction. Her eyes were semi-closed in pleasure. He would have liked to come in her mouth, but he also needed and intended to fuck her, and damn it, he was getting to where if he came in her mouth, it didn't take him that long to get it up again, but he had to wait a hell of a long time before he got off. She, of course, didn't have this problem.

He took it out of her mouth. "So you were saving your pleasure for me?"

"Yeah."

He took her hand and drew her to an upright position. "You've got the damnedest notion of virtue, sweetheart. First you managed to get paid $530 for a foot job and then you used me like I was an object, is what you did."

"I needed to."

"I know," he said. He drew her up the rest of the way and she slipped out of her dress, leaving it behind on the chaise, and stood before him naked, but for her shoes. In the high heels, she stood enough taller so that he had to tilt his head up a little to kiss her. She turned to put one foot up on the chaise so she could slip off her shoes. "Leave them on," he said.

Just as he had wanted in the parking garage, she lifted her pelvis and sheathed her hot, hungry pussy down onto his cock. She firmed up her wide-legged stance and wrapped her arms around his shoulders for balance, but he had already decided where he wanted her; cautiously, so as to avoid contact with her sharp heels, he slow-danced her around the end of the chaise and up to the side of their bed. She braced her arms against it. He brought his hands up to her breasts and pinched her nipples. She inhaled, and he could feel her tighten around him.

She felt different on the inside than she had the first time he'd ever put it in her. Under the slippery layer of juice, she was like raw silk, with slubs and striae that having Geneva and Branden had put there, but he liked it. And she was still tight, and he knew how to catch with edge of helmet and the wide back of his cock the fascinating little irregularity near the top of her entrance that made her—

"Oh, yeah, Gavin," she sighed. "That's where. God that feels good. Do that some more."

He braced her against the side of the high bed and plunged into her with his thick cock, keeping up a slow, but not too slow, steady rhythm. He could sense the charge of pleasure building up inside her, and he loved the act of thrusting; the tension of the quads, the snap of his hips, the flexing of butt muscles; loved it as much as being squeezed by her wild-silk tightness. She had been answering his thrusts with short, sharp thrusts of her own, but when she liked his rhythm and thought she could come to it, she made herself still, standing there quivering and utterly receptive. He knew that all he had to do was to keep on with what he was doing.

"Ah…oh God, Gav, that's…oh, do that, do that…fuck me, just like…fuck me…fuck m…oh fuck that feels g—ah!…ah! Ah! AH! AH…!" He felt fresh hot juice surround him; her convulsing cunt gripped, and gripped...he could feel her abdominal muscles ripple against his. She continued to pant and groan, her face emptied of any emotion except enjoyment of the sensation rushing through the core of her body. He could have bucked into her and lost it in her right there, but he wasn't going to let her go that easily. He would remind her who her man was, and he was going to flat wear her out—or himself.

"Gonna nail you, Sidonie…" he grunted as he thrust into her. "nail you to the fucking wall…"

In their years together they had done it slow and sweet, hot and fierce; in laughter and deadly seriousness. They had used every position that worked and did not throw out their backs. But there was something about this one; in it there was thousands of years of soldiers getting one last piece of the women they loved against a city wall before marching off to war; or taking women of the enemy as flames illuminated the sack of their towns…and he remembered once, a few months before he and Sidonie were married, taking her against a brick wall after they had defended themselves, with fists and feet and broken bottles, against a trio of toughs who had set upon them in an alley in old Glendene.

He amused himself by leaning back just enough to where he could look down at himself gliding in and out, and at the flushed inner lips of her pussy stretched tightly and dragging over his thick, veined shaft, moving with each of his thrusts. He felt himself starting to slip towards the inescapable vortex of an orgasm and looked away. He wasn't quite ready to come yet, as badly as he wanted to. He palmed her breasts again and pinched her hard tits, more firmly than he had before. She came again, mildly for her. The shiver that ran through her strong body, the greedy clasp of her sex, and her moaning exhalations almost did for him.

They rocked and thrust together. The suspenseful feeling of approaching climax coiled tighter, in his balls, in the core of his penis. He had read or seen on TV somewhere that the penis really started deep inside the body, and he could believe it. He put his hand down between himself and Sidonie and found the little hard ridge of her clitoris. He stroked it from root to tip, from side to side. Sidonie brought one hand down to cover and guide his. She slid a little lower against the bed, moving her hips as if she were belly dancing, and worked her slick, hot pussy on his cock in a narrow ellipse. Her teeth bared in a grimace of bliss, she began to tremble with tension and anticipation.
"Ahh—hhahhhh—hhhah—oh—oh Gavin—oh God, Gav—oh God that's so g—oh, God! Oh, fuck! Fuck me—slam that hard cock inside me!" Her voice was an exuberant leonine roar. The wild rapid knocking of her heart and the force of her climax shook her body. Her strong cunt muscles squeezed his cock unmercifully. "OH…! Come on, honey, jam that thick fucker up in me! Come with me—do it! Fuck me! Fuck it good and hard—I don't care if you fucking hurt me!"

All he could do was what she told him. He grabbed her firm ass with both hands and leaning against her, against the side of the high bed, he abandoned himself to uncaring, barbaric thrusting, heaving his cock into her so fiercely that he found himself grunting involuntarily with each stroke. The wild and urgent itch he had been fighting took him over and he surrendered to it, letting ecstasy uncoil from balls and belly and ass and out the end of his cock, as irrevocable as a released harpoon. His strong contractions, and the sounds he made, merged into Sidonie's as he spurted into her. Her arms closed around him and her warm herb-and-grass-scented hair stirred as he breathed hard into it, tickling his face.

Somehow they managed to reach behind Sidonie's back, pull the comforter aside on the bed, and then heave themselves up onto it. He lay atop her athletic body, as exhausted as a beached whale, an occasional aftershock running through his cock and making a small dribble onto her thighs. Her arms were still around him. He felt unstrung from pleasure. In a minute he would have to get up and turn off lights, but right now he could barely move.

"I love you, Gavin," Sidonie murmured. She looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and a closed-mouth smile, looking like Mona Lisa might have looked, if Mona Lisa had eyebrows and had just been fucked till she whooped and hollered.

"I love you too. But Sidonie…"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you shop for shoes," he said, "You'd better take me with you."