She gazed at her shiny, red heels. New heels - freshly out of the box in which she had carried them home, complete with new-shoe smell and a gleam they would never quite achieve again. Tall heels. Daring heels.Slutty heels. They were perfect. She had plans for these. Tonight. She was getting horny just thinking about it.
She sat, mesmerized, for a little longer, fantasising about her plans for later. She could feel herself becoming aroused - wet even. She began to move a hand towards her breasts, the other sliding under her waistband towards her pussy...
She stopped, willing herself back to the now.
"Later ... Later."
With a sigh she put the shoes back in their box and got up to run a bath.
He climbed the stairs to their apartment, slightly out of breath but fit enough to make it without undue distress. His own shopping trip had been successfully completed a half hour before and a small collection of shiny new things was clustered in the bags he hauled up with him.
He'd phoned to say he was on his way home - perhaps if he was lucky dinner would be not far off. If he was home first he definitely would have started making dinner by now, but then women didn't think with their stomachs in quite the same way as men, did they? He fumbled for his keys.
Yes, he thought as he opened the door, a quick bite to eat and then I can check out my new...
He must have said that out loud because she smiled at him. Sort of giggled really. He took that as a sign that his was the sort of reaction she was looking for.
The smile was the only thing she was wearing. Well, that and heels he noted belatedly. All thoughts of dinner and new toys fled from his beleaguered brain as he drank in the sight.
She leaned against the lounge door frame, her back to him, looking over her shoulder. Her smooth legs were slightly spread, the calves pushed into a tight, sensuous curve by the red, shiny slut-heels. Her bum was pushed out suggestively, her pussy just visible between her shapely cheeks. Her tits mashed against the door frame as she wriggled her body suggestively, putting it on display for him. Her perfume wafted over to him; a heady, lusty scent she kept for when she wanted to feel sexy.
He dropped his bags without thinking, his hands going slack. He stepped toward her, his feet moving of their own accord, his eyes locked on her beautiful, sexy form.
"Close the door", she said.
"Oh ... shit, I forgot", he managed to mumble as he closed it.
He stared for a few more seconds. She said nothing, just smiling.
Finally he snapped out of it and started to remove his clothes. Fast. All the while she writhed and undulated against the door frame, saying nothing. He stumbled a little when it came time to remove his trousers - who doesn't - but he was ready in short order; naked with his painfully hard erection pointing in front of him.
She stared at it lustfully. She wanted it. Now. She was ready. More than ready in fact. She'd been thinking about this for most of the afternoon, barely restraining herself from frenzied masturbation lest she reduce her hunger for it. She wanted that hunger, needed it to be strong so she could enjoy the moment properly.
He approached, he could now see how ready she was: her eyes shone, he could see the glisten of her wet pussy, moisture beginning to run down her thighs.
He'd never seen her quite so turned on, so lost in the sexual moment. He wasn't a shoe or foot fetishist by any means, but despite his earlier jaw drop moment and subsequent clumsiness, he was an experienced lover. He recognised the heels as the source of her passion. He decided they should enjoy this coupling; savour it like the finest of wines or the slow melting of expensive chocolate in the mouth. They would remember this - he would see to that.
A part of him, a large part, ached to take his erect cock and plunge it into her. To fuck her savagely the way he was sure she wanted, but he didn't. He summoned his will and fought the urge down. Slowly. Let it build more, last longer.