Sophia loved shoes almost as much as she loved sex. Her husband, Henson, loved Sophia’s feet, as he loved every other part of her. He didn’t mind her buying new shoes if it made her happy and if after the modeling he could remove each shoe and suck on each toe.

Sometimes Henson accompanied Sophia to the shoe store. He didn’t have much patience for it, but he did enjoy when the shoe salesman fitted Sophia, kneeling between her legs, enjoying the view up her skirt.

He knew Sophia could become aroused very easily. “I think he saw my wet spot,” Sophia whispered as they walked out of the store. “When we get to the car I’m going to suck you and then you’re going to push my cunt-soaked panties aside and fuck my brains out.”

After that, Henson often went with Sophia on shoe buying expeditions. One day, after such a trip, during which Sophia had purchased a pair of silver stilettos and a pair of tall red boots, they got back to the car and Henson discovered that Sophia was not wearing panties. “I almost came just from having him look at me,” Sophia confessed. “My little clitty was practically jumping out of its skin. My poor kitty almost drowned.” Sophia came almost the moment Henson entered her. She orgasmed again when Henson flooded her. “Oh, you fuck me so good. You deserve a reward,” Sophia said after she’d recovered a bit. “I know—let’s go back. I’ll treat you to a new pair of boots.”

“But I don’t need boots,” Henson protested.

“Come anyway. I want that clerk to smell my cunt smell after I’ve been fucked so good.”

Henson allowed himself to be dragged back into the store. He allowed Sophia to pick out a pair of leather slippers for him. Henson took her aside. “I really don’t need these,” he told her. “Yes, you do,” Sophia corrected him. “The leather is so soft and supple. It reminds me of the feel of your cock.” And that was that.

At home Sophia insisted Henson model the slippers. “Oh yes,” she declared. “Take off your pants. Take off your shirt. Take off everything but those slippers. Oh yes yes yes. Adorable. Sexy. I must have you.” She quickly lay on the living room rug and spread her legs. “Now toe my cunt. Slip that sexy slipper into my slippery fuck hole.”

Of course Henson couldn’t actually penetrate Sophia’s vagina with the slipper, but he caressed her until the toe of the shoe was wet with Sophia’s secretions. Sophia convulsed in orgasm several times from this stimulation before Henson knelt between her legs and thrust himself into her. The churn and clamp of her cunt brought Henson to a quick but powerful climax.

Henson and Sophia both loved those slippers. Their use at first was reserved for sex, but as the days went on, Henson found the slippers so soft and warm and supple, of such a perfect fit, and full of such sexy memories, that he wore them quite often when he was in the house, which quite often led to sex. In four years he wore them out.

“Look at the poor things. So shabby,” Sophia remarked one day. It was true. The slippers were falling apart. “I know,” Sophia said. “I’ll take them to the shoe repair man first thing tomorrow. He’ll fix them good as new.”

Henson wasn’t so sure. “What will we do in the meantime?”

“I guess you’ll just have to suffer,” Sophia said. “Either that or fuck me barefoot.”

“Now there’s a thought,” Henson acknowledged. Soon he was caressing Sophia’s clitoris with his big toe. Not long after that he had his heel pressed between her the petals of her labia. She gushed her pleasure against his naked sole. Later she joked, “Who needs shoes when we have feet?” They laughed, but Henson did miss his slippers.

“When did you say they’d be ready?” Henson asked Sophia. It was a week later.

“These things take time,” Sophia said. “You can’t rush a good shoe guy.”

Another week went by, then another. Sophia made several trips to the shoe repair shop, always returning with the same story. “Not quite ready yet. Maybe one more day.”

One morning, instead of going to work, Henson followed Sophia. Only a moment after she’d entered the shoe repair shop, the sign in the door flipped from open to closed. Henson waited a minute, then tried the door. It was locked. He peered through the blinds. The shop was empty, at least the area in front up to the repair counter. Frustrated, Henson walked through the alley to the back of the store, where there was a rear entrance. Cautiously he tried the door handle. Though it seemed stuck at first, with a firmer tug, the door opened a crack. There was just enough light to see Sophia lying face down on the floor, the shoe repair man standing over her, his foot against her bottom. “Oh yes,” Sophia cried out, “Fuck that big black boot into my hot little asshole. Yes, yes, yes.” Sophia was clearly in the throes of ecstasy.

Henson found himself unable to turn away, dismayed but also aroused. Sophia’s orgasm was of stunning duration and intensity. When at last it was over, the shoe repairman rolled her over with his big boots and satisfied himself in her mouth. Henson slunk away.

“One more day ought to do it,” Sophia told him that evening when he inquired as to the progress of the repair. “Or maybe two at most. Three at the outside. I adore your patience.” She gave Henson a chaste kiss.

A few days later Henson gathered up his courage, and after trailing his wife to the shoe repair shop, and after secretly witnessing her backroom activities, and after watching her leave the shop through the front door, and after the sign had been flipped from closed to open, he went in.