Shoe Fucker
He couldn’t get his eyes off my shoes as I sat at the bar. I toyed with him by rubbing my heel up and down my leg. He was so memorized he didn’t even notice me staring right at him as I teased him. I dangles one heel from my toes and gently rocked it back and forth. He’s practically drooling. He squirmed at his table, trying to hide his growing erection. He must be a shoe fucker.
There was something about my red and black six inch heels that attracted every man with a foot fetish in a ten mile radius. Its almost as if they had little to no interest in the rest of my body, just the shoes. It has always fascinated me to be with a shoe whore. Something about the way they drool over the sight of a sexy pair of heels and the lengths they are willing to go to slide their cock inside that intrigues me.
I walked over to his table and watched his eyes move from my feet to meet my eyes. I introduced my self and he offered to buy me a drink. After some mindless chit chat, I told him I noticed his interest in my feet. He blushed as he tried to cover his growing cock with his hands. I moved in closer and whispered him to take his cock out of his pants. He looked around nervously as he fumbled with his zipper.
The bar was dark and, with the table concealing our activity, I removed my heel and slid it onto his cock. His eyes rolled back and he let out a shy little moan.
“Go ahead, baby. Be my good little shoe whore!” I said as I began to pump his cock in and out, squeezing the head into the open toe.
His groans grew louder, but were still muffled by the loud music. He rocked his hips and took longer strokes. I knew it was only a short matter of time before be would cum all over my sexy shoe. With one last thrust and a deep moan he began to spill his man juice through the open toe and onto the floor. I slid his cock out, leaving a few drops of cum on the sole. I held it up to his mouth and watched him slick up the drops, savoring every moment.
