Boots 8

I bent way over, ass high in my tight jeans, tugging the zipper up; curses followed. Curses against my calves, against the boots, against the state of fashion in the modern world. The zipper eased upward to the top, though, and at last I straightened with a pink face.

Toes, curling. Ankles, flexing. The boots felt good enough for a walk around the shoestore.

The heels clacked impressively on the linoleum as I headed around the aisle toward the clearance section, and that's when he met my eyes: a man, alone, lingering among the Size 10 mens' clearance boxes.

He was taller than me, even with the bootheels, and as I stood there and stared at him I saw his eyes scan me. Face, chest, hips, then those boots... they lingered there, squinting, before he gave a curt nod. When his eyes returned to my face, I saw approval. A longer nod. Another glance at my chest.

My pussy fluttered.

I took a breath, knowing my face was still red, and raised one questioning eyebrow. I posed for him then, right there in the middle of the store, hips cocked. Boots on display: my body invited his eyes to indulge themselves some more. I nearly felt their pressure, a physical heat, lasering into my body, taking me in.

The flutter became a pulse.

Behind me the store bustled; this was pre-Christmas, and everyone was buying boots. But mine were the ones that had drawn this man's reaction. I let him see my eyes descend to his crotch, returning his favor, seeking a bulge. I'm sure he saw my quick grin when I saw his erection, because when my eyes found his once more, he was jerking his head to the side. Toward the little corridor there. Where the bathrooms were.

My mind buzzed as I heard him lock the door behind us. It was one of those unisex bathrooms, just bare walls with a sink and a toilet, the mirror tilted slightly above it. I looked into that mirror and saw myself staring back wild-eyed, a scarlet flush on my face as the mirror showed me his strong hands creeping to my hips, then around to the front, tracing my waist. I leaned back against his warm body, feeling his dick against my ass, my eyes fluttering closed.

He worked at the front of my jeans, peeling them apart and then off me, the air of the bathroom playing across my nude ass. I glanced at him in the mirror, catching a greedy leer on his face as he revealed my red thong. I couldn't resist: I backed into him as he eased my pants lower, letting the cheeks of my butt brush across the front of his jeans, watching his eyes glint in the mirror.

His belt, brushing along my goosebumped flesh as he opened his fly, made me shiver. We looked urgently at each other now, two desperate faces in the mirror, our pants down around our knees; his finger burrowed into my asscrack, pulling my thong aside, his other hand lost somewhere behind me, lining up the dick I still hadn't even seen even though it was about to penetrate me.

The naughtiness of that nearly had me cumming even before his smooth, rounded cockhead nudged my pussy open, wedging in, splitting me with a pair of mutual gasps. I was soaked, my body sucking him desperately in as his hands found my hipbones, pulling me back. A wedding ring glinted on his left hand. Our legs met in a fleshy slap, my moan coming from my mouth unbidden once I felt him fully inside me.

Deep.

He fucked me hard and fast, my knuckles white on the dirty sink. I watched myself in the mirror the whole time, corkscrew hair bouncing as he thrust into me, feeling my tits pull at my bra with the impact of his crashing body. That greedy look never left his face as he took what he wanted, legs planted, hips surging.

I came hard and fast, biting my lip as I struggled to restrain my scream. My body spasmed, hot, the spicy little prickles of pleasure biting at my insides all the way up from my hungry pussy, and then he was speeding up and bashing his cock into me, a low groan leaking from his mouth even as his cum leaked into my body.

"Guess I'll buy the boots," I panted.

"Yeah," he gloated. "They look good on you."