five footwear flashers...

These five fetching footwear flashers originally appeared at Ruthie's Club. Enjoy!


Sandals
by Sommer Marsden


I made sure to paint them red. Bright red. I slid my feet into the sandals. Nothing more than delicate woven strands of leather barely tethering my feet to the thin leather soles. I couldn’t wait for the reveal.

“Ready?” Alex combed his fingers through his hair. He stopped when I entered the room.

I waited. Smiling as he took me in from head to toe. “Ready,” I said.

His eyes locked on my sandals and I felt the familiar tingle spread through my limbs, my belly. I wiggled my toes.

“A walk on the beach first?” Alex said to my feet.

“Sure.”

Hand in hand we went down the private deck to the stretch of beach. His gaze never left my feet. Alex loves to watch the sand slide into my sandals. Play between my toes. Insinuate into every nook and cranny. I don’t get it, but I do appreciate the effect. And they looked good. Tan and lean with cherry red toenails.

“Did you buy them for me, Crystal?” He said it almost shyly after thirteen years of marriage.

“You know I did.”

He pulled me behind a dune and dropped to his knees. Fingers, hands, face, tongue on the tops of my feet. My toes. I pushed him back with my foot. Ran my exposed toes over his hard cock. It strained at his shorts and I nudged it harder. I traced the length of him with the toe of my sandal. He made needy little sounds.

He reached his point. Pulled me down. Yanked at my skirt, lifting it up. I sank down, pulled up, riding him with my back to him. Facing his feet. The way he likes. I fucked him looking out at the ocean, while he stroked my feet, my sandals, my toes.

Slippers
by Sommer Marsden

Charlie loved the change in season. It meant her feet got cold.

Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle…

“What are you grinning at?” Debbie asked.

He just kept grinning, drinking her in. Faded college tee, low slung gym shorts with her hot pink thong peeking out the back. And there they were. Her white fuzzy slippers. Her feet looked as if they had been swallowed by two oversized cotton balls. Delicate ankles seemed to grow out of the fuzzy puffs.

“Well?”

“Nothing. You chilly?”

“Yeah, but it’s nice,” Debbie said. Her smile grew wider and she shuffled off. The slippers changing her normal sultry swagger to a sorority girl shuffle. A little less confident, a little more wary.

Maybe that was what always got his dick hard. Charlie followed her.

“Tea?” Debbie asked, bending to the low cabinet and rummaging. Her dark pony tail bucked and swayed as she searched.

“Um. Sure.” Charlie stared, trying for control. It was useless.

His wife stretched further, looking for the elusive tea and he ran his hands up the firm swell of her thighs. Dug his fingers under her shorts, wiggled them, sighed.

“What are you doing?” she snickered, still foraging.

“Rubbing your ass.”

She pushed back. His lovely wife. Her ankles flexing above the mass of fuzzy cotton. Charlie yanked down her shorts and thong. Debbie rested her palms on the counter and sighed when is fingers invaded her cunt. Wet.

“Take off the tee,” he ordered, circling the head of his cock over her moisture. Her pony tail danced when she did.

Charlie sank in deep, gripped her hips and stared at her feet. He fucked her hard, her slim torso spread across the counter. The harder he thrust the more she slid. And when he came the slippers whispered on the linoleum.

Sneakers
By Sommer Marsden

“I bet I can beat you!” Cheryl laughed.

She was nothing but a blur. A tall blond blur of long legs and a heart shaped ass in red leggings.

He increased his speed.

“It’s about time, slow poke,” she puffed, resting against a tree.

Brad bent, hands on knees, breath harsh. “Jesus. You trying to kill me?”

“Nope. This is training. You’re supposed to try to keep up.”

Brad nodded. He thought he might pass out. He stared at her red and gray sneakers with the little tennis socks peeking out. Focus. Breathe. Then the red leggings came into view, a puddle around her ankles.

Brad blinked. Surely he was hallucinating.

“I’ll let you fuck me if you catch me,” Cheryl whispered. The grove of trees was deserted.

Before he could answer she bolted.

Brad gave chase. Trying to block out her jiggling bottom. The elusive flash of the vee of hair between her legs. The promise of the prize.

Cheryl tangled in ivy. Brad put on speed, tackled her gently. Didn’t want to hurt her.

Her legs fell open, thighs spread for him. The rubber soles of her shoes pulled at his skin.

“Looks like you caught me.”

His gym shorts down, his cock out, he drove in. Cheryl arched up, pulling him deeper with her runner’s legs.

She was hot and wet. She was as tight as a fist. He fucked her hard in the dead leaves and wild ferns. He stuck his finger in her mouth and she sucked hard. Would her mouth feel like that on his cock?

She got tight around him and then cried out. Brad came with a growl. Somewhere birds took flight.

“What was that about?” He helped her up.

“Every runner needs incentive.”

And then she was off.

Heels
By Sommer Marsden

Her ass looks great in heels. Her muscled calves standing out from the pressure of being on her toes. Her slim ankles wrapped in the thinnest band of black satin. And that rhinestone buckle. I can’t help but stare as she saunters past.

She glances my way. Smiles. I’m hard. Just like that. Like the flip of a switch.

She glides away. How does she walk like that on heels that high? That thin? There lies the mystery and the allure. That and the soft sway of her round ass under her short black dress.

I follow along and she glances back. To see if I’m following? Yes. She smiles.

My mind jumps ahead. Her in the coat room, dress hiked up, ass bare, tottering on impossibly high heels. My cock sliding into her. That first warm stroke. That first moment where all my nerves jump to life.

I duck in after her.

*****

He’s right behind me. My heartbeat is erratic and on the heels I feel like I’m swaying a million miles above everything. Both powerful and weak. On top of the world but vulnerable on my perch.

I sway my hips. An odd mating dance. This dress, these heels. Arriving like this with nothing under my dress but me. I slide behind the coats and hold my breath. He’ll come. Of course he will. He was right on my heels.

The coats part and his hands are everywhere. His lips on my neck. Breath hot in my ear. Cool air on my skin as my dress is hiked up. I bend forward, part for him. Let him in and force back against him. So wet. Perfect. The rhythm, the place, the motion of tipping.

“God, your ass,” he says.

I smile. My ass looks great in heels.

Boots
by Sommer Marsden

I am a badass in boots. My self doubt disappears the moment they are on. These are red. Powerful.

“You ready?”

“I am.”

“You wearing those?” Clay frowns. “A bit whorish, aren’t they?”

“No. They match.” I don’t meet his eyes as I put my earrings on.

“I think you should change them.”

“I won’t.”

“Sara!” His voice is threatening.

“No.” I put on my lipstick. Eye myself in the mirror.

Clay grabs my arm and spins me. I push at him. I love when it's my turn.

“You’ll changed those boots,” he hisses.

“I will not. I wear them or I don’t go.”

His cock is already hard. I can see it tenting the front of his dress slacks. “Bitch.”

“Yes. And bitch says, on your knees.”

He kneels willingly. He likes it, too, but would never admit it.

I hike up my skirt, shove my bare pussy against his face. My normal shyness gone. Pantyless and in control, I grind against him and he capitulates. His tongue parting me, lips sucking, fingers seeking.

I come and then, greedy, push against him harder. Clutch his dark hair with my fists. I make him give me another. Until my hot sex makes its own demands. Pushed to his back, Clay looks powerless. I yank open his zipper and sink down. His cock stretches me and I throw my head back.

I wrestle his arms above his head. He captures my nipple in his mouth. Sucks through my satin dress. Makes soft, helpless sounds. That makes me come again. Clay helpless. Me on top. My cunt clutches at him and I don’t stop.

Clay comes. He looks peaceful for a moment.

“Let’s go,” I say and climb off.

He just smiles and slides his hands along my tall, red boots.


~~~

I don't know about you, but my footwear fetish is satisfied. For now.

XOXO
Sommer