Shoe Store Fuck: Dominating My Chat Hookup on Night One

Rue de Passy shoe store. My phone buzzes in my pocket – his text: ‘Outside.’ Fuck yes. Days of filthy chats on the app, dick pics, my pussy shots. No bullshit intros. Tonight, real meat. I’m in my white cotton tank dress, legs glowing tan, low heels clicking. Heart pounds. Adrenaline hits like coke.

Store’s quiet. Client leaves. Colleague dips out too – perfect timing. He walks in, pretending to browse. Scruffy Dockers, eyes hungry. I catch him staring at the window display, then me. Bingo. I saunter over, voice low: ‘Can I help, sir?’ He stammers about size 43s. Points. I lean in, cleavage dips. His eyes dive right in. No shame. I feel my thong dampen.

The Approach

He sits. I fetch the shoes. Turn slow, ass swaying in the mirror. Catch his gaze glued to my thighs. Smirk. Back with box. His foot’s bare. ‘Started without me?’ Tease. I kneel on the footstool, leg slides between his. Knee grazes his crotch. Hard already. Laces tight. His pants tent. ‘Tight fit?’ I press his foot, eyes on his bulge. He panics. Cute.

Stand up time. He rises, cock straining. I drop low, hair brushes it. ‘Not so tight.’ He throbs. Store empty. My perfume hits him – vanilla musk, mixed with my wet pussy scent. He groans. ‘I know what you need.’ Firm. He nods, broken.

Sit. Face at my hem. ‘Unlace.’ Trembling fingers. I tap his cheek with my thigh. ‘Kiss it.’ Lips hit skin. Soft. Fresh. Tongue out. Slow licks. Foot grinds his balls through pants. ‘Don’t stop, perv.’ Culotte flashes white. He laps higher. Hands behind back. Good boy.

The Explosion

‘Pants down. Show your cock.’ Zip. Out springs it. Precum beads. My heel teases tip, balls. Leather cool. He licks thigh frantic. Skirt up. Face in. Sniff my soaked thong. Grind. ‘Tongue it.’ Satin rough, pussy juice sweet-salty. Hips buck. Moans echo off walls. Colleague’s back – my partner in crime. She grins.

Pull him up. Backroom counter. Skirt hikes. Thong aside. ‘Kneel. Eat.’ Pussy lips swell. Tongue traces slit. Clit pops. Circles. Slow. Deep thrusts inside. Gush floods his mouth. Thighs clamp ears. Suffocate him. Bite clit. He humps air. Her gloved finger probes his ass. Cock in her fist. Pump. Pump. He bucks. I laugh. ‘Virgin hole? Ours now.’

Mirror shows it: him on all fours, pants ankles, my thong in teeth. Her in beige suit, fingering deep. Twist. Prostate milk. He whimpers like bitch. Tits teased. Pinch. ‘Jerk for my feet.’ Hand flies. Eyes lock mine – green fire. Cum arcs. Splats my heels. Shudders. Waves.

Pat head. ‘Fuck off.’ He zips, grabs shoes. Stumbles out. Door chimes. Back to normal. Wipe cum. Straighten dress. Phone buzzes – next match. Life’s too short for vanilla.