Red. Came. Finally.

The aroused male, what an agreeable sight. Foot back, pulling his tip down to the tips of her foot, she can just feel him with her toes, her eyes slowly wandering over their cockshoe, her eyes tightening with the desire coursing in her body. Her mind wanders off, dreaming of a carnal landscape of unexpectedly discovered pleasures such as this. From far away she hears a voice.

"Let me take over, you should’t be doing all the work"

His hand gentles her ankle and her shoe comes away. Free to move at last, she splays her toes on his balls as he starts to masturbate against her peep-toed fuck altar. Rippling his bloated shaft in front of her, she looks on, aroused? Well, maybe. It’s hard to tell in this light. Consenting, certainly.

It’s time for him. Time for homage to the shoe. His mouth opening in the pleasure of the moment, he’s almost giggling with delight at the success of his audacity. Her glance skips from man to cock to shoe to cockshoe and back again, this rhythmic drawing out of his orgasm, veins and muscle leading him out of himself is a truly most delicious spectacle. He comes in the opening at the toe of the shoe, his first ejaculations inside. we see his grey pearl come shoot up the inside of the shoe. She inhales deeply, concentrating on his cockshoe as she watches his perfect grey pearlplume fuck-gift.

But his climax isn’t over. Lust, daring, wantoness surge inside his head as he feels a second ejaculation rise inside his shaft, and he aligns his erection once more on the red leather, twitching off another strand of semen. His orgasm in evidence, yet he remains so poised, so cool as he carefully empties himself over her leather. His craftsmans’s hands carefully repositioning the shoe as his ripples his shaft, carefully wasting none of his seed in his task of pleasuring the shoe and her owner. Admiring the unblemished glossy semen drawled out onto her own footwear, she realises she’s finally met a man with a respect for feet worthy of her own, something she’s always wanted. Damn, the man’s an expert, this surely can’t be the first time he’s done this. Daniel is going to have to improve his performances from now on if he wants to keep her, that’s for sure.

‘You’ve prepared well, an excellent performance. Your seed is so rich.’

His ejaculations shorten in distance, lengthen in interval: he’s easing off, still with the cool elegance that she’s been admiring. One of the fascinations of the male orgasm is usually its rushing unpredictability but here it’s all so disciplined, his expertise, his control so evident, even at his moment of release. How much else does he do so well?

A last dab and the last of his climax takes its place on the leather. Red patent leather topped with a strangers’s ejaculate. Her own shoes shamelessly blemished with his perfectly unabashed unblemished semen. Perhaps one day she’ll let him empty them over me, she thinks as she takes back control of the soon-to-be cockless shoe. One last gesture of self-pleasure: his index finger swirled around his tip, cleaning up. They share a last complicit smile as he sucks himself clean. Then buttoned up once more, from his jacket, his business card: ‘Wild Moments. Craving your satisfaction’.

“You’re kidding me, you mean to say that you do this for a living?”

”Well, let’s just say that I’m giving it some serious thought.”

He turns and steps out in to the corridor. In the last moment of door’s collapsing rectangle, he catches sight of a woman raising a shoe to her face, a grazing finger outstretched.