F me pumps

Beautiful eyes and jet black hair, the sound of the high heels hit the street with the mild, slight Click. Delicate and feminine that sound, the man looks across the street and smiles. Lovely, he thinks, and wishes he was young again. Hips concealed in pink fabric , tight , taut and intimate , cupping  firm buttock and lovely curves.  Onward with the sounds of click , click , soft lovely and sensuous . The sound of dreams, click, and click, swish and click. down the road , ahead the door opens and inside , to the bedroom.

The sound barely audible in the hushed silence of the room, on carpet now, still the slight click of heels. Hard bottoms, cheap but not unlovely the shoes that were favorite and slowly unclothing the body. Looking down and feeling all the sexy, sensual beauty brought by the heels. Behind the door, a voice, that calls, “James, is that you sweetie?” his mother asks

Yes, Ma, it’s me “

“That is so strange I could have sworn I heard heels,” and he hears her move away from the door.

 

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