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The Shoe Store

The Shoe Store
It was finally time. I left work with my feet aching, victims of too old, too worn shoes. After years in retail, and a mature woman, it was time for new ones.

But I was leaving late. Everything was almost ready to close when I got to the mall. I hobbled as fast as I could to the small shoe store way back in an out-of-the way part of the mall where I usually did my rare shoe shopping. An aged, white bearded man was almost ready to pull the grate down over the entrance, but he saw me limping towards her and paused.

“Please,” I gasped. “Can you take care of me?”

He looked at me for a moment, then grinned slightly. “Sure. Come on in.”

I ducked under the grate and he closed it the rest of the way.

“You look like your feet need some help,” he commented as I sagged into a chair and tore off my old shoes. I wiggled my toes, grateful I still had feeling in them.

“That’s for sure,” I said. He just stood there looking at me, and made no move to show me any shoes.

“I have to turn the lights down,” he said.

I nodded my head and leaned back a bit. Ah, new shoes. A treat for my feet. The lights dimmed. He came back out and stood there again.

“I know just what you need,” he said. “Be right back.” And he disappeared again.

He came back out a few minutes later carrying a large basin. It looked rather heavy, and as he carefully set it down in front of me, I saw it was full of soapy water. Rising steam told me it was hot water.

I looked at him curiously. He knelt, with the basin between us, and picked up my left foot. My eyes widened as he carefully lowered it into the steaming water. Oh, that felt so good.

I watched in amazement as he meticulously washed my foot, even between my toes. Then he lowered it into the water again and did the same for my right foot. Soon both my feet had been scrubbed clean and were luxuriating in the hot, soapy water.

“Um, you really didn’t have to do that,” I said, a bit nervously. He just smiled at me.

“I’m not done yet.

He disappeared again, leaving me there with my feet soaking comfortably. He came back with a small bottle and a towel.

He removed my feet from the water and dried them off, sliding the basin to the side. I felt wonderful, almost as if I had just taken a nice hot bath. Then he sat, cross-legged, right in front of me, with my feet literally in his lap. The towel was on his lap, and this was getting a bit weird.

He picked up the bottle and poured something on his hands. He then proceeded to massage both my feet. I couldn’t believe what this old salesman was doing. I also couldn’t believe how good it felt. I had never had a foot massage, or any kind of massage, but as his hands skillfully worked over my once-aching feet, I felt my whole body beginning to relax.

This was great.

There was just one problem.

For some reason I couldn’t comprehend, I was feeling a bit aroused. He was at least as old as my grandfather.

I shifted nervously in my chair. He grinned at me again, but didn’t say a word.
My feet had turned to putty by now, totally limp. The ache was gone, as if it had never been. He continued kneading, caressing, but somehow never actually tickling, which surprised me. After a while, he wiped the oil off my feet and dried them thoroughly. I stared to thank him, but he still wasn’t done.

He stared straight into my wide eyes and slowly slid his tongue up the sole of my right foot. I shivered, staring back at him in shock. As he reached the top of my foot, I watched in amazement as my big toe disappeared into his mouth, a mouth surrounded by white whiskers. Still staring at me, he sucked on my big toe.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think. And I didn’t know why I suddenly felt so damp between my legs.

Grinning slightly, he turned her attention to my left foot and gave it the same treatment. His eyes never left mine.

I was trembling. I had no idea how I should react. Should I say thank you? Should I ask him to stop? Should I tell him how uncomfortable I felt?

Did I really even feel uncomfortable?

As he began kissing my feet and sucking my toes at random, a soft moan came from somewhere. I shuddered as I realized it had come from me.

I was undeniably wet now, and was u*********sly squeezing my cunt muscles. My eyes widened as I noticed a scent that I knew to be my own.

The look on his face told me that he also knew that scent.

I watched, unable to move, as his tongue slowly traveled past my ankle, up my calf, over my knee, up my thigh. His hands went to my thighs too, gently pushing them apart. Helpless, I did not resist. I couldn’t.

Staring into my eyes, he took the lower edge of my skirt in his hands and pushed it upwards. Shaking like a leaf, I moved my bottom towards him a bit, towards the edge of the chair. I looked down to see my panties visible, stained from my arousal. He grinned at me again.

A long finger with nicely trimmed fingernail slid between my skin and my panties. My panties were pushed to the side, exposing my throbbing clit. I could only stare in awe as I watched his tongue gently touch it. His whiskers deliciously tickled my thighs. I briefly imagined Santa licking me

My head fell back, my arms dangled limp beside the chair, and another, stronger moan echoed through the empty shoe store.

The shoe man made me cum. Several times.

Then, still without a word, he put my panties back into place, and did the same for my skirt. His tongue journeyed back down my thigh, my calf, to my foot again. I watched, dazed, as he sucked my toes once more.

Then, pulling the basin back, he lowered my feet into the still-warm water, washed them again, and dried them. He stood up, smoothed out the wrinkles in his trousers, and he leaned towards me as I almost lay in the chair, and kissed me softly. My whole body tingled as this bearded man softly, tenderly kissed me. No tongue, just a pleasant kiss, his lips pressed against mine.

He picked up the basin and towel, and disappeared.

He came back a minute later, and I had recovered somewhat. Still not saying anything, he selected a very well-made, very expensive pair of shoes from the rack and carefully put them on me. They fit perfectly.

He took my hand and helped me to my feet. Leading me to the entrance he pushed the button that raised the grate, and kissed me again, quickly. He gently pushed me away as the grate opened.

Outside the store, I turned back to him. He smiled and pushed the button again, and the grate slowly rolled back down.

Fittingly, the last thing I saw of him was his feet. Well shined, expensive shoes.

I walked back to my car in a daze. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized he hadn’t charged me for the pair of $150 shoes.

And it’s funny. For some reason my pussy always gets damp when I have them on. And I wear them a lot.

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