Buying Heels

I have to know what it feels like to wear heels. I have the house to myself tonight and I'm going to play.

I already have panties but want to buy some new ones. My wife bought me a black, frilly thong which I wore for her when we went out one night; I also have a cheap, supermarket pair of sheer black briefs, which have a tiny red bow and a little silver key motif at the front. I love those- they're so girly, and they make me feel girly when I've got them on.

The ones I choose are pale turquoise french knickers; short, see-through and fringed with lace. I choose a slightly-too-small size 10- they'll look great stretched across my tight buttocks and will be hopelessly inadequate at containing my rampant erection. Stockings, next; I've loved wearing these ever since I secretly tried on a pair of my wife's seamed black stockings and suspenders. She was young and hot at the time and liked to wear that stuff. I usually go for seamed black or shiny american tan, but I'm feeling trashy and I feel like trying black fishnets. I'm heading for the checkout but I decide to buy a pair of sheer tan lace-top holdups as well. A girl can change her mind, can't she?

The mature lady behind the counter serves me efficiently, with no trace of irony. Men buying lingerie for their partner is pretty commonplace these days. I wonder if she suspects I'm going to wear them myself; I hope she does.

All very easy so far; however, I like to get out of my comfort zone occasionally. The next purchase should definitely achieve that!

I walk along a back street, parallel to the main pedestrian shopping street. There are several 'cheap' shoe shops which should provide what I'm after. I browse the racks outside and scan the displays in the window; the first couple of shops are empty, which is no good as I don't want to be the focus of attention of three young shop assistants. The next shop is busier, plastered as it is with 'SALE' signs. Perfect.

I see a pair instantly; the shoes are arranged on racks by size, so it's easy to see what they have in a 9. The smaller sizes are, as I would expect, picked over, but there are a few in the less popular larger sizes. I spot just what I'm after- a strappy, black patent leather sandal with a 4-inch heel. My heart starts to thump as I imagine pulling it on to a stockinged foot. With disappointment, I see it's a size 8, in the wrong section. All's not lost, however, as they have the same in gold in my size. I realise they actually look much trashier in the gold and have to steady my breathing. They will look sensational with the tan holdups and tarty as fuck with the fishnets. I'm looking forward to tonight!

I ask the girl for the other one of the pair. She's about 18 with coloured streaks in her hair and hoop earrings. "Just a minute..."

She sees they're a size 9 and I think I catch a fleeting glimpse of amusement on her face. She returns with the box and the other shoe, holding it up for me (and her similarly-young colleagues) to see. She doesn't make eye contact; also, she doesn't ask if I want to try them on- I thought she might do this, with a giggle, to relieve the tension. Obviously I would have smiled back and told her my wife has big feet, or something. The fact that she hasn't made the comment suggests that she knows I'm buying them for myself.

"That's ten ninety-nine, please..."

I pay in cash and she hands me the bag with the briefest of eye contact. She knows, and she'll be having a laugh about it with her mates later on. How I'd love to parade around in these shoes for them.

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I retrieve a bag from the loft. It contains my two pairs of panties, a tube of luxury hand cream and a huge, black dildo.

I love the contrast between the tiny, floaty, frilly knickers and the enormous, 10" ebony silicone shaft, the same way I love the same contrast in the interracial porn I like to watch. A tarty little blonde in stockings and thick red lipstick sucking or being anally fucked by massive black cocks is heaven to me. I love it so much that I envy those girls immensely. I imagine how delicious it must feel to look and dress like that and to actually fulfil the promise by slutting yourself to the limit. Intoxicating.

There's no hurry tonight. I take a relaxing bath then shave my balls and anus, spending time rubbing in my super-thick La Prairie hand cream. Just its scent is enough to arouse me as I've been using it as an anal lubricant for so long.

It's time to dress. I have the laptop on, showing a constant stream of hand-picked interracial blow-job clips. Sleazy-looking young women gaze into my eyes while struggling to accept oversize black tools in their painted mouths. I watch one after another. Brazen, doe-eyed; spunk splashing onto parted lips or youthful, proudly thrusting boobs.

I sit on the edge of the bed and unwrap the fishnets, cellophane packaging first, then unwind them from their card. I remember they're not holdups, and fetch a black suspender belt from my wife's drawer. I slowly pull on each stocking, attaching the tiny suspender clips to the bands at the top. The stockings feel almost non-existent. It was the first thing that struck me all those years ago in my wife's slinky seamed ones; I looked tarty and ready for sex, but still felt naked. The cool air circulating around the fishnets remind me of this feeling.

Next it's time for the french knickers- will they be too tight with the suspenders? Actually, they're a lovely fit and being able to see the lacy black suspender straps through them is super hot. I put on a black silk blouse from my wife's wardrobe to take care of my top half.

I feel so wonderful that I can't resist wanking myself, and pull down the waistband of the knickers so it stretches over the base of my cock behind my balls. I'm wet with precum already, and there'll be loads more of this over the next few hours as I enjoy my protracted self-debauchery. I lick the divine, sweet, stringy nectar from my fingertips as I pleasure myself expertly.

My heart is skipping as I take out the shoe box. The box says 'Lady Glam' which contributes nicely to my feminisation. I remove the lid and part the tissue paper packaging to reveal my purchase. I gasp. The heels look much higher than they did in the shop and I hadn't noticed the tiny flower motif and gold ankle chain. They look so incredibly trashy.

I undo the buckles and the ankle chains and point my left toes, feeling my stocking-clad foot slide into the hard curve of the cool shoe. Oh my god, I think, as I fasten the tiny buckle and chain around my ankle. I never dreamed it would feel this good. I know the best is yet to come.

I put the other shoe on and sit, cross-legged, just savouring the sensation. It's not 'til I stand up, however, that I realise just how good it feels; suddenly, I'm arching my back, thrusting my chest forwards, and tightening my buttocks and legs. I tentatively walk a few steps, and realise I'm parading, displaying myself automatically, presenting my backside, making myself available.

I glance at my back view in the mirror; turquoise knickers with visible suspenders, long & shapely, fishnet-clad legs and oh-so-slutty gold fuck-me sandals. I look so fucking desirable. I make a promise to myself there and then that I'll one day get myself fucked in this outfit.

It's a shame not having anyone to appreciate this, I think. I imagine the shop girl again. I wish she were here, slowly smoking a cigarette with a look of slight, arrogant amusement on her face while she watched me slink about.

I walk slowly to the bathroom, feeling my buttocks and inner thighs sliding against each other and the flimsy material of my knickers. I want lipstick on; I love the way it feels to apply it, and I choose one from the bottom of my wife's makeup bag that she doesn't often wear, so I can lay it on nice and thick without her noticing. It's a gorgeous, deep, orangey-red, and was a gift to her from a Brazilian student; it smells sensational, with that strong, traditional lipstick smell that can be overpowering on a glamorous woman.

I spot my wife's cigarettes on the bathroom shelf; a red pack of the long, brown Mores that look so elegant between her fingertips when, as she regularly does, she exhales smoke directly into my face. I don't smoke, but can't resist seeing how it feels to have one hanging out of my mouth while dressed like this. It sticks to the super-thick lipstick and I can walk with a semi-open pout with it just dangling there. Oh, to be a young (or even mature) exhibitionist slut hungry for cock...

Which I most certainly am. It's difficult to imagine getting made up like this and not being, and I know that every inch of that beautiful, black dildo will soon be inside me.

I sit on the bed again and pick up the dildo. It's so beautiful, with its thick, veiny shaft and bulbous head, all in glistening ebony. I stroke my inner thighs with it, sensually, lingering around the stocking tops and suspenders, then slowly unbutton the blouse, imagining a pair of plump boobs spilling out to envelope that lovely cock. I slide it up my belly chest and throat, finally opening my hot, painted mouth to accept the swollen head. I close my eyes and feel my heart beating. Oh god, I wish so much it was real.

I start to mouth the head and shaft, smearing the gorgeous smelling-lipstick all over. I must remember to apply more later. It'd be nice to have the dildo positioned at just the right height, so I don't have to hold it.

Suddenly, I remember something I have hidden! I put on a bath robe and go downstairs and through the inside door into the garage to retrieve it. It's wrapped in tissue paper, in a carrier bag on a high shelf; I have to be very careful on the stepladder wearing the heels.

I slowly unwrap my prize. My wife has never seen it; at the time I bought it I didn't want her to know the extent of my dildo obsession. It's a really huge rubber dildo, 14" from its tip to the suction cup at the base, and, of course, black as night. To be honest, it's a little on the large size; it was advertised as being suitable for experienced size queens only. I have had some pleasure from it; following working up to full and satisfying penetration with the 10-incher, and with loads of lube, I can take maybe 6" of this much thicker tool, and it feels fucking wonderful. Also, with its suction cup, I can attach it to the bathroom sink pedestal and push back onto it. I wonder just how much I'll take, tonight...

I hold it vertically- it's quite flexible so I use both hands- and stretch my mouth round the head, imagining how it would taste coated in precum. I realise there's just a wooden door between me and the outside world; how would this look?

I suddenly get an idea, a filthy, intoxicating idea that has me shaking and makes my breathing difficult. Could I? It could all go wrong, but now I've had the thought, I want to go through with it. Placing the oversized dildo on the bench, I walk back through the house to the front door, and unlock it.

Back in the garage, I fight to steady my breathing. I crack the door slightly; it's late, midweek, and the street is quiet. It's only about 5 meters from the garage to the front door. I'll be partially hidden for part of the way by the car on the drive, but there's a street light, and I'll briefly be framed in the light of the garage. Also, the woman opposite is still up as her bathroom light is on and her bedroom curtains are open. There's a chance- a wonderful, exciting chance, my body tells me- that she'll cross her room to the window to close her curtains, and see me. I know I have to do this right now, spontaneously, or regret it forever.

I let the robe slide off my shoulders and pick up the dildo, have one last check of the street and the bedroom window and set off. Head up, slut heels clicking on the paving, I walk, in fishnet stockings, suspenders, french knickers and silk blouse; my mouth coated in thick, red lipstick and carrying a fourteen-inch black dildo, from the safety of my garage to the front door. I try not to hurry; heel, toe, heel, toe like a catwalk queen. The headlights of a car are coming up the street, fortunately still some distance off. What if the door won't open? It seems to take ages before I reach the safety of the front door and open it, briefly framed in light again.

As I close the door I glance up at the bedroom window opposite and catch, with a start, the last movement of the closing curtains!

I sit down on the bottom step, shaking. Did she see me? It looked like there was a lamp on in the room, so she may not have done. But if she did...

Oh fuck. That was fuckiing delicious. Is this what it feels like to be an exhibitionist- a flasher? I'm so excited, so completely fucking aroused. I take out my cock and almost stroke myself too far.

I think about the woman opposite, Donna. I think she's a nurse as she keeps strange hours, and hasn't really made the acquaintance of the more established neighbours since she moved in a couple of years back. She's tall, blonde and leggy, however, in her late 30s, and apparently likes to sunbathe topless, smoking, in her back garden. Of all the women on the street, she'd be the one I'd like to catch me, femmed up in frilly knickers, stockings and heels.

Back upstairs, I glance through the blinds; her light is off.

It's time to get myself fucked, and I wiggle out of my panties. There's a free-standing full-length mirror by the bed, and I attach the bigger dildo to it at a suitable height which allows me to mouth it, on my knees, as I work up to burying the full 10" of my silicone lover in my hungry anus. There's so much hand cream on the dildo and around my hole that I'm soon inserting and removing it repeatedly, savouring every inch of that beautiful shaft. I relax, feeling my ring stretch open time after time as the head penetrates me, all the time taking as much of the huge one into my mouth as I can, just wishing they could both spunk off into me.

Soon there's little resistance to the 10-incher and I want the main course. I slink to the bathroom, a dildo in each hand, imagining leading two black lovers to the bed so they could use me. I attach the big tool to the sink pedestal and smear it with hand cream.

I want to be seen. I set up my digital camera on a small tripod to record the action. The angle has to be spot on to record just how much of the shaft is penetrating me; also, I want to show off my stockings and heels, my lipstick and my cocksucking enthusiasm, but without my face being seen. This is just possible by wearing my wife's straw sunhat and possibly doing a bit of video editing later. The bathroom light is turned fully up, and as a finishing touch, I stand a large sheet of brown cardboard against the shower cubicle and write, in red lipstick 'I am a girlie submissive slut for black cock. I want to be repeatedly assfucked til I drip spunk. Use my mouth and anus, I never say no.' For good measure, I draw an enormous, veiny cock and balls underneath, spurting bolts of spunk.

I apply more hand cream, switch on the camera and start to impale myself on the 14" dildo. The head soon pops into me and I gasp; it's so much bigger than the silicone one. It feels so fucking huge and beautiful as I push myself back onto it; I'm taking about 8 inches, just a bit more with every thrust. I suck on the 10 incher at the same time, inserting almost to the point of gagging, remembering the first time my wife mouth-fucked me with it for her own arousal. I occasionally turn slightly towards the camera, hoping I've caked the lipstick on thickly enough to look obvious and tarty.

This is so fantastic, the closest I could get to being a porn slut. I realise I'm going to have to be assfucked to improve on this; in fact, double-ended. I think I'm going to have to make myself available on some chat rooms and 'specialist' web forums...

I have an occasional break, but manage, over the course of the next hour, to slide myself a full ten inches onto that huge shaft, repeatedly withdrawing to re-penetrate myself fully as far it will go. I hope the vid clips, when I share them via the internet later, will show my desirability, both in my lingerie and heels and my ability at taking serious length. I hope men, or bitchy women with strapons, will want to fuck me.

My balls are aching now, and I want to get off. I'd like to do it with the dildo in me, but I want to record it and I know my cum will shoot further without my sphincter wrapped around the shaft. I position the camera next to the bed to show me from the waist down; suspenders, stockings, strappy sandals and the cardboard sheet in the background. I realise just how much of a slut I look and suddenly think of something which would be a great finishing touch. The unlit cigarette is on the bedside table where I left it, filter stained with red lipstick. I take out my wife's lighter from her top drawer and light up, taking a small drag and exhaling slowly. Now I really do feel like a slut.

I wank myself for the camera, arching my back, making sure the burning cigarette, slim column of smoke curling upward, is visible between the extended fingertips of my left hand as I pleasure myself. I'm aching for release and slowly stroke myself off, great bolts of spunk arcing into the air before splattering onto my tarty suspenders and stocking tops.

I lie there until my head stops spinning. I've never smoked, but the opportunity is there to experience what the kind of women I like experience. I drag, inhaling as much of the smooth smoke as my inexperienced lungs will allow. It feels really good; I can understand why my wife loves to light up after orgasm. Is this how it feels, I wonder, to be totally fucked and totally satisfied?

For now, I think it is. But maybe I'll take it even further...