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shoe fetisjh

To say I have a shoe fetish would be putting it mild. I am addicted to anything the wraps tight around my beautiful feet and accents my stunning legs. I’ve thought about having these sexy stems insured, but that would be so vain, wouldn’t it?

A trip to the shoe store with a client is always in my best interest, but this time, it was other worldly. My client works for a little company called NASA, and well, he has taken me to new heights in the shoe game. His spending habits astronomical. I do love having my head in the clouds when it comes to taking money from men. I deserve the best, and I will get it.

I love when I shop and the floor is hardwood. Something about the way a heel taps that fine wood sends shivers down my spine. It’s almost an intoxicating sound for me. Click. click. click, right across the finest cedar planks. One little wrong move and I could ruin a perfect shine with one scrap of my spiked heel and damage done. Take a moment now to imagine that resting on your ball sac. A weapon of castration inches away from your cock. Scared yet?

A shoe fetish is a very expensive habit.

A single digit running over the material of a pair of 395.00 stilettos, my nipples got hard in the process. I am such a whore for a good pair of shoes. I love the way they smell, feel, and most of all, how they make my perfect feet look like a million bucks. My client loves the power that I have when I wear them. I can completely own him with the right accessories.

Sitting, an old Al Bundy looking salesman asked what I wanted. I had to laugh because one pair of shoes was probably his weekly income. For me it was another day at the office. Handing over the pair of shiny red shoes, I asked for a size 8 1/2, and request they had never seen a pair of feet before mine. I will not try on someone else’s rejects. Who know what kind of filth might of slipped their piggies in them before I had.

I am such a shoe fetish whore. 

While he slipped my stocking covered toes into the toe of the shoe, my client let out a few notable moans. I knew the shoes would be mine by the sounds alone. A girl like me knows when a Man is at his weakest point. Sitting in front of me on the stool, the salesman didn’t know how to react to all this. I pressed the tip of my new pair of shoes to his dick, pressing with increasing pressure. I love when a man does what I want.

“We will take these, and a pair in black as well. A girl can’t ever have enough,”

Doing something I rarely do, I giggled at them both. I had the two of them stumbling for words, but my client was still able to pull out his credit card. Once again, I giggled. Something about a 2×4 inch piece of plastic makes me as happy as a child on Christmas morning. I shivered and grinned when the bill came to over 900 dollars. I had to throw in new stockings as well. Did I mention I am a bit on the greedy side.

What happens when you buy a shoe fetish whore 900 dollars is her own personal supply of drugs? Call and find out. You might be not understand my life, but it’s mine.