RED - Sex Stories

RED

My Favourite Like most men, I love the colour red. Not the hair colour I suppose. Then again, that’s ginger, or to be polite, strawberry blond. But in every other sense, I love red. My favourite sports teams wear red and I drive a red car. However, most importantly, I love my women in red. Red dresses, red coats and red shoes. Not necessarily all at once... I’m not totally crazy. My second great passion is feet. Women’s... of course. Preferably manicured, but I’m not going to turn my nose up at seeing the odd callus or patch of dry skin. In fact, I would merely try and educate the woman on caring for her precious feet. It’s a big gripe of mine that most people don’t give a second thought to their feet. Women in general think that painting their toe nails is more than enough podiatry care. I see it as my mission to get them to appreciate their feet as much as I do. So, after my rant you would probably expect me to be a podiatrist or chiropodist. Unfortunately, I didn’t receive a university education. But I did the next best thing. I own a shoe shop, and naturally I called it after my favourite colour... Red. It’s Friday, my favourite day of the week. Reason? Linda Sterling. She is a wide fitting size ten and loves a six inch stiletto heel. Her Caribbean accent sings to me, causing my heart to dance. I’m madly in love but can’t declare it because... Linda is engaged. Some lucky fucker got there before me. It doesn’t stop the chemistry between us though. The fact she comes at ...

... five fifteen every Friday evening is not just a sign that I have a great selection of shoes, but also a sign she likes my hands-on approach. It was five fifteen, and as I expected, Linda’s stepped into my shop. It was clear Linda believed in the power of her mile long legs. Every visit she would wear a new formal outfit, but whatever she wore always finished an inch or three above her knee. “You look beautiful as ever, Linda.” “Thank you.” Linda air kissed both my cheeks. I never quite understood that European tradition. My Italian family members do it, but I would much prefer a kiss on the lips... especially by Linda. I mean, air kissing feels like daylight robbery. “I bet you don’t kiss you fiancée like that, Linda.” “That’s more than he’s getting at the moment.” I sensed an opportunity to dig. “Not happy?” “I wouldn’t say that.” My shop is a hotbed of gossip. I’m sure most of my clients come in here just to bitch about their other halves. The women talk to me as if they have known me all their lives. I have always thought I should have been gay. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. But I do get along with women extremely well, and they tend to treat me more like a woman than a man. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because they think I’m harmless and not a sex pest... if only they had access to my dirty mind... or my hard drive for that matter. Linda is the easiest to get gossip from. She has a few issues in her relationship with Jack. Actually, I’m sure he is just leading her on. ...