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Dy-4's Secret Weekend
Bryce, otherwise known as Dy-4, his alter ego on the internet, the personality he wished he could be more like in real life, was on another weekend business trip. He hated these trips: the flights, the food, the shitty hotel rooms and service. The one thing he did enjoy, though, was indulging in his hobby.
He was a data engineer. It was the 90s, the internet was just coming together and exploding in popularity. He had had an idea, a really good idea about data storage and optimization. His job paid really, really well. The downside was it ensured he would be on an endless lecture tour to computer nerds.
Bryce was not a particularly attractive man, at least he did not think so, though he did not consider himself ugly either. Six feet tall, medium build and lightly muscled. He had learned that sitting in a computer chair and eating all day was going to turn him into a fat blob, so he took action early and reversed the trend. He spent an hour a day in his home gym and tried to do the same when traveling in hotel gyms if they had one.
Bryce really was a nice guy with a lot going for him financially, but the one thing he had not achieved was love. He had had a couple of fairly long-term girlfriends, but nothing ever worked out. The problem was he had secrets, and his secrets kept him at a distance from possible long-term relationships. Secrets he was ashamed of, guilty about, and embarrassed by. Bryce was too afraid that if he shared them, women would never understand. They would think he was a freak or worse.
Bryce had had an exceptional meeting that afternoon; a group of businesswomen listened intently to his lecture. They even laughed at his bad computer jokes. Maybe the afternoon went well because it was Saturday and everyone was casual and comfortable, or maybe it was due to his audience: all women whom he had just won over.
One of the women in the front, a pretty girl with short blond hair, had even asked him out afterward for a drink.
Bryce declined, citing he had already made plans. What an idiot! This girl was interested in him and good looking. What could possibly have been better?
It was a beautiful day. Bryce probably turned down his only chance for companionship on this trip. There was only one thing left he wanted to do. It was something he always did when he was out of town: check out shoe stores and girl-watch.
After going to his hotel room to change, Bryce decided to get right to it. He knew the hotel was adjacent to a walking mall, and the city had a vibrant downtown of independent shops. He had checked the yellow pages, and there were three shoe stores on the street across from the park in the walking mall.
The mall was pretty empty of people. He had always loved busy shopping centers; he could sit and walk around for hours staring at pretty women, always checking out their footwear.
Across the road was a shoe store: "Ripley's Family Shoes." According to its sign, it specialized in large sizes and hard-to-fit shoes and boots.
Bryce entered the store with nervous anticipation, trying not to bring any undue attention to himself. The store was old, large with nice displays and lighting. It was much wider than it appeared from outside.
He surveyed the sections. The men's section occupied the left and ladies on the right. That always complicated things; it was hard to be inconspicuous in the women's section.
Inside, in the front of the store dusting a display of sandals, stood a very tall young lady. She was wearing a red dress with white trim, white ankle socks, and a pair of bright red Keds sneakers. The blue labels on the heels were a clear identification. She had her back turned to him and called out, "I'll be with you in a sec."
This was unexpected. Bryce's instincts were telling him to turn around and leave the store, but he instead froze. She could easily have been one of the catalog models wearing Keds that he fantasized about so frequently, the ones that fueled his private sessions of intense, guilty pleasure. Her outfit and sneakers pushed all his secret buttons, stirring a heat deep in his core that made his pulse quicken and his body respond in ways he desperately tried to suppress. He shifted uncomfortably, his heart racing as he tried to push the thoughts away, reminding himself that this was something he had to hide, something no one could ever know about him.
The young lady turned and smiled. Bryce was starstruck; she was beautiful. High cheekbones, beautiful green eyes, a fine nose, and full lips. The only makeup she appeared to be wearing was mascara and red lip gloss, which against her black shoulder-length hair was stunning.
She offered a polite hello while giving him a curious look-over.
Bryce, trying to be nonchalant, started to stroll around the store but could not keep from looking back at her sneakers and her beautiful long, tanned legs. He felt his face flush, a wave of shame washing over him as the familiar ache built, unbidden and insistent. It was not supposed to be like this; he was not supposed to let it show, not here, not ever.
She must have suspected he was staring at her legs or sneakers because she started to pose her feet and legs subtly, as if encouraging him without judgment. Her activities could have been imagination or wishful thinking on Bryce's part. Nonetheless, she turned her legs and lifted a heel this way and that for no apparent reason other than to give a gentle show, her smile warm and inviting, like she understood his hidden desires and wanted to put him at ease, drawing him in with quiet, knowing glances.
Bryce moved deeper into the store, and as he passed her, she asked, "Can I assist you, sir?" She had a lovely southern accent, not too heavy, just nice.
Bryce lost his voice and could not speak at first. He could tell his face was red because it felt like it was on fire. He stammered internally, desperate to maintain his cover, to pretend this was all normal, even as the tension coiled tighter inside him.
"I'd like to look around, but do you sell Keds?" he blurted out. "I'm looking for a pair for... my... girlf..."
Without batting an eye, she said, "Right this way, sir. We have lots, and I'm sure in your size." Her tone was kind, coaxing, as if she could see right through his hesitation and wanted to make it okay, her eyes holding his with a spark of playful understanding that only heightened the electric pull he felt.
"Well, they're not for me..." Bryce hadn't said this loud enough for any human to hear, let alone the salesgirl, who was now clear across the store.
"This way, sir," she called, her voice gentle and reassuring.
She was standing in front of a large wall display of women's sneakers. There were Nike, Reebok, Tretorn, Keds, and others.
Pointing to a section of multicolored Keds, "Which would you like to try on, sir?" Her statement really threw Bryce off. She was looking him straight in the eye with a curious smile, not mocking, but inviting him to be honest without fear, her words dangling like a temptation he could barely resist.
"Don't be shy, sir. We have a lot of men buy here. The black are nice, or would you like something in red like mine?" She tilted her foot slightly, drawing his eye back to her sneakers, her manner coaxing him forward with quiet understanding, making the air between them thick with unspoken possibility.
"Well, alright..." He managed a whisper, his mind screaming at him to bolt, but her calm acceptance made it harder to run. He felt exposed, yet strangely less alone, the heat building as he imagined those sneakers on his own feet.
She smiled and pointed to a chair. "Sit, I'll measure your foot." Bryce complied as she pulled a stool in front of him and straddled it after hiking up her dress a bit. He could smell her, a light, fresh perfume mixed with the canvas and rubber from her sneakers. It was exotic, intoxicating, sending a fresh wave of desire through him.
She removed his right loafer and slid an old-style metal foot measure under it. She adjusted the length and width. "Oh, you have small feet for a man. Not quite a ten, and you're narrow, so a twelve medium women's should be perfect, if not a bit big. I'm an eleven narrow. That's why I like Keds; they have better sizing for us odd-sized girls," she offered, her words normalizing the moment, coaxing him to relax into it, her fingers lingering just a touch longer than necessary on his skin.
The skin on his face was burning tight, his heart was pounding, and the erection he already had was throbbing in his pants, straining against the fabric with every heartbeat. Luckily, he was wearing loose khaki pants and boxers. He shifted again, mortified, praying she would not notice how deeply this affected him, how much he was fighting to keep his secret buried, even as the ache grew unbearable.
The salesgirl returned shortly with two white boxes with "Keds Feel Good" printed on the top. "I brought black and red, sir," she said as she slid the stool over to his seat. She sat so close that their knees touched. She opened the first box, pulled back the paper, and lifted out a sneaker. It was black. Quickly and professionally, she readied both sneakers. She removed his left loafer, fit both sneakers on his feet, tightened the laces, and tested the width with her fingers. She motioned for Bryce to stand. "How do they feel?" she asked as she used her thumb to check the toe length, her touch light but deliberate, easing him through the experience with a knowing smile that made his pulse race even faster.
"I was right again, sir. Twelve seems to fit you perfectly. I serve quite a few men here, and I can always guess their size. Not too many buy women's sneakers. You're my first Keds customer; most come in for stilettos or boots."
That was a definitive statement that she was well aware he had a fetish and one for women's Keds sneakers.
Bryce had never even in his wildest dreams put women's sneakers on in public, let alone had someone do it for him, and the sensation of the canvas hugging his feet sent shivers of forbidden thrill through him.
"Why don't you try walking a bit, sir? To see how they feel." Bryce took a few steps and nodded. "Okay, sit; let's try the red." Quickly untying the neat bows and slacking the laces, she slid off the black Keds, opened the box of red, and repeated the process.
Again she indicated Bryce stand; she checked the width and the length. "Oh, I like these on you," she commented. "How do they feel? Go look in the mirror," she instructed.
Bryce did exactly as instructed and headed to the mirror for a look. His erection was obvious, straining hard against his pants, and there was a small wet spot on the material near the tip, evidence of his building need. He stepped quickly back to the chair, hoping she hadn't noticed, his body thrumming with a mix of shame and desperate longing.
"Sir, are you taking both?" She asked. Bryce didn't speak but nodded yes. "Okay, why don't you wear those home?" as she boxed his loafers in the Keds box. She had already boxed the black. Heading to the counter, she started ringing up the sale. Bryce had already pulled out his credit card; handing it to her, she looked. "Okay, Bryce, nice to meet you. I'm Pam."
"Bryce, now that we're on a first-name basis, if I could be so bold. Do you live in town or are you a visitor?" "Visiting, I'm at the hotel across the street," Bryce managed to reply. "I work here part-time, and well, I meet quite a few of my clients here. You know, guys with special needs. Would you be interested in a date? I'm off, well, now as soon as we're done."
Bryce was shocked and tried to shake his head but couldn't manage to move. "BRYCE," she said loudly, "it's pretty obvious you need that taken care of," as she looked directly at his crotch, her gaze lingering with a teasing smile that made his need flare hotter.
She didn't wait for a reply. Instead, she turned, grabbed her purse from next to the till, pulled out a set of keys, and said, "Come on, you can buy me a drink."
Leaving the store, Bryce paused, and Pam locked the door. She then grabbed his hand lightly and led him toward the hotel. Pam chattered incessantly during the short walk. Pam had asked him a question, but Bryce hadn't taken it all in. His head was swimming. She stopped and looked at him and asked again. "Do you like to wear other women's clothes, you know, like bras and panties, or is it just the Keds?"
It was then that he realized he was wearing bright red Keds, just like hers, and became acutely aware of it, the feel of them on his feet intensifying the throb between his legs. "Oh, sweetie, it's okay," she cooed as she gripped his hand a bit more firmly. Still leading, they headed into the hotel and through the lobby toward the bar. The hotel was busy, but no one seemed to take notice, which was fine with Bryce. Pam picked a high table with stools in front of the bar. The stool was too high for Bryce to hide his feet. Pam seemed to notice his uneasy demeanor and smiled. "Don't worry, sweetie; we'll only be here a few minutes." The waiter came, and they ordered drinks: Bryce a double bourbon and Pam a gin and tonic. Pam continued to chatter, Bryce nodding occasionally. They finished their drinks.
"Okay, Bryce, so here's the deal. A special date is going to run you five hundred for an hour. Is that okay?" Bryce nodded. Pam turned and signaled the waiter to come over. "Bryce, pay for the drinks, and the date will be added to your bill." Pam told the waiter to send two more drinks to Bryce's room.
They entered the hotel room, and Pam excused herself to the bathroom. Bryce sat on the edge of the bed. He was bewildered and so fucking horny, the pressure building to an almost painful peak as he glanced down at the red sneakers, each glance sending fresh jolts through him. Pam returned and gave him a bit of a shove. "Lie down, sweetie; let me get you ready." Pam slipped the sneakers off his feet, then unbuttoned his pants and carefully and efficiently removed his pants and boxers, her fingers brushing his skin in ways that made him gasp softly.
"Bryce, I'm going to put the sneakers back on your feet. I want you to think about the red Keds, the Keds just like mine, and how feminine they are. How girly they are and how girly you look in them." Bryce's cock was twitching involuntarily, hard and eager, the air cool against his heated skin. Pam now taking it in her hand, her grip warm and firm, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine. "Oh, sweetie, you're ready to burst right now. Let me fix it for you." Pam held the base steady, her lips parting as she planted them on the tip, drawing in the sensitive head with a slow, deliberate suction that made him groan. Using her tongue, she swirled it firmly around the swollen tip, teasing the underside with wet, insistent strokes while her lips pulsed just below on the shaft, matching the rhythm of her hand firmly stroking the base. The sensations built like a wave, her mouth hot and inviting, pulling him deeper into a haze of need. Bryce tensed, his body arching as the pressure peaked, every nerve alight. Pam pulled her head back just enough. "Go ahead, sweetie; let it go." She pumped with steady, knowing motions as his release exploded from him in hot, pulsing waves, spilling over her hand. Pam continued stroking lightly, coaxing out the last drops, her tongue darting out to lick the head gently as he slowly softened, leaving him trembling and spent.
Almost on cue, there was a knock at the door. Pam answered the door, not letting the waiter in, took the tray of drinks, and placed them on a small table. Then she went and wet a cloth in the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and returned to Bryce. She gently cleaned him up, wiping away the sticky remnants with soft, caring touches that lingered soothingly on his skin. She handed him the towel. "Come on; let's have a drink."
Bryce covered himself and sat in one of the chairs. "Sweetie, you were really built up?" she whispered. Bryce nodded. "Not ready to speak yet?" she teased gently. Bryce was coming back to life. "That was... that was wonderful."
They sat there sipping their drinks, the bourbon warming Bryce from the inside out as the conversation flowed easier now. Pam shared little stories about her life in the city, her part-time job at the shoe store, and how she had a knack for spotting folks like him, the ones with secrets tucked away. "It's okay, you know; these kinds of things are common, fetishes that is. Do you know how this started?" Bryce said no, but he had a good idea; he was not willing or ready to share. "Well, if you ever want to talk, I'll listen. There's no charge for that," she said, smiling.
Bryce listened, nodding, his nerves settling into a comfortable buzz, the towel still wrapped snugly around his waist. He could not believe how the evening had unfolded, but with each passing minute, the shame ebbed, replaced by a lingering excitement that stirred low in his belly.
"Sweetie, you ready?" Pam asked. Bryce looked puzzled. "Oh, sweetie, that was just a starter; the main event will happen when you're ready." She reached for his hand and led him back to the bed. The towel slipped off as he walked. The Keds felt wonderful on his feet, and he was mentally getting excited again. Pam motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed and lay back. She got on her knees, her right hand softly caressing his balls between her fingers, rolling them gently with a teasing pressure that sent shivers racing up his thighs. Dropping her head, she sucked his soft length into her mouth, her warm lips enveloping him completely, the sudden heat and wetness coaxing him to swell rapidly inside her. Pam started slow and soft, her tongue tracing lazy circles along the underside as he hardened, filling her mouth inch by inch. Her hand moved up to the shaft, stroking up and down with a slick glide, letting saliva drip down to ease every motion, the slippery sounds mingling with his quickening breaths. Bryce was getting harder, veins pulsing under her touch, and she increased her sucking and stroking, her head bobbing up and down with a building rhythm that made his hips buck involuntarily. Her tongue licked around the head, flicking and teasing the sensitive tip, sending jolts of fire through him. Stopping briefly, she whispered, "Think about the girly Keds and visualize them," her breath hot against his skin, reigniting the forbidden thrill. His cock started to twitch, the pressure coiling tight, but he wasn't quite ready, so she stroked a bit faster, twisting her mouth around the head with a swirling suction that pulled low moans from him. She could feel him building, the tension thrumming like a wire about to snap. With her left hand, she slipped off her sneaker and placed it on his stomach. "Smell that, Bryce." The earthy mix of rubber, canvas, sweat, and perfume flooded his senses, pushing him over the edge as he brought the sneaker to his nose, inhaling deeply. His body shook with the force of it, waves of heat crashing through him as thick streams of release blasted into her mouth, overwhelming her until some dripped from her lips, warm and slick. With the release, he relaxed, his muscles going limp. Pam gently sucked on the tip until he was finished, her tongue soothing the lingering sensitivity.
"Bryce, sweetie," Pam said as she stood, reaching under her dress and pulling off her white cotton underwear. She reached behind and unzipped her dress, which slid down, exposing small, firm breasts with hard nipples that begged for touch. But as the dress pooled at her feet, something else came into view. Pam was pre-op transgender, her small penis hard and eager, rising from her body in a way that caught Bryce completely off guard.
He stared, confusion swirling in his mind, his cheeks flushing as questions raced through his thoughts. This was not what he had expected, not at all, and yet the sight of her, so confident and aroused, stirred something curious and heated within him. "Sweetie, will you?" she asked, smiling, then lying next to him on the bed. Conflicted but willing, Bryce touched Pam's hard length, his fingers wrapping around it tentatively at first, feeling the smooth, heated skin pulse under his grip. Pam jerked at the touch but settled, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Bryce had plenty of experience with his own body, so it came naturally; he stroked with a firm, rhythmic pull, watching her squirm and arch, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as pleasure built in her eyes. Emboldened by her responses, Bryce rolled over, taking it into his mouth, the velvety texture warm and inviting on his tongue. She was very hard; he moved his head up and down, sucking with a gentle, insistent pressure, his lips sliding along the shaft, tasting the salty heat as he drew her deeper. It didn't take long before Pam tensed, her body trembling, and she shot hot streams of release that filled his mouth, bubbling on his lips in warm, insistent pulses. Laying back, Pam whispered, "Yeah, that was wonderful too."
End
Bryce, otherwise known as Dy-4, his alter ego on the internet, the personality he wished he could be more like in real life, was on another weekend business trip. He hated these trips: the flights, the food, the shitty hotel rooms and service. The one thing he did enjoy, though, was indulging in his hobby.
He was a data engineer. It was the 90s, the internet was just coming together and exploding in popularity. He had had an idea, a really good idea about data storage and optimization. His job paid really, really well. The downside was it ensured he would be on an endless lecture tour to computer nerds.
Bryce was not a particularly attractive man, at least he did not think so, though he did not consider himself ugly either. Six feet tall, medium build and lightly muscled. He had learned that sitting in a computer chair and eating all day was going to turn him into a fat blob, so he took action early and reversed the trend. He spent an hour a day in his home gym and tried to do the same when traveling in hotel gyms if they had one.
Bryce really was a nice guy with a lot going for him financially, but the one thing he had not achieved was love. He had had a couple of fairly long-term girlfriends, but nothing ever worked out. The problem was he had secrets, and his secrets kept him at a distance from possible long-term relationships. Secrets he was ashamed of, guilty about, and embarrassed by. Bryce was too afraid that if he shared them, women would never understand. They would think he was a freak or worse.
Bryce had had an exceptional meeting that afternoon; a group of businesswomen listened intently to his lecture. They even laughed at his bad computer jokes. Maybe the afternoon went well because it was Saturday and everyone was casual and comfortable, or maybe it was due to his audience: all women whom he had just won over.
One of the women in the front, a pretty girl with short blond hair, had even asked him out afterward for a drink.
Bryce declined, citing he had already made plans. What an idiot! This girl was interested in him and good looking. What could possibly have been better?
It was a beautiful day. Bryce probably turned down his only chance for companionship on this trip. There was only one thing left he wanted to do. It was something he always did when he was out of town: check out shoe stores and girl-watch.
After going to his hotel room to change, Bryce decided to get right to it. He knew the hotel was adjacent to a walking mall, and the city had a vibrant downtown of independent shops. He had checked the yellow pages, and there were three shoe stores on the street across from the park in the walking mall.
The mall was pretty empty of people. He had always loved busy shopping centers; he could sit and walk around for hours staring at pretty women, always checking out their footwear.
Across the road was a shoe store: "Ripley's Family Shoes." According to its sign, it specialized in large sizes and hard-to-fit shoes and boots.
Bryce entered the store with nervous anticipation, trying not to bring any undue attention to himself. The store was old, large with nice displays and lighting. It was much wider than it appeared from outside.
He surveyed the sections. The men's section occupied the left and ladies on the right. That always complicated things; it was hard to be inconspicuous in the women's section.
Inside, in the front of the store dusting a display of sandals, stood a very tall young lady. She was wearing a red dress with white trim, white ankle socks, and a pair of bright red Keds sneakers. The blue labels on the heels were a clear identification. She had her back turned to him and called out, "I'll be with you in a sec."
This was unexpected. Bryce's instincts were telling him to turn around and leave the store, but he instead froze. She could easily have been one of the catalog models wearing Keds that he fantasized about so frequently, the ones that fueled his private sessions of intense, guilty pleasure. Her outfit and sneakers pushed all his secret buttons, stirring a heat deep in his core that made his pulse quicken and his body respond in ways he desperately tried to suppress. He shifted uncomfortably, his heart racing as he tried to push the thoughts away, reminding himself that this was something he had to hide, something no one could ever know about him.
The young lady turned and smiled. Bryce was starstruck; she was beautiful. High cheekbones, beautiful green eyes, a fine nose, and full lips. The only makeup she appeared to be wearing was mascara and red lip gloss, which against her black shoulder-length hair was stunning.
She offered a polite hello while giving him a curious look-over.
Bryce, trying to be nonchalant, started to stroll around the store but could not keep from looking back at her sneakers and her beautiful long, tanned legs. He felt his face flush, a wave of shame washing over him as the familiar ache built, unbidden and insistent. It was not supposed to be like this; he was not supposed to let it show, not here, not ever.
She must have suspected he was staring at her legs or sneakers because she started to pose her feet and legs subtly, as if encouraging him without judgment. Her activities could have been imagination or wishful thinking on Bryce's part. Nonetheless, she turned her legs and lifted a heel this way and that for no apparent reason other than to give a gentle show, her smile warm and inviting, like she understood his hidden desires and wanted to put him at ease, drawing him in with quiet, knowing glances.
Bryce moved deeper into the store, and as he passed her, she asked, "Can I assist you, sir?" She had a lovely southern accent, not too heavy, just nice.
Bryce lost his voice and could not speak at first. He could tell his face was red because it felt like it was on fire. He stammered internally, desperate to maintain his cover, to pretend this was all normal, even as the tension coiled tighter inside him.
"I'd like to look around, but do you sell Keds?" he blurted out. "I'm looking for a pair for... my... girlf..."
Without batting an eye, she said, "Right this way, sir. We have lots, and I'm sure in your size." Her tone was kind, coaxing, as if she could see right through his hesitation and wanted to make it okay, her eyes holding his with a spark of playful understanding that only heightened the electric pull he felt.
"Well, they're not for me..." Bryce hadn't said this loud enough for any human to hear, let alone the salesgirl, who was now clear across the store.
"This way, sir," she called, her voice gentle and reassuring.
She was standing in front of a large wall display of women's sneakers. There were Nike, Reebok, Tretorn, Keds, and others.
Pointing to a section of multicolored Keds, "Which would you like to try on, sir?" Her statement really threw Bryce off. She was looking him straight in the eye with a curious smile, not mocking, but inviting him to be honest without fear, her words dangling like a temptation he could barely resist.
"Don't be shy, sir. We have a lot of men buy here. The black are nice, or would you like something in red like mine?" She tilted her foot slightly, drawing his eye back to her sneakers, her manner coaxing him forward with quiet understanding, making the air between them thick with unspoken possibility.
"Well, alright..." He managed a whisper, his mind screaming at him to bolt, but her calm acceptance made it harder to run. He felt exposed, yet strangely less alone, the heat building as he imagined those sneakers on his own feet.
She smiled and pointed to a chair. "Sit, I'll measure your foot." Bryce complied as she pulled a stool in front of him and straddled it after hiking up her dress a bit. He could smell her, a light, fresh perfume mixed with the canvas and rubber from her sneakers. It was exotic, intoxicating, sending a fresh wave of desire through him.
She removed his right loafer and slid an old-style metal foot measure under it. She adjusted the length and width. "Oh, you have small feet for a man. Not quite a ten, and you're narrow, so a twelve medium women's should be perfect, if not a bit big. I'm an eleven narrow. That's why I like Keds; they have better sizing for us odd-sized girls," she offered, her words normalizing the moment, coaxing him to relax into it, her fingers lingering just a touch longer than necessary on his skin.
The skin on his face was burning tight, his heart was pounding, and the erection he already had was throbbing in his pants, straining against the fabric with every heartbeat. Luckily, he was wearing loose khaki pants and boxers. He shifted again, mortified, praying she would not notice how deeply this affected him, how much he was fighting to keep his secret buried, even as the ache grew unbearable.
The salesgirl returned shortly with two white boxes with "Keds Feel Good" printed on the top. "I brought black and red, sir," she said as she slid the stool over to his seat. She sat so close that their knees touched. She opened the first box, pulled back the paper, and lifted out a sneaker. It was black. Quickly and professionally, she readied both sneakers. She removed his left loafer, fit both sneakers on his feet, tightened the laces, and tested the width with her fingers. She motioned for Bryce to stand. "How do they feel?" she asked as she used her thumb to check the toe length, her touch light but deliberate, easing him through the experience with a knowing smile that made his pulse race even faster.
"I was right again, sir. Twelve seems to fit you perfectly. I serve quite a few men here, and I can always guess their size. Not too many buy women's sneakers. You're my first Keds customer; most come in for stilettos or boots."
That was a definitive statement that she was well aware he had a fetish and one for women's Keds sneakers.
Bryce had never even in his wildest dreams put women's sneakers on in public, let alone had someone do it for him, and the sensation of the canvas hugging his feet sent shivers of forbidden thrill through him.
"Why don't you try walking a bit, sir? To see how they feel." Bryce took a few steps and nodded. "Okay, sit; let's try the red." Quickly untying the neat bows and slacking the laces, she slid off the black Keds, opened the box of red, and repeated the process.
Again she indicated Bryce stand; she checked the width and the length. "Oh, I like these on you," she commented. "How do they feel? Go look in the mirror," she instructed.
Bryce did exactly as instructed and headed to the mirror for a look. His erection was obvious, straining hard against his pants, and there was a small wet spot on the material near the tip, evidence of his building need. He stepped quickly back to the chair, hoping she hadn't noticed, his body thrumming with a mix of shame and desperate longing.
"Sir, are you taking both?" She asked. Bryce didn't speak but nodded yes. "Okay, why don't you wear those home?" as she boxed his loafers in the Keds box. She had already boxed the black. Heading to the counter, she started ringing up the sale. Bryce had already pulled out his credit card; handing it to her, she looked. "Okay, Bryce, nice to meet you. I'm Pam."
"Bryce, now that we're on a first-name basis, if I could be so bold. Do you live in town or are you a visitor?" "Visiting, I'm at the hotel across the street," Bryce managed to reply. "I work here part-time, and well, I meet quite a few of my clients here. You know, guys with special needs. Would you be interested in a date? I'm off, well, now as soon as we're done."
Bryce was shocked and tried to shake his head but couldn't manage to move. "BRYCE," she said loudly, "it's pretty obvious you need that taken care of," as she looked directly at his crotch, her gaze lingering with a teasing smile that made his need flare hotter.
She didn't wait for a reply. Instead, she turned, grabbed her purse from next to the till, pulled out a set of keys, and said, "Come on, you can buy me a drink."
Leaving the store, Bryce paused, and Pam locked the door. She then grabbed his hand lightly and led him toward the hotel. Pam chattered incessantly during the short walk. Pam had asked him a question, but Bryce hadn't taken it all in. His head was swimming. She stopped and looked at him and asked again. "Do you like to wear other women's clothes, you know, like bras and panties, or is it just the Keds?"
It was then that he realized he was wearing bright red Keds, just like hers, and became acutely aware of it, the feel of them on his feet intensifying the throb between his legs. "Oh, sweetie, it's okay," she cooed as she gripped his hand a bit more firmly. Still leading, they headed into the hotel and through the lobby toward the bar. The hotel was busy, but no one seemed to take notice, which was fine with Bryce. Pam picked a high table with stools in front of the bar. The stool was too high for Bryce to hide his feet. Pam seemed to notice his uneasy demeanor and smiled. "Don't worry, sweetie; we'll only be here a few minutes." The waiter came, and they ordered drinks: Bryce a double bourbon and Pam a gin and tonic. Pam continued to chatter, Bryce nodding occasionally. They finished their drinks.
"Okay, Bryce, so here's the deal. A special date is going to run you five hundred for an hour. Is that okay?" Bryce nodded. Pam turned and signaled the waiter to come over. "Bryce, pay for the drinks, and the date will be added to your bill." Pam told the waiter to send two more drinks to Bryce's room.
They entered the hotel room, and Pam excused herself to the bathroom. Bryce sat on the edge of the bed. He was bewildered and so fucking horny, the pressure building to an almost painful peak as he glanced down at the red sneakers, each glance sending fresh jolts through him. Pam returned and gave him a bit of a shove. "Lie down, sweetie; let me get you ready." Pam slipped the sneakers off his feet, then unbuttoned his pants and carefully and efficiently removed his pants and boxers, her fingers brushing his skin in ways that made him gasp softly.
"Bryce, I'm going to put the sneakers back on your feet. I want you to think about the red Keds, the Keds just like mine, and how feminine they are. How girly they are and how girly you look in them." Bryce's cock was twitching involuntarily, hard and eager, the air cool against his heated skin. Pam now taking it in her hand, her grip warm and firm, sending sparks of pleasure up his spine. "Oh, sweetie, you're ready to burst right now. Let me fix it for you." Pam held the base steady, her lips parting as she planted them on the tip, drawing in the sensitive head with a slow, deliberate suction that made him groan. Using her tongue, she swirled it firmly around the swollen tip, teasing the underside with wet, insistent strokes while her lips pulsed just below on the shaft, matching the rhythm of her hand firmly stroking the base. The sensations built like a wave, her mouth hot and inviting, pulling him deeper into a haze of need. Bryce tensed, his body arching as the pressure peaked, every nerve alight. Pam pulled her head back just enough. "Go ahead, sweetie; let it go." She pumped with steady, knowing motions as his release exploded from him in hot, pulsing waves, spilling over her hand. Pam continued stroking lightly, coaxing out the last drops, her tongue darting out to lick the head gently as he slowly softened, leaving him trembling and spent.
Almost on cue, there was a knock at the door. Pam answered the door, not letting the waiter in, took the tray of drinks, and placed them on a small table. Then she went and wet a cloth in the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and returned to Bryce. She gently cleaned him up, wiping away the sticky remnants with soft, caring touches that lingered soothingly on his skin. She handed him the towel. "Come on; let's have a drink."
Bryce covered himself and sat in one of the chairs. "Sweetie, you were really built up?" she whispered. Bryce nodded. "Not ready to speak yet?" she teased gently. Bryce was coming back to life. "That was... that was wonderful."
They sat there sipping their drinks, the bourbon warming Bryce from the inside out as the conversation flowed easier now. Pam shared little stories about her life in the city, her part-time job at the shoe store, and how she had a knack for spotting folks like him, the ones with secrets tucked away. "It's okay, you know; these kinds of things are common, fetishes that is. Do you know how this started?" Bryce said no, but he had a good idea; he was not willing or ready to share. "Well, if you ever want to talk, I'll listen. There's no charge for that," she said, smiling.
Bryce listened, nodding, his nerves settling into a comfortable buzz, the towel still wrapped snugly around his waist. He could not believe how the evening had unfolded, but with each passing minute, the shame ebbed, replaced by a lingering excitement that stirred low in his belly.
"Sweetie, you ready?" Pam asked. Bryce looked puzzled. "Oh, sweetie, that was just a starter; the main event will happen when you're ready." She reached for his hand and led him back to the bed. The towel slipped off as he walked. The Keds felt wonderful on his feet, and he was mentally getting excited again. Pam motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bed and lay back. She got on her knees, her right hand softly caressing his balls between her fingers, rolling them gently with a teasing pressure that sent shivers racing up his thighs. Dropping her head, she sucked his soft length into her mouth, her warm lips enveloping him completely, the sudden heat and wetness coaxing him to swell rapidly inside her. Pam started slow and soft, her tongue tracing lazy circles along the underside as he hardened, filling her mouth inch by inch. Her hand moved up to the shaft, stroking up and down with a slick glide, letting saliva drip down to ease every motion, the slippery sounds mingling with his quickening breaths. Bryce was getting harder, veins pulsing under her touch, and she increased her sucking and stroking, her head bobbing up and down with a building rhythm that made his hips buck involuntarily. Her tongue licked around the head, flicking and teasing the sensitive tip, sending jolts of fire through him. Stopping briefly, she whispered, "Think about the girly Keds and visualize them," her breath hot against his skin, reigniting the forbidden thrill. His cock started to twitch, the pressure coiling tight, but he wasn't quite ready, so she stroked a bit faster, twisting her mouth around the head with a swirling suction that pulled low moans from him. She could feel him building, the tension thrumming like a wire about to snap. With her left hand, she slipped off her sneaker and placed it on his stomach. "Smell that, Bryce." The earthy mix of rubber, canvas, sweat, and perfume flooded his senses, pushing him over the edge as he brought the sneaker to his nose, inhaling deeply. His body shook with the force of it, waves of heat crashing through him as thick streams of release blasted into her mouth, overwhelming her until some dripped from her lips, warm and slick. With the release, he relaxed, his muscles going limp. Pam gently sucked on the tip until he was finished, her tongue soothing the lingering sensitivity.
"Bryce, sweetie," Pam said as she stood, reaching under her dress and pulling off her white cotton underwear. She reached behind and unzipped her dress, which slid down, exposing small, firm breasts with hard nipples that begged for touch. But as the dress pooled at her feet, something else came into view. Pam was pre-op transgender, her small penis hard and eager, rising from her body in a way that caught Bryce completely off guard.
He stared, confusion swirling in his mind, his cheeks flushing as questions raced through his thoughts. This was not what he had expected, not at all, and yet the sight of her, so confident and aroused, stirred something curious and heated within him. "Sweetie, will you?" she asked, smiling, then lying next to him on the bed. Conflicted but willing, Bryce touched Pam's hard length, his fingers wrapping around it tentatively at first, feeling the smooth, heated skin pulse under his grip. Pam jerked at the touch but settled, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Bryce had plenty of experience with his own body, so it came naturally; he stroked with a firm, rhythmic pull, watching her squirm and arch, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as pleasure built in her eyes. Emboldened by her responses, Bryce rolled over, taking it into his mouth, the velvety texture warm and inviting on his tongue. She was very hard; he moved his head up and down, sucking with a gentle, insistent pressure, his lips sliding along the shaft, tasting the salty heat as he drew her deeper. It didn't take long before Pam tensed, her body trembling, and she shot hot streams of release that filled his mouth, bubbling on his lips in warm, insistent pulses. Laying back, Pam whispered, "Yeah, that was wonderful too."
End