Those Boots

We have been enjoying your stories for the last few months since we discovered MH. It is time for us to share with this supportive community. We are mid-40s, coming up on our 20th wedding anniversary. E (her) wrote a draft, then it was finished with T’s (his) additions and edits.

After a stressful few months where we did not see each other much, finally we firmed up a date night last Friday. We arranged it so that we could return to an empty house.

To give you some history, after some initial shyness when we first started dating, T admitted how much seeing in me in tall boots makes his blood rush with uncontrollable desire. This is a power that I must use sparingly, so that the anticipation can have maximum effect.

So many choices, but I had no doubt that night called for my favorite pair: black, made of buttery soft leather with a heel of 2.5 inches. They rise to just below my knees.

I could barely contain myself, listening to the rhythm as I pulled up each black zipper. Every tooth interlocked with every other tooth, coalescing around the curve of my calves. I throbbed against the seam of my tight jeans, unexpectedly pushed into the perfect spot by the angle I was sitting on at the side of the bed. These boots also have silver buckles, a hint of naughtiness in my otherwise conservative wardrobe. They are just subtle enough to look professional without being too risqué.

My heels clicked loudly as I walked down our old wooden staircase, I know he loves that sound; he once described its usual effect of making him hard, his heartbeat timed with each click. I love that sound too, as I imagine the clicks as heartbeats connecting our bodies to be one with God and the universe. But this time he was not at the bottom of the staircase. He was meeting me at the restaurant after work, the longer wait adding to the excitement.

After a short rideshare, I gracefully stepped into the lobby. His smile—when he saw me in my leather jacket, burgundy ribbed sweater and of course, those boots—was both adorable and mischevious, all at once.

He looked great in his casual Friday attire. His wool pullover snugged against his strong torso (gained by many years of competitive swimming) and paired nicely with jeans and tan shoes. He pressed a perfect kiss into my lips, and I felt his barely visible stubble, always a subtle pleasure.

The hostess seated us in the corner table. We’d requested it because of the somewhat hidden angle to the rest of the dining room, which always boasts long tablecloths. There I could subtly rub my leather-encased foot against his leg on occasion during the meal. And just once and only once, I pushed the bottom of the pointed toe against his hardness, like gently revving an engine. Conversation was lively as it always is when we actually get time to connect. A deep red cabernet, sipped slowly, only one glass each, also had us feeling less inhibited.

The tease had gone on about long enough, but not quite. I insisted we walk home, instead of ordering a car, to enjoy the unseasonably warm night, though it was quite humid. The walk took 20 minutes, which we spent holding hands—with a few stops to kiss while leaning against elegant lightposts.

He scooped me up for the last minute because my feet were starting to hurt; perhaps the plan was too ambitious. We went inside and he put me down at the base of the stairs. There was that sound again on way up: click, click, click, click. WAe both ached to reach our destination. He guided me to the bedroom, still holding my hand.

In a commanding yet flirty way, I pointed to the boots. He dropped to one knee, slowly sliding down each zipper and skillfully freeing me with his strong hands. Without intentionality, I let out the most sensual moans that he says he has ever heard from me, one for each boot. The rest of our clothes quickly followed. He asked if the boots could go back on, as I slid onto the bed.

I replied, “Maybe… just maybe… next time. Not tonight,” dropping the tone of my voice to a more sultry octave. I learned that the only thing that turns him on more than taking me with boots on is telling him that he can’t after expecting to. It builds the tension beyond reason.

It is hard to describe what happened next, when he finally climbed on top of me. He pushed deep and purposefully, never changing positions and never needing to. A crucible of liquids poured and poured out. I recall five orgasms between the two of us, unsure of how the division worked out.

After we caught our breath and embraced, he asked if I would write a review of our lovely night and share it for inspiration to others.

I dropped an octave again and replied, “Absolutely, though only if you are commited to writing the next one.”

Do you have a pair of boots or shoes that spark passion in your marriage? We look forward to your comments and feedback. 🙂

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12 replies
  1. StillLikeNewlyweds says:

    Bravo! Excellent story! Loved how the little details made it so captivating. The “click, click” of the heels; the description of closing the zipper. What I loved most though is how you have obviously made a habit of paying attention to what excites your husband, and you use it. That is a powerful tool in keeping the fire hot. Keep it up (pun wasn’t intended when I wrote it, but now it is). It is extremely exciting knowing that my wife is doing something, wearing something, or saying something just because she knows it turns me on.

    • Sweethearts81 says:

      Thank you so much! We thought it would be a fun challenge to focus on the anticipation more than the act. You raise a good point about what sparks excitement beyond the basic question we included at the end. We look forward to more engagement on this site with ideas like what you listed in your final sentence.. though of course we are also still curious if anyone else out there shares the same affinity for boots, heels !

    • StillLikeNewlyweds says:

      I do love my wife in heels. It’s one of those things she does mostly for me. She does like how they make her feel fancier, but struggles with comfort. So I know that it’s mostly for my benefit when she wears them. Sometimes she’ll put them on even though she knows she won’t be leaving the bedroom and consequently won’t be on her feet very much either. ? those times are definitely all for me!

    • Sweethearts81 says:

      We can relate with the heels, I have 2 pairs that have never left the bedroom… don't think I'd make it more than a block in them! Yet I do like the way they look.. especially a red pair that often makes appearaces around valentines day and his birthday.

    • Sweethearts81 says:

      Hmm… well many different kinds can be fun. My go-to pair are knee high flat riding boots, dark brown. They are practical, but he also finds them very attractive on me, especially when I wear with cable knit knee high socks peeking out the top, or a pair with a white lacy top. I also have a pair of calf high cowgirl boots which I wear a lot in Spring and summer. Oh, I can't forget the tall hunter rain boots in black… looove those, something about them feels kinky and I like that I see so many around…hoping others are carrying the same little secret enjoyment with their partners.SecondMarge, maybe you do have the right boots already, you just didn't realize it yet?

    • SecondMarge says:

      Sounds like you have an entire closet full. It’s probably not my one pair of boots. It’s more likely me.

    • Sweethearts81 says:

      Hmm..Well maybe there is potential to get a new pair or get creative with what you have? but no worries if that idea doesn't resonate 🙂

    • Sweethearts81 says:

      Glad that you liked the buildup!..we werent sure what kind of reaction it would get, and we are inspired to use a similar structure when writing the next one

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