It was a hot, muggy and cloudy Tuesday afternoon at the end of July. As usual, my uncle had gone off golfing and the store was dead. Maybe ten customers all day and none since lunch.

Then, in the middle of that sultry afternoon, The Rack walked in.

She was a real bombshell, probably about ten years older than me, and her boobs were incredible. They were huge and yet appeared to be firm, no hint of sag. She wore a peasant blouse and there was a real strain on the neckline, I can tell you.

She’d come in search of new heels and I helped her try on various styles and colors. Unfortunately, she was wearing slacks and so I was denied my customary sneak at inner thighs and panties. What I did get was some awesome views down her blouse and I saw she wasn’t wearing a bra. For the sixties, she was ahead of her time.

I imagine my peeking was something of an expected, familiar reaction from a red-blooded male because she suddenly asked, "Do you like them?"

I blushed but managed to utter, "Hell yeah,” and added, "I wasn't ogling, I was admiring."

She grinned and then staggered me when she suggested, "How about locking up for a few minutes. I'll show them to you in the backroom."

Rapidly, I locked the door and put up the 'Back in 10 minutes' sign.

In the backroom, she pulled down the neckline of her blouse and out popped the most perfect pair of tits in the city. They were not only huge, firm and beautifully shaped but were tipped with the pinkest strawberry nipples. Erect, they begged for attention and I filled my greedy hands with their perfection.

I cupped and fondled them, felt their weight. I tweaked and rubbed her nipples until they were engorged and pointing at my face. I then used my lips and tongue to attack them with gusto. She liked it… I liked it! We were both in heaven.

Of course, I soon had a huge boner and she reached down to feel it over my slacks. Happily, as was my regular habit, I’d gone to work commando that day and she quickly pulled down my zipper, reached in and, with an exotic soft sigh, pulled out my throbbing erection.

“Oh yes,” she murmured into my ear, pushing me back against the desk. I sat on the edge and she stuck my cock between her globes. I thrust up and down between them and when my cockhead met her lips, she eagerly opened her mouth and sucked me in. On the upstroke, I poked into her wet mouth, and on the downstroke, I was enveloped in the warmth of her wonderful breasts.

Up and down, in and out… it was an amazing titty-fuck. My nuts soon started to tingle and contract, threatening to burst. I angled my cock so that it was thrusting straight in and out of her greedy mouth. She sucked and sucked, squeezed my hot shaft between her fleshy mounds, and all too soon I gushed.

She swallowed as much as she could but, inevitably, some joy juice seeped down her chin and dripped onto those mammoth breasts. She continued to suck me until my erection subsided.

"Wow, that was fantastic,” I said, grinning in appreciation. “Thank you so much. It had been a dull day but, heavens, you changed that.”

She giggled. "You're welcome,” she said. “I enjoyed it too.”

I went to the bathroom, returned with a roll of paper towel and cleaned us both. Rubbing her tits again was another treat and my rampant cock twitched more than a little! But somehow I controlled myself: the store needed to be reopened!

The last pair of heels that she’d tried were still on the bench. I put them in one of our bags and handed it to her. “Are you okay with this being our little secret?”

“Oh hell, yeah! Thanks.”

So she had a free a pair of shoes and I’d fondled the best rack in town. Plus, I'd received one hell of an unforgettable blowjob.
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The Snatch

The final week of August was my last at the shoe store. For seven weeks I’d seen plenty of women, all kinds of legs, thighs, panties, stockings, boobs and feet. But I will always remember that final week for The Snatch.

Mrs. Marsh was a petite, black-haired, 35-years-old perfectly-proportioned beauty. She had been in the store several times over the summer, sometimes alone, other times with her husband or her daughter.

This day, Mrs. Marsh wore a pale blue blouse and a navy skirt, and she was alone. She wanted some stiletto heels to match a new evening gown. She sat on a bench and I selected a pair of black four-inch heels for her to try. I pulled my stool to a position in front of her and sat.

Her skirt was above her knees. As I fitted the first shoe, I saw white flesh above stocking tops. When she tried on the other shoe, I glimpsed light blue panties which matched the color of her blouse.

Over the summer I'd enjoyed looking at her panties and the colors varied: blue, pink, mauve, even red. Curiously, never white or black.

As she tried a second pair of heels, I caught another glimpse of her crotch. My cock got interested. Extremely interested. I thought she must have noticed the bulge in my slacks each time I got up to fetch a different pair of shoes. Once or twice, I had to adjust my dress as my boner was uncomfortable in it's confined space.

After trying on more shoes, she still hadn't made a choice. She said she needed to get some other shopping done but would return before closing. I was happy about that because I'd enjoyed the show and looked forward to a resumption.

However, I was feeling somewhat disappointed when closing time drew close and she hadn't returned. When I went to lock up, I saw her hurrying towards the store and I smiled broadly in greeting as I held open the door. She swept in, I locked the door and put up the 'Closed' sign.

She sat on a bench and asked to try a pair of black Christian Dior's. I got the shoes and sat on the stool. Her skirt had ridden high up her thighs and that made me and my dick arousingly happy.

I put the first shoe on her foot and, as I was fitting the second, her thighs parted. Holy smoke! There it was, The Snatch. Mrs. Marsh was now naked down there. She leaned back on the bench, providing me with a really good angle to examine her pussy. It was trimmed to perfection, as nude as Gillette could get it, except for a patch of short black curls at the top of her mound. Wow! I thought I'd died and gone to pussy heaven.

I couldn't help myself: I reached out to touch her. But she very quickly slammed her thighs shut and said, "No touching, just looking."

"Oh, okay," I said, looking up into her face. “Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"No problem. Just so long as you understand the rules."

I blushed but asked, "Could we go in the backroom. The light is so much better in there. And people walking by cannot see us.”

She agreed and when we walked to the back, I was behind her, admiring her ass as it swayed and wriggled.

She walked over to the desk and, lifting up her skirt, sat on its edge and parted her legs. I wheeled a chair between her legs as she leaned back, supporting herself with one hand while her other hand went to her pussy. She rubbed her outer lips before fingering her slit and slipping inside. Up and down, around and around she rubbed. She was very moist and her slick fingers worked magic on The Snatch.

I got closer and asked, "Can I go down on you?"

"No." She shook her head. "I've told you, just looking, no touching."

"Okay."

"You can keep this as a little secret, right?"

"Oh yes," I said quickly. "I'd never tell anybody. This is too hot to share. I want to keep this memory all to myself. I want to see you cum."

"I'm close," she said.

The air was thick with her scent. Her breathing was heavy and Mrs. Marsh moaned and gasped while she bucked her hips, faster and wilder. Then her body suddenly arched and she remained still for several moments until she gasped loudly and slumped. I knew she'd climaxed but Mrs. Marsh kept those fingers rubbing her pussy lips until her breathing slowed to something like normal. Her orgasm over, I noticed that her hand was drenched with juices and a huge wet spot soaked the desk.

I got several tissues from a box and passed them to Mrs. Marsh to dry off. When she finished wiping her hands and pussy, she got off the desk and said, "Okay Bobbie, let's change places so I can see what you've got."

I unzipped my slacks, dropping them and my shorts to the floor. I leaned against the edge of the desk, displaying my cock at its maximum size. I slowly stroked the shaft and tugged on my long overhanging foreskin. Then I retracted it fully, showing my wet glistening cock head to Mrs. Marsh. Sitting in the chair, she grinned.

"Do you want to touch it?"

"No! No touching," she repeated.

When she licked her lips, I asked, "Do you want a taste?"

"Oh, you naughty, dirty boy," she scolded and laughed. Then she added, "Okay, I can't resist it."

Mrs. Marsh drew the chair closer. Her tongue licked all around my cockhead and then she opened her mouth and closed her lips around it. She continued to caress my cock's tip with her tongue and I tried to thrust forward but she pulled back. "No," she said, staring up at me. "My way or not at all."

"Okay. Please don't stop. I love what you're doing."

She put my cockhead back in her mouth and sucked while her tongue circled my knob. I held the base of my cock and slowly pumped up and down the shaft. After a few minutes of this exquisite torture, I felt the tell-tale tingling in my balls. I wanted to enjoy this experience a little longer but my nuts had a mind of their own and I shot my jizz into her mouth.

Mrs. Marsh flinched at the first spurt but she swallowed repeatedly and took it all. Even after I'd emptied my load, she kept on sucking and twirling her tongue around my cockhead while my satisfied flesh wilted.

"Oh gawd, that was fantastic," I breathed. "Thank you so much. I loved it.”

"I didn't mind it myself," she chuckled. "Remember, this is our little secret. You don't tell anybody. Right, Bobbie?"

"Oh no, I won't tell," I said, putting my cock back inside my pants. "It's our secret."
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And that is it for my Shoe Store (S)experiences

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My thanks to JWren for all the editing assistance.