Caution to the Wind

Every now and then, after a day spent ogling gorgeous scantily clad women on a blistering hot day, I get a moment to myself to indulge in my habit. It just so happened today that my lovely wife, who had gone for a swim earlier in the week, and had left one of her bikinis hanging tauntingly on the towel rack in the bathroom, was occupied in the city for a few hours, where I was to join her after running some errands. Part of my errand involved me returning home alone, which left me a small window of opportunity, which I recklessly leapt through.

Before I even got home, I knew what I was going to do. I wanted to savor the moment, and enjoy it to its fullest. I had gone to pick up some groceries, and had to put them away. As soon as I arrived, I dumped them on the counter and scurried off lecherously to the bedroom, where I immediately leapt out of my clothes, and raced to the bathroom to put on ___'s lovely white bikini. However, for whatever reason, I wasn't all that interested in it. Instead, I found myself opening my secret stash for my green side-tie bikini, which has served me so well in the past. Once again, I lusted for her trusty wedge sandals to push my femininity over the top. Thus attired, and member tucked neatly between my legs, I proceeded to put away the groceries, slowly and deliberately, reveling in my womanliness.

These shoes are, as I've mentioned before, much too small for my grotesque man-feet, and the straps barely fit around my ankles. When I wear them even for a short time, they leave marks around my toes and under the straps. Imagine what it looks like after I wear them for a half hour or so! I was fully aware of this when I put them on, and this knowledge that I would show tell-tale signs of my crime for hours longer aroused my passions even more.

After I succumbed to a hot and sweaty pleasure attack, blissfully satisfied, I cleaned up after myself, and put everything away. Only now I had to deal with the marks on my feet, which wouldn't go away. It being a hot summer day, I had no choice but to rush out to meet my wife in the city, wearing my own manly sandals, but with strange red strap marks around my ankles.

Nobody noticed, thank Goddess!

This is Becoming a Habit

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