Stripped Down To Her Sandals

Thanks to SexyGeek for editorial assistance and valuable storyline suggestions.

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The small oceanside town is baking in the early afternoon heat, and to cool off you head down to the waterfront. You are wearing heels and a colorful summer dress and your long blonde hair blows in the wind. You are wandering without any specific purpose, just enjoying the day. As you head onto the beach you take off your shoes and carry them, letting the waves run over your feet, the icy water chilling them. After a while you wander back up to the main street along the oceanfront and browse the shops, disappointed to see that most are tacky tourist traps selling assorted junk designed to be purchased and then forgotten. Hordes of noisy tourists bustle about, so clearly there is a good business there.

You stop in front of a large dusty window. This is different from all the other shops. It looks mysterious and quiet amid the bustling tackiness of the tourist traps. Nobody is entering or even looking at it. As you stand there you felt a stillness surrounding you, and enter almost without knowing why. Something about it draws you - the paintings in the windows of Greek scenes, dark and dusty with age, the lack of a name above the shop, or maybe just a craving for some quiet away from the tiresome throng outside. As you enter you are enveloped by a deep stillness. The room is dimly lit, empty and silent, and you look around a few moments. You suddenly realize that it is not even clear that it is a shop, as there appears to be nothing for sale. There are more paintings on the walls, dulled with age, but appearing to portray ancient Greek legends, images of Gods and heroic men.

You hear a noise behind you and, turning quickly, observe a beautiful young woman, of Mediterranean appearance, with long wavy black hair and a full length blue dress in a classical Greek style. She smiles at you and asks what you are looking for. You feel somewhat embarrassed, and mention that your heels are painful and you are looking for some more comfortable footwear. There is not even any sign that there are shoes for sale here, and you look at her apologetically. She does not appear to be in the least surprised, asks you to wait for a moment and take a seat, then goes through a door into the back.

You sink into a comfortable deeply upholstered chair and begin to feel sleepy, and when she returns after a minute you are startled into wakefulness. She is holding a pair of red sandals with gold decorations, and she kneels before you, takes off your heels carefully, slips on the sandals and adjusts the straps. You stand and walk around a little. They fit perfectly and you turn and admire them, deciding that you have to have them. Since they look expensive, you ask tentatively, "How much are they?"

She smiles and says, "Try them out. Leave your heels here with me, and walk around in the sandals for the rest of the day. If you don't like them, just bring them back. If you like them we will make arrangements."

"But, but ..." you stammer.

She is politely but gently insistent. "Go ahead, try them out. They may not meet your ... expectations. But perhaps they may." Her smile is enigmatic.

Bemused, you hand over your heels and walk toward the door. As you leave you turn, but she is already gone, and the shop is again enveloped in stillness. You are thrust back into the crowds of tourists, and it is as if you entered from a small oasis of peace back into your own noisy turbulent world.

You have had enough of the waterfront now and on a whim decide to go to the art museum. It is placed majestically at the top of the hill in the town, but you can now walk comfortably so you have no trouble with the climb. It is a little windy, and a couple of times you have to catch your dress before it blows up too high. You chose not to wear panties today, and the thought of being seen turns you on a little as you keep walking. You finally arrive and turn to look at the view from the hilltop, trying to locate the unusual shop, but the waterfront is too far away to see clearly. You notice two small low islands in the water that you had not been able to see from the waterfront itself.

Turning to the museum, you pay the admission and enter. You wander through the rooms, surrounded by crowds of visitors, noisy, chattering, trivial conversations, oblivious to the glories on display around them as they drift carelessly through the rooms. You walk for a while with the throng but cannot concentrate, and look around for a quieter place. Turning a corner, you notice a dimly lit passage, and wander along it. At the end is a heavy velvet curtain, and lifting it aside you see there is a room beyond. There is no sign indicating you cannot enter, so you step inside and let the curtain fall behind you, noticing with relief that it is completely empty of visitors. Gratefully you make your way in and head for a stone bench in the middle of the room, an opportunity to rest and recover before braving the crowds once more. The noise from outside is muffled to a distant quiet hum.

You sit for a few moments, the coldness and hardness of the stone passing through your thin dress and chilling you, and only then do you look up to see what is in the room. It is filled with sculptures, bronze or marble, of life sized human figures. You stand and walk around, noticing that they are actually sculptures of ancient Greek heroes, all nudes. The carving is magnificently detailed, capturing the muscular torsos, the graceful poses and noble expressions. The sculptures are on plinths, slightly elevated above you, and you have the not unpleasant sense of being quietly observed as you return to the bench in the middle and quietly to sit again.

Gradually your mind begins to wander, and you slowly become aware of the sexuality of the naked sculptures surrounding you on all sides. You are conscious of your thin dress and lack of panties, and you feel yourself beginning to get wet. You turn to make sure nobody is entering, then let your hand drop between your legs and begin to rub your pussy through the dress, surprised at how wet you already are. Your breath comes in shorter gasps, and you are aroused by the sculptures and the thought that you are in a public place and someone could enter at any time. You sit with your eyes closed, breathing hard, then lie back full length on the bench staring up at the ceiling. Still the room is empty.

You are really turned on now and, holding your breath, you begin to inch your dress up slowly with both hands until the hem is high up around your thighs. You pause for a second, then, biting your lip, lift your ass and pull the dress up at the back until it is high around your waist. As you lower yourself down to again the coldness of the bench on your naked ass makes you inhale sharply. You are so wet now that you know you are already leaving a mark on the bench. You then reach down and slowly pull the front of your dress up until your pussy is exposed to the room.

You imagine the naked male sculptures around you looking at you, at your long legs and your exposed pussy, imagine them lusting over you, wanting you, and you get more and more turned on. The largest statue in the room, a towering bronze sculpture of a mighty ancient hero is directly in front of you and you lift your legs so your feet rest on the bench, then let your knees fall open slightly to expose your pussy in that direction. You close your eyes, wet two fingers with your tongue and circle them over your most sensitive spot, imagining that figure seeing how wet you are, how hungry you are. Then you imagine all of them gathering around, to stare at your near naked body, to touch your hair, your skin, your breasts, to run their fingers between your legs and feel your wetness.

Suddenly, it is no longer your imagination. You open your eyes and watch as, imperceptibly at first, the sculptures in the room seem to begin to move. You blink in disbelief and watch more carefully, and then you know it is real and they move more quickly. As if freed from centuries of bondage, you see their heads turn towards you and then you look down and you see their cocks growing, hardening. They begin to step down from their plinths, one at a time, gathering around you. You are surrounded by muscular torsos and legs, and long hard cocks, but you feel no fear, just blazing desire and excitement.

They move closer, and then just as you imagined their hands are all over you, on your legs, on your body, the cold touch of their stone and bronze gradually warming as they caress your soft skin. Hands reach out and grab your dress and in an instant it is ripped off your body and you are left lying on the stone bench completely naked. You glance down and realize that the only thing you are wearing is the pair of red and gold sandals. Then you notice that the sculptures are wearing similar sandals. Strange, as you are quite sure that they had not been wearing them before. However you quickly forget about the sandals and let out a gasp as hands move in and begin caressing your breasts, others spread your legs, and still others begin exploring your pussy.

The largest figure in the room, who had been directly in front of your legs when you had let them fall open, is towering above you and staring down at your body. You stare in return at his hard cock in fascination and hunger, and you feel yourself getting still wetter, and he kneels before your legs at the end of the bench, then grasps you by the waist and pulls your body towards him, sliding it along the length of the bench. You raise your head slightly and look in fascination and longing as you see his cock rising long and hard between your legs. Then he pulls your body towards him once more, leans forward and steers his shaft unerringly between your thighs towards your pussy and with one smooth motion he thrusts inside you.

As you gasp with pleasure he lifts your calves onto his shoulder and then leans forward over you and begins to fuck you, first slowly, then faster and harder, harder than you have ever been fucked before and you feel invaded, possessed, the huge cock filling you completely and thrusting deep and hard into you over and over, and you are moaning and crying out, and you feel him move faster and become even harder and other pairs of hands are all over you, and then he is coming deep inside you, groaning and moaning himself now as he fills you, and you throw your head back and cry out in pleasure and as you open your eyes the walls of the museum fade away and you are on a mountain top in a warm land with a sparkling blue ocean in the distance, and around you marble columns, blinding white in the heat of the noonday sun, but you are only peripherally aware of all these things because his cock is still in your pussy.

He pulls back and you close your eyes and sigh in regret, but a moment later you feel strong arms lifting you from the stone bench and lowering you to the ground and you are on all fours facing the ocean, held firmly by the waist, and you get a momentary glimpse of two small islands in the water before a hungry cock slams hard into your pussy, insistently, thrusting deep into you over and over, and you hear screams of pleasure and realize they are your own, then you lower your head and push back hard against him to force him deeper inside you, and you never even see his face before he comes inside you.

They are all around you, wanting you, waiting for you, and as the one continues to fuck you from behind you another kneels before you, gently but firmly lifts your face by the chin and then guides his massive cock into your willing mouth and you taste yourself on him and know he has already fucked you, then he thrusts into your mouth over and over and you have two cocks pleasuring themselves with your body, and soon you feel the cock in your mouth harden still more and then he is coming again and this time you taste him, his come in your mouth, and you want to take it all from him, and when he is done you see from his look that he will be back for even more of your body in a few minutes, and you wonder how he will take you next time.

In the meantime the others will still be fucking you, one after another, their cocks invading you, fucking you as you are laid on your back looking up at the steel blue sky, fucking you on your knees and you clench and squeeze the soft earth between your fingers and groan and moan with pleasure, fucking you pinned against a marble column, your hands held high over your head by one helping pair of hands whose owner will be fucking you soon, your legs spread wide by two others eager for your pussy, and between them the one who is fucking you now, but always with a hard cock in your pussy and others waiting, their insatiable lust driving them on yet your body always crying out for more, with come running down your thighs and from your mouth, covering your pussy and your breasts, the feel and smell of your sweat and theirs, and their hot breath on your face and body, their hard breathing as they fuck you, and your heart is pounding so hard and you have never been so hungry to be taken, to satisfy all of them as they keep coming back for more of you.

Time passes, hours it seems but you have lost track, all you know is that they are fucking you again and again and you can take it all and still want more, and finally, as the sun begins to set and cast its golden shadow over the ocean, finally they are spent, and you lie on the ground exhausted, surrounded by them on all sides, hands and legs all over your body, covered in sweat and come, and you close your eyes and lapse into a deep sleep, and the next thing you know dawn is spreading its rosy fingers across the sky.

You open your eyes. With a shock you realize that the room is closing back in on you and voices surround you, first distant and then closer, and you are sitting on the bench in the museum, fully dressed, surrounded by the other visitors, a tour group being herded through by their insistent guide. They pay you no attention as they glance with little interest at the immobile statues around the edge of the room.

You do not move for some time, then finally stand uncertainly. Nobody notices anything unusual about you as you walk towards the door, but you feel yourself wobbling and almost collapsing and grasp the doorway, and as you do you notice a small painting on the wall that you had overlooked before, a portrait of a young Mediterranean woman with long wavy black hair. You approach the picture, but there is no identifying description next to it.

You walk out of the museum in a haze of unreality, then head mechanically down the hill again to the waterfront looking for the shop, uncertain what to say when you see the woman again. It all feels so unreal now, this world you inhabit. You struggle through the same crowds of tourists, and realize you cannot remember where it is. You go up and down the street a few times, but there is no sign of it. You even ask a few of the other shop owners, but nobody had ever heard of the shop you described. Some seemed puzzled, and asked why a shop like that would be in a place like this, and tell you that you must be mistaken, and eventually you leave and return home, still wearing the sandals.

As soon as you get home you run to your bedroom, take off the sandals, put them in the bottom drawer under the bed and close it again. You return to your normal life, working, going out with friends. You occasionally open the drawer and look at the sandals but never dare to wear them, wondering what you should do about returning them or paying for them. You return to the waterfront twice more, but still cannot find the shop. After a few days you decide that you have done all you could to try to find the shop owner, and one evening late at night you take a long shower, then take glass of wine to your bed, strip naked in front of the mirror watching yourself, admiring your body, then open the drawer, take out the sandals and slip them onto your feet, then lie back on the bed and close your eyes.

Nothing happens, and you begin to feel faintly ridiculous and are on the point of getting up when suddenly you feel the heat of the sun on your skin and then the cool of a shadow from someone leaning over you and you feel fingers running through your long blonde hair and then caressing your neck before beginning to move down your body, as other hands touch and then caress your legs, then begin slowly to spread them.