[SLUT]Find herself some shoes in the shelf row.

Inga strutted into the row, with a different posture and technique than before. Her well-exercised pussy radiated with warmth, and this stupid freezy floor was not going to let her down for much longer now that her objective was set.

After several shelves with interesting but unrelated stuff, the girl let out a playful giggle, dragging a pair of glittery red stripper platform heels from the shelf by their straps. The heel was at least 8 inches tall, they would make sure her feet will not be anywhere near this stupid cold floor!

She stepped into them, the fit was perfect. Why would it not be perfect? The strappy strap closed with a click, and now she wore them.

This was not the end of it, though. Her eyes rolled back to the shelf, attracted to something else she glanced over before. It was of a lower priority then, but now it was just about the most interesting thing around.

The one-piece swimsuit was white and pink, made of shiny latex, with reinforced sleeve holes and two more holes outlined with actual metal. One was for her neck, but the other was for her pussy. Yes, a metal circle guaranteeing her availability. There was no question of yea or nay, only an inevitable picture of her body inside.

Squeaking profusely, the slutsuit descended from the shelf, pulled by Inga's hands. The inside was already slippery, covered in a thin layer of some good lubricant. The back seam was long, all the way down to the waist, and also accompanied with a middle layer of metal. Although its tiny texture resembled zipper teeth in a way that the two sides were a match if pushed together, no zipper was present to do the job.

The massive platforms made it trickier to work these leg holes, but after that, it was so trivially easy to get in that Inga took it slower, watching the latex material stretch and tighten over her hips and waist, its fit so flawless that the folds were smoothing out on their own. Everything newly covered wanted to be alive, animate, and a part of an act of love.

The ever-increasing feeling of sex-fueled strength was ever-accelerating during the swim...slut...fuckity-fucksuit's donning. It was distinctly separate from raw horniness, but make no mistake — it was rising too. One **** was bent on making her crumble in feminine ecstasy, the other — to make sure her femme energy was confident, tall, supreme and undisputed.

Her hands dove through the sleeve holes, and the suit flapped over her frame in a more or less final position. All she needed to do was to close the collar over her neck, and Inga did just that. With a clinking sound, the metal loop was closed snug around her neck, and the back seam rapidly contracted together all on its own as well, making the tightness spread evenly across her frame. Latex pushing up her breasts, pressing against her nipples yet doing nothing to hide their erect state was just the best.

With new sensations taking over, it was harder and harder to think straight. The quiet sounds her earrings were making was deep in her brain. What if she was seen like that? Good. She was a proud whore. Proud of her short and rapid moral downfall.

As soon as her glance fell back onto the dildo sculpture, there was no point looking at anything else. Already used, but still very attractive. Last time was good, but this one was going to be divine.

The slut looked at the mirror again. There was more makeup. In fact, more than any reasonable woman would put on. And, of course, now she forgot it could not be real. A blissful smile could not be kept away from Inga's face. The urge of being back on that dick was getting unbearable.