[Author's Note: An innocent shoe fetish evolves into an exploration of female sexuality and D/s as the husband in a long-standing marriage gets his birthday wish, or does he? Lengthy and richly detailed, two alternative endings are offered for your enjoyment. Let me know your preference and why, and feel free to share any constructive feedback.
Disclaimer: This is a fantasy of characters over 18 years of age and I do not endorse nor encourage any of their behaviors in real life.]
It Started Innocently Enough.
It started innocently enough. I was in a thrift store and just couldn't avert my eyes from a pair of strappy gold sandals with six-inch stiletto heels. Eight weeks later, on a dark October night, I was in the hunt to get fucked, wandering in public dressed to the nines as a woman in said shoes. Under my figure-hugging little black dress was a corset whittling my waist by eight inches, and I sported an attitude that was half-sissified submissive and half-crazy fuck toy. To think I had originally gone shopping two months ago for a used pair of black boots for my wife....
I admit to a mild fetish for sexy shoes and boots, and I had seen a pair of shiny black booties in a porn site jpg that had a series of inch and a half straps encircling the leg stacked up to well over the ankle, each with its own roller buckle to make it tight. I wanted to find a pair for my wife, or something similar, because I thought they would look so hot on her; she has the finest legs and looks so fucking sexy in any kind of heel. But I don't want to pay full price for a bedroom sex prop, so I shop the thrift stores, a.k.a. "home-of-cheap-shiny-black-booties."
I walked up and down the women's size eight shoe aisle, picking up a pair or two of possible candidates but nothing was close to what I imagined. The entire time I felt slightly self-conscious, awkward shopping by myself. I tried not to make any eye contact with the other shoppers, who were exclusively of the opposite sex and shared the narrow aisle with me. Disappointed with the choices, I happened to turn around and just across the aisle were the size 12's. There on the top shelf: strappy gold sandals with six-inch stiletto heels.
I was mesmerized. They were beautiful, open toes crossed with several thin straps, on top of a one-inch platform sole leading to a slim six-inch stiletto heel. A T-strap led to a single fine ankle strap that connected to a small brace of straps that enclosed the wearer's heel. The faux leather was flashy gold lame in very good shape. And the price was a bargain at $8.99. I didn't own any kind of women's shoes myself, nor was I thinking of even looking for a pair...but I kept staring at them...thinking, "What if...?" My imagination flashed into overdrive: seeing my feet strapped into those high heels; feeling the effects on my calves; taking long sultry steps across a wooden floor. It was ME making the forceful click-clack sounds with each footfall I so often associated with sexy bitches strutting their stuff in explicit videos.
Would they even fit? I couldn't dare try them on in the store! And how would I explain them to my wife? We'd never talked about this kink before. I moved away, so as not to appear to be lingering but soon returned to the shelf. I picked them up and nervously held them in my hands. Today there was 30-percent off discount on everything in the store. If they didn't fit or it was a bust at home I'd only be out the cost of a vente Starbucks coffee. I bought them.
I wanted to try them on in the car but it was a horridly hot day, better to wait. When I got home I hid my purchase in among a few other items I bought and secreted them off into the bedroom. Later that day, while my wife was on a Zoom call downstairs, I quietly entered the bedroom and took off my shoes and socks. I removed the heels and Cinderella-like tried to slip the left shoe on an expectant foot - would it fit? Almost giddy, my toes filled the bottom of the shoe and my heel slipped in just right. My first reaction -- my ankle and arch were definitely bent at an extreme angle. I threaded the strap through the buckle and fumbled for more than five minutes before finally securing it; inexperience, an awkward angle, and nervousness repeated itself while putting on the right shoe.
The moment of truth - I stood up, my weight first on my heels, and gingerly took a small step forward. Shaking to keep my balance on a soft carpet I made several halting steps in small circles around the room over the next 10 minutes. My ankles gave way numerous times like a first-time ice skater and my arms flailed out to find a wall or furniture for balance. I only fell once.
But I felt stellar. I thought my legs looked awesome, the curve of my calves so well defined and pronounced, just like a fantasy. And the height - I did not have a partner as reference but I felt I was towering over my environs with the addition of just a half-foot. I felt Amazonian. I felt ecstatic, I felt...empowered.
That taste of empowerment was exquisite. But I craved more. What would it be like to experience the maximum empowerment feeling, the full enabling effect? To not just wear a woman's high heel shoe but to completely dress and look like a gorgeous woman? What must it be like to dress fabulously and command a room, all decked out, behaving as a woman? Again, my imagination raced ahead: how HOT would it be to fuck while sexily dressed up as a woman? As the husband in a long-term marriage, it was unlikely that I could make this last idea easily happen with another man, but I could see how it could happen with a woman: dressed up "lesbian" sex with another woman? Of course, my wife! I was hooked on this idea, actually I became obsessed with it, but how to make it happen, even if was just for a day of role-play with my wife?
This was more than a simple ask of my partner - why should she agree to it, plus what was in it for her? All relationships are imperfect and ours was no exception. We'd been married for years and I'd fulfilled the traditional "dominant male role" with a lowercase "D." Plus, our relationship had grown stale and was no longer deeply satisfying, sexually or spiritually. There needed to be some significant thought, communication, and change in our relationship if my idea was going to proceed. My thought was to put aside my fantasy for now and just work on improving things between us by modeling positive behaviors.
Some things were simple, like getting up extra early every day before her to prepare the morning coffee for us. This task usually fell to her but it felt nice taking on this responsibility and have her come down to the kitchen with the coffee already ready and waiting. I also made sure to bring in the newspaper and had it waiting for her at her usual seat at the breakfast table. Then every evening before bed I began offering her a foot massage, either while we watched TV or just after she was finishing her preparations for bed. It provided her a comforting touch and a means to physically connect; she told me it felt good.
Over time I told her I was taking on the responsibility for clearing and washing the dinner dishes, regardless of who prepared the meal. For years the majority of time responsibility for dinner fell on her even when we both worked full time. Even in retirement she had still been doing most of cooking and cleaning up - it was long past time for me to step up and do a greater share of the work.
Of more relevance I wanted to focus on factors related to intimacy, so every day I set a goal to say 10 affirming, positive and/or appreciative things about her or what our relationship meant to me. In addition I set a goal to touch, hug or kiss her in a meaningful way at least 10 times every day. It may sound corny and forced, but habit, routine and familiarity had made it easy to lose sight of what made our relationship meaningful after so many years together.
Last, we agreed to a weekly "date" where we'd pick a time during the middle of the day and a place outside the house to go for a coffee or a drink. The rules were simple: we would treat it like a date: we would set a time, we would arrive separately, and we would dress nice for each other. The purpose would be to share a conversation with each other like we might do if we were dating, sharing intimate thoughts and ideas with each other and focusing on our feelings, something we had not been routinely doing.
