Becoming Shoeboy

[BoyLegs]

I have always been fascinated with women's shoes, especially if they are graceful and feminine. I love the colors, the shapes, the way they adorn a woman's legs and feet. I prefer high, thin heels -- the kind most women would rather not wear. I met Donna when we both worked at the corporate headquarters of a large company. She could go for days without wearing the same shoes twice. Although she was a little plumper than most of the women in the office, I lusted after her shoes and I'm sure she figured it out; she later admitted to me that she loved to have her shoes stared at. We started dating, and after a decent interval, we got married. By the time we were married I was already kissing her shoes, and she always wanted more. Donna always enjoyed having me take her shoe shopping. She would walk through the store with me, handing me beautiful shoes to look over and touch. She would ask me which pairs I liked better and, when the salesperson had retrieved them in her size, she would have me put them on and take them off for her. It seemed that she would always find at least one pair with straps for me to buckle and unbuckle. Soon she was openly referring to me as her "shoeboy" in the stores. Every time she called my this I would feel my face flush. I had always secretly wished I could have those lovelies on my own feet. I don't know whether Donna sensed that, or just had ideas of her own, but one evening she said, "To be a complete shoeboy, you really should have heels of your own. We should get you a pretty black pair that would really not be noticeable unless you're looking." She took me in the bathroom and helped me shave my feet with the razor she used on her legs. Then we dressed and went out. Donna wore an elegant red dress and red patent pumps with 4" heels. She took me to one of our favorite stores. We picked out several pairs of shoes for her. She also picked up a pair of black pumps with a pointy toe and a 2" kitten heel. She asked for this last in my size. When the saleswoman returned, she told me to try them on -- right in the store! I was mortified and thrilled at the same time. I didn't want to, and I didn't want not to! I looked at the saleswoman, who was looking at me with fascination. Finally I removed my shoes and socks. I slipped the pumps on and stood. The feeling of my first pumps was everything I imagined and then some. I walked over to the mirror and was totally smitten by what I saw. I had sexy pointed-toe pumps on my own feet! When I turned to Donna, she said, "Isn't he adorable? We're taking them!" Donna had me wear the pumps while I served her, fitting different shoes on her feet. She bought four pair, and threw my shoes and socks in the back with her purchases and the empty box for what were now my pumps. It was heavenly just to think that I now had pumps of my own. She had me keep them on all evening, as we went to dinner and home. I kept looking down at the beautiful black leather triangles peeking out from under my pants legs and listening to the sound of both of our heels clicking on the hard floors and pavement. [ continued ]

[c_heels]

More more more please! Love it so far....

[BoyLegs]

One of the surprises that I had wearing my first pair of women's shoes in public was how many people didn't even notice. The first evening, when Donna took me to dinner in my new black pumps, I saw few people taking a second look at me. Most of those were women, and I would guess I was running three positive responses for every negative response, judging by the looks they gave me. When we sat down to dinner, I wanted to touch Donna's sexy red shoes under the table. To my surprise, she had my bring my feet up where she could touch. Now I know why she always let me do it to her. The feeling of her hands fondling and caressing my feet in my shoes made me feel gorgeous. From then on, Donna had me wear my pumps often. Every time we went shoe shopping, and many other evenings when we were just out together. I also began to notice Donna's regular evening choices having higher and higher heels. It used to require a special event to get her to wear heels over three inches outside, but it was becoming more of a regular occurrence. It was also understood that I was to keep my feet shaved. Some evenings, Donna would ask me to wear my pumps around the house just for her. Sometimes she would have me put different shoes on her feet so that we could both admire them. Other evenings we would just have dinner at our kitchen table with both of us in heels. I began to fantasize about wearing shoes in brighter colors with higher heels, like Donna wore. As fall came around, daylight was ending progressively earlier. Donna pointed out that I could be a little more brazen in my choices of footwear. I was all for it now, as I had several months of wearing pumps in public with no bad incidents. As was her habit to encourage me, Donna wore a provocative dress and sexy shoes. Her print dress fitted every curve of her body, and the skirt was well above the knee. She wore black patent pumps with 5" heels that she had once bought at my urging, having at the time sworn that she could never walk around in them. Now she was walking easily and hypnotically. We returned to the shoe store where we had bought my pumps, and the saleswoman remembered us (If she was on commission, I am sure she ought to). Turns out Donna had called ahead and had a pair of shoes set aside for me. When the saleswoman opened the box for me, I was in disbelief. I saw a pair of wine sling pumps with stiletto heels. "Do you want to try them on?" Is she serious? Donna took over putting them on and adjusting the buckle of the sling strap to fit properly. I walked over to the mirror, but I felt like I was walking on air. I lifted the legs of my pants so I could see the lovely high heels I was wearing. I asked how high they were, and the saleswoman said they were three inches. They were also lower cut in front than my black pumps, and I could see my toe cleavage. I was surprised at how sexually exciting I found this sight. Donna said, "They're very pretty." When I looked at her, she asked, "Do you want them?" She knew I wanted them, but she wanted to hear me say it. She wanted the saleswoman to hear me say it. So I said it. "Yes, I want them." Once again she had me wear my new shoes out of the store. As our purchase was completed, Donna looked at the saleswoman and said, "I have such a lovely shoeboy." [ continued ]

[shyguy]

Great build on the first part, keep it coming.

[BoyLegs]

One evening Donna pointed out to me that I was walking a lot more confidently in my heels. I was wearing my wine sling pumps in the house, and she had me walk around for her. I was still in heaven every time I put my high heels on. For her part, Donna had discontinued her practice of walking around the house barefoot in the evening. She would typically wear pumps, but sometimes she would wear mary janes or ankle straps if she wanted me to fuss over her shoes. It was always my job, as shoeboy, to do her buckles. This evening, Donna stated, in a manner that did not invite dispute, that it was time for her to show off her shoeboy to other women. She was friends with some women she used to work with, and she wanted them to see me in my heels. I was too excited to argue, anyway. So Donna arranged for three of her friends to come over one evening. She had me wear a good shirt, khakis and my wine pumps. She wore a top with a low-cut scoop neck, a print skirt and her gold ankle-straps with 4" heels, which of course I had to buckle. She had me wait upstairs while she got the girls seated. Then she came up and led me downstairs by the hand, introducing me as her shoeboy. She walked me around the room, pulling up my pants leg so that everyone could see my sling pumps. My face burned bright red -- I had met these women, they were very opinionated and now they were seeing me in high heels. But they were enthusiastic, and congratulated her on finding someone who would appreciate her taste. All of them were wearing high heels themselves; Donna later told me she had asked them to. Donna had me fetch drinks for the ladies. As I walked into the kitchen, my heels clicked on the hard floor. I heard one of them call out from the living room, "I hear the sound of sexy high heels." When I returned and served everyone, Donna had me sit next to her. She lifted my legs across her lap and fondled my feet, as I had done to her many times in private. The guests evidently liked to watch me walk in my heels, as they repeatedly asked for things from the kitchen, so that I had to keep walking in and out. I would get a request, ask if anyone else wanted something, and they'd all say no. Then not five minutes later, someone else wanted a drink. After a while I got comfortable with it; when I sat down, I started pointing my feet to show them off for the guests. The affair lasted a little under three hours. When the last woman left, Donna put her arms around me and told me she was very proud of me. She led me upstairs to bed, and presented me with a foot. Before I undid her straps, I kissed every inch of her beautiful gold shoes. They were d'orsay cut on the side toward the other foot, and I also pushed my tongue firmly against her bare arch (do it too lightly and it just tickles). She returned the favor, kissing all over the toes of my pumps. The next evening, Donna told me that she had got calls from two of the women who were there and both "were thrilled to see her shoeboy in his pretty heels." Donna promised that we would do it again soon. "And of course, I promised them I'd take you shopping to expand your wardrobe."

[c_heels]

Great story so far, can't wait for the next part!!

[heelsnhose77]

Keep them coming. Can't wait for the next installment. Don't wait too long now......