Getting Caught Wearing My Mother’s High Heels
Well, I have never been caught completely dressed but I was caught wearing my Mother's high heels. When I was maybe 12 my mother caught me trying on her shoes, she always wore the most beautiful high heels, 4 or 5 inch high, the classic pump with a pointed toe, Professional yet sexy, very fashionable yet slutty, impractical yet the favorite shoe of choice and I loved to wear them.
When her leather heels became scuffed she had an applicator with a sponge tip and she would just paint on polish and they'd look new again. She would put them in the bathroom on the tile floor to dry.
Whenever this happened I would lock myself in the bathroom, take off my pants wrap a towel around my waist, put on her high heels and stand in front of the mirror. She wore a size 7, for the next year or so her high heels were a perfect fit. I fell in love with wearing her high heels, I loved that my feet looked like hers, so high, so arched, my feet in the pointed toe with just a bit of toe cleavage, just like hers so sexy. I was too young to even know what that meant, but I did know from the waist down I looked like her and that was very much what I wanted.
I have two sisters neither one of which inherited my mothers love of shoes, but I did, but just high heels, always the highest heeled pumps, especially that classic pump with a pointed toe. which was my Mother's favorite too judging form the at least 30 pairs she had. I felt great shame that I loved wearing high heels as much as I did, but I could never get enough and when ever she left and I was alone I would immediately run to her closet and put on her shoes and then one day I put on a pair of stockings and then a bra and then a skirt, and on on until one day I completely dressed head to toe.
When I would see my Mom in an outfit, I'd remember everything she had on and I'd wear the same everything the next time I was alone. For some reason it made me feel so comfortable and in some how normal. I never could figure out why, but it did. I love looking in the mirror tp see myself wearing the same suit the same stockings the same high heels the same jewelry the same wig and what ever other accessories she had on with this outfit, even the purse and coat.
Her heels were on the bathroom floor drying, so there I was, towel around my waist like a skirt with her white 5 inch pumps on standing in front of the mirror. I must have been in a daze just staring at myself. I was sure I locked the door, I always did but I didn't. My Mother walked in and caught me, when she saw me standing in front of the mirror with my towel skirt on wearing her white high heels, she started to laugh, she called me a pretty boy and a fairy. I didn't know she was there or how long she'd been there. I know I looked like a sissy fool, some say that some people want to get caught, I didn’t. I went to take them off she told me to stop, she called my sisters to come in, she pointed at me and they all laughed. She wouldn’t let me take the shoes off and put my pants on until they were done laughing My sisters were in their late teens and eventually tired of laughing and just left but my mother told me that I was never to do this again and if I did she would take me outside and make me walk up and down in front of the house wearing her shoes and a dress so everyone can see what a sissy I was.
My mother died a few years ago. We had an opportunity to talk alone before she died and she brought up that moment. She said she felt it changed our relationship from that second on forever and it did I never trusted her ever. I never stop dressing she said she knew that. She said she knew what my favorite things of hers were my favorite bras, my favorite garters, panties, girdles, slips, skirts, tops, blouses, dresses, coats, purses, bathing suits, wigs, bracelets, necklaces, even hats, and of course her shoes her high heels. I thought I was so careful putting everything away just as I found it, but she said she knew when and what I wore every time. She said she was sorry, that I must have felt very lonely and she understood why, and that it was her fault. I did feel lonely and I felt great shame and there was no way I would never share it with anyone especially her.
She died the next morning after that conversation, when I remember it as I do from time to time my only thought is too bad, a day late and a dollar short. When I think what should’ve been, it makes me very sad. She should have been the one person in my life to tell me that I was OK, that shame was a useless emotion and that I wasn’t going to die because I cross dressed. I think I actually believed that until I might’ve been 35, that somehow cross dressing was so disgusting and perverted that it would lead to my death.
When her leather heels became scuffed she had an applicator with a sponge tip and she would just paint on polish and they'd look new again. She would put them in the bathroom on the tile floor to dry.
Whenever this happened I would lock myself in the bathroom, take off my pants wrap a towel around my waist, put on her high heels and stand in front of the mirror. She wore a size 7, for the next year or so her high heels were a perfect fit. I fell in love with wearing her high heels, I loved that my feet looked like hers, so high, so arched, my feet in the pointed toe with just a bit of toe cleavage, just like hers so sexy. I was too young to even know what that meant, but I did know from the waist down I looked like her and that was very much what I wanted.
I have two sisters neither one of which inherited my mothers love of shoes, but I did, but just high heels, always the highest heeled pumps, especially that classic pump with a pointed toe. which was my Mother's favorite too judging form the at least 30 pairs she had. I felt great shame that I loved wearing high heels as much as I did, but I could never get enough and when ever she left and I was alone I would immediately run to her closet and put on her shoes and then one day I put on a pair of stockings and then a bra and then a skirt, and on on until one day I completely dressed head to toe.
When I would see my Mom in an outfit, I'd remember everything she had on and I'd wear the same everything the next time I was alone. For some reason it made me feel so comfortable and in some how normal. I never could figure out why, but it did. I love looking in the mirror tp see myself wearing the same suit the same stockings the same high heels the same jewelry the same wig and what ever other accessories she had on with this outfit, even the purse and coat.
Her heels were on the bathroom floor drying, so there I was, towel around my waist like a skirt with her white 5 inch pumps on standing in front of the mirror. I must have been in a daze just staring at myself. I was sure I locked the door, I always did but I didn't. My Mother walked in and caught me, when she saw me standing in front of the mirror with my towel skirt on wearing her white high heels, she started to laugh, she called me a pretty boy and a fairy. I didn't know she was there or how long she'd been there. I know I looked like a sissy fool, some say that some people want to get caught, I didn’t. I went to take them off she told me to stop, she called my sisters to come in, she pointed at me and they all laughed. She wouldn’t let me take the shoes off and put my pants on until they were done laughing My sisters were in their late teens and eventually tired of laughing and just left but my mother told me that I was never to do this again and if I did she would take me outside and make me walk up and down in front of the house wearing her shoes and a dress so everyone can see what a sissy I was.
My mother died a few years ago. We had an opportunity to talk alone before she died and she brought up that moment. She said she felt it changed our relationship from that second on forever and it did I never trusted her ever. I never stop dressing she said she knew that. She said she knew what my favorite things of hers were my favorite bras, my favorite garters, panties, girdles, slips, skirts, tops, blouses, dresses, coats, purses, bathing suits, wigs, bracelets, necklaces, even hats, and of course her shoes her high heels. I thought I was so careful putting everything away just as I found it, but she said she knew when and what I wore every time. She said she was sorry, that I must have felt very lonely and she understood why, and that it was her fault. I did feel lonely and I felt great shame and there was no way I would never share it with anyone especially her.
She died the next morning after that conversation, when I remember it as I do from time to time my only thought is too bad, a day late and a dollar short. When I think what should’ve been, it makes me very sad. She should have been the one person in my life to tell me that I was OK, that shame was a useless emotion and that I wasn’t going to die because I cross dressed. I think I actually believed that until I might’ve been 35, that somehow cross dressing was so disgusting and perverted that it would lead to my death.
vor 3 Jahren
