If interested, I will continue the story. Questions and wishes - in a personal.

- divorced. My wife didn’t like my quirks about boots. She said that I did not love her, but her boots. In fact, it would be more accurate to say that I loved her in boots. She liked to choose different shoes and boots in stores, she liked to walk with me around theaters and restaurants on "heels". At first, I even liked having sex with me, putting on high boots. Many new sensations and experiments at first like. But then she began to be annoyed that I watched other women with whom I noticed boots that I liked. And at first I did not cheat on her. She began to spite me often shoe sneakers, not boots. Stopped shoe boots in bed. And then I threw away the Italian superhigh boots, which we bought together in Italy, I started walking to the left.

- Wife quickly found out?

- Yes, I did not particularly hide my treason from her.

- You could not advertise your adventures.

- Why hide? You see, over the years, I have developed a reflex - I only get on a woman in boots. Well, I do not want to even fuck with Elena Prekrasnaya from a fairy tale, if she is barefoot. I do not have the right to satisfy their innocuous quirks? I did not whip it with a whip, did not urinate, and did not defecate it, as some deviants do. In general, the wife stopped shoe boots in bed, and stopped fucking her. Well, who needs such a marriage? Neither she nor me any pleasure. In the general, broke up three years ago. Thank God, the children did not have time to start.

In fact, there was another reason why my wife lost interest in me. But until I started telling Natalya Petrovna all the details of my intimate life.

- And how did you awaken such a craving for women's boots? - Natalya asked, closely leaning against me and throwing one leg in my boot. She began to rub about me with her hairy and boobs. Apparently, the grandmother liked to fuck and she was not averse to getting another “stick” in her hungry fucking pussy day.

I started stroking her bootleg, feeling that the member starts to get up:

- It all started with my mother's things ...

“I thought that you, like many boys, were attracted by your own mother,” Natalya Petrovna interrupted me.

“She must have been a woman and dressed with taste.” She taught English in the same school where I studied and always made sure that she looked like she should be in front of her students and colleagues. By Soviet standards, she had a luxurious wardrobe. Shoes she preferred imported. She had several pairs of boots of different styles and colors. She did not deny herself if she wanted to buy some new clothes, but sometimes she forgot about me. When I was in class, it seems, in the fifth, it turned out that I did not have autumn boots. I grew up from those that were, but it was raining outside the window and I had to go through the puddles to school, but there was nothing to wear. Mom walked in her closet and took out a cardboard box, from which she extracted black leather knee-high boots that looked like riding boots. Only real riding boots are made of tough enough leather so that the rider or rider does not twist his leg if it gets stuck in the stirrup when falling from the horse. I learned that later. And these were model Italian boots made of soft leather, which were easily stretched even without a zipper.

She offered me to try them on, and if they fit - it seems they had the 38th size - then go to school for them until she bought me new shoes. I began to pull them, but my ankle was stuck halfway through. Then my mother rummaged in a box with her own laundry and handed me thick brown tights.In childhood, boys wear the same tights as little girls. And now my mother gave me her adult woman tights. She left the room so as not to embarrass me. I threw off the panties, took off his socks and began to pull on her tights. I pulled them so that their gum pulled me almost to the chest. Then I lightly pulled on my mother's boots. They were as if sewn on me. On the boots there were no decorations that betrayed their "female" nature. I looked at myself in the mirror attached to the inside of the cabinet door. Black boots stood out against the background of brown nylon pantyhose, which tightly covered not only my legs, but also the torso. I put on a white shirt, pulled on my pants. Mom looked into the room to ask if the boots came up. I walked across the room in front of her. From the side it seemed that I was wearing officer boots, the tops of which were hidden by their trouser legs.

- Well, from the outside, no one would think that you are wearing women's boots. Conveniently? Do not press?

- Mom, I like it. Well, I go?

- Go, dear. We will meet at the school. I today to the third lesson at work. Tell me how you are in my boots.

That day at school my pipisk would have been a stake if her mother’s dense tights were not pressing her. I call my dick “pipisk” because it’s a real male dick, I saw and understood later. In the second lesson, it became completely unbearable, and I went to the toilet. I locked myself in a dirty cabin, unbuttoned my pants pants, lowered them to my knees, and began to stroke my small cock, which protruded nylon pantyhose. Realizing that I was going to finish, I quickly released him from the pantyhose captivity, and the stream of my sperm splashed into the toilet. Having put myself in order, I returned to the lesson.

At recess, I went to the office to the mother. She sat at the teacher's desk, stretching her legs. That day she came to school in a long skirt and Finnish stockings with a sharp heel “stiletto.” I knew that the top of their soft suede tops reached the middle of the thigh. I felt that the member was getting stronger again.

- Well, how are you? - asked mom and looked at the bulge on my uniform cloth trousers.

- Do not blot my tights, son, - she smiled. Probably, she in my excited mind, she guessed about my desire to caress her dick and finish at least somewhere.

In the evening, she said that I can wear her boots if I like them. Only asked to return her stockings that are scarce in Soviet times, offering to wear stockings under trousers and fasten them to a belt. She believed that tights, tightly squeezing a member, are harmful to my puberty.

- A member will not grow big - sort of like a joke, she explained.

We lived with her father and in a two-bedroom Khrushchev. My room was small, and my parents slept in a large entrance hall, although they rarely slept together. My father practically did not climb out of business trips, and most of the time my mother and I were alone. And I began to pry her. It didn’t occur to me to fuck her, I just wanted to see: what about hers? In the evening I did not specifically close the door to the end, then, as the cat sneaked up to the luminous gap and looked. But for a long time nothing worked. Mother walked to the door and shut it, I barely had time to rush into bed, just in case. All this was unnerving, and I became very irritable, especially when talking to my mother.

The desire to "see her naked" turned into a fixed idea. Only once, when my mother was unwell and looked very tired, the door remained open and I began to observe her preparations for sleep with increasing excitement. Mother took off her robe, lifted the combination, unfastened the elastic bands from the stockings (then in the 70s tights were not very common), sat down, rolled up the stockings, stood over her head, lifted the bra from behind and removed it. For a few seconds I saw her in only shorts with bare boobs. I will not say that they were very large (about 3 points), but there was something exciting in them.Whether because of the big brown circles around the nipples, or because of the nipples sticking out themselves, like two buttons, or simply because it was my mother's tits. ... Read more →