Shoes

There was one thing that still bothered me, shoes. I only had male and unisex shoes. On the way out we passed a village where they had a shoe store. Living on the experience of not being called a girl at the cabin I suggested to Leslie that we should try the store. She agreed, and soon we entered the store. We started to look at the shoes and Leslie tried a few. The owner, a man, asked if we needed help. It was a slow day, and there were no other customers in the store. We explained that I had big feet and gave the approximate size. We explained that I needed 2-4 pairs, some everyday shoes and some dress shoes. The latter preferably with a little heel, but not too much. He roamed the store and got 6 different pairs. He was sorry that the choices in my size were so limited. I started to try on a pair of sneakers, white sneakers with pink details. I fell in love with them before I felt that they fit perfectly. Next was a pair of purple flats, but they didn't fit. A pair of moccasins fit perfectly. The three left were red and burgundy pumps with something he called kitten heels, and sandals. The red pumps pinched my toes, but the burgundy fit nicely, and the sandals looked so nice with the small butterflies. I bought sneakers, moccasins, burgundy pumps and sandals. I wore the sneakers when we left the store.

Well home, I showered, put on a black lace set of underwear, fitted the breasts, applied makeup and fixed the hair before slipping on the black dress from the first night, stockings and the pumps. I felt so beautiful, looked great standing still, and looked ridiculous when I tried to walk. Lesson learned, even small heels need practice. Leslie surprised me by using my old clothes and dressing up as a man. She stood waiting outside the bathroom and caught me when I tripped leaving the bathroom. She led me to the living room where she danced the lead through a slow waltz. At the end of the waltz, the doorbell rang. I kicked the shoes off and walked to the door, at Leslie's command. It was food delivery. Leslie insisted that I had to handle this. I let the man into the building, met him at the door, very concerned that he would call me out, handed him the money and got the food. Well inside I almost fainted, and Leslie laughed. I asked what she laughed about, and she explained it was my fear of being caught in combination with a delivery boy that hardly could stop staring. He was as far from calling me out as possible, more like to ask me out.

That night we again retired to Leslie's bed in the matching nighties. Laying there on the pillow I tried to steer the conversation to sex, not for us to have but for her to explain how it feels for a girl. She skirted the issue with non-committal comments. The conversation drifted off, but my mind would not let it go. Falling asleep I dreamt about having sex, switching positions between being male and female, waking up shooting my load just as I dreamt that I was penetrated by a strong man with the perfect six-pack. Leslie woke from the noise and movements, so there was no hiding. When she understood what had happened, she smiled a bit before comforting me. I had worn panties underneath the nightie, so there was hardly any mess. I left the bed, showered, and got into my own bed. I lay awake a long time trying to comprehend everything before a mercifully dreamless sleep caught me.