I am a late middle-aged straight man. For as long as I can remember – way before puberty – I have been fascinated and sexually excited by seeing, hearing and touching women’s high-heeled shoes. How and why did my interest start? The short answer is: I don’t know. My mother never wore them and I have no older sisters. I do remember an infatuation with a teacher who wore them when I was six or seven years old, and I always loved seeing them in magazine adverts, or being worn out and about. I have no interest in wearing heels, or any other sort of women’s clothing. But I have acquired a few pairs from charity shops and online auction sites, which I like to handle. Their shape, texture and colour are a very important part of my pleasure, and these have to be “right”. Platform shoes don’t do it for me. I never buy obviously scuffed and worn-out shoes, either. My wife is aware of my fetish, and back in the day would indulge me by wearing hers at home sometimes. She knows about my small collection, but also knows I am not wearing them, just playing with them. She is not overly happy about my habit and doesn’t understand it, but then neither do I. I’ve looked into fetishes and nobody knows what causes them. Apparently, as long as they don’t get in the way of real life, or hurt anyone, it is better to indulge than deny them. That’s fine by me. • Each week, a reader tells us about their sex life. Want to share yours? Email sex@theguardian.com. All submissions are published anonymously, and subject to our terms and conditions. Comments on this piece are premoderated to ensure the discussion remains on the topics raised by the article. Please be aware that there may be a short delay in comments appearing on the site.