Lifting me up, my mom placed me over her black leather purse.

"I guess you would be safe inside the coin pocket," she told me, using her other hand to empty the dimes and nickels. 

My mind raced.  My mom had pleasured my penis...twice! A finger job, a toe job.  Despite the outward, disgusting nature of it, I could not deny how wonderful it had felt.  Knowing that my mother--the woman who, by nature, was supposed to take care of me--had done these things to me, made it even more arousing.  I felt perverted and sickened.

"Ready, honey?" she asked, lowering me into the pocket.

"No!" I shouted.  She stopped.

"Your shoe!" I yelled again.  What was I doing?

"I don't understand," she replied.

"Your shoe!" I repeated.  "Put me back inside.  Walk on me! Step on me! Wear me back to the hotel!"

I had gone insane!

"Honey, no!" she said forcefully.  "Now, enough is enough! Maybe I was wrong to do those things to you just now.  But I will not, under any circumstances, put you back under my foot! I could kill you!"

I wouldn't give up.   "You won't! You walked on me all day! I...I'm attracted to your feet! I know it's wrong! But I want your weight on my body! I want the feeling of your skin covering my mouth!  I want the hot air around your toes and sole!"

My mom raised me from the purse and her face turned slightly angry.  "Now look, honey," she said as her voice grew louder, "you have got to stop this.  You shouldn't be under your own mother's foot! I know you are attracted to it.  But what I did today was wrong! It was dangerous! I would never have done it if I knew you were inside my shoe!"

I refused to relent.  More than ever, I craved the odor, the pressure, and the pain! I was truly screwed up!

"Mom, please! In a few hours, I'll be back to normal.  If you are truly sorry about today, you'll grant me this last pleasure! Wear me back to the hotel, and don't walk on me softly! Pretend you forgot I am in your shoe!"

I didn't want to play on her guilt, but it seemed to be working.  Sighing, perhaps angry with herself, she gave in.  "Okay...okay.  But, this is the last time.  If at any point I feel you are hurting or in danger, I'm taking you out!"

She then leaned over and lightly placed me back on the sole of the left heel. 

"Where do you want to be...put?" she asked.

"Under your toes!" I shouted back.  "Make me smell your toes again!"

Raising her foot towards the shoe, concern on her face, she shook her head.

"Are you sure about this, honey? Once you're in there, I won't know if you change your mind!"

I was sure.  More sure about it than anything else in my life!

"Yes!" I answered.  I then scooted down to the toe section and placed myself in the grooves worn into the fabric by her toes.  Then, with excitement and fear, I watched as the light in the shoe dimmed, then dissapeared as her foot entered.  Moments later, her hot, heavy toes rolled over my body, and settled into place, sealing me inside her skin.  Carefully, she stood, cracking my bones again. She began walking, and I lovingly inhaled the smelly air, begging my mom for more of this wonderful torture. 

With each step, her thunderous foot-falls rattled me to the core.  The blood pumped furiously through her sole and toes, and the fabric under my back, now soaked in her foot's sweat, barely cushioned me with each crashing step. 

I felt her walk through the building, outside onto the hard concrete, and finally sit down inside the waiting cab.