I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling feeling lonely, horny and guilty. Guilty because my fiancé was overseas for the next two or three months with the Peace Corps. Horny because she’d already been gone for three months. And guilty because today I had gotten aroused by a woman other than her… her mother.
I was staying with her mother for several reasons. One, to keep her company as her husband had passed away only last year, and she was in an empty house for the first time since my fiancé had been born. Two, to save money, as my fiancé and I were both 21 and needed to save as much as possible to start our life together. Three, with the loss of her husband I took some time off work to help her do the things he used to do, like mow the lawn, do the dishes and do any little maintenance things I could handle.
Earlier today, Katie, my soon-to-be mother-in-law, called me to the kitchen to help her with something. When I walked in I realized she needed my help to reach something in the top of the cabinets. The problem is that I wasn’t going to be able to help, since I was 5’8” and she was 5’11”. I asked her what I could do and she said “Well I originally called to see if you could reach that cup for me, but..” Katie turned around, her glasses sliding slightly down her face. She had a smooth, soft looking face, and she had large, pillowy breasts that had stayed with her after she lost some excess weight. Her waist tucked in just enough before blossoming back out to meet her wide, round hips. They gradually tapered into thick, firm thighs and continued slimming down to her ankles. And at the end of those strong but still feminine ankles was my second favorite pair of feet I’d ever seen. I have a foot fetish, which my fiancé knows about and enjoys with me, and I know a pair of pretty feet when I see them. Her soles were thick and powerful but there was a tenderness to them I admired, and prior to her husband passing she had always been sure to keep her feet immaculately pampered. Now they were still lovely, but the purple nail polish was a bit chipped and could have used a refresher. She continued “I forgot that I’m taller than you. Sean was..” she drifted off, thinking about her former husband who was a large man by any standard and probably reached these high things easily, which would also explain the lack of a step stool in the house.
I was quick to offer my own solution, “Well I can just give you a boost then!” With that I dropped to one knee and put my hands on my thigh, palms up to make a surface for her to step onto.
“Well..” she hesitated and I knew she was considering her doubts. Her husband had always made her feel small by comparison, but she was three inches taller and about 40 pounds heavier than me. We didn’t address it much directly but I know she didn’t want to be embarrassed if I struggled to support her. “Maybe I should boost you” she offered.
I struck it down immediately, “I don’t know what I’m looking for or where to find it and you have longer arms so it would still be easier for you to boost me than the other way around. Come on up, I won’t let you fall!” I smiled up at her and patted my thigh in encouragement. She bit her lip, the way my fiancé did when she thought, before finally agreeing and lifting her foot to my thigh. Her heel pressed into me just above the knee and the ball of her foot settled into my open palms as her toes gripped the edge of my hands and lightly dig into my upper thigh. I glanced down and was reminded of one more small detail about her lovely feet. They were size 11, and covered almost 80 percent of my thigh. That thought was pushed from my mind as her hand grabbed the top of my head and I felt her weight begin to drive her foot down into my flesh. I felt her stomach brush my face as she rose until my face was roughly even with her thigh. She leaned into me slightly and I felt the minute changes in her foot as she made tiny adjustments to maintain her balance atop me. She leaned forward farther into me and her hand pushed down harder onto the top of my head, pressing my nose right up against the crotch of her jeans as she bent her other leg and stabilized herself by placing that knee on my opposite shoulder. I quivered with minuscule tremors trying to stay stable for her and did my best to show as little strain as possible, ignoring how hot it was that she was just using me so nonchalantly, like she owned me. I heard her say darn it and then she pushed down sharply on my head before descending back to the floor.
“Thank you dear but I think it must be in the cabinets on the other side of the kitchen. Would you mind being a step stool one more time for me?” She stood in front of me, and I was still on my knees, staring at her feet, mesmerized by the power I had felt her use on me. Suddenly her toes wiggled in front of me and she said “Hello?” I snapped back to reality, “Oh, not at all!” and I immediately shuffled to where her finger was pointing. I had my hands on my thighs expectantly and looked up at her again. She stood across the kitchen, just looking at me curiously before seeming to dismiss it. Then she strode towards me and without second thought this time proceeded to step on my thigh and lift herself up. I was slightly less prepared for her suddenness this time and let out a tiny grunt. I felt her look down at me and she tilted my head back with her hand and asked “Are you okay?” My chin was right against the crotch seam of her jeans as I looked up at her concerned face peering at me from between her two lovely breasts. “Never better!” I breathed back to her quickly, and she paused only for a moment before resuming her search. Her other leg again rested knee on my shoulder and I just felt her strong body press onto mine, admiring the way she seemed to apply force to me like any common stool. Her hand came off my head and suddenly her knee pressed into my shoulder, she rose to the ball of her foot and she leaned even farther into me, pinning my face between her hips and the lower cabinets. I had turned my face to the side to avoid diving right into her crotch and now I was pinned, unable to hear, struggling to breath past her denim and feeling as the ball of her one foot pressed all the blood out of my hands pinned beneath it. I could only imagine how white my fingers were turning from the pressure. I heard a muffled yell, and suddenly the pressure decreased dramatically, my face was no longer trapped, and her heel sunk back into my thigh. I looked up at her to find her looking back down at me, triumphantly holding the bowl she had been searching for. “Thank you so much!” she spoke down to me with a smile, “You make a great stepladder!” She climbed off of me with a laugh and began throwing ingredients to be mixed into the bowl. “Anytime!” was all I managed to say back through a dazed smile before I sauntered back to the living room to wait for dinner.
This was the first of two incidents that had greatly aroused me that night, the other coming with dinner.
We sat down in front of the television to eat dinner, and I, being a very hungry young man, inhaled what I needed and finished almost before Katie had even started. She had just laughed and asked me if it was really that good, to which I responded “It was so good I need to figure out how to repay you!”
We both laughed, and after a brief pause, she did speak up again. “Well,” she began, nervously crossing her feet, “My poor feet are sore from carrying me all day, and I haven’t had a good foot rub in a long time. Do you think you could indulge your chef?”
She smiles at me and I saw her wiggling her toes in the corner of my eye. My mouth went dry and I filled, because there was nothing I wanted more at that moment to touch and smell and taste her feet after how riled up she had gotten me earlier, but I attempted to play it as smoothly as I could and responded “Only because you made the meal of a lifetime, I suppose you deserve a proper pampering.”
More smiles and then she mentioned there was a coconut foot lotion in her bathroom. When I returned with the lotion, she had her food on a TV tray in front of her and her legs kicked out beneath it, resting on a pillow. I plopped down next to her feet and began my duties, warming the lotion up between my hands before touching it to her foot. My palms explored the soles of her feet, thumbs pressing in to find her tension as I savored the touch of her skin. Her soles were tough, with just a hint of rough callous, but not horribly so and surprisingly smooth and supple in other spots. The scent of the coconut mixed with the slightly sweaty musk of her feet hit my nose and caused my face to flush with excitement. Every moment I touched her soles I felt my prick grow harder and I struggled to hide the tent propping up in my pants. My fingers dove between each of her toes as I yearned to lose myself in her foot.
I did this so effectively that after pampering one foot and then the other, I looked up to find her watching me intently, meal done and set to the side. I smiled meekly up at her and said “I hope that service was adequate payment for such a fine meal.” She laughed and gently touched her toes to my chest as she spoke, “If that is the payment for my cooking, I need to make you three meals a day. That was the best hour of my day by a long shot.”
I was shocked, not realizing I’d spent an hour at her feet, and even more so by how much she enjoyed it. When I told her I’d be happy to do that whenever she’d like, she told me I should expect to do it a lot. We both laughed and began watching the movie that was on tv. She asked me if I wanted to sit on the couch next to her, but I refused, saying I was already comfortable on the ground. I didn’t mention that I also was still attempting to hide my massive hard on from her sight. She didn’t really respond but did open her legs a bit and I ended up seated between them, her feet resting on the ground on either side of my hips. We watched the whole movie like this and when it finished she told me she was going to bed. I told her I was going to watch one episode of my favorite show and then do the same, and she only asked that I turn the lights off before I go to sleep before she stood up. Her right foot, however, was on top of my right hand, and she didn’t notice immediately as she rose to her full height over me and stretched her arms overhead. I felt the weight of her heel driving my knuckles into the ground and as she stretched she twisted ever so slightly back and forth. The pain was intense and I let out a small gasp which finally caused her to look down and jump off when she realized what had happened.
“Oh my gosh! I am so sorry! I didn’t feel it!”
She exclaimed, clearly worried about hurting me and sorry for not catching it earlier. I smiled weakly up at her, and not wanting her to feel bad, said “No worries! I can still move it and it’s not broken so a little soreness isn’t so bad.”
She looked down at me with concerned eyes for a little bit longer and apologized again before saying “I don’t know why I didn’t feel it immediately!” She paused for a moment, and then smiled slightly and said “I guess I just got used to stepping on you after all your help today!” And she laughed happily. I laughed too, but the raw intensity of what she said made my erection throb again inside my pants.
“Well hopefully I don’t get stepped on too much for trying to be helpful” and she laughed again before walking off to her bedroom.
I had sat on the floor of the living room with my throbbing cock and just breathed, hardly catching a word of my tv show before heading to bed myself. And now I lay here in bed, staring up at the ceiling, playing back every bit that happened today and struggling not to touch myself. I sighed, and for the first time in months, masturbated to thoughts of a woman that was not my fiancé. The last thing I remembered before drifting off to sleep was Katie looking down at me and saying “I just got used to stepping on you..”