A Dream Sequence My Mother

Last night, I dreamed that Mother let me worship her feet again.

In my dream, she was dressing for a dance at the country club. Dad was stuck at the office as usual and planned to meet her there later. I would drive her over to the club myself.

When I walked into her vast bedroom to see if she was ready, she was standing in her stocking feet before the full length mirror next to her dressing table. Wearing a flowing red gown. that reached her ankles and made her look like a queen. Her shining black hair framed the regal beauty of her face like a queen. Her shining black hair framed the regal beauty of her face like a halo, exposing her lovely ears and the tiny diamonds that flashed from them.

"Are you nearly ready, Mother?" I said as I stood in the doorway.

"In a minute, dear. I can't decide which shoes to wear."

"Shall I help you?"

"Oh Jack, you always choose the black suede pumps."

"They look so beautiful on your feet, Mother."

"Well, let's see if we can find another pair this time."

She sat down on the edge of her bed as I scanned the full length rack of shoes on the back of her closet door.

"How about these?" I said, holding out a pair of black sling-backs with very slender two-inch heels.

"Why don't we try them," she said. "Would you slip them on for me?"

I knelt before her as she extended her right foot to me. It was elegantly slender and beautiful. With a high, curving arch and a lovely round heel. Her toes were long and perfectly shaped. Their red-painted nails glowed softly through the gossamer sheerness of her thin, offblack stocking.

My cock twinged excitedly as I grasped her ankle and embraced her toes with the pump's soft kidskin. Its heel strap was loosely buckled and slipped easily into place as I slid the pump up along her arch. The cleavage of her toes was dramatically bare above the pump's low vamp. She flexed her toes slowly, making the loose strap slide up and down her heel as I lowered her foot to the floor.

I slipped on the other pump, and she rose from the bed to examine herself in the mirror. Spinning this way and that on her toes. Walking grandly back and forth as the thin straps slipped loosely around her heels. The pumps had a sophisticated, urbane character that highlighted the beauty of her feet. My cock stiffened uncontrollably as she bent her left knee forward and let the pump's thin strap slip off her heel.

"I'm afraid they don't quite go with this gown," she said finally. "They look best with a suit."

"What about these?" I said, taking down a pair of backless golden slippers with pointed toes and little French heels.

"Oh come now, darling. Are you trying to make me look like a Hollywood temptress?" she said with a laugh.

"Let's try them anyway."

She stepped out of the slingbacks and sat down on her bed again. I slipped the golden slippers onto her feet and she walked over to the mirror to model them. Flashing her naked heels delightfully with each step.

"They really should be worn without stockings," she said thoughtfully, sliding her right foot in and out of the exotically bare slipper.

"You mean barefoot?" I said, feeling my cock throb as I imagined the sight of her naked feet standing high-arched on the slender French heels of those slippers.

"Yes. But I can't go to the dance with no stockings on."

We tried pair after pair of shoes from her vast wardrobe. High-heeled sandals with ankle straps that embraced the slimness of her ankles. Opera pumps of satin and lace and kidskin, so elegant and generous in their display of toe cleavage. Even a pair of patent leather flats with little satin bows that made her feet look alluringly girlish and innocent. Until the floor around her bed was littered with shoes that she had tried and rejected. And my cock had swelled into a tense bulge inside my pants.

"Well, Jack, I guess you were right after all," she said, looking at me with a knowing smile that made my heart race.

"The black suede pumps?" I said quickly. "Yes, darling. Will you get them for me?"

She had been teasing me all along, and I loved it. Letting me indulge myself in a mad orgy of worshiping her feet with an endless variety of shoes. Building slowly to the inevitable climax as I approached her with the black suede opera pumps in my hands. They had high, slender heels and dramatically low-cut lines.

She wore them so often that their thin suede was feathery soft. I knelt before her like the Prince worshiping his Cinderella and raised her right foot gently. Slipping the black suede pump around her yielding toes with adoring slowness. Easing it up over the swell of her heel. Seeing it cling loosely to curves of her narrow foot. Then doing the same with the left pump. Holding her ankle as if it was the stem of a delicate rose. Finally crossing her left leg over her right and letting the slit of her gown fall open to expose the silken glory of her knee.

"You have the most beautiful feet in the world." I sighed as I ran:the tip of my finger along the instep of her dangling left foot.

"You're 'so sweet to me, Jack." She smiled. "I'm very lucky to have such a devoted son."

"I love you, Mother. I absolutely adore you."

"And I love you, my darling."

I placed my finger lightly against the tip of her pump. It fit so loosely that the slight pressure of my finger caused it to slip off her heel and slid all the way down to her toes. Swinging helplessly to and fro. Making her foot look so bare. So vulnerable. So enticing.

"Now look what you've done," she said with a low chuckle.

"I did it on purpose, Mother.

I'm dying to kiss your toes. May I?"

"All right, darling. We have plenty of time."

I lifted off the dangling pump and set it on the floor. She wriggled her toes submissively as I raised them to my mouth. Kissing the tip of each one quickly, then more passionately. Licking their delicate perfection with my eager tongue. Nipping and nibbling them with my wet lips through the sheerness of her stocking. Sucking them into my drooling mouth. I cuddled her acquiescent foot in my hands and caressed it lovingly. Overcome with worshipful devotion for this queen of my life.

Suddenly the phone rang. It was Dad. She was listening without a word as he gave her a long explanation about something. I guessed what he was telling her, and my heart leaped. Finally she mumbled a brief goodbye and hung up.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she said, facing me with disappointment in her eyes. "His meeting at the office is going to last most of the evening. He doesn't think he'll make the dance at all. I'm supposed to go without him, since all my friends will be there..."

She turned away with something like a sob in her voice. This was happening with increasing frequency, and we both knew why. Dad's executive assistant was a cool, blonde MBA from Stanford who had hitched her ambitious wagon to his star. She went everywhere with him. Naturally the meeting was going to run very late.

My heart ached for Mother. I reached out and took her hand.

"Do you really want to go to the dance alone?" I asked her gently.

"Not particularly. That crowd is so boring. And they'll all be looking at me out of the corners of their eyes."

"Then stay home with me."

"I'm certainly tempted."

"We can have our own dance. Right here in your bedroom.

Just you and me."

"Oh Jack, what a sweet idea. Would you really like to be my escort for the evening?"

"Yes. Will you let me?"

"Of course, darling. I'd love to,"

I found some easy listening music on her bedside radio. It was slow and dreamy and sentimental. Music for lovers. We faced each other across the expanse of her bedroom. She looked so beautiful and compelling that my eyes misted over. Gliding towards me on her toes with a quiet smile. Raising her arms like a ballerina.

It was the first time we had ever danced together, but we seemed like born partners. Her body rested easily in my arms and responded to my every move. Not seeming to care when the shameless bulge of my cock brushed her thighs. The heels of her black suede pumps made her so tall that her emerald eyes gazed straight into mine. My head spun as the fragrance of her perfume intoxicated me. Her lips curved in a gentle smile that made my pulse race.

"Those at the dance don't know what they're missing," I whispered, letting my lips brush her cheek.

"They don't matter, Jack," she murmured.

"I know. Only you and I matter.

We whirled extravagantly as the music swelled to a climax. I felt her breasts touch my chest and her thighs move against mine. My heart overflowed with yearning and my cock throbbed uncontrollably. I clutched her to me in a desperate embrace, inhaling the perfume of her hair.

She melted in my arms. Giving herself to me with a long sigh that made me tremble.

"Oh Mother, I love you so," I gasped against her ear.

"I love you, Jack dear."

"There's no one else in the world for me."

"We've always been everything to each other."

"But I want so much, so much."

"There isn't anything you can't have, my darling. All my devotion. All my love. I want you to be happy."

My cock was throbbing urgently against her. And she was yielding to it. Yielding to the passionate hardness of her loving son. I kissed her cheek, caressing it with my tongue. She took my hand and placed it over her breast. My cock leaped excitedly as I squeezed its gentle softness. Felt her nipple swelling nakedly against my palm.

And realized suddenly that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts were bare and sweet and warm beneath her gown.

I slid my open mouth across her cheek until I found her lips. They parted for me like a blossoming rose and I slipped my tongue between them. Probed cautiously into her mouth. Heard her sigh fondly as she sucked it deeper. Sliding her fingers up the back of my neck and twining them in my hair. Moving her body slowly back and forth against the thrusting hardness of my yearning cock.

It was our first lovers' kiss. But our bodies seemed to know each other so well that we were perfect together. Moving and caressing slowly. Mingling our eager tongues in a sliding, probing dance. Squeezing, stroking, massaging each other everywhere with our hands.

She parted her thighs to accept the pressure of my cock. I gripped the round cheeks of her tush and pulled her more tightly against me. Hearing her moan with delight as my tense bulge caressed her Venus mound. Letting the fire of our kiss consume us.

"Oh Jack..." she gasped when our kiss finally ended.

"Mother, Mother, you're my angel." "Undo my dress, darling. Can you find the zipper?"

"Yes:"

It began at the back of her neck and ran all the way down to her waist. By the time I had it unzipped, the gown was already sliding off her white shoulders. She pulled her arms free and let it fall to the floor around her ankles. Stepping gracefully out of it. Moving back from my embrace and raising her arms to display her body to me. With pride and love. She was naked except for a black lace garter belt and her gossamer-thin black stockings.

And those black suede pumps that highlighted the willowy length of her alabaster body. As if she had known all the while she was dressing how this evening would end. Her sloping breasts swelled like tender melons. Her long, erect nipples seemed to quiver with anticipation. And the tangled dark silk of her bush glowed like a magic garden in the soft light of her room.

"Oh Mother, you're the most beautiful woman in the world," I moaned, overcome by the sight of her.

"This is the body that gave you life, Jack dear," she said.

"But it's a woman's body, too. And it yearns for a lover's kiss. It's been barren far too long."

I was out of my clothes in a second and faced her with my cock pulsing eagerly. I took her by the shoulders and sat her gently on the bed. Kneeling before her and slipping off the black suede pumps. Peeling off the gossamer. stockings. Undoing the black lace garter belt. Kissing her naked feet and rubbing their soles against the tip of my livid cock.

Then I was lying on top of her. Sucking her nipples joyously as my mouth seemed to remember how their sweetness had nourished me on the first day of my life. Slipping down between her legs to feel the hot flow of her lips bathe my cock with love.

She sighed and drew up her knees to open her body for me. I hunched forward and penetrated her flowing lips. Sliding inexorably into my mother's soft, embracing love nest. Thrusting deeply through her undulating wetness. Back to the womb that had been the source of me. Until I was buried forever in her thrilling, reassuring softness. I gazed down at the exquisite length of her maternal body, lying impaled by the hard length of my thrusting cock.

Rolling, lolling, undulating with the ecstasy of knowing that the life she had conceived so long ago had returned to her at last. Her deep green eyes glowed with the elemental passion of a mother's love. And her lips, parted in a giving smile, begged me to make her mine.

"Come to me, Jack dear," she whispered as her arms and legs embraced me. "Come to me, my darling."

"Oh Mother, I love you."

I plunged my tongue into her mouth and _ clutched her fiercely. Going wild inside her as my cock thrust uncontrollably against her womb. Feeling her caress me with her hands and feet. Urging me to go faster. Moaning against my kiss. Arching her body as the first spasms of a massive orgasm gripped her.

Yes, yes, a voice cried out inside me. Now. While she is coming, too. Both of you together. Mother and son, in one ecstatic moment. Man and woman always. The fires of love exploded from my loins and poured into her.

Mother, Mother, I adore you.

Jetting forth in long, excruciating streams inside her.

Oh Mother. Oh_ blessed woman.

Emptying a son's devotion into her. As her spasms drove her wild. Drove her wild.

"Mother, Mother, Mother..."

I awoke from that poignant dream with my cock still hard and the front of my pajamas soaking wet from my ejaculations. I lay there in the dawn grayness of my dormitory room and tried to recall each precious image. Fondling my cock lazily. Wondering if there was time to masturbate myself to another orgasm before I had to leave for my training table breakfast at the cafeteria.

They say it isn't healthy for a guy on a football scholarship to be so hung up on his mother. But mothers are women, too, and sons can be their most devoted lovers. In any case, that really misses the essential point.

Because Mother died when I was three, so I never had much chance to know her. All that remains are aching memories of a weeping child whose life had been shattered. And a few small photographs of a glorious woman with a gentle smile.

And the love dreams that I cherish, to soothe my empty heart.