Hand Therapy Foot Job

I'd hurt my right hand skiing, nothing too serious but enough to put me in a cast for a few weeks, then a smaller hand splint. The thumb was coming along, stiff as hell, but helped along by regularly weekly sessions with Shelley, a hand therapist, and rather attractive woman for her age, with short blonde hair, thick but fit body, a gal probably in her mid-50s or so.

Me, I'm 32, physically fit and hurting myself from time to time as a result. I've always had a thing for older women like Shelley, pretty but not overpoweringly beautiful, with a great smile and body. And feet. OK, I like feet, shapely, smooth, sexy feet, and one early morning with Shelley, something happened that only solidified my long-time fetish and made me ache for more.

The one main drawback to having an immobilized hand was it's my whack hand, to be honest. I'm young, single, and have frequent sex, but also jack off a fair amount of times and going leftie wasn't cutting it. Yes, it's true, switching hands DOES feel like someone else, but even that gets old and you need your rightie buddy to do the job right.

I'd met with Shelley at the end of a long week of too much work and not enough tug time, meaning none. I was seriously horny that morning when I showed up for my appointment at 6:45; the clinic opened very early to accommodate working stiffs like me, and this day, Shelley was the only one there, and would be until 7:30.

She looked gorgeous that morning, her short hair pulled back highlighting her Germanic features, her face full but mostly free of wrinkles, green eyes friendly, and that smile just killer. She wore the usual pleasantly blue smock/pants outfit, clinging to her Rubenesque, older-woman body, and below that, sandals revealing the most perfect feet I'd ever seen. OK, that may be overstating it a bit, but that day I hadn't had release in about a week, so Shelley's feet, smooth, creamy, white, with wickedly shapely toes and red polish on the nails, were driving me fucking nuts.

We sat and chatted as she worked my thumb, oiling it up and massaging it -- and my thumb, taking firm, long strokes which did nothing to alleviate my sexual stress, particularly because through the clear-top work station I could look down and see those gorgeous feet below, the tendons flexing under her milky foot skin as she moved, planting her feet to put pressure into the massage she was giving me. And was giving me a boner. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

"Are you OK?" she said with that kind smile. "You seem a little fidgety."

"No, nothing really...that feels good, really good, I'm ok," I stammered.

She stroked my thumb more, me watching her sexy, strong fingers at work, and those impossibly sexy feet beneath, looking into my eyes with that perfect smile on her lips.

"Tell me, Scott," she asked. "Are you having any difficulties performing your usual tasks with your right hand?"

I knew she couldn't possibly mean jerking off but my mind raced, reading into things the way all men do, a fleeting thought given to her and I fucking right there on the table. But I shook the thought away, shaking my head.

"Well, no, not really, I mean..well....sometimes..but no...nothing serious.."

She stroked harder, smiled more warmly, moved her feet to the side giving me a better view of them. With her free hand, she reached under to pull up her pant legs to the knees, revealing a solid pair of MILF calves, muscular, fleshy, smooth.

"It's a little warm in her until the AC comes on," she said logically, a perfect reason to cool off those legs and feet, I figured. "Now, what do you mean, sometimes? What activities are curtailed?"

"Uh...." I said, not meaning to pause as long as I did. "Well...it's silly, really, I mean...it's nothing...uh...that can't wait...."

She smiled, and now held my right wrist in one hand, encircling my thumb with her other fingers, stroking hard, long and very slowly, as if jerking a small cock. Mine, not small btw, pulsated in my jeans. If I had to stand now, I'd be screwed.

"Such as?" she asked, letting the words linger, cocking her head slightly, a seemingly knowing smile on that pretty MILF face. "Scott, I'm your therapist, whatever you tell me is confidential. And as your therapist, I need to know these things."

I couldn't speak, too far gone, caught up in the feeling of watching her jerk off my thumb and looking down at those calves and feet.

"OK, allow me if I may be so bold," she said firmly, that smile on her lips. "Does your hand injury impede your ability to masturbate?"

Now that she identified the elephant in the room, I felt great relief, and ensuing shame. Sure, we all jerk off, but who talks about it, especially to a pretty therapist? Fantasy is one thing, and in mine, we'd be fucking already. But reality shut me up, red faced. She had her answer.

"Ah, I see," she said, continuing to stroke my thumb. "Well, there are other ways, you know. Using your other hand, which you've no doubt done and likely not found terribly satisfactory."

She was nailing it left and right. I could only stare down, those feet tensed below as she wiggled her toes, the instep fluid and alive, tendons jumping.

"For example, feet," she said plainly, jerking my gaze to her face, calm and smiling.

"M....my feet?" I asked stupidly, trying to configure how I could do that without pulling a groin.

"No, silly boy," she laughed softly. "Someone else's feet..."

The silence that ensued was broken only by the squishy thumb job she was giving me -- and the small groan that escaped my lips.

"Scott, I'm a qualified therapist, trained to give my clients optimal results," she said more firmly now, eyes flashing at mine. "And that would include alleviating your sexual stress by utilizing my feet to satisfy your masturbatory needs."

"Well," I smiled weakly, looking down to watch her slowly slip out of her sandals and run those incredible feet up the insides of my calves, spreading them, "when you put it that clinically...."

It was like a dream. Shelley, never taking her eyes off mine or hand off my thumb, stroked my inner thighs and then my stiff cock aching in my jeans. I don't know how she did it, training perhaps or intuition, but she undid my belt and pants button with her toes, then curled them around my pants and pulled them open, my engorged cock springing free, a huge dollop of precum that had welled in the head shooting off and striping a clear liquid path on her sexy left shin.

"Oh, my," she said with a giggle. "You are so ready! How long?"

"Uh...about a week," I groaned, looking down and watching those silky insteps clamp around my hard cock, heels and the balls of her feet joining on either side, my dick a total, blissful prisoner of her achingly soft soles.

"Then this shouldn't take terribly long," she sighed.

It didn't, much as I wished this could last forever, but time was pressing and others would soon be in. I looked into her gentle eyes as she stroked my thumb and my cock, then looked down for the visual stimulation that would put me over the edge. I watched those muscular MILF calves ball in muscle as she worked, watched those silken insteps wrinkle and flex around my dick, watched her heels none-too-gently slap off my bloated balls as she worked me, hurting me in that delicious way men love when having their balls abused.

She read my mind.

"Are my feet hurting your testicles?" she giggled. "I surely hope so, some men like that and I think you're one of them."

"Oh hell yes, Shelley, yes!" I groaned.

She continued to jerk my dick in her marvelous feet, those toes laced together, the red shine of her nails glistening in the light now streaming through the clinic window, those heels pressed together. I watched those calves ripple and roll under her snow-white skin. She read me again.

"My calves are very strong, enabling me to do this sort of foot therapy without tiring easily," she cooed proudly. "Do you like my calves, Scott? And my feet? Does it feel good, doing this?"

She knew the answer and reveled in hearing it, as I gushed in hushed screams, "Oh, GOD YES SHELLEY YOUR FEET ARE MAGIC!!!"

"Good, Scott, good," she said with a broad grin. "Now ejaculate, be a good boy, and ejaculate for your therapist's feet!"

Like I needed to be told. I exploded like I've never exploded before, the first few blasts smashing up into the glass table bottom, then lacing up her scissoring shins and calves, thick ropes splashing on the soft flesh, the remaining jets oozing out and down my cock to completely soak the insteps, every inch covered in cum as she slowly abated her stroking, the squishy sound filling the air around my staccato grunts of ecstasy. She worked the last drops out, squeezing harder, a pillow blob of cum bubbling out of the head.

"Wow," she groaned. "That was a huge amount of ejaculate and I must say, the biggest I've seen in all my years on the job."

"You...you do this often?" I said, breathlessly.

"As often as necessary, dear boy, as often as necessary," she sighed, now releasing my thumb to get a towel and hold it under the table. "Now be a good patient and clean your ejaculate from my shins, calves and feet, would you?"

I moaned, reaching under the table as she released my thumb, rubbing the towel up and down her shins, wiping the clean and then her muscular MILF calves, massaging the muscle through the fabric, and finally those amazing feet. I was exhausted as she took the towel and casually tossed it into a nearby laundry bin. She looked down at her feet and smiled.

"Nicely done," she said. "But you missed a spot. There. On my big toe."

She calmly pulled her legs out from under the table and slowly, sexily plopped that foot on the table, a glob of pearly spunk coating her toenail. She wiggled it at me, inches from my astonished face.

"Go on, do it," she hissed dominantly but playfully. "Suck my toe clean, put your mouth on it, take it in your mouth and clean my sexy, sperm-coated toe! You know you want to..."

My God, she was right and like a good dog, I dove forward, clutching her muscular calf, still wet with spunk residue, massaging it as I sucked her cummy toe into my mouth, surprised I wasn't completely grossed out as the cum slipped onto my tongue and down my throat. I pulled it off and on impulse, ran my tongue up that shin and calf, tasting myself there before she giggled and pulled away, tugging her pant legs down and slipping her sandals on those incredible feet.

"Eager, I like that, it helps in therapy," she laughed.

I watched as she lapsed back into her clinical side, efficient, friendly, composed. She pulled out her appointment book.

"Now then," she said, those eyes flashing as I tucked my flagging dick back in my pants and zipped up. "Same time next week?"

"Sure, Shelley, sure," I smiled. "You're the therapist, you know what's best."

"Indeed I do, Scott," she laughed, crossing her legs and giving me one last flash of foot before I left. "Just doing what's best for my clients."

The week couldn't go by fast enough.