About 20 something years ago, my Mother worked her fingers to the bone at small diners as a waitress for as long as I can remember. The last place we lived was next to a slightly bigger facility and built right next to a major highway which meant a constant stream of customers day or night. She was always there or so it seemed, and I was usually at school until the afternoon. Needless to say I spent a lot of time alone. I had no siblings and my Dad hadn't been heard from since I was a toddler. My Mother and I had to fend for ourselves and that meant the household chores were my responsibility while she brought home the paychecks.
I took care of the cleaning, laundry and other chores since I was about 12. We had moved into the area and stayed there for the last 6 or so years and we liked it. It was a nice little town and we got along great with everyone. Mom fit in perfectly at this diner and the customers treated the both of us very well. The Only problem was due to the long shifts, my poor Mother used to come home completely exhausted. She was a dainty thing but always seemed to have lots of energy. I always felt so sorry for her when she finally came home. She would be completely wiped out from moving about serving others all day long.
We had a nightly ritual to where I would prepare her dinner, catch a little T.V. and prepare her for bed. My favorite part was a guilty pleasure of mine and I always liked doing it for her and I had done it for years. As a waitress, Mom wore the typical uniform. A blouse with the diner's logo on it, an above the knee skirt with apron, neutral colored pantyhose, and non slip pumps with a short heel. Every night when Mom came home, she would plop down in the bed or couch and I removed her shoes exposing her petite, sometimes sweaty nylon encased feet. She loved when I massaged them and so did I. I had a pretty good technique and My Mom would squirm and coo with delight as I rubbed her silky heels, toes, ankles, and calves.
I had a real affinity for hosiery back then and I still do. I couldn't wait for her to come home, kick those heels off and let me have my way with her stocking feet. The best part was when she was really burnt out, she would let me remove her pantyhose completely. I was now a lonely 18 year old boy and admittedly, I got a small thrill from reaching up her skirt, searching for her waistband and pulling her nylons completely down and off. I tried not to look "up there" as I did this, but sometimes curiosity would get the best of me and I would steal an awkward glimpse of her woman parts. She always wore these really dark, sun-tan, colored hose. They were a bit thicker for support I guess but I loved the way the light glistened off her legs and feet with that sexy sheen.
I was almost 19 at the time and one night we were about to begin our nightly ritual as usual. I wasn't into it and Mom could tell. I was a little depressed not having known the touch of another woman yet. this went on a few more nights where I just removed her shoes and tucked her into bed. I was devoting too much time to studies, chores, our financial situation, and looking for my own job to have any kind of life for myself. Mom could tell I was in a funk and finally confronted me about it.
I sat at the foot of the bed, and began to caress her soft feet per usual. "alright, I can tell something is up...spill it" Mom said. I looked up at her and told her about my longing to be with a girl in a serious relationship and the lack there of. I began a 15 minute long speech about how lonely I was and the fact that I was almost 19 and still a virgin. "it's not your fault ." I said. "I have always just wondered what it felt like". I could see that she was sympathetic to my plight. Just then, she sat up and said " I can tell you exactly what it's like."
with that, Mom went into a long spiel about how wonderful sex felt. She explained in great detail about positions, and how she used to do it all the time in her youth. As she waxed nostalgic, she had a huge smile on her face as if I had uncorked a flood of repressed memories. She squirmed and shifted as she talked on and on about doing the deed as I massaged her legs and ankles. I was fascinated and a little freaked out hearing this from my own Mother. I then noticed that I was getting greatly aroused by Mom's sex talk and started stroking her feet and legs with great fervor.. and she did too.