Ever since I was a little guy I knew I had a thing for women's feet. Don't know when it started or why it started but they always enticed me. But growing up there is not much you can do about it except just stare and look at them and think about what you could do, no matter who it was or how close they were; whether it was a teacher a classmate, or even a family member.
The older I got the more experimental I got and before I knew it, I was getting girls into my fetish, and they obliged; needless to say, it almost got boring. There was no challenge anymore. I was twenty three, living on my own, doing my own thing, and the one thing I loved more than anything else was a nice pair of feet, and it got boring. I eventually stopped with it, figuring out that the best part of it was the chase.
With my job, I did a lot of work at home so I didn't even really have a chance to meet new and exotic people so I gave it a rest. I actually missed old home with my mom, who I had left at the age of twenty to explore the world. She was alone, my dad leaving when I was young, (I was the only child, and she had me when she was eighteen.) So it was always just me and her. But I had to move out and grow and expand, but she told me I was always welcomed back. I never figured out why she didn't marry again or at least find someone. She was 41, and had a very good figure for her age, she said she never worked out but I knew she did. She was tall, kind of a Helen Hunt look going, with the blonde hair. She was humble and a great mother, always taking care of me. I once asked her why she didn't re-marry; she told me she didn't want that to interfere with our relationship.
I called her one afternoon and she was delighted to hear from me.
"Hey mom,"
"Hi dear, how are you?"
"I'm good and yourself?"
"Fine, just cleaning up the house, what's going on? Is my little guy in some need for money?"
She always joked with me saying the only time I called was for money.
"No, I was actually thinking I haven't seen you in a while, I was wondering if I can come by for dinner tomorrow or something."
"You know you don't have to ask me that, you could always stop by. But I'm glad you did call because if you would have come tomorrow I wouldn't be here. I am going on a business trip to the east coast. For two days. You're welcome to come with if you have nothing going on,"
I contemplated it and realized I did want to see her so I obliged.
We made plans to meet up the next morning for breakfast at the house before heading towards the airport. I arrived to the house around 7 am. I knocked on the door but it was ajar, and I walked in. Just then my mother walked into the front room in only her towel. The towel went about knee length, exposing her legs. It also exposed what to me became the discovery of a set of gorgeous pedicured toes to go along with the most beautiful shaped feet I had ever seen. I was shocked at this discovery. How had I never noticed this before?
"Hey sweetie," she said giving me a hug coming towards me, "I left the door open I figured you would come while I was in the shower.
Her soft looking long toes were painted a bright red and they were each proportionally smaller than the next. Not a single flaw with them. I felt my penis twitch in my shorts, but quickly snapped out of it realizing it was my mother. She walked into the bathroom and as she turned around all I could do was stare down at her soles walking away from me.
I sat on the couch and waited for her. She came out later all dressed in a pants suit, unfortunately obstructing the view of her feet were closed toe black heels much to my dismay.
We had breakfast and talked but my mind really wasn't on anything besides her lovely peds.
What was I thinking, this was my mom. Did I dare even to go after them? Isn't there laws for that? Was she ticklish? How would she react if I asked to give her a massage?
Before we boarded the plane, the fun security guards performed their search on us, giving me a chance to see her feet again, as they made her take her shoes off, of course finding nothing. What I would have done to be one of those security officers. I wonder is she knows how good her feet looked. I wonder if anyone had told her.
The first hour of the plane ride we caught up and talked about what we both had been doing and what brought me back to see her and other nonsense. It was a four our trip from the west coast to New York so I knew there would be a good time to take a nap. Fortunately she also felt the same way, telling me that she was going to pass out and to wake her upon arrival. I agreed with her, knowing I probably wouldn't since I was going to sleep too. That plan changed, as she decided that sitting in a chair for three hours with uncomfortable shoes was not going to be a good idea, slipping her heels off, once again exposing her feet to me. For the first time I would be able to stare at her feet without her noticing, and for three hours! What a treat. I wanted to go to the bathroom so bad after that first ten minutes, wanting to relieve myself over the thought of her feet, but I just couldn't make myself get up and do it. I found myself in a daze just staring when,
"What are you looking at?" She asked, stunning me. I froze and turned red, trying to catch myself.
"Uh, just the carpet, wondering how many flights it's been on." I was rambling.
"Yeah," she answered, "or how many people have put their dirty feet on it,"
