Betty was fuming. The kitchen was a mess from where her 19-year-old lazy son Rob and his friends had eaten - after stumbling home drunk at 3 in the morning. She slipped into a t-shirt and knee-length shorts and set about cleaning up, barefoot, feeling the dirt on the floor grind under her soles, making her angrier still.
She was not pleased. The kid didn't work, didn't go to school and only thought about partying. As she loaded up plastic bags of crap and hauled them out to the trashcans in the dirt driveway, she got more pissed especially hearing her son's snoring come from his room. It was 10 a.m.
She finished and was just sitting down on a kitchen stool for a cup of coffee, looking in disgust at the filthy soles of her feet, when he stumbled into the kitchen in his underwear.
"Robbie, the mess you left last night was inexcusable," she growled.
Robbie scratched his balls and Betty caught a glimpse of the tiny nub of his cock. He yawned.
"Yeah, and your point is?" he wisecracked, walking to the 'fridge and opening it to bend over to look inside. "About time you cleaned up this fucking shithole anyway. It's your job."
Betty snapped. She got up calmly and walked behind Robbie, who was still bent into the 'fridge, his legs spread slightly. Betty smiled and let fly with her right foot, connecting between his legs with a sickening thud, the instep crashing into his balls.
"OWWWWWW!" he screamed, pitching headfirst inside the 'fridge and knocking aside its contents.
He flipped to his back, legs still spread, and before he could clutch his wounded nuts in pain, Betty stomped him solidly with her foot into his nuts, this time with her sole, grinding it hard, her teeth clenched in anger, her face a mask of determination. Randy's eyes shot open in terror, his hands clutching the amazingly muscular calf of the foot that was destroying his balls.
"Young man, you WILL respect me and you WILL do what you are told," Betty growled, twisting her foot into his battered balls, delighting in the expression of fear on his face. "Now since my feet became so filthy cleaning up your mess, you will now clean my feet! With your tongue!!"
"F.....fuck.....you...." Robbie hissed with labored breath, a hint of defiance left in his voice.
Betty smiled and stepped off his nuts, leaving him to grovel on the floor in a ball, his hands in his crotch. She backed off and sat down, crossing her sexy legs, wagging a dirty foot toward her moaning son. He slowly recovered and stood, angry now that the pain was subsiding, and stormed toward his mother.
"Why you fucking BITCH!!!" he screamed.
Betty calmly stood and delivered a brutal upward thrust of her thigh into his balls as he approached her. HE screamed in pain and tried to slump to the floor, but she held him up in her strong arms - and slammed that thigh up into his nuts again and again, four times in all until he went totally limp in her arms.
"You were saying, young man?" she growled, turning to lean him against the kitchen counter and slam his nuts again, taking great delight in feeling them mash flat against the plank-like hardness of her toned thigh.
She flipped him up onto the counter now, a stand-alone affair in the middle of the kitchen, his legs spread before her, his head hanging off the other side, lolling back and forth in delirious pain and humiliation. She held his knees apart, sat in the kitchen stool and drove her head down hard, her forehead connecting with his balls, mashing them flatter still. He was weak from pain and couldn't even bring his legs together, so Betty rammed a hand into his underwear and brutally gripped his wounded package, squeezing it viciously until she felt the meat of his balls ooze between her fingers. She stood and leaned over him, using her other hand to grip his hair and bring his tear-stained face to within inches of his.
"I said you WILL suck these feet clean, boy, do you understand?" she hissed, her hot breath in his face. "Or do you want Mommy to squeeze her little boy's little balls until they fucking POP!!!"
For emphasis, she squeezed hard, and Robbie's body went stiff in pain, his eyes bugging open.
"Please...Mommy...stop...." He begged.
Betty laughed in his face and squeezed harder.
"Hmmm, what's this I feel next to those bird balls of yours, Robbie? Is that a Slim Jim in your pants or are you glad to see me!"
She let go and stood back, laughing as Robbie slumped to the floor in pain. Betty hopped up on the counter and sat, crosslegged, waving the top foot in his direction.
"Sit in that stood and lick my foot clean," she growled. "Do it now or you'll never see your balls again."
Robbie groaned and weakly sat in the chair, looking in disgust at his mother's filthy sole of her right foot.
"Suck," she said.
Robbie moaned and put his mouth up to her foot, kissing the grimy bottom. Betty was incensed and brought up her other foot alongside his head, scissoring his neck in her meaty, muscular calves, legs honed by years of running and working out and looking not at all as sexy and young as the legs of a 51-year-old woman should look. She locked her feet behind his head and crushed his neck in her calves.
"Did I say KISS my foot, Robbie?" she seethed, taking pleasure in watching his face turn beet red in the clamp of her muscular, slender calves. "No, I said SUCK my foot, SUCK it and tongue it until it's clean!"
