Introduction : I was a typical teenager looking for a summer job. Mom approached her shapely massage therapist about the possibility of taking me as her intern and I had been hired. I am to practice my new skills on my mother at the end of each day.
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I could see that my new boss Katie was not shy about her own nudity and seemed to be comfortable with mine. As I finished loading up the washer, I had to be careful not to hurt myself -- my cock, though not particularly long, was still out there, ready to bump into things there in the crowded laundry room. Katie exited back into the studio with me in tow and turned on the faucet to fill up the footbath, showing me the right measure of Epsom salts to use. Despite her comfort with our mutual nudity, I was acutely aware of it. I was concerned that I would unconsciously reach out to stroke one of those magnificent breasts or allow myself an inappropriate caress of her incredibly muscular glutes.
As the footbath continued to fill, Katie entered her shower to wash off the oil from her previous client. I stood there like a moron and watched her soap herself up, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of her presence. I had hoped that she might ask me join her in the shower as I needed one too, but the invitation wasn't forthcoming. As I stood there with my mouth agape, she had to snap me out of it to remind me to turn off the faucet on the footbath as it was now full.
As she stepped out of the shower and toweled herself off, she made no attempt at modesty. She was a magnificent physical specimen and it became obvious to me in that moment that she knew it and appreciated being admired. She reveled in the power that her incredible physique gave her over those around her and that she knew she now had over me. I was under her spell.
She had left the shower running for me to use and I quickly did so. Katie made no attempt to hide that she was watching me as she slipped into another one of the dozen robes she kept for her clients. As my erection had diminished somewhat, I stroked it a few times, well aware of Katie's focus. I had to catch myself before I ended up ejaculating all over the shower panel -- I wasn't going to offend Katie if I could help it. As I finished up, she handed me a large towel to dry myself, then held out a robe to allow me to slip into. My erection was throbbing.
She was silent as she mounted the pedicure chair and slipped her feet into the footbath. It's elevation allowed for a comfortable perch for me to rest on as my education began. She showed me the controls for the chair: recline, heat, vibration and massage settings of varying intensity. She told me to take the chair's manual home with me to familiarize myself with all of the available features. She thought that there were options not being utilized.
As her feet soaked, she explained a variety of techniques and principles to use once we got started on the actual massage. A foot massage was not restricted to just the feet of course -- calf muscles and the lower leg needed attention too. If a client was receiving a foot massage with a follow up body massage, then they might want my massage to extend past the knee. Thighs were a sensitive area -- was it appropriate for me to massage a client's thigh beyond the knee? How was I to know? Again, she told me to read the client's body language and nonverbal cues to determine just how far they wanted me to go.
Not only would she teach me the skills to ease our clients' aching feet, but how to take it to the next level. As their feet were clean from the footbath, I should have no problem using my lips and tongue for foot licking and toe sucking. Kissing was always effective too. The important thing was to make sure that my caresses were smooth and flowing, that there was no hesitation on my part as I transitioned from one technique or body part to another.
Katie was an artist. She told me to trust my instincts, to read what the client's wants were. Interpreting their nonverbal cues would guide me -- having to ask if my next caress was OK was not what the client wanted -- it was better to seek forgiveness than ask for permission. Her experience told her that nine times out of ten, her clients appreciated boundaries being pushed without being asked.
As she continued with my enlightenment, she slipped first one and then the other foot out of the bath and I dried them with a handy towel. Katie was nude under her robe and could not help but to expose her bald pussy to my eager gaze without a deliberate effort to hide it -- she made no such effort. As she extended her leg, she encouraged me to gently caress her foot, telling me that women LOVED to have their feet and toes pampered. But, most of all, they would want me to show them just how much I enjoyed embracing their feet! Worshipping them in fact!
I took this as my cue to do just that -- worship her feet. It had never occurred to me in my young life just how sexy a woman's feet could be, but I suddenly found Katie's shapely feet incredibly sexy and irresistible. My cock fairly throbbed with the eroticism of the moment. I went into a sort of trance as I lifted her proffered foot to my mouth and began to kiss it, licking the sole and caressing her individual toes with my tongue and lips, sucking on each one individually. I didn't have to think ahead or plan what my next caress was going to be -- it all came naturally to me.
As I gently placed the one foot down and picked up the other for it's turn, Katie leaned back in the chair with a dreamy look in her eyes, her eyes hooded in the sensuality of the moment. In a husky voice, she told me that once I had developed my skills and her clients were comfortable with me worshipping their feet, I would be exposed to bare pussies on a regular basis. I would have to learn to react appropriately. To disguise my voyeurism from the client. As I was working on a client's feet and noted their facial expressions or their moans or gasps, I needed to interpret those to guide my ministrations. If the client was uncomfortable with what I was doing, then I needed to note that and change my technique.
She pointed out that wearing a robe left me on display too and to be aware of it. If I was going to flash our clients, I needed to read their body language to determine their comfort level -- it was most important not to offend the client. She promised me right then and there that I would not have to massage any of her male clients. It hadn't occurred to me, but an enormous sense of relief washed over me none the less -- I determined then and there that I would do whatever it took to please her. My cock throbbed with renewed vigor.
She began to instruct me on a variety of techniques to use when massaging a woman's foot. She talked about using my thumbs, knuckles and the strength of my fingers to massage the soles effectively -- that is without any discomfort or tickling of a sensitive area. She pointed out that massaging a woman's foot could result in an orgasm if done right and with a lot of practice. She was a licensed Reflexologist and would be able to coach me on the various trigger points that would allow me to elicit pleasurable responses from our clients. It was not lost on me that she specified "our" clients.
Katie began to wax philosophical. She wanted me to love what I was doing. To think of her and our clients as goddesses and to see my hands (and lips and tongue) as instruments of sacred pleasure in service to the goddess/client. She confessed that massaging her clients' feet had lost it's appeal for her now that she was getting into her more recent physical full body techniques. Along with my prep and cleaning tasks, she wanted to tutor me in the skills to give a sensual foot massage. A foot massage that went beyond that -- foot worship!
She knew that a pampering of their feet in combination with one of her body-to-body massages would have some appeal. She had a few clients that would be keen to have a tall, muscular young man worshipping their feet. She stressed that the only way to get good at giving women what they most desired was constant practice. She could only teach me so much -- I needed to get my hands oily, so to speak.
This was where practicing on my mom would come in. Katie wanted me to go home each night and practice whatever technique or skill I had learned that day. On my mother. She dismissed my concerns about this and told me that my mother's honest feedback would improve my technique. To put it out of my mind that it was my mother and to appreciate the opportunity to pleasure a sexy and mature goddess in ways that might not be possible with a stranger. I loved my mother -- what could be more natural than expressing that love with a physical (and sensual) demonstration of my devotion? One that was intended to be pleasurable.
She argued that she was imparting this very special skill onto me and that I should consider it a sacred duty (OK, this was getting a little rich for me) to pleasure my mother using those new found skills. In the spirit of receiving, I needed to appreciate the opportunity that Katie was giving both my mother and I. I had to convince both myself and my mother to forget our inhibitions and to let me take her to new heights of ecstasy. Knowing mom as well as she did she knew that mom would be receptive. And appreciative. She was a sensual woman.
