NOTE: All of the characters mentioned are over the age of 18.
Mom's Sexy Nylon Feet.
The fascination with My mother's feet started when I was 18.
As long as I can remember, she went barefoot from summer time to fall.
And Pantyhose from fall to summer. One day She arrived home from work.
She liked to have a some wine after a long day at work. As I approached her with wine she was set deep into the couch, eyes closed, feet up on an ottoman. "Here mom."
She took the glass with red nail polished fingers, and took a deep gulp. Sighing afterwards. "A glass of wine, then a nice hot bath. That's what I need." "You and your baths," I laughed.
Tell me all about the drama." She nodded, eyes still closed, and stretched fully into the couch. Head and shoulders pressed back, toes pointed forward, black skirt drawing midway up her sexy tan nylon thighs, wine glass never moving. As if her wrist had a perfect gyroscope that refused to even tilt the glass. I came back in to the mirthful call from my mom, "Oh, waiter boy!"
I smiled, "Yes mom?"
"It seems someone drank all my wine," she shook the empty glass at me.
"Oh no," I said and grabbed the glass, "let's hope there's more."
"I'm sure you can find some," she winked and then settled back into the cushions.
Another trip to the kitchen. I was the official bartender tonight. "So," I asked as I handed her a now full glass of wine, "how was your day?" "Bleh," she said, tongue flicking out, "horrible. They had me running ragged." While she spoke animately between sips of wine, she used her other hand to rub her nylon covered foot. Wine arm bent on the arm of the couch, leaned forward, cleavage pressed together, one hand caressing and kneading her foot. She switched from foot to foot, bending back her toes so her smooth prominent arch screamed at me. Pushing her red toes forward to rub her heel. Fingers twirling around candied toes.
I stared at the spectacle, taking in each moment. I would like to say it was the beer, but watching her massage her feet and legs had always been something I did. There was something sensual about the whole thing, even if she was alternating between speaking and drinking. I sat there for awhile, hot and hardened. The polyester of my shorts caressing my bulge.
"Excuse me?" she said breaking my eyes from her feet. "Did you go somewhere?"
"Oh," heat blossomed across my face, "sorry mom. I was lost in my thoughts but what she did not know I was wanting to massage her sexy nylon feet. She nodded as if accepting the answer, "Well," she shook the now empty glass at me. "Mommy needs another."
I was hard, knee up to hide it, blushing like I hadn't since I was sixteen. "Um... okay?" You know that awkward boner walk where you're trying to hide something that definitely can't be hidden? Yeah... that's what I did. Hips pointed away from her, butt tucked up, cock angled down, I sidestepped over to take the glass and scurried into the kitchen. Was it my imagination or did she look down and smile? She had to have seen it, right?
Before filling up her wine glass I headed to the bathroom to get my composure and allow my erection to diminish. "What is wrong with you?" I whispered to myself. "That is your mom. Plus, you've never been into feet!" Tits, ass, hair, lips, neck, legs, and everything else except feet. "Except your mom's." I wrangled with the discovery of a new kink, pissed when I stopped chubbing, and went to resume my bartender role.
"Here mom," I said, composure once again within my grip.
She smiled, eyes looking up behind eyelashes, "Thanks, baby." Her smooth as satin hand cupped mine and held it there. "Do mommy a favor?"
The heat from her hand was at once in tandem with my groin and hand. As if it were two binary stars orbiting each other. "Anything," I said barely able to catch a full breath.
She lifted her leg, skirt riding further up, and pointed her toes at me. A perfect ninety degree angle from toe to hip. "Will you rub my feet? I just don't have enough strength."
From budgeoning heat to full on erection. Her poise, her words, her toes, they all colluded to drive me to the brink of horniness. It was as if the one present I had waited every Christmas for was finally at my door. "Y-yes mom," I stammered. She took the glass fully from my hand, and I dropped to my knees with a desire I had never known I had.
"Get this one first," she held out her right foot, inches from my face, and my hands rushed toward it with fervor. She giggled like a woman half her age, "Calm down now. Be gentle with mommy's feet. Can you do that?"
"Yes mom," I said and took a deep breath, faint with a hint of her perfume. I started slowly, sliding my hand down the top of her nylon covered foot, my other slowly caressing from heel to toes. She moaned and my cock pulsed. I took each toe between finger and thumb, gently bent them, twirled my fingers around them, and spread them. I used my thumb along the deep set of her arch. "Just like that," she murmured breathily, "good boy."
I felt on the verge of busting in my shorts like an unexpected exclamation point. I leaned in closer, my erection pressed hard against the ottoman. Her toes were bending back and forth inches from my mouth. My hot breath came in ragged waves. She had to have felt the heat.
"Now," she said and pulled her foot back, "this one next, son." She extended the other foot to me, bending the previous one so her skirt spread out, black nylon panties barely visible. I pressed my erection deeper into the ottoman and grabbed the new foot with both hands. I rubbed the joint under her big toe, she moaned, I wanted to groan. I ran my thumb along the underside of her toes and she clenched them around my finger, red nails bent.
I chanced a glance up, her eyes were closed, head back, wine leant haphazardly along the arm of the couch. My eyes trailed down her smooth pale neck framed by brown curls. A button had come undone on her blouse and the full mass of her cleavage was in view. Her hips were slightly arched now, legs spread wide, her empty hand rested on her thigh, fingers curled under the hem of her skirt. Her smooth, thick thighs ran into a gentle curve of calf, down to a beautiful foot.