My Mother's Smackdown
(Posted on Tuesday, February 20, 2001)
This story was submitted by Foot Man.

I had probably the most strangely erotic experience that I have ever had with female feet. It happened just a few days ago and I thought that I would share it with the world. Let me preface the experience with a little background first, however.

I've had a female foot fetish ever since I was four years old. To me, the female foot is the most erotic part of a woman's body. I've gotten great pleasure over the years at the feet of both my Aunt Katy and my Auntie Patsy. However, I've had no interest whatsoever in my own mother's feet. My mother is a beautiful woman. She is about 5'1" tall. She is so vain about her appearance that even though she is 54 years, she doesn't look a day over 35. People are always mistaking her for my older sister.

Although I've known for years that my mother has pretty feet, the thought of touching, let alone tickling them was a forbidden notion. It's like thinking of your mother having sex. The very thought of it is totally repulsive. Although I never really wanted my mother to know of my foot fixation growing up, I believe she always knew because my brother and I were always at the feet of her sisters and as sisters they were very close.

I truly believe that my mother was jealous of the foot attention that my brother and I gave to her sisters because I can remember all of the times tthat she would ask us to paint her toenails for her, or help her put on or take off her shoes. She would even try to smother our faces with her bare feet as we lay playing on the floor. The very thought of even touching my mother's feet was so repulsive that we would always decline her requests and flinch from her foot advances. I almost felt sorry for her in a way, but I couldn't help the way that I felt.

There was even one instance when I was seven years old and she had baked my favorite 7-up pound cake. I had already eaten two large slabs of the cake and had asked my mother for a third. Rather than just telling me that I couldn't have the third slice, she insisted that I must suck her big toe in order to get the third slice. I went to bed that night having eaten only two slices of my favorite cake. Very few people, and none that I know of, think of their mother in a sexual or erotic way and I was no exception. I never would allow myself to even glance at my mother's feet for fear that I just might find them intriguing, maybe even attractive. Little did I know that those fears would one day materialize into reality.

I had traveled to my hometown on business, and since I was in the area, I decided to pay my mother a visit. She had just purchased a new car and she was in a state of euphoria. I noticed her nice new Beemer as I pulled into the driveway. My mother asked me what I thought of the car as I walked past her into the house. She had been busy filing some papers in her home office prior to our arrival and there were stacks of papers everywhere.

"Excuse the mess," she said as she walked up behind me. I could hear a familiar sound as she approached. It was the sound of shoes slapping the soles of feet. Normally my adrenaline would be pumping, but knowing that it was my mother, I almost wished she had been wearing sneakers with socks or something. I deliberately keep my gaze above waist level as we conversed about her car and my life. The phone rang and my mother excused herself to answer it in the den. She was standing at first and then decided to sit down at the table. She was talking to my Aunt Katy, so I knew that she would be on the phone for a while.

I made my way into the kitchen to find something to eat. I could hear her shoes scraping and clunking around on the floor as she conversed with her sister. I tried not to pay much attention to it as I began to fix a sandwich with leftover roast beef that I had found in the fridge. I couldn't find the Miracle Whip, so I went to the den to ask my mother where it was. As I approached the den, I couldn't help glancing under the table. My mother was engaged in a wicked shoe dangle with one foot and was resting her toes on the back edge of the heel with the other foot, and her heel was in the air with her sole at a 90 degree angle to the floor.

I never realized how high my mother's arches were and I had never seen so many soft-looking wrinkles in soles in my entire life. I couldn't believe it. I had allowed myself to look at my mother's feet intentionally and her feet were more beautiful than I ever realized. I felt a feeling of disgust come over me because there I was ogling over my own mother's feet. It was almost disappointing, but I continued to watch as she put on the most incredible footshow that I have ever seen.

When she eventually uncrossed her legs, she pulled both feet back under her chair, pulled both feet out of her mules and exposed her high-arched, wrinkled soles to me.  It was the very pose that I go nuts over. She even allowed her pinky toe to hang over the side of the shoe heel while her other toes rested on the back of the shoe hidden from rear vision. The shape of her feet was totally incredible as I stood there mesmerized by every move. I finally approached her and asked her about the Miracle Whip.

She got up from her seat to retrieve it from the cupboard in the kitchen. It was in the top cabinet and she had to stand on her tiptoes to get the jar. Reluctantly I looked down at her exposed soles again. The wrinkles were almost too much to handle and I felt a wave of peculiar eroticism overtake me. It was at that moment that I realized that my mother would experience
an INTENSE tickle session that evening, not for punishment or fun, but for no other reason than I just wanted to feel her feet in my hands. I wanted to experience her high-pitched laughter as I raked over her soles and toes. Nope, tonight it would not be about her at all. The tickling discomfort that she would experience tonight would be all about my own personal pleasure. I found myself eagerly and impatiently awaiting her to hang up the telephone.

As she continued talking to my Aunt Katy, several visions entered my mind. I remember at the age of two years old how I watched and listened to my mother's loud screaming and pleading as she fell victim to domestic abuse at the hands of my dad. I remember crying loudly and wishing that it would stop. I remember the intense struggles on the living room floor as my dad held her down. These were not good memories, but I envisioned those same blood-curdling screams, the same excessive pleading, and the same intense struggling with an added dimension of hysterical laughter, all at the hands of her first-born son taking place in the house that evening.

When she had finally gotten off the phone, she invited me into the office to help her with her filing as we continued catching up and discussing her new car. I reluctantly followed as I put the last bite of sandwich in my mouth. I watched her rosy soles get slapped over and over again as she walked to the office. I thought that I would lose my freakin' mind. As we entered her office, I asked her about her conversation with Aunt Katy. I never took my eyes off her feet as I was talking to her.

"What's wrong?" She asked. "Is there something on my foot or my shoes?" She shifted and began looking down at her feet.

"No, why do you ask?" I wondered.

"Because you keep staring at my feet." She replied.

That was my cue. I began telling her about how my brother and I used to go crazy on Aunt Katy and Auntie Patsy's feet when we were younger. She told me that she knew about my interest in feet from her discussions with her sister. I asked her if sensitive feet ran in the family because I was wondering if her feet were as sensitive as her sisters. She looked up at me and said, "I don't know. They've never really been tickled before, but I'm sure that they are pretty sensitive."

We continued our discussion and some time passed. She was on her knees at the file cabinet and her feet were under her butt. The soles of her shoes were kind of hanging off to the side and the soft wrinkles in her soles were exposed. Without a moment's hesitation I said in a calm voice, "I can't take it anymore. The suspense is killing me."

"What suspense?" She inquired as she skimmed over a document preparing to file it away.

Without so much as a whisper in reply, I walked over to my mother, knelt down and put both hands around her waist. I forcefully pulled her back and laid her out onto the office floor with me on top of her. "What are you do...... ?" She tried to question.

"Relax, Mother." I replied before she could finish her sentence. "This may be a little uncomfortable at first, but it won't last too long."

My mother gasped loudly and erupted into hysterical laughter and wild gyrations as I shifted my body and made my way down to her delicious feet. I wrapped my left arm around her ankles and gently removed her slides from her bare feet. I set her shoes neatly next to the wall and I dug into her warm, moist, wrinkled arches. Her feet felt absolutely heavenly in my hands. The wrinkles in her soles just seemed to give way as my fingertips raked across them. Her reaction was immediate. She straightened out her legs, let out a piercing scream which melted into hysterical laughter, and she began to flounder around on the floor.

It was incredible! It was also weirdly erotic. Here I was engaging in a forbidden pleasure.....a true pleasure that I had denied myself for literally 26 years. Everything was happening just as I had imagined it. The piercing screams, the exhorbitant begging and the struggle on the floor. It was all happening so fast before my eyes that it was like a dream. I was so caught up that I wanted to just tickle those sensitive feet forever and never let go. My mother's laughter turned really high-pitched as I began to vigorously tickle the underside of her toes. She was breathing so hard between screams and giggles that she couldn't complete a sentence.  The only words that kept leaving her mouth were, "QUIT!" and "PLEASE!"

I paused just long enough to glance at her struggling there on the floor. She was shaking her head and pounding the floor with her fists as I continued tickling her sensitive soles. I was feeling so many emotions at once that I couldn't stand it. I was literally punishing my own mother's feet for my own selfish pleasure and loving every minute of it. I found myself really getting after her feet. I was scraping her feet harder than any feet that I had ever touched in my life. Aunt Katy had felt nothing like this. I really lost it when I began raking my fingers on her soft heels and she kept spreading and scrunching her toes in response. Oh, the wrinkles were awesome. "OKAY, OKAY  SSS-SSSSSS-SSto-oo-op.  PLEEEEEAAASE!" She pleaded as I darted my fingers in between her toes.

She was struggling so much that her dress had ridden up her ass and she was now exposing her panties. I never let my mother up for air. I was almost afraid that she would pass out from all of her exertion. I was mad with foot lust and I literally lost my mind watching her beautiful toe spreads in response to my tickling. It was a really strange feeling, but I wanted my mother's feet in my mouth badly. In a calm, clear voice I made my mother recollect the time about the 7-UP pound cake when I was little. "Do you remember that day, Mother?" I asked in anticipation.

"OH, NO, PLEASSSE!  DON'T YOU DARE SU....." She tried to say.

"I'm ready for that third slice of cake now, Mother." I interrupted.

Before she could complete her sentence, I clamped down on her big toe and locked my lips around the base of it. I began to vigorously lick my tongue up, down, and side to side on her sensitive toepad. I could have just fainted from the delicious reaction that I got.

"Hmmmm..Hmmmm...Hmm....Hrrr...Hrrrrrrrrr...Hrrrrr!!!! She growled hysterically as she tried to break free from my grip.

She was literally growling her laughter like I was killing her. At that moment, she fanned her toes in a wide spread and the a pungent leathery vinaigrette odor filled my nostrils. Oh, GOD it was hot! I vigorously sucked every inch of every toe as I continued raking over her heels and arches. Her voice kept cracking with each blood-curdling scream. I was getting so hot that I found myself sucking her toes so hard that my teeth hurt. I sucked my mother's toes long and I sucked them hard. I sucked them so hard that each time I pulled off of one to go to the next toe, my mouth made a loud popping noise. Although this was my mother, I was having the most erotic time that I had EVER experienced on a woman's feet. I had to pause to slurp several times because I was drooling between her toes and on her soles. Looking at my saliva roll down my mother's feet sent shockwaves through my body.

My mother's face was wet with tears from all of the giggling and screaming, but I didn't care. It was all about me tonight. I thought of all the times that she took the strap to me when I was growing up and somehow I felt justified. I was savagely raping my mother's soft, sensitive size sixes and I couldn't contain the bulge in my pants. I remembered how I had neatly placed her shoes next to the wall at the beginning of our very intense session. The session was so intense that I did not realize that I had knocked her shoes a few feet across the room while trying to restrain my mother as she bucked and humped on the floor under my vigorous reaming of her soles. I had to put my leg across her body to hold her still while I pleasured myself at her soft bare feet. The session went on for about 30 minutes and I finally let her up when I was out of breath. I had to immediately straighten my pants so as not to expose the huge bulge that had formed.

We were both breathing quite heavily at the end of our session. She crawled across the floor on her knees to retrieve her shoes still, giggling from the wicked assault that she had received on her scrumptious soles and toes. We took a quick break from filing as she walked to the kitchen to get some water. Her feet were still glistening from my spitshine. I was so worked up that night that I tackled and tickled my mother three more times before going back to the hotel. She was pretty sore at me, but I think she enjoyed every minute of it because I had finally given her feet the attention that she had craved when I was younger. I gave her feet more attention and concentration than she could handle and more than I had given any woman in all of my life! I can't wait to go home again next month!