Rainy Day with Mom
      Submitted on 03/20/06


It was a couple days later, but even so the incident with Pam stayed with me 
and weighed heavily on my mind. I don't know if she found it sexual at all; 
I'm sure that she must have, and I know I did. I spent the next two nights 
dreaming about it, remembering and fantasizing.

Pam was the daughter of our next door neighbor, Bonnie, and though she was 
only a couple years older than me, and grades over me in school, my parents 
still had enough confidence in her that she was my baby-sitter when my 
sister was not available. Pam had learned from her mother that she and my 
own mother had had a bit of 'fun' with me two weeks before. The two older 
women had forced me to lick their feet and shoes after a bit of teasing and 
wrestling me to the ground on Bonnie's part. My mother and Bonnie kept me on 
the floor that night for awhile, cleaning their shoes and using me as a 
footstool*

*See 'BONNIE' elsewhere here at Abel's

Two weeks later, Pam was called upon to sit with me when my parents were 
going out for the evening. As I said, Pam was only two years or so my senior 
and I felt that she was hardly in a position to watch over me. My sister 
however had already moved to a neighboring city for college that next fall, 
settling into dorms and getting a summer job, so that left Pam. Bonnie had 
apparently filled Pam in on their little 'fun' with me, so not far into that 
night, Pam started in with me, making me lick and kiss her feet and 
flip-flops and then basically slaving for her the rest of the night until my 
parents returned*

*See 'PAM' elsewhere here at Abel's

As I said, I don't know if Pam found it at all sexual, but I do know from 
the sounds she made while I was on my knees and belly and licking her feet, 
she did enjoy the attention, and the power that she had over me that night. 
For myself, I was just at that age where I was starting to think seriously 
about sex and girls all the time, so the contact with her, even in so 
humbling a situation got me hard and kept me excited throughout.

Even after Pam had left it was all I could do NOT to think about her and our 
encounter. I could taste her soft skin on my tongue, and the scent of her 
feet was still on me the next morning even. I hated to shower it away. She 
haunted my dreams and my daydreams as well, and so did her mother from two 
weeks before. And, I hate to admit it, so did my mother.

It was two days after Pam when I had another experience. As always, my 
father had gone off to work early, before I was up and about, and usually he 
worked late into the night. We did not see him much as he was at his offices 
a lot, and even some weekends he would be away for hours. Maybe that was the 
catalyst, though I wasn't thinking in that direction at the time. My mother 
worked as well, but her job was part time, usually just a few hours in the 
morning and afternoon, and she would be home again by three at the latest. 
At least that was what I usually banked on.

It was raining that day I remember. A summer shower that was threatening to 
last for the better part of the day with drenching downpours at times. There 
had been thunder and lightning off and on in the hot, humid weather, and I 
could hear the rain battering the tin overhang over our back patio sometimes 
so loud that I had to turn up the television. I was at home for summer break 
you see, and on a stormy day there was little to do but watch television and 
fantasize all day long.

And that was exactly what I was doing, beating off to the rain and dreaming 
of Pam's feet when my mother came home early.

I was on the floor in the TV Room, watching television naturally in the back 
half of the house, which is why I didn't here her car pull up or the front 
door open and close. I had just discovered that there was a non-stop 
cavalcade of pretty women on the various Home Shopping channels that Cable 
TV provided. And that day I had hit pay dirt as one station was presenting a 
Birkenstock show, and all the women; models, hostess and presenter were 
wearing soft, open toed sandals. I was on my back and stroking my hard on, 
facing the TV when I heard a voice from the doorway-

"Billy? What the hell are you doing?"

I almost had a heart attack as my throat clogged with a gasp and I froze in 
mid-stroke. Slowly I turned to the sound of the angry voice and saw my 
mother standing in the doorway wearing a grim frown and a sodden raincoat. 
Now as I said in a previous story, my mother was still attractive and in 
decent shape for her age, which was in the forties. She had shoulder length 
brown hair and a pretty enough face, which at that moment looked almost 
furious and dark. Her brown eyes were narrow slits sparkling in the light of 
the television as she surveyed the scene before her; me, on the floor with 
my shorts about one ankle and stroking myself to climax, that I had not 
quite reached yet, incidentally. I simply stared at her, my head spinning 
with what I might say, caught red handed as it were. I looked her up and 
down, taking in her drenched raincoat and her hair slicked from the rain. 
She was dripping on the carpet, and I could just see the hem of her gray, 
tweed skirt hovering over her black pumps that seemed to shine from droplets 
of water on top while traces of mud rimmed the sole and short heel.

"Billy!"

My eyes snapped back up to her face and I saw that she had realized just 
where I had been focusing my attention. Her eyes were boring into me then 
while her pink lips twisted, as she seemed to be considering. Finally she 
sighed, and I watched as her breasts heaved before she folded her arms 
across her chest.

"Is this what you do all day, Billy?" she asked, glancing at the TV and 
shaking her head. "You watch this crap all day and beat off while no one's 
here?"

"N-no, Mom," I started to say, but she cut me off.

"Uh-huh," she said with a scowl. "Not what it looks like to me." She shifted 
her hands to her hips. "Well, you won't be doing it anymore, that's for 
sure. Now shut that off and come into the Living Room," she said, finally 
turning on a heel and striding from the room, "And for God's sake, pull up 
your shorts!"

I was shaking then, and my skin was burning from humiliation as I sat up and 
turned the television off, then scrambled to my feet. I pulled up my shorts 
and quickly followed my mother into the front part of the house where I 
found her already sitting on the couch. She had removed her raincoat, and I 
saw it and her sodden purse hanging on the wooden coat stand near the front 
door. My mother had her legs crossed and she was nervously kicking her leg 
as she lit a cigarette. She seemed as flustered and embarrassed as I was, 
and she too was shaking, the flame of her Zippo lighter wavering until she 
finally got the cigarette glowing and snapped it closed with a click of 
finality.

She set the Zippo aside and took a long drag on her cigarette, blowing smoke 
out of her nose and pursed lips alike, finally calming as the nicotine hit 
her and I saw her settle a bit and relax. She was still kicking her raised 
foot however, more slowly though, and I was trying like hell not to look at 
the almost hypnotic action.

"Sit, Billy," she said, her voice chilly. I noted the trace of lingering 
anger, and that she had said 'sit' rather than 'sit down', telling me like 
she might a dog, rather than her son. I moved to take a seat beside her on 
the couch, but she stopped me, shaking her head and pointing to the floor in 
front of her.

"There Billy," she said, indicating the patch of carpet right in front of 
her and I licked my lips, staring from her hand to the floor. Her nails were 
long and manicured, painted a soft, shining pink to match her lip-gloss. I 
blinked as she snapped her fingers. "Now, Billy!"

I moved over in front of her again and crossed my ankles to drop to the 
floor tailor-style. I flopped down, looking up at her and realized at once 
just how powerful the position made her seem, or rather, how low it made me 
feel. Worse, I was now eye-level with her knee, and her swinging foot was 
dangling forward and back right over my lap. Already I could smell the soft, 
worn leather of her shoes as the odor was enhanced by their dampness from 
the rain. I tried not to look, to watch her foot, but it drew my attention, 
and my mother DID have nice legs. She was wearing gray stockings to match 
the gray tweed of her pleaded skirt and a black blouse over that. I looked 
up and saw that she was pulling her damp hair back into a ponytail, her 
cigarette dangling from her lips while she continued to stare daggers at me. 
Finally though she leaned back against the cushion of the couch again and 
took the cigarette between her fingers, blowing a cloud of smoke just over 
my head.

"I know." she started, then sighed as she seemed to reconsider what she was 
about to say. She started in again after a moment. "I know you're at that 
age, Billy. All boys go through it I suppose; when your voice changes, your 
hormones kick into overdrive, you start to notice girls more and more. You 
want sex now, I know, but you're young, Billy. I'm not mad that you were 
masturbating. All boys do it eventually. I'm a little disappointed though. 
Has." She closed her eyes and took another drag. "Has your father talked to 
you about sex yet, Billy?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I whispered, my voice cracking with embarrassment. She smiled 
at that.

"Good. Now what is it about that show you were watching?"

"Nothing," I replied sheepishly. She knew I was lying.

"Uh-hunh. Is it the women in general, or something more?"

"The women I guess," I said, watching her foot swing from the corner of my 
eye.

"You're sure it's not the feet, Billy?" I gulped, flushing red as I glanced 
up into her face and then quickly away. She was grinning now, and watching 
me squirm, apparently no longer angry. "I know you like feet, Billy. We 
found that out the other night, remember? Don't be embarrassed," she said as 
I shifted. "It's just a fetish, a different experience that excites you. We 
all have them, some special thing that we enjoy, sexually. Your father has a 
few, actually, as do I."

I didn't need to hear this. I was uncomfortable enough talking about sex 
with my father, as he had been a jock through school, and I was hardly a 
chip off his old block. Talking to my mother about it was just humiliating, 
especially sitting on the floor at her feet. She knew that though, I 
realized after awhile, and had planned it that way. I was a little slow.

"It's not about the sex though, is it Billy?" she went on, actually 
stretching her leg and twirling her ankle almost right under my nose. I 
actually had to lean back a bit or she would have kicked me, and I could 
smell her foot powder now, along with the strong scent of the damp leather, 
she was so close. "Sorry," she said with a giggle, letting her leg drop 
again back to the swinging. Now though I stared as she started popping the 
shoe off of her heel with a rhythmic 'shush'.

"You like feet for the sexual excitement, probably," she continued, "but you 
like the feet for the feet too, right?" I nodded, almost afraid to look up 
at her. "You like sexy shoes and stockings, legs and feet and toes don't 
you?"

"Yes, Ma'am.'

"All shoes, Billy? All feet?" I nodded again. "Women's I assume, or men 
too?"

"No!"

"It's okay, Billy. Doesn't mean you're gay to like feet, or strange. But you 
did enjoy licking Bonnie's shoes the other night, right? And my slippers?" I 
nodded again, flushing with red and heat. I was starting to sweat now. "You 
liked being underfoot. I know. I could see it, and felt it when you were 
licking my slippers and feet. You didn't complain- not much anyway, and only 
at first with Bonnie. You loved it, didn't you, the attention." I nodded 
again.

"Being on your knees." Nodded.

"Licking the dirt from our shoes."

"Yes." I whispered, staring at her foot now, just inches from my face, still 
swinging.

"Well, it stops!"

I blinked, staring as my mother uncrossed her legs and planted both feet 
firmly on the floor in between the both of us. I looked up at nervously and 
saw that she was staring back, not smiling, but not frowning either. She 
looked as though she were simply considering me, like she might a bug on the 
sidewalk and whether to step over me or squash me.

"Like I said, Billy, I don't care if you masturbate." She calmly chained a 
new cigarette to life and crushed the other out in the glass ashtray beside 
her on the table beside the couch. She took a long draw and blew out smoke 
again, this time angling down a bit so that I got a face full. "It's 
natural, and I'd rather that than you out having sex with god knows who and 
where. There IS a time and place though Billy, and during the day is not it.

"It stops, now. No more! I will not have you sitting here beating off all 
summer. If you have so much free time, I'll find you a few things to do over 
the course of the day. It won't hurt you a bit to help out around here and 
earn your keep."

"I won't." I started to say, but she made a slashing motion with her 
cigarette to shut me up.

"It's either that, or Pam comes and sits with you during the day. I 
understand you'd probably enjoy that, hmmmn?"

My mouth flopped open at that, and I quickly hung my head as she laughed. 
She knew what had happened with Pam. She knew it all, apparently, but where 
was her speech leading? What did she want? I found out soon enough.

"Either that, or, you start doing some work around here during the day. You 
can clean and vacuum, stuff like that. I can make a long list of chores, 
believe me. More than enough to keep you busy all summer. In fact, I will. 
Starting tomorrow you'll have a Job List to follow, and chores to do so that 
you don't have time to beat off. If you do- and I WILL be checking- well, 
let's just say you're not too old to go over my lap."

"But, Mom." I whined, finally getting the courage to look up at her. I was 
getting annoyed, and definitely did not want to spend my summer doing 
housework, yard work; whatever menial jobs she might think up to keep me 
busy.

"Quiet! Now there will be punishment if you don't do a good job, or if I 
find out you're slacking off, but if you do good, well there'll be rewards 
too."

"Rewards?" I asked, and I saw her smile, finally. A real smile.

"Get on your hands and knees, Billy, and kiss my shoes."

I licked my lips nervously, staring up at her grinning face and saw that she 
was totally serious. My hard-on had stayed in tact throughout our exchange, 
but I felt it stirring even more as I shifted into the position she wanted. 
I stared at her feet, clad in her kid, black pumps expecting her to move, 
but she simply left them there side by side. I leaned in, forced to tilt my 
head a bit at the odd angle and gently kissed the tops of her shoes over and 
over.

"I think you're just a little submissive, Billy," she continued, no doubt 
watching me. "I think you like being at women's feet, being humiliated like 
this, and I'm more than willing to help you out with your little fantasies. 
Do you fantasize about this, Billy?" she asked.

"Mmmnnn." I moaned as I kissed.

"Do you fantasize about me? Bonnie and Pam? How about your sister?"

I answered yes every time, little realizing what I was doing or where she 
was taking me. I was sealing my fate though. Of that I was sure.

She kept me there kissing her feet for quite awhile. Soon she started 
shifting her feet, allowing me to get at the sides and in step, eventually 
the heel. After some time she told me to lick, and I leaned in with a fresh 
fervor, happy as hell to be there at her feet.

"I like it too, Billy," she continued talking as though it were some every 
day occurrence that I was humbling myself at her feet. "I really enjoyed the 
other night, and I know Bonnie did too, so if you do your chores, this will 
be your reward, and." she paused, finally recrossing her legs so that I 
could better get at the edges and sole of her pump. It was gritty with dried 
mud and tasted foul, but at that point I was done and totally in her power, 
under her spell. I kept licking.

"You do a very good job and you'll get to masturbate. Not every day, mind, 
and only when I think you've earned it, but you will."

"Thank you." I whispered breathlessly between laps, trying all the harder to 
make her happy with my efforts. After a bit she pulled her foot away and 
recrossed her legs again, then tapped me in the nose with the toe of her 
shoe to get me going again.

The smell of her shoes and feet was intoxicating, and I loved the taste of 
her leather pumps, mud and all. I was blushing throughout, and sweating like 
a pig as I groveled at her feet and she just kept me there. I could hear her 
occasional giggle as I snuffled or moaned, trying to draw breath. She would 
blow smoke over me and laugh when I gagged. I heard her sigh and actually 
moan from my ministrations once or twice, and I knew that she was getting 
hot herself. Like I was apparently submissive, I learned that my mother had 
a bit of a dominant streak in her. Finally though she pulled her foot back 
and up and planted the sole on my forehead to push me away.

I settled back on my haunches, breathing hard as I looked at her foot 
cocking from side to side as she inspected my work. I saw a wide smile on 
her face and knew that I had indeed made her happy.

"Get me a beer, Billy," she commanded, still smiling at her polished shoe. I 
started to get up, but she tapped me with her foot again. "Crawl, Billy."

On all fours I crawled off as she ordered, into the kitchen and got a beer 
from the refrigerator. It was a little harder returning, trying not to shake 
the beer as I hobbled back on three limbs, but finally I knelt before her 
again and presented her beer.

"Open it," she ordered, and I did, finally handing it up to her.

"Now take off my shoes and massage my feet."

I nodded and leaned in. gently I picked up her right foot and softly slid 
her pump from her heel, setting it off to the side almost with a reverence. 
I then shifted to sit tailor style again, not wanting to place her nylon 
clad foot on the floor, but rested it in my lap instead. She nodded her 
approval as I then reached out and removed her other shoe.

My mother settled back, watching as I took her left foot and started to 
gently rub it all over. At first I did not know what to do, but she angled 
her foot occasionally to indicate an area to attend. She would inform me 
'harder', or 'gently' as she preferred as I eased my thumbs along her sole, 
rubbing at the ball of her foot or kneading her heel. She sighed and mewed a 
bit now and then as I hit a sensitive spot, and occasionally she would 
giggle and jerk her foot a bit if I tickled. Before too long she directed me 
to attend the other foot, and I did so with a relish, and then after awhile 
I had both feet in my lap, rubbing each equally.

"You're very good, Billy," she cooed, and I looked at her face to see her 
slight smile, her eyelids drooping she was so relaxed. I felt pride that I 
had done a good job for her and made her happy. "A natural," she added, 
glancing at the clock on the wall behind me. "I could do this all night, 
but."

My mother pulled her feet from my hands and rested them on my legs. I stared 
at her beautiful, soft feet as she wiggled her toes. Her nails were polished 
that same, shiny pink, and it was mesmerizing.

"You may kiss my toes now, Billy, then go fetch my slippers from my room."

With my heart pounding I leaned forward again and gently pressed my lips to 
her toes. I heard her giggle as I planted kisses until she pulled back, 
enough. I let her take her feet away, setting them on the floor as I shifted 
to my hands and knees again and crawled off to her bedroom. I knew by then 
that I had to crawl.

I went to her room and found her fuzzy pink slippers there just under the 
skirt of the bedspread where I knew that they would be. I picked them up and 
sniffed them, smelling her feet and powder again, in heaven as I started to 
turn, then had a second thought.

My mother laughed outloud to see me padding back into the Living Room on all 
fours and carrying her slippers in my mouth like a dog. When I got before 
her I placed her shoes at her feet and she leaned forward to pat my head, 
ruffling my hair with her fingers and scratching me behind the ear.

"Good, doggy," she praised, still laughing as she leaned back again. "Place 
them on my feet now," she said with a grin, crossing her leg and I did. I 
slid first one slipper, then the other on her feet, pressing my lips to the 
fuzzy toe after each.

"Good, boy," she said as she started kicking her foot again. She lit a fresh 
cigarette, then took a sip of her beer before she smiled down at me. "You 
may now masturbate."

I stared up at her, shocked and speechless. She could not possibly mean here 
and now, right in front of her, but when I asked she said that that was 
exactly what she meant.

"I'll be keeping track, Billy. From now on you masturbate only when and 
where I say. I want to make sure that you're not doing it on the sly, so I 
will be measuring. Now drop your shorts and get to it, or you miss your 
chance."

I didn't know what to do exactly. I was hard and dripping from all the 
attention, but it was embarrassing as hell to think that I had to actually 
do it in front of her. She was staring at me, waiting.

"Well? You don't want to, or what?"

"It's. it's embarrassing." I whined, and she snorted.

"Billy, you just licked my shoes and feet. How much worse could it be. Do it 
or lose it. Now!"

I rose up on my knees then, not sure exactly how to go about it. I pulled my 
shorts down to my knees, ignoring the tiny damp stains on the green material 
and my penis sprang forward, dripping. Mom smiled at that, chuckled a bit as 
I eased my hand about my stiffness and stroked. I exploded almost instantly.

I moaned, breathless as my world went gray for a few seconds of pumping, and 
then it was over. I blinked and licked my lips, trying to get some sort of 
sense of pride back. I looked and saw that I had spewed all over my mother's 
leg and foot. Her fuzzy pink slipper was dripping, and I heard her giggle.

"Very good, Billy," she laughed, raising her foot up to my face. "Now clean 
up your mess!" Her voice quickly went cold, and without hesitation I leaned 
forward again and started lapping up the cum dripping from her slippers and 
her nylon-clad legs. It took awhile, but she was finally satisfied and 
pulled her foot back again.

"Very good," she said again. "A nice start. Tomorrow's going to be a busy 
day for you though, so you should get some sleep." I glanced at the clock 
and saw that it wasn't even seven yet. "And I do mean SLEEP. No touching or 
playing, understand?"

"Yes, Mom," I said, swallowing.

"Good." She smirked, then held up the sole of her slipper before my face. 
"Now kiss me good night and get to bed." I leaned in and planted a kiss on 
the sole of her slipper. My mother laughed, shoving me back so that I 
tumbled to the floor. She watched as I got to my hands and knees again and 
crawled off to my room.

"And don't clean up," she added as I was closing my door. "I'll be 
inspecting in the morning."

I shut the door and sagged on my knees with a sigh. I was suddenly exhausted 
and trembling again, coming down off of an adrenaline rush. What had just 
happened, and what had I agreed to? My mind was awhirl, wondering what was 
going to happen next.

I did not even bother with the light. Mom had said not to clean up, and I 
assumed that meant not brushing my teeth as well. I had not eaten or drank 
for hours, and I imagined that whatever was within I had spewed and licked 
from my mother's slipper. I crawled away from the door and straight into 
bed, wondering what tomorrow might bring.

Sleep was a long time coming.

To be continued.

Story © Carnaj

Carnaj_99@yahoo.com