Mother's foot fetish

page views:1 Publication date:2023-02-28 08:16:10

This post was last edited by Ximen Liangzi. Near the

end of my university years, I slept with the owner of a karaoke bar outside the school. She was twelve years older than me. I've always been very interested in mature women who still retain their charm. I think I have a strong Oedipus complex, but I've always avoided these thoughts, probably due to the traditional education I received over the years. I harbor both fear and expectation of incest in my subconscious, something I only realized later.

My mother eventually found out I had a girlfriend twelve years older than me, and I think she was a little worried, as this is quite different from Chinese tradition. She insisted I come home for the weekend. When I got home, a young girl arrived—I've forgotten her name now—and my mother enthusiastically introduced her, saying she was a teacher. I've always had a strong sexual interest in teachers; I could stare at the teachers' breasts when I was in kindergarten. I thought female teachers should be mature and beautiful women. But she really didn't seem like a teacher. If the emotion corresponding to an Oedipus complex is a child fetish, I think she's more fitting. I still remember the sparse armpit hair peeking out from under her sleeveless dress, which made me think that her sex hormones must not be secreted very well. A friend of mine said that his girlfriend (also skinny and with abnormal sex hormone secretion) didn't like him penetrating her vagina; she always wanted him to thrust his penis hard into her clitoris so she could reach orgasm. Hearing this, I got the impression that abnormal sex hormone secretion would result in many strange erogenous zones. At that time, I understood from my mother's expression that she wanted to introduce this girl to me as a girlfriend, but I was really afraid she would ask me to penetrate her armpits. It

was already nine o'clock when I saw the girl off, and I still wanted to go back to school. I had heard about my mother's affairs at the factory, and I was afraid that one of her lovers would sneak in late at night, and it would be embarrassing if I caught them. By then, I wasn't angry with her about such things anymore. My father had been working in the sex industry for several years and often didn't come home at night. Later, after I had more education, I also knew that one is like a wolf in their thirties and a tiger in their forties. My mother was at that age, like a wolf and a tiger, so I could understand. If this idiom had been taught in high school, I wouldn't have argued with my mom about it for two years. Now, although I still rarely go home, it's mainly because I don't want to run into those men. I'm not at the point where I can get

along with them like nothing's wrong. The second reason is that I've been preparing for my graduation thesis for a while, and I haven't had sex with the woman from the karaoke bar for two or three weeks. I'm about to explode. Today is the weekend, the karaoke bar is busy, she'll be home late and her husband won't say anything, and I can have some more fun with her in the private room. I went to the kitchen and got a bottle of ice water. I kept thinking about that woman's plump, fair thighs. I thought she would definitely be wearing black stockings tonight, which made me hard. I needed to cool down. "Tonight is going to be great," I thought to myself, secretly pleased. "Zhizhi, Zhizhi," I heard my mom calling me from her room. "What?" I was thinking about something good and didn't want to be interrupted by my mom. "Come in," my mom said. I suddenly felt that my mom's voice was a little cloying. I don't know if it's because I'm thinking about sex. Anyway, it made me even more excited. My mother was half-reclining on the bed, wearing a black leather skirt and black stockings. That style seemed particularly fashionable that year; from eighteen- or nineteen-year-old girls to women in their thirties and forties, everyone wore it. But my mother looked absolutely stunning in it. The leather skirt, almost reaching her thighs, tightly hugged her full hips, and the stockings and skirt stretched taut against her voluptuous body, making her look incredibly sexy. My eyes involuntarily drifted away from her legs. I just wanted to find somewhere to have some fun as soon as possible; only after I ejaculated could I find peace. I desperately wanted to go to my room and masturbate first, then go to my sister-in-law's. "You seem to have a lot of fun today," my mother asked, leaning against the headboard with half-closed eyes. "Yes," I replied simply, wanting to end the conversation quickly. I was afraid that if I couldn't help but keep glancing at my mother's thighs, she would notice. I also wanted to get back to my room and have some fun myself.

"How was the girl today?" my mother asked, smiling at me.
"She's alright." "It seems a bit forced. Lots of people at the factory say she's pretty." Mom seemed dissatisfied with my answer.
"Oh, yes, she's really pretty." I really hoped Mom would stop there; I kept my eyes glued to the TV. This probably made Mom realize I wasn't particularly interested in this, and she seemed a little annoyed.
"What kind of woman do you like? Your standards are so high!" I think Mom knew about my relationship with that woman, but she'd never mentioned it.
"I have my own standards."
"You like older women!" Mom teased me with a laugh. I didn't know how to answer for a moment. Mom looked at my bewildered expression and giggled. I felt her tickling me; I was a little ticklish. I quickly twisted my body to avoid it, and only then did I realize it wasn't my mother's hand, but her foot clad in stockings. I immediately regretted moving away. Then, my mother put her foot under my armpit. I didn't flinch, smiling at her to show I wasn't ticklish. Seeing that it didn't work, she didn't immediately remove her foot, leaving it there. I felt her fleshy sole pressed against my bare skin. Since I was still shirtless at home, I felt the warmth of her body seep through the thin stockings and onto my skin. I was incredibly hard; I'd never felt so aroused before. It was so exciting.

She kept her foot there for several minutes. The room was quiet; we both pretended to be engrossed in watching TV. After a while, she said, "Zhizhi, can you do Mom a favor? I've been standing all day, and those high heels are practically crushing my feet. It hurts so much. Could you massage my feet for me?" I turned around and saw her smiling so brightly. There didn't seem to be any sexual implication in her eyes, but she had never let me do this before. I wasn't sure if she was hinting at something. I was a little nervous. "Okay, Mom," I tried to answer casually, but I could clearly hear a tremor in my voice. Mom smiled as I hurriedly picked up her feet. "Slowly, don't be too rough," she said. I didn't know if she was laughing at my eagerness. I gently massaged Mom's small feet. They were so soft and boneless, so warm. In fact, Mom's feet had small bones and were fleshy and plump, which reminded me of small-seeded lychees. The slight body odor emanating from her feet further aroused me, making me hard. I never thought I had a foot fetish like my ancestors. Perhaps it was the incestuous massage that stimulated me. I felt my face getting hot. I kept my face turned towards the TV, my hands stroking and exploring my mother's feet. "Oh, right there, it feels so good," my mother said in a slightly nasal, sweet voice. "Turn around and face me. You're massaging me while watching TV, you're not focused at all."

I think I turned around, my face flushed, to face my mother. She smiled happily, as if she was very satisfied with her masterpiece. "That's good, otherwise my feet wouldn't be comfortable."
Because she was half-lying down, when I turned around, her other foot was resting on my thigh.
"You seem very professional, you're massaging me so well," my mother said, closing her eyes and enjoying herself. I could secretly peek at her full thighs, and the dark area between her legs under her leather skirt, where the light didn't reach, aroused even more of my fantasies. She looked so sexy. I felt that the only standard for judging sexiness was whether one could generate sexual desire. I was now burning with lust. The still-attractive woman in front of me, and the fact that she was my mother, further fueled my incestuous lust. I think my mom and I are both testing and seducing each other right now. This subtle process is more arousing than penetration.
The room is quiet, the TV is on low, and only my mom's occasional moans of "uh-huh" can be heard. Suddenly, I feel her left foot moving, gently rubbing down my thigh through my athletic shorts. Gradually, it reaches my bare, hairy leg, and I can feel the warmth of her soft little foot inside her smooth stockings. It feels so good.

"Mmm, Zhizhi," Mom straightened the leg I was holding, so her thigh was almost on top of mine. I could see the end of her stockings, and between them and her leather skirt was a bare thigh. Mom's thighs were so white and tender, so full. I realized then that when I had wet dreams as a child, I dreamt of Mom's thighs. "Oh, it feels so good," Mom groaned, but I didn't know what she meant. I mustered my courage and moved my trembling hand down Mom's stockings to her thigh. I stared at Mom; her eyes were closed the whole time. Her face was flushed, truly like a peach blossom. Her moist lips were slightly parted, revealing a hint of her snow-white teeth. My hand finally reached the top of the stockings. When my hand touched her smooth skin, I felt her body tremble slightly, but she still didn't open her eyes. My hand caressed her bare thighs, while her left leg kept rubbing against my thigh. I gently rolled up the stockings and slowly pulled them down. It was a very obscene sexual innuendo; I wanted to see my mother's reaction, to see how much she could tolerate. She kept her eyes closed, letting me do as I pleased. Even when I pulled the stockings down to where her calves were pressing against my thighs, she cooperated by slightly lifting her leg to make it easier for me to pull them off. I finally managed to pull off her stockings. Now we didn't need to hide anything anymore. We both knew this wasn't just a normal mother-son massage or playful interaction; it was now a highly incestuous encounter. Without any restraint, I held the stockings I'd just removed from my mother's body to my face, inhaling their scent and warmth. My mother, perhaps noticing my lack of movement, opened her eyes. I stared at her, smelling the stockings, and she looked back at me. We gazed at each other, neither of us speaking. She looked at me like that for a long time. Then I put the stockings in my mouth, biting them with my teeth and gently licking them with my tongue. She smiled slightly at me, then closed her eyes again.

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