[Story] It’s something about my stepmother's soles (Patreon)

The following story includes intense sexual content and elements of foot fetish, such as footjobs. All characters depicted in this work are adults.

Note: The content of this story is purely fictional.

There I was, minding my own business when the sound of the propellers alerts me to her arrival. The sound of heavy gusts of wind bats against the windows I stand behind as a helicopter makes its landing in my front yard.

I watch closely as the rotor begins to slow down and the wind becomes gradually less violent. The side door of the aircraft slides open as a tall and slim woman steps out onto the grass; her long blond hair flutters with the now calm breeze. I find myself staring at the elegant lady from the window, being able to think of one and only thing. “Shit, she’s finally here.”

Suddenly, I hear a loud set of knocks. And then, as soon as I open the door, my worst nightmares come true.

“Anny, my precious boy! Long time no see you!” The blondie wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in tight against her chest and burying my face between her huge and soft breasts.

“L-Lusamine, don’t call me that!” I complain in a muffled voice. “I'm a grown man now! My name is Anon!”

“Oh, you silly thing! I don’t care how old you are! You’ll always be my baby!” She laughs at me, hugging me tighter. “Now tell me, how come you don’t call me anymore? I have missed you a lot, Anny!”

I'm used to my stepmother’s demonstrations of affection, but there’s something different this time. I can’t help but notice she’s not wearing a bra. Her white dress is so snug, and her nipples are so hard that I can feel them poking me. But hey! She’s probably just happy to see me. Very happy to see me, I guess.

After waving my arms furiously in the air for a couple of seconds, she finally let me go. Just in time! A bulge is already growing in my pants, and I can’t imagine how embarrassing it would be for me if she notices it. There is a pile of clothes on the floor, so I quickly pick up a hoodie to tie it up around my waist.

I sigh in relief, but it seems my efforts to cover my erection are futile because when I turn around, the mature woman gives me a half-horrified, half-puzzled look.

“I can’t believe my eyes!” She gasps.

“T-This is not what you think!” I reply defensively.

“Your- Your house is a complete mess! I-I’m feeling overwhelmed by the mountains of stuff piled on the floor, and I don’t even live here!” She exclaims.

“You what?” I blink.

After saying that, Lusamine goes over to my kitchen. Then, to the countertop, where a large stack of dirty dishes stands up. Before I can notice it, she's already walking around my house, spotting things I forgot to clean, organize, or store. And that’s what she does until she can’t take it anymore and flops down onto the living room’s sofa, laying a hand over her forehead like a drama queen.

“How can you live like this, darling?” She voices her despair with a sigh. “I didn’t raise you to be so careless.”

“Don’t worry, I'll clean everything up right now, Lusa- I mean... Mom.”

I barely use the m-word (mother), but I know she loves it when I call her that way, so I did it intending to cheer her up. I get no answer, not even a reaction. I offer her a drink, then.

“It’s not okay to do it before noon.” She refuses it.

“No, no. I had ice tea in mind. It’s- Uh. I’ll bring you some tea.” I say, heading out of the room.

“Sweetie?” She calls me out in a fragile voice before I leave.

“Yeah?”

“I changed my mind. A glass of wine would be nice.”

I don’t spend much time in the kitchen, but when I return, I decide to stay still, in silence for a few moments when I notice the lady leans back in her seat, propping her feet out on the coffee table. I had already forgotten how long her legs are. My eyes run across them, following those black and white tight leggings that accentuate those curvy thighs and delicate-shaped calves.

She crosses her legs at the ankles. Shoes are on, but one of them barely hangs off from her toes. The medium-high heel dangles, as the sole of it jiggles up and down in a seductively and fashion shoe-play.

“Huh?! What are you doing?” I said to myself. “She is the woman that raised you! Stop staring at her like that, you sick fuck!”

As soon as I decide to stop and behave like a rational human being, I sit on the couch, next to the mature one, but keeping enough distance between us.

I hand her a glass of wine, which she drinks in one sip before I could utter a word. I couldn't help myself but stare at her with amazement. She notices I brought the bottle with me, so ask me to serve her a little more. Fortunately, she takes it easy this time.

“Why can’t things be the way they used to be, my dear Anny?” She asks me, contemplating the alcoholic drink between her hands.

“What do you mean? I'm messy, I know. So what? I'll fix it in a moment.”

“I'm talking about everything. About you, about me, about our family. You used to love me so much!” She keeps drinking.

“I still love you.”

“I do not doubt it.” She sighs and sips again. “It's just that things are different now. I know I’m not your real mother, but do you remember when you were a kid? You used to be my little Anny.” She smiles at me before continuing. “Do you remember how much you loved to hug me and kiss me? You didn't want to leave my side back then. Not even to sleep!”

“Please, Lusamine.” I lower my head, flushed. “You must understand that things change. You said it. I'm not a child anymore. It would be inappropriate if I were such a loving son now.”

“Yes… you are right. I guess...” She responds uneasily.

The situation was so awkward that the better I can do is turn on the TV. The Kill Bill movie was on, just the part when Uma Thurman shows off her soles. How convenient! We both look at each other in silence, and I can't help but notice how flushed she is.

“Hahaha! Oh, my!” She burst out laughing.

“W-WHAT?!” I blush even more than her.

“Son! Son! Son!” She giggles before a hiccup interrupts her abruptly. “I’m sorry! At first, I felt embarrassed, but now that I think about it, I realize you’re right. We are both adults. I have no reason to felt like that!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Hey! Watch your language, young man! I’m still your mother” She gets mad for just a second. “The thing is that I remembered this was the scene you were watching when I discovered you touching yourself for the first time.” She continues laughing.

“That's private!”

“Private, you say? You even wrote a poem about my feet when you were in kindergarten!” She wraps her arms around me. “So, don’t be ashamed about your fetish! Okay? Not to mention no one pays attention to that part of the body, which means just a true gentleman is willing to pamper a woman’s feet. A gentleman like you, my little Anny.” She boops my nose.

“Po-Poem? Fe-Fetish? I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I start to stutter.

“Your soles are beautiful. They are like an ocean of wrinkles!” She raises a hand as if she is doing a theatrical performance.

“What the hell was that?!” I squeak, being my face red from embarrassment.

“That was part of the poem you write for me back then, silly. I didn't want to mention it, but you used to love mommy's feet too.” Hiccups attacks again, so Lusamine covers her mouth for a moment. “I remember that time when I was drinking my morning coffee in the kitchen, and you crawled under the table to play with your toy cars. You wanted to use the tops of my feet as a race track, and, and-” She can’t keep going and burst out laughing once more.

“Please, stop!”

“Sorry, darling! I’m not making fun of you! But you always found an excuse to be close to them, and when I catch you doing your antics, your face turned so red you looked like a tomato. You were so cute at that age!” The blondie squeals with delight.

“Enough, I said! I think you drank too much. So, what about if we only watch TV and chill out in silence, huh?”

My stepmother seems to understand. However, she never takes her arms off me. With one hand, she plays with my hair, while the other one rests on my thigh, dangerously close to my crotch.

The lady is sitting with one leg folded under her, with one sole facing me. As it happened before, I catch myself staring at her shoe play as the shoe slaps the bottom of her foot with each jiggle. At that precise moment, my brain shuts down, and I start to act without thinking.

We're so close to each other now that it was easy for me to reach my mother’s foot. I hold her well-rounded ankle and start to caress it gently, using just my thumb. She gives me a sideways glance, a deadly serious one. I get bolder anyways, slipping her shoe off, so I can run my finger from the heel to the ball of her foot.

The mature woman’s toes flex uncomfortably, making my dick pulsate in response. I still have a hoodie tied around my waist, so I don't have to worry about her noticing how excited I am. However...

“Anon! What do you think you are doing, sir?!” She quickly stands up.

“Nothing!” I jump out of the couch. “You had a spot, and I was trying to remove it.”

“You better find a better excuse.” She folds her arms angrily.

But before I can do that, the piece of clothing that covers my lap falls to the ground, revealing the big bulge in my pants. Lusamine’s eyes fall on it, and she blushes in a way that I’ve never seen before.

“You-?! What-?!” She looks away. “Ugh! I can’t believe this, son. You should go now and take a cold shower or something! I don’t care what, but you NEED to do something with… with… THAT!”

“Oh, yeah? Well, guess I can!” I carry with me the shoe I slipped her off before on my way to the bathroom. “Sure you don't mind, mom. I need some help. You know.”

“For taking what?” Lusamine glances at me with a puzzled look.

It takes her a while to figure out the situation, but she rushes after me anyway. “Anon D. Anonymous! Listen here!” She knocks loudly at the bathroom door. “I'm going to count to three, and when I count three, you’re going to get out of there! Otherwise, you’re going to get in trouble! Did you hear me, young man?!”

I did not intend to do anything with her stupid shoe. She says it wasn’t intended, but it’s clear she enjoys embarrassing me. She always does it! So, I’ll wait here for a few minutes. Then, I’ll come out laughing out loud and confessing that it was all a joke. I just wanted to teach that mature lady a lesson.

“One!” The knocks on the door begin to sound hasty as the blonde girl begins to count. “Two! ...I’m serious, boy! ...Two and... a half! Okay! Fine! Let’s talk about this! Just please! PLEASE! Don’t ruin my footwear! Not this pair! Those kinds of stains are hard to clean!” She begs.

“What? Is that what worries you?” I peek out of the bathroom.

A couple of minutes later, we both sit on the couch again, where we talk for a while about how inappropriate it is to have a fixation for my own mother’s feet. There is not much to say about this part. Basically, the woman tells me that this behavior of mine has to stop, and so.

“Ugh, for the love of Arceus, mom! I told you! I was joking with you because you got all dizzy and were making fun of me.” I defend myself.

“Don’t lie to me, sweetie. I’m not mad at you. I know how young people are, and I also KNOW you have had to suppress those feelings for me for a long time.” She poses her hand on my shoulder, trying to show me her support “I’ve been reading these parenting books and found it that an important part of raising kids is helping them overcome their problems and obsessions. So, I was thinking...” She brings her hands back to her lap, gulps, and sighs deeply before continuing. “Maybe what you need to get over all of this is just to get a chance with my feet. Go ahead. My feet are all yours. Tell me what do you want to do. Give them a massage? Smell them? I think I can give you some pictures if you need a couple of them for your... well... own entertainment.”

I hear it, and I don’t believe it. I keep quiet for I don’t know how long. I mean, she’s right. She raised not only me but also my interest in feet, and If the moment that I have waited for years has finally arrived, I need to have the balls and drop the real bomb here.

“I want you to give me a footjob!” I ask bluntly.

“A footjob? My... You do say such incomprehensible things. Well, I guess I have no choice, so...” Her shoulders sag as she sighs. “Bring me another bottle of wine, then take off your pants and lie down on the floor.”

Now, Lusamine is sitting on the couch, legs crossed and lightly swirling her glass of wine as she gives me a condescending glance. On my end, I’m lying on my back with my legs apart, nothing but my underwear, and facing my beautiful mistress.

She is barefoot already, so she lifts both legs, putting them together at the ankles, giving me a chance to look closely at her slender, high-arched soles. “Scrunch them!” I say. And the wrinkles stand out of the bottoms as she flexes her perfectly rounded and painted bright yellow toes, as I instruct.

“You have no permission to ejaculate. Keep that in mind. I’m going to rub your thing, tease you a little, and that’s it.” She comments, caressing around my crotch with both of her feet. “You’re going to help yourself to finish on your own. Do I make myself clear?”

The simple feeling of her touch against my skin is enough to drag me into a trance, so I’m not even able to respond to her anymore.

“Oh, you poor creature! You’re not even able to talk now... My body, my rules, sweetie. You better respect my will.” She says dryly as her right foots’ toes clench my underwear front part.

The mature beauty takes a deep breath before opening my boxers with just the feet, and I can’t help but notice how pale her tops are. They’re immaculate, like porcelain. Not even a single vein is visible!

My stiff manhood pops out, oozing precum already. Huffing, she uses her right sole, as long as it is, to press my erection against my abdomen and pump it like a pedal, also using my testicles as a heel rest.

My stepmother keeps pumping my member, squeezing more precum out of my body until she curves both of her arches around my penis to tightly wrap it. Then, she starts stroking up and down my entire shaft in a slightly rough but still graceful way. Even if she is too displeased to hide it, she still resigns herself to losing her style.

The dry friction of the smooth texture of my mother’s soles, of her wrinkles massaging me, causes my dick to throb with each firm tug, forcing me to moan loudly.

“Hmph! Must you be so noisy, even when you know this is so uncomfortable for me?” The lady turns her to stare at something else instead of me. “Ugh... Now, your... your you-know-what is twitching!” Her toes wiggle uncontrollably, and her entire body shudders when she realizes that my meat is pulsating nonstop. “I truly never expected to see the man I raised in such a deplorable situation.” She complains again, but even so, her feet keep rolling up and down.

Without a single word, the blondie switches over her position and kneels at the edge of the couch to face the wall. Now, I have a perfect shot of this woman’s big, plump ass. Her round and firm butt cheeks highlight not just on their own but by the outline of her thong, which is visible through the leggings.

By the time I realize I’m too close to the end, the only perceptible sounds in the room are the audible slips of my cock between Lusamine’s meaty soles and the smacks of the tops of her feet against my crotch each time she strokes me. And the thing is that I don’t want this to stop. I don’t want to go to the bathroom and jerk off like I always do, and how my mother expects me to do, so I feel sorry for her, but I need to do this.

A nervous vibe begins to creep in me, deep down in my spine, while the feeling of semen going through my rod starts to build up. I manage to hold it back for a few more moments, but the first projectile of cum finally comes out, hitting right onto her left sole.

The lady doesn’t notice it at first. She even continues milking and milking me for a couple of seconds. But my penis also continues oozing, coating the bottoms of both of her creamy feet until the hot mess starts to drips over the sides of them.

And she does it just in time to witness the final blast, which she tries to cut it out futilely, squeezing my cockhead between her big and second toe. Splats of big and white blobs hit her soles once again as she blankly stares at me.

Lusamine scowls and gives me a furious glance with those piercing green eyes of hers. She sits back as she silently puts both of her dripping feet just in front of my face, spreading out the toes to show me the heavy and sticky strands between them.

“Mother, I-” I barely mumble.

“Calling me mother? I don't have any children!” She stands up as she abruptly slips back on her medium-high heel, not even caring about ruining her footwear anymore. “Certainly not any twisted children who would fornicate their own mother’s feet and spread their disgusting semen all over them!” She adds, heading straight to the front door and slamming it behind her as she leaves.

The days passed. I tried several times to communicate with my stepmother but got no response other than voicemail. I finally gave up and decided to let things settle down.

Apparently, my patience was rewarded because one day, in an unexpected turn of events, I came home from a long day at work to discover that someone had left something at my front door; a kind of package.

I must admit that I felt fear when I opened it because inside of it were the shoes of the blonde lady, still with some crusty stains, but my doubts were dispelled when I read the note aside. Although it was short, it was a warm message:

Hi, my dear Anny!

I'm sorry if I left that day, I wasn't in the best mood. But you have to admit you didn’t act like a gentleman either! Anyways, this note is not to reproach you but to give you a peace offering (I know how much you like these shoes).

I’ll see you again this weekend, my love! So, remember to clean your house!

We have a lot to talk about~ ;p

Sincerely, Lusamine. <3