repost from the Ancient Amber Archives requested by footslvefootboy
THE FIRST TIME IS ALWAYS PAINFUL
By Amber K.
When Tim turned thirteen his level of sexual frustration had reached a critical peak. From an early age he’d been obsessed with women’s feet. Seeing a woman or girl pass by in open toed shoes or sandals would literally cause him to sweat and shake. Horribly enough, it seemed whenever his mother decided to go shoe shopping she always had some reason to make Tim go with her … which was a virtual hell. Standing idly by as dozens of women tried on shoes, exposing their bare sweaty feet, was too much to endure. By the time his mother was finished shopping, Tim would be a nervous wreck.
Cindy Manton in his third period Science class was the worst of all. Every day, all through class, the cursed girl would slide her foot in and out of her loafers. She wore the shoes barefoot mostly which would give Tim a perfect view of her soft looking heel and the rosy hue of her arch. On a few occasions he caught glimpses of her wiggling toes which were short and fat and tapered down from the big toe to the littlest. The girl’s habit of pushing her foot in and out of the shoe literally acted as a kind of billows. Each time she pushed her foot back into the shoe a cloud of foot stench would drift up to surround Tim’s desk. His nostrils would flare as he sniffed in the heady aroma of her sweaty feet. Tim knew she had gym before the Science class and her feet were always ripe from exertion. Countless times Tim was forced to leave class with his books held in front of his crotch to avoid the embarrassment of his classmates discovering his erection.
As it was, Tim spent an awful lot of time masturbating in his attic room. His father had run off with another woman when Tim was 8 and being an only child left Tim with just his mother. She babied him tremendously and it wasn’t until Tim turned 12 that he began to attempt a bit of separation from his mother and moved his things into the attic. His mother was forced to find a job shortly after the departure of Tim’s wayward father which gave Tim plenty of time from when his school day ended until his mother arrived home. During that time Tim would nervously page though his mother’s Sears catalogs, his eyes devouring the shoe and sandal section, as he beat his cock mercilessly. Despite the excitement gleaned from the catalogs, the moments following his climax were always troubling. He would lay in his bed, sweaty and covered with his own semen, feeling like a freak of nature. Guiltily he would clean himself up and return the catalog to its rightful place on his mother’s nightstand.
Who likes feet anyway? he would ask himself. What kind of a sick weirdo am I?
On the large Tim was not looked upon with favor by the girls in his school. He was a tall gangly boy with mussy hair that never seemed to lay down right. No matter what clothing he wore, nothing ever seemed to fit in all the right places. Sure he had friends … but girls never gave him a second look. Some days he was certain he would cut off his leg or arm just to have four minutes with Cindy Manton’s feet. It was pitiful and he knew it.
The afternoon that changed Tim’s life was in fact the day after his 14th birthday: May 24th, 1969. It was a Saturday and rather peaceful in the house. His mother had started a new job as a secretary and her training had begun at 5AM that morning. Tim thought it odd and unfair that anyone would have to work on a Saturday … but money was money. When Tim lazily climbed out of bed at 11AM he had the house to himself. His first instinct was to go straight for the Sears catalogs. To his dismay he could not find them anywhere. He searched high and low without success. It was extremely disheartening.
Of course his imagination could do just fine … but it was nothing compared to those lurid pictures of women’s toes peeking out from oval openings in leather pumps … or sassily painted with red polish framed by the sole of a sandal … the thong running almost obscenely between the first and second toes … or better yet, the business section: smartly dressed business women in high heels and pantyhose. Tim moaned with yearning just thinking of what he was missing. Disillusioned he flipped on the radio and tried to think on things other than feet.
The day played itself out without much in the way of excitement. At 5:30 he heard his mother’s car pulling into the carport and moments later she entered the kitchen where he was sitting. She looked absolutely exhausted. Her hair was still up in a neat bun, but single wispy strands had escaped lending her a harried look. As she leaned down to plant a kiss on Tim’s forehead, his nose wrinkled as it was treated to a healthy dose of her perfume and the acrid smell of sweat.
“Boy oh boy, what a long day,” she sighed.
“What’s for dinner,” Tim inquired.
“TV Dinners I’m afraid. I don’t have much energy for anything else.”
Her high heels clicked on the tile floor as she pulled the tray dinners from the freezer and tossed them in the oven. “What did you do today, sweetie?”
“Nothing much, just hung around the house mostly.”
“Oh my feet are just simply killing me! I don’t think I’ve ever been on my feet for so long in my life. At least not since your father’s and my wedding.” Tim glanced down at his mother’s shoes. They were leather, grey and black. The heels were rather high which made the muscles of her calves stand out. Tim noted the pointed toes of the shoes and marveled that anyone could were such things. His last thought was that they were listed as $10 in the January addition of the Sears catalog.
The pantyhose she wore looked to be sagging a bit were the shoe meet her ankle and the top of her foot and the seam running up the back of her leg looked a bit off center and twisted to the side.
“What kind of stuff did you have to do at the new job?”
“Oh … this and that,” she replied distractedly.
“Is your new boss nice?”
“Mr. Colter? Oh … he’s a real peach,” Jim looked back down at the comic he was reading. It seemed obvious that his mother was not up for conversation. He could tell she didn’t like this Mr. Colter much. His mother had never been very good at lying.
A sudden crash made Tim nearly swallow his gum. “Oh NO!” his mother screamed. Bits of porcelain were scatter across the kitchen floor. Tim immediately recognized it as the remains of his mother’s foot-tub. The next thing Tim realized was that his mother was crying.
“Hey, don’t cry Mom.”
“If I don’t soak my feet I’ll just die.”
“I’m sorry Mom,” Tim felt pretty inadequate … but it wasn’t the first time he had used empty sentiment with his mother.
With a few sniffs she seemed to get herself under control.
“You sure are acting weird, Mom.”
“Am I,” she laughed nervously and smiled which only managed to put Tim on further edge, “I’m just tired sweetie. It was a …. hard day.”
“Gee, wish I could do something for ya,” more empty sentiment, but Tim didn’t mind the word play.
“Remember when you were little you used to rub Mommy’s feet when she got home from work?”
Tim was immediately on guard, whenever his mother talked about herself in third person like that it meant she was slipping back into her babying mode. ‘Next she’ll start calling me Timmy’, he thought ruefully.
“Maybe you could rub Mommy’s feet before dinner … “
“I guess so … “ the words were out of his mouth before he realized what he had committed himself to. It might not be a problem for normal people, but normal people don’t like feet. The idea of rubbing his mother’s feet seemed obscene and disgusting. Might as well be massaging her boobs. Tim’s mind raced for a way to back out, but she was already sitting down across the table from him. He heard the clunk, clunk as her shoes hit the floor.
“Ahhhhhh,” she sighed with a blissful smile parting her lips. “Here.” Tim felt her stocking clad feet push up into his lap from under the table. He could feel how hot they were through his pants … then the smell hit him. Tim had dreamed of smelling feet almost every night for the past three or four years of his life, but he’d never imagined them smelling like this.
The stench wafting up from his lap was tremendous. His mother’s feet really stunk! He could hear the nylon material whispering as she rubbed her feet together in anxious preparation of the promised massage.
With shaking hands, Tim took her left foot in hand. The material of her reinforced pantyhose was slick with foot perspiration and he immediately felt his stomach roll over. He pressed his thumb beneath her arch and pushed. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she moaned loudly. Slowly he ran his thumbs down her arch to her heels … the digits moving easily over the damp surface of the sweaty hose.
“Ooooo, yes, sweetie, that’s it. Oh, rub my toes. Yessss, just like that.”
Tim took hold of her other foot and gave it equal attention. After a few minutes the smell was beginning to get to him. He felt dizzy and light headed.
“I hope they aren’t too stinky for you … I didn’t get a chance to wash my feet or these stockings this morning … I was rather late.”
It was as if she had just read his mind. In fact, they were too stinky. In fact, Tim was not sure how much more he could take.
“Here sweetie,” Tim felt his mother’s feet shift in his lap, “my knees keep hitting the brace under the table … sit on the floor.” Tim watched in mute horror as she tossed a pillow from an adjacent chair onto the kitchen floor. How could he refuse without explaining everything?!! He’d rather die first.
Tim scraped his chair backward and slowly lowered himself onto the pillow with his knees bent up in front of his chest. In order to sit close enough, the toes of his shoes had to be wedged under the middle table support which forced his legs up in the uncomfortable crouch.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Tim watched as his mother lifted her feet from the floor and placed her heels on his knees. He was now staring directly at the bottoms of her pantyhose covered feet. The rank aroma of her stinky feet filled his nose and mouth with hot sulfurous fumes. His eyes began to water and in moments all he could see were those feet looming only inches from his face. He was trapped under the table with his mother’s feet! They smelled so bad! His head began to spin. Her feet seemed to grow in size until they were the only things he could see. They seemed to float before him surrounded in a dull grey haze. It was all too much. Before he knew what he was doing, his face was pressed against the slick slimy surface of the stocking feet of his mother. His nostrils flared as he deeply drew in the stink of her feet. Distantly part of Tim quivered with shame and revulsion for what he was doing, but other urges were now in control.
He sniffed as deep as he could, mindless of the sound. Immediately his cock was a stiff slab between his legs.
“Are you smelling my feet?”
Tim’s heart thundered in his chest at the sound of his mother’s voice.
“You haven’t done that since your were a little boy. Do you still like they way they smell?” Tim could tell by the familiar sound of her voice that she was wrinkling her nose in comical disgust. She did that often when she was intrigued by something that otherwise seemed bizarre.
Tim couldn’t respond. He’d smelled her feet when he was little? His mouth seemed locked shut. When it was obvious Tim was not going to respond, she continued, “Oh don’t stop … you can smell Mommy’s feet all you want sweetie … just keep rubbing.”
She sounded so nonchalant! Tim’s body quivered with the urge to bolt from the room and this sinful act, but instead he pressed his face even more firmly into her feet and sniffed.
“That’s it,” she giggled, “get a good whiff of your smelly Mommy’s feet. I never understood why that made you so happy. But it does feel good on my hot feet … especially when you breathe in like that.” Her toes wiggled against the bridge of his nose.
Tim found his hands kneading the flesh of his mother’s right foot as he continued to sniff the left. He couldn’t remember taking it in hand, but whatever he was doing seemed to be having an effect on his mother. She was moaning to beat the devil.
Suddenly the heavenly stench was gone. Tim opened his eyes in a daze and saw the feet were no longer in front of him. He almost whined with longing, but quickly came to his senses. What the hell am I doing? I’ll go to Hell for this! Tim’s hands fumbled down to his crotch and found his enormous erection waiting for him. He shuddered with self loathing. He suddenly realized that his face still reeked of his mother’s feet. Roughly he rubbed at his nose and lips trying to rid himself of the cloying odor, but found his hands steeped in the stench as well. This panic attack lasted only seconds before his mother’s voice brought him up short.
“Here,” he heard his mother say. He could see here shifting around on her chair but the sun had finally set leaving the underside of the table awash in shadow. What was she doing? He saw a wad of material in her hand for an instant and suddenly both feet sprang from the darkness … both bare. The right foot settled back onto his nose without further ado and the other settled back into his hands. The hot, smelly fleshiness of her bare foot closing over his nose was almost too much for Tim. The instant he inhaled the unmasked fragrance of her dirty feet his mouth opened and he bleated a moan of painful rapture.
“Oh,” he heard his mother say in quite surprise. The room seemed to grow preternaturally still, like the proverbial calm before the storm. He felt the muscles in her legs and feet tense up as with seeming indecision. He’d clued her off! She knew for sure now! He was freak. Her son was a freak and she’d send him away to some hospital somewhere! Slowly the foot pulled away from his hands. Tim felt his heart breaking but at the same time was glad the torturous event was coming to an end. It was bad enough that he had willing done what he had done … but if it had continued even further … how could he ever live with himself? His mother’s foot continued its retreat from his hands slowly … but instead of drawing away completely it moved upwards to tentatively settle onto his face along side its twin. Now he had both of her large feet draped over his face.
The skin was hot and sticky with drying sweat. The smell was overwhelming … warm and damp. His heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of his chest. He was afraid to breathe… afraid the intense, vinegary stench of his mother’s feet would drag him down to further insanity and sin. He fought with all his mental strength. He would push the feet away and run and hide in his room. He would get away!!! Sniiiiiiffffffffff!
“Oh,” his mother murmured in the same subdued surprise.
Tim’s worst fears became reality. The sniff seemed to go on forever. He could feel every minuet twitch of his mother’s soles and toes on his face as if they were a part of him. The smell of her feet filled his being … washing away all remnants and ties to straight thinking. The feet that were at once resting lightly, began to push with firmness against his face. Tim stiffened his neck and allowed the feet to increase the pressure. He began to hyperventilate … greedy for the reek of his mother’s feet.
Had he always wanted to do this? Was this a dream from his secret heart? Abandoning all reserve Tim exploded into action. He took hold of both feet and began a sniffing exploration. All the pent up need to sniff suddenly became unleashed in animalistic passion. Spreading each toe, he sniffed in between, savoring the stronger aroma that lurked there. He ran his nose down her arch and over her heels, sniffing all the while. The closeness under the table only seemed to intensify the experience. Soon Tim was drenched in sweat. His entire body was vibrating with electrified excitement.
Again, Tim was shocked back into reality as the feet abandoned his face. The skin of his face tingled as fresh air struck his open pores. His mother padded around the table and squatted next to him. The smell of her feet was now thick under the table despite their absence.
“OK, Timmy, let Mommy see,” Her voice seemed so no-nonsense that Tim never thought to question what she meant. He felt her cool fingers slip between the waist band of his shorts and his belly. In a gentle but firm motion, his trousers where pulled down until his hardened cock sprung into view.
“My, you are a big boy,” she cooed proudly. Slowly she ran a finger down the length of his hardened penis starting at the swollen head and ending at his balls. Tim was unable to suppress the shudder that shook him. She gently took his cock between thumb and index finger and gently squeezed three times in a row. The action reminded him of when she tested vegetables and fruit for freshness at the market.
Tim shrank from the look of primal hunger now etched on his mother normally pleasant face. Her mouth opened and for a moment Tim thought her to be yawning, yet her face slowly lowered towards his erect member. Tim opened his mouth to protest or scream … yet the sound never passed his lips. Her mouth closed over his penis with finality and another shiver like an electric shock assaulted his body. Tim felt a hand pushing on his chest and then he was teetering backward. When his shoulders struck the ground, Tim quickly realized that the pillow on which he sat was still firmly planted under his butt forcing his hips to jut up. His cock even more defenseless in such a position than if he were lying flat. He felt fingers cup his balls and gently squeeze and pull down, stretching the elastic skin. Tim tried to sit back up but the rosy sole of his mother’s foot filled his vision as it quickly descended on his face.
Tim tried to turn his head away, “No,” burst from his lips. “No, no, no,” he mumbled as the foot shifted back and forth following his turning head. “No!” he tried to bellow as the smelly sole finally found it perch. His nose slipped into the crevice between her big toe and the second. His mind conjured the image of the sandal thong and how he repeatedly wished he could be that thong riding between the catalog feet’s toes. Now his nose was right where he had wanted it for so long … but instead of Cindy Manton or some nameless, faceless model … it was his own mother.
The first forced sniff washed away all thought. The stench between her toes was even more cheesy and intense than the rest of her foot and having sniffed it in exploration was nothing compared to having his nose buried in it. On its own volition his tongue snaked from between his lips and sampled the salty skin of his mother’s smothering sole. The taste of her dirty foot filled his mouth, like salt, vinegar and leather as the aroma of her toe cleavage assaulted his nostrils.
There was no warning. He felt his cock jumping in his mother’s mouth and knew in the instant that he was already cumming. If Tim expected a howl of disgust from his mother he was disappointed. Stoically she swallowed every drop and continued to suck out the remains of his semen long after the orgasm had finished. The foot remained planted on his nose … and the moment the orgasm ended the smell turned repulsive. The realization of the chain of events crashed home and Tim shuddered with self hatred. He tried to sit up but the foot remained.
The heel forced its way into his mouth and suddenly he was unable to breathe save through his nose. He tried to resist but his body was weak. The sucking continued on his overly sensitive member and the true forced footsniffing began. He could feel his mother’s long nails tickling his ball sack, making the skin crawl. The intense wretched smell of her dirty foot was hammering into him. All he wanted to do was heave it from his face and run … but the smell raped his nostrils with abandon.
Strangely the new situation took on its own energy. The hell of smelling that foot … being forced to smell that foot … began to work on Tim. His limbs felt leaden and ineffectual. The sucking and tickling continued and the foot remained. Minutes passed and soon Tim’s tear streaming eyes grew wide as he felt his cock again growing erect in his mother’s mouth beyond all reason.
He felt cold air on his saliva wet staff as it was pulled from the warmth of the maternal mouth. Her fingers tightened on the head of his penis and began to administer a rather expert if not overzealous handjob.
“I’ve needed something …” his mother’s voice sounded thick, “I’ve needed this … and now I can have it. And I know how to get it, whenever I want,” Tim felt her toes wiggling on his face for emphasis. Suddenly he knew his fate would see him for years to come sniffing these filthy feet as his cock hardened dutifully in response … again and again and again. Was he so easily controlled? Another shuddering sniff of the foot decided the question for him. Tim realized his mother was talking again, though it sounded more like she was talking to herself than anything.
“Mr. Colter can fuck me whenever he wants if I can keep the job. He’s already told me he will anyway. After today, and what he did to me … I think I’m probably too sore to do much more than this … unless,” her fingers tightened on his cock and sped up as she seemed to consider some mysterious point, “but I need certain things for me … and you’re going to help me.” Her voice suddenly took on a more forcefully, self-assured tone, “Yes, you’re going to help me. You’re going to help Mommy. Just keep sniffing my stink and everything will be alright. Mommy will take care of you.”
Tim felt the foot increase pressure on his face as his mother seemed to shift about. Suddenly his cock was sheathed in warm moist flesh … utterly different than a mouth. He tried to peer past his mother’s toes but only viewed her shoulders for a brief instant. Then he felt the cool flesh of her bare bottom pressing against his inner thighs and he knew where his penis was. His foreskin pulled painfully tight as she sat down completely burying his cock inside her sphincter.
His mother squeaked and moaned with a hint of suffering. “Well, the first time for everything is always painful … “ she murmured as she began bounce. Tim’s eyes fluttered closed as he continued to sniff the foot, lost in its scent, as his mother’s ass swallowed his throbbing cock.