I was on the train from the city back home, having taken the trip for the weekend to see my daughter and her family, always an enjoyable experience. I was tired, though; grandchildren keep you pretty busy, and I’d been on my feet, playing with them or walking through town, and as a result, my feet were pretty sore.
It was a three-hour train ride, with several stops, and the cars were fairly crowded on leaving the city, so I didn’t even notice him. A young man, perhaps in his late teens or early 20s, sitting in the aisle across from me, his seat facing the opposite direction. I didn’t take note of him until the car slowly emptied with each subsequent stop.
But when I did, I was rather pleased. The randy young buck could not keep his eyes off my feet. Can’t say I blame him. My feet have that effect on young men.
My name is Betsy, I’m 61, quite lean, trim and athletic, with shoulder-length silvery-blonde hair – and sexy feet, long toes, gnarly and slim, veins running up over the tops of my feet, and fairly muscular calves for a gal my age.
It was only recently I’d discovered the effect my feet, and calves, have on young studs. I was at a beach near my house wearing Capris one chilly late-summer afternoon, reading and relaxing, when a young man happened by. We made quick, pleasant conversation, and I noticed his insistent glances at my feet, and long, red-painted toes.
It pleased me. So I seduced him. Well, my feet did anyway! I made him kneel and massage my feet, worship them, teasing him. I allowed him to smell them, and to lick and suck my toes clean, and even clamped my calves on his neck for a quick scissor, to show him evidence of the power of a woman, and her lower body.
And the ultimate reward for this horny young foot slut was my jerking him off in them! And my reward was “making” him lick up every sticky drop of his sperm, which I must admit, he did rather eagerly.
All that came back to me now as I watched this young man across the aisle, eyeing my feet. Today, they were painted a bright, playful blue, matching my eyes. I wore black Spandex slacks, my favorite thing to travel in, that ended at mid shin, showing my supple, elegant calves. On my feet, those objects of his apparent affection, I wore low-heeled dark blue pumps, my favorite traveling shoe.
I first noticed him as I dangled my right shoe, that leg crossed over the other, bobbing it up and down. I’d heard a moan, almost imperceptible. I looked over and he quickly looked away.
I had him. And reeled him in.
He was good, I’ll give him that, pretending to text while I knew he was snapping photos or videos of my sexy granny feet! I toyed with him, switching legs, dangling the other shoe. I let it drop; the white insides of my shoes were crusted with years of dark grime, the accumulation of sweat and foot funk clearly visible in the toe and heel area. I heard the moan again. I smiled.
“I can’t wait for this ride to be over, my feet are SO tired,” I yawned, looking at him, stretching my arms over my head, his eyes now drawn to my 34C breasts, full and firm beneath the dark blouse I wore.
“Uh…yes, yes, I know,” he stammered, looking out the window.
I checked the time. There was 20 minutes left in the ride. And no more stops. Looking around, I noticed the car was practically empty.
“Are you going home young man?” I said politely, recrossing my legs now and scooping the shoe on the floor with my toes to dangle it anew.
“Uh…no, uh, was with family, going back to college now,” he said nervously, sweat forming on his face in the chilly car air.
“I’m sorry, what?” I said, feigning deafness. “Oh, come over here, son, some sit on the other side of me, I can’t hear you!”
His eyes widened. And he got up, hunched over to hide, I presumed, his erection! I love my feet having that effect on young men!
He sat, smiling nervously. Our seats bonus veren siteler were a few feet away, giving me ample room to continue my teasing shoe dangle, taking the opportunity to pull up the leg of my Spandex, revealing the full length of my tanned, freckled shin and muscular calf flexing behind it.
His eyes widened. He coughed, looking at his phone, allegedly texting away.
“Oh, come on young man, engage in conversation!” I laughed. “You young people and your phones! Here’s a live human being sitting across from you trying to talk, and you’re what, texting a girlfriend I suppose?”
“Uh, no…well yeah…sort of…” he stammered, quickly palming his phone.
“Do you have photos of her?” I asked impulsively, leaning toward him and snatching the phone from his hands before he could stop me. “Let’s see! I’m sure she’s beautiful!”
“NO WAIT!” he cried out, reaching for it.
I held it away playfully, quickly keying the photos before he could grab it. Sure enough, there were photos of my feet, and videos, lots of them! I was flattered but feigned shock.
“Oh, really,” I said in my best maternal tone, scrolling through the pictures. “My, my, my…”
He snatched it back, sitting down, red faced and ashamed.
“Look, I’m…I’m sorry…I just…I thought I was texting…I guess…”
“Oh please,” I snarled. “Pretending to text? That’s rich. You were taking photos of my sexy legs and feet, it’s as simple as that.”
I let the accusation hang in the air, feeling his humiliation mounting. He looked anywhere but at me.
“I’ll…I’ll delete them, I will, I’m so sorry ma’am,” he mumbled, holding the phone in shaky hands.
“No, you won’t,” I growled.
He looked up.
“I said no, you won’t,” I repeated. “You will keep them. And do …whatever you do with photos and videos of old women’s feet. I take it this isn’t the first time?”
“No,” he groaned. “It’s just that…I like older…oh, God, ma’am, I’m sorry.”
He buried his face in his hands. I stifled a giggle.
“Grandmother,” I said.
He looked up.
“Grandmother, not ma’am, grandmother,” I said sternly. “You will call me Grandmother. Is that clear?”
On the beach that day I and my feet seduced and so completely controlled that young man, I had him call me ‘Mommy’. The stress on our age difference turned me on. Calling me grandmother would ramp that up considerably, adding to the forbidden allure.
“Grandmother?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Grandmother.”
The minutes were ticking away. There were about 17 left.
“What do you like about my feet, young man? Tell me. Quickly. Now.”
“Uh..uh..uh,” I mocked, “is NOT an answer.”
“They’re so…sexy…the veins, the tanned skin…the slight callouses on your heels I noticed…the long toes, very long, the way they’re kinda crooked…your legs…your calves…so muscular…they…” He continued, giving me an inventory that pleased me.
“And the smell?”
“The smell?” he asked, confused. “I…I don’t know…I’m not close enough…”
“Yet,” I smiled, slipping off both shoes and pushing with my blue-painted toes toward him. “Pick them up. And smell them.”
His eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. Tentatively, he reached down, looking up at me, picking them up in trembling hands, holding them in his lap. He looked inside and groaned. They were so grimy, so dirty, and a little bit wet from my recent foot sweat. He looked at me again.
“Go on, you have my permission,” I said, now extending my long legs across the gap and plunking them on his seat, his eyes widening as they drank in the sight of my soles, deeply creased with wrinkles, those calloused heels tantalizingly close.
“Yes,” he moaned, starting to lift them to his face, his nose opening in inhalation.
“What?” bedava bahis I snarled, suddenly lifting the nearest foot to hook his arms and stop him from lifting my shoes closer to his face.
He blinked, unsure.
“What?” I asked again.
The light went on in his head, and her croaked, “Yes…Grandmother…”
I smiled, dropping my foot back down. He looked at me, the shoes and made the connection, lifting them to his face, burying it in them.
I swear he would cum in his pants from his reaction. His eyes rolled in his head, lids fluttering, emitting a low, guttural growl and a long “Oh…my…God…” as he inhaled deeply, as deeply as possible, from the well of my shoes. Over and over, he stuffed his nose and mouth into each one, devouring the scent, moaning more loudly and insistently. I had to giggle at his enthusiasm watching him idolize my foul-smelling, years-old footwear.
“What does it smell like, son?” I asked.
“Heaven!” he fairly cried out, rubbing his face inside each one, sniffing deeply. “Sweat…cheese…a vinegary scent…oh shit, it’s so good!”
“Thank me,” I said.
“Thank you GRANDMOTHER!” he blurted.
“Quietly, boy, quietly,” I laughed, looking over his head far down the car were two others sat. “Now…lick them. Lick that filth from my insteps, clean them for your GRANDMOTHER!”
Again, I swore the poor boy would ejaculate in his pants as he know went crazy over my shoes, opening his mouth and lavishing the cheesy, moist insides with his amazingly long tongue, running it over the grimy toe and heel area, licking harder, lifting the grit to his mouth, tasting it with a renewed moan of pleasure, and going back for me. It turned me on so much I couldn’t help but grinding my thighs together, squeezing my pussy, feeling my own orgasm mount.
The minutes ticked away. There were but 10 left until we reached the station.
“Show me,” I growled, shamelessly rubbing my pussy with my hand. “Show me how well you cleaned Grandmother’s filthy shoes!”
He reluctantly pulled them from his face, his lips smeared with dark saliva, and turned them to me. They were completely clean of the nasty funk that had been there earlier, and for years. I laughed.
“You disgusting young pervert!” I laughed. “You ate every bit of my nasty foot dirt out of each shoe!”
“You told me to… Grandmother,” he said with a hurt look on his face, licking his dirty lips.
“Yes, I did,” I laughed. “I was teasing. Now. Your reward.”
I slid over in my seat, directly across from him and held my feet up – right in front of his face. He looked around frantically.
“Don’t worry, boy, no one can see…and no one can taste what you are about to,” I growled. “Now get busy.”
He did, holding my feet by the heels, groaning at the roughness of them, and ran his quivering tongue from each one, devouring every deep wrinkle, every crevasse of foot flesh, digging in, sucking and lapping like a boy possessed. He lavished attention on one, then the other, and his eyes were fixed on the dancing toes above as I wiggled them, spreading them wide.
“Flavor?” I asked. “What do Grandmother’s stinky feet TASTE like, boy?”
“Heaven, again, heaven,” he groaned, now suckling each heel, running his smooth tongue over the rough, hardened flesh, its heat coursing through my feet, up my muscular calves to my clenching thighs, triggering an unexpected and delightful mini orgasm, my pussy flooding my panties as I groaned. “It tastes…sweaty…ripe…raw…DELICIOUS!”
“My toes,” I heard myself gasp, stuffing a hand into the waistband of my pants, fingering myself wantonly. “Suck my toes, suck between my toes, make love to my toes, boy, now! Hurry!”
I came again the instant his hot mouth closed over my big toe and I watched him fellate it, sucking it into his lips, tongue washing it clean, then between it and the next deneme bonus one. He worked quickly, madly, passionately, sucking on each toe with growing fervor and increasing moans, ingesting the lint and grime and grit, relishing the flavor and texture and going back for more. I came again, now losing count of them, each one complete and delicious. I looked at my watch. We had only minutes left.
“Into the bathroom,” I said suddenly. “Put them back on.”
He obeyed, slipping my freshly cleaned shoes onto my freshly licked feet and followed me into the spacious commode, the car swaying. I turned, leaning on the sink.
“Kneel,” I said over my shoulder. “And put your face in Grandmother’s ass! And your cock in her shoe!”
I watched myself in the mirror, my face flushed, expectant, delighted. I felt his nose in my crack, smelling the funky scent of my asshole, and heard him unzip his pants, freeing his cock. He shuffled forward and I lifted my left heel out of the shoe. He slithered his cock inside. It felt huge, thick, dripping precum on the inside of that shoe. His cock filled it and he pushed in further, the head slipping under the ball of the foot, his nuts fitting snugly into the heel.
I lowered my foot just enough to put pressure on his gorgeous dick and aching balls. He moaned that pain-pleasure moan that meant it was just right.
“Let Grandmother fuck you,” I snarled.
Up and down I pressed my foot, pressing the sensitive underside of his dick tip to the pre-cum soaked leather inside, rubbing it harder, while the calloused heel pushed on the base of his cock, pressing his balls flat under the crush. His sniffing became more insistent, irregular, matching the pulsations of my foot. Up and down I pressed, and felt his cock thicken and heat up, the entire bottom of my foot hot from his dick.
“Cum, boy, cum!” I hissed, fingering my pussy, watching myself in the mirror, my silvery hair in sweaty strands over my urgent face. “Cum for Grandmother’s foot!”
He did, quickly and completely, grunting as his nose pressed deeper and harder into my asshole through my Spandex, inhaling and screaming his orgasmic screams into the thick pads of my butt flesh. His cum filled my shoe as I felt it stream under and up between my toes, and then back, along the wrinkled bottom to the heel, coating his balls. He came in jolts, 10 or more, and the heat raced up my pumping leg into my pussy, triggering my own explosive orgasm.
I stopped and so did he, leaning back away from my ass, his cock a prisoner of my wet shoe. I released him and he slithered back. I grabbed some paper towels handing them to him and heard him clean himself, stand and zip up.
He looked down as I turned around – and settled my foot into the shoe. The squishing wet sound made us both moan as we looked into each other’s eyes. I leaned to him and kissed him on the lips, snaking my tongue inside, his big eyes open.
“Now then,” I sighed, opening the door and looking out to make sure no one was there. “We’re almost there.”
We walked out, down the aisle to our seats, the squish-squish-squish sound from my cum-soaked foot and shoe a sexy cadence heard just above the clack of the train’s iron wheels on the tracks. We sat down, gathering out belongings as the train squeaked into the station and the announcement was made. A conductor walked through bellowing our arrival.
I crossed my leg. And let the shoe dangle. His eyes widened and looked. There were thick, creamy bridges of his cum between the bottom of my wrinkled sole and the shoe. I bounced it up and down, the strands of spunk gleaming in the light of the car.
“Take pictures son,” I laughed. “For we’ll likely never meet again.”
He groaned, snapping away, zooming in close on those gleaming ropes of cum quivering from the bottom of my succulent granny foot. I slowly put that foot down, the squishy sound filling the air.
The car empties of the two others and we stepped out, he behind me, watching. I laughed over my shoulder and walked quickly away.
“Thank you,” he cried out. “Thank you…Grandmother!”
“Of course,” I laughed as I walked out of sight. “Of course…”