5 comments/ 46955 views/ 19 favorites Eating Gilf-Mommy's Feet By: milfleglover It was late in fall, an uncharacteristically warm day. I decided to hit the beach near my house one last time before winter hit, and we all hunkered down for the season. The beach is small, and even in summer not terribly crowded, known to and used by mainly locals, and a day this late in the season mean I had the place all to myself. My name is Betsy, I'm a single, retired woman of 61,quite pretty and well kept for my age, if I do say so myself, with the usual flaws of an older woman, if you want to call them that. I prefer thinking of my gently wrinkled face, neck and body as signs of a life well lived, character if you will. And from the men I date, all of them much younger than me, I don't seem to be alone in that assessment. This day I pulled into the empty lot and took a beach chair to the sunny sand, a cooling breeze coming offshore, and sat, reading a book, wiggling my toes in the warm sand. I wore Capri pants, those ending at the knee, and as I dug my feet in the sand, I watched my calves bulge and flex with noticeable muscle, being thankful for all the walking and exercise I do. My toes, painted bright red, poked out of the sand, the tendons flowing behind them to my slender ankles. Many are the young men who seem to like my slightly gnarled, GILF feet, and I certainly do appreciate the attention they get from them. I'd been sitting about an hour, completely relaxed, and quiet, when to my left I saw someone walking, a man, a young man out for a stroll. As he got closer, I thought him to be nothing more than a teen, really, a handsome young lad, strong and tall, and as he approached, he smiled. I smiled back, and crossed my sexy legs, one foot in the sand, the other dangling as I sat, wiggling my toes, shaking the sand from them. The young man nodded and was about to walk by when I stopped him. "Good day for a walk, isn't it?" I smiled. He stopped, smiling back. "Yes, it sure is. Not many days like this left I think." We made small talk, me wiggling my toes as we did, noticing his eyes averting to them every so often, fidgeting, as if uncomfortable. I was reeling him in. "Mmm, this sand sure feels nice on my nasty old feet!" I laughed, putting both heels in the sand, my toes spread and wiggling at him a couple feet away. "No, they're not nasty!" he said, too emphatically, catching himself. "I mean...they're...lovely...I'm sorry, I shouldn't..." "No, you should," I corrected him firmly. "A woman my age loves compliments, and even about my feet. So you think they're OK?" "Oh yes!" he said, again a little too enthused. "I mean...you know..." "Young man, are you a lover of female feet?" I giggled, brushing my wind-blown silvery shoulder-length hair out of my face. "Are you?" "Uh....I think...I guess..." he stammered. "You think, you guess," I said impatiently. "Either you are or you aren't. So are you?" "Yes," he blushed. "Not sure why..." "Tell me," I said firmly, directing him where I know he wanted to go. "Does your mother have feet like mine?" He blinked, astonished. "Well, uh, my mom's feet..." "Do you massage her tired old feet for her, young man?" I said pointedly. "Do you?" He looked, wide eyed. "How...well...yes, once in awhile, if she asks, I mean she works hard, she's on them all day...and..." "Be a dear and massage mine," I sighed, taking off my sunglasses in the gathering dusk to look at him, my brown eyes flashing. "Let's see how good you are at it." "Right...here? Right..now?" he asked, looking around. "Darling, there's no one here," I laughed. "Now kneel down and massage my feet!" "Uh...OK," he said nervously, kneeling before me as I lifted my right foot to his trembling hands, resting the heel on his left thigh. "Um...what's your..your name?" "You can call me....Mom!" I said, caught up in the naughtiness of the moment, much to his wide-eyed astonishment. "But..." I lifted that foot off his thigh and brought it to his face, the wrinkled sole inches from his nose and open eyes and mouth. "Trust me...son...it'll be worth your while," I hissed, bending and straightening my toes, unleashing a flex of wrinkled flesh beneath my foot, his eyes glued to it. "Now massage Mom's foot!" "Yes...." He said as I rested it back on his leg and his hands circled it, digging into the tight flesh, rubbing the instep and sole. "Yes..what?" I asked sternly, suddenly lifting the foot up and gently slapping his face with it. "Yes MOM!" he groaned excitedly, as I dropped it to his young thigh again. The kid was good, I'll give him that. He stared down at my foot, his thumbs kneading the sole so deeply my pussy tingled, his strong fingers massaging the instep at the same time. I brought the other foot to his thigh and now he did both at once, lavishing attention on the wrinkled soles and insteps and then, one by one, pulling gently on each bony toe, rubbing them with his fingers, my pussy getting wetter by the moment. "My, my, my, son of mine, you do your other mother's feet justice, you're rather good at this!" I said, my thighs clenched together, my pussy lips rubbing at my clit trapped between them. "Keep it up, boy...harder...there, that's it....what about my toes? Do you like Mommy's toes, son? You like the shiny paint on the nails?" "Yesssss, Mom!" he groaned, caught up in the moment. I smiled -- and moved my heels to his groin, feeling his hard cock through his tight jeans. His eyes shot open wide and he stopped massaging my feet. "I didn't tell you to stop, boy!" I snapped, thrusting my long legs out and crushing his balls, making him wince in pain. "Keep rubbing mom's feet!" "Yesss, Mom!" he groaned again, in pleasure and pain as I rubbed my heels harder into his young balls, feeling his cock against my feet. "Massage my calves, they need attention, too, do it!" I said. His hands reached for my supple lower legs exposed in my Capri pants and kneaded the tired muscles, his fingers digging into the soft, slightly wrinkled, tanned flesh, his eyes drinking in the sight of those long, freckled stems of silk and steel. He moaned as he worked. I suddenly brought the right foot up to his left shoulder, plunking it there, turning his gaze to the calf, which I bulged by flexing my feet. "You've done well," I hissed. "Now suckle Mommy's muscular old calf! Do it!" He groaned and attached his mouth to the thickening muscle of my right calf, holding it in both hands, suckling the meat of it, tonguing the wrinkled flesh, massaging it with his lips and hands, then running his tongue over every salty inch, up to the inside of my knee and back down again. I lifted the other foot to his other shoulder and he repeated his oral massage of that calf, licking up and down, ingesting the flesh, mouthing it in big gulps and slobbering his hot tongue over what he'd sucked into his lips. The kid was good and I snuck a hand into my pants, fingering my hot, hairy pussy to a quick orgasm as he watched, my calves closing around his neck and squeezing him in the muscles of them as I orgasmed with a groan and snap of my pussy around my fingers. I pulled the fingers out, still holding his neck in my calves, and brought them to his nose. "Smell Mommy's pussy!" I ordered him. He did, like a man starving for air, inhaling deeply and groaning at the thick, musty aroma of my pussy. I then pushed the fingers into his mouth, his hot tongue cleaning them, swallowing my GILF cum. I released the scissoring calves from his neck and lifted my feet to his face. "Have at them, son," I laughed. "You've earned it." He went wild, holding my feet to his face, ramming it to them, smelling the soles, then up between my toes, inhaling the sweaty, acrid aroma of a day trapped in socks and shoes at work. He moaned, licking now, from my heels up the wrinkled soles to the toes, and between them, eyes rolling over white in his handsome face, the tongue tasting the grit and sweat between them like it were caviar, eating my toe jam, then sucking each bony digit in his mouth, tongue washing the slippery, painted nails, bobbing up and down on each like a small cock. He took his time, licking madly, sucking, probing with his mouth, lips and tongue and I came again, even without touching myself this time, just feeling his hot mouth on my sexy old feet. I held my legs up behind the knees, watching him work, watching his adore my feet, and watched his hand sneak to his crotch to paw at his cock in his tight jeans. "How dare you!" I snapped in mock anger, trapping his neck in my solid calves again, twisting the feet together behind him and squeezing so hard so fast his face turned blue in my grip. "Did I TELL you to touch your disgusting cock? No, I did not!" I squeezed him a moment longer, his hands pulling at my shins locked around his throat, his eyes heavy lidded, about to pass out in my calf clamp. I smiled and eased the squeeze. "Now, that's MOMMY'S job!" I hissed. "Take that cock out. Now, son, now!" He moaned, fumbling with his zipper and pulling his pants down a bit, a gorgeous, 8-inch thick tube of boy meat springing out, dripping wet from the head. I smiled. And dropped my feet to his face. "Lick Mommy's feet, get 'em nice and lubed up," I hissed. He did, groaning, slavishly tonguing the sweet, salty curves of my instep, soaking them. I dropped them down, scissoring his cock in them and he moaned loudly as I then stroked up and down, jerking him off in the feet of a woman easily three times his age. "Lean back, son, let Mommy's feet work their magic," I hissed. He did, leaning back on his haunches, giving me every hard inch of his boy cock, my gnarled feet around them, stroking madly, up and down, the muscles in my dangerous calves flexing as he watched them and my feet and painted toes, all of it a blur in his mind, I'm sure, as his balls knotted beneath my feet slapping down on them. "Cum, son, cum on Mommy's feet!" I hissed, jerking him harder in them, my feet flying up and down, my heels pounding his aching bloated balls. "Give Mommy's feet your load, now!" On cue, he moaned and we both watched thick, arcing jets of sweet cum explode from his foot-squeezed dick head and rope the length of my shins and calves, soaking them, the hot fluid running down them, coating the flexing muscle, and the remaining ribbons of cum sheeting down over his cock to form a thick blanket of jism on my pumping feet. From my bony knees to my bony toes, there was a thick layer of clumped cum, and as my feet slowed their pumping action, he was panting heavily. I lifted one foot to his sweaty face, smiling. He wasn't. He looked shock. "Lick Mommy's feet clean, son!" I ordered him. "You made that disgusting cummy mess, you clean it up!" He was too far gone to disobey and trembling, he snaked his tongue out tentatively to lap at the goo on my toes. Impatiently, I reached for his hair with my hand and rammed his mouth to my foot, stuffing the toes, all five of them, into his sucking mouth. "Eat cum, boy, eat cum!" I growled, feeling another orgasm wet my panties as I watched him ingest every sweet ounce of his cum from my toes. I had him suck them clean, then the instep and sole of that foot, then run his tongue through the blanket of his ball brew lining my shiny shin and muscular calf. When that leg was done, I made him do the other and by the end, as my legs, feet and toes shone with spit instead of cum, I came hard, pulling his face to my cunt and squeezing his head in my thighs as I ground out my orgasm, crushing his skull and grinding painfully into his face. By the time I was done, he was blue again and I released him, watching him flop back to the sand, his wilting wet cock comically sticking in the air. I laughed, standing up and slipping my wet feet back into my sandals, packing up my book and chair as he lay on his back, looking up at me. I put my sunglasses back on and looked down at him. "Thank Mommy," I sneered. He got to his knees, bending to kiss my feet, mumbling his thanks. "Next warm day, I better see you here again, son," I laughed, slapping his face away with my foot and walking away, feeling his gaze on my tight GILF ass in my slacks. Eating Gilf-Mommy's Feet Ch. 02 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 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. "What?" "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. "What?" "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..." "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?" 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 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..."