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Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination

By: milfleglover



Beth sat in the dim glow of the bar of the hotel she stayed at on business. The smartly-dressed, pretty 60-year old blonde wore a business suit, including black slacks and low black women's dress socks. She sat at the bar, legs crossed, her pant leg riding on the top leg revealing a hint of freckled, shiny shin above her sock, and a supple, muscled calf in back.

She noticed him staring, a young buck of 21 or so, nervously. She dangled her shoe, revealing her socked foot and he stared harder. She smiled at him and curled a finger. He looked apprehensive and came to sit by her. They were alone at the end of the bar.

"You like feet, young man?" she hissed, a little drunk. "And shins and socks? You've been staring pretty hard at mine. What's your name?"

She was sharp, defined, in control.

"M...Mike," he stammered, extending a hand.

She looked at it and then away.

"Don't do that, you cheapen me," she snarled. 

"Uh...well...what..what's your name?"

She smiled darkly. "Mother," she said. "You may call me Mother."

"But.."

"Leave then," she sighed. "I don't care...if you want to stay and play, you'll do what you're told. And they way you've stared at my shin and sock and foot, I'm guessing you want to stay and play...Right?"

"Right."

"RIGHT WHAT!"

"Right...mm...mm...mother," he mumbled.

"It's a start," she growled. "I ask again and there won't be a next time: Do you like feet, shins and socks young man? Specifically mine?"

"Yes...Mother," he complied with a low moan, hardly able to look at Beth.

"Good," she cooed. "I've been in meetings all day and my feet are tired and I suspect, more than a little smelly."

She purposely dropped her cocktail napkin, then looked at Mike.

"Well?" she asked impatiently.

Mike gulped and had to get off his stool and kneel to pick it up. Beth pulled her pant leg up a bit more, the white, shiny shin inches from his face. She let her shoe fall from her crossed leg.

"Smell it," she hissed down at him, sipping her wine, feeling the rush that came with it. "Smell my socked foot. Now."

Mike moaned and leaned forward, taking her foot in his hand. Instantly, Beth pulled up her other pant leg and now used her bare calves around his neck, squeezing it in the muscles of her smooth flesh, crushing him dizzy in mere seconds, her socked feet crossed, toes clenched together.

"Did I tell you to TOUCH my foot, Michael?" she growled, throbbing those big muscles on his neck. "No, I did not, I said SMELL my foot. Now try again."

She unsnapped her scissoring calves and crossed her legs again, the dangling right foot in Mike's face. He leaned forward and inhaled, coughing immediately at the musty, sweaty, ripe smell of Beth's black sock. She laughed.

"Lick it," she hissed. "Lick that dirty sock."

Mike obeyed, caught up in the fever of being dominated by a beautiful woman old enough to be his grandmother. He licked the fabric, the instep, down over her toes and then the flat of her foot, feeling the moist heat tingle his tongue. Beth flexed her calves, both visible in her pulled-up pant legs above her stinky socks. She shook her foot from his mouth and put them both on the rungs of her stool, to the side, balling up her amazing calves inches from Mike's eyes, which darted side to side to look at both and make sure no one was watching. No one was.

"My calves are beautiful," she said, not as a question but a statement. "And very strong, as you know, I have knocked men and women out using them to scissor necks. Now lean over and lick, from my stinky sock to my bony knee, each calf, run your worthless tongue up the sweet curve of the muscles and taste my calf meat. Go on, do it."

Mike was dizzy from domination and obeyed this leggy mistress, starting at one sock, sweeping his tongue up over the salty flesh, feeling the muscle beneath silky skin, ending at her knee and then starting at the other sock, taking his time, tasting every bit of Beth's supple calf.

"Good, good," she cooed. "Now up on the stool, sit, massage my tired, aching, smelly socked feet."

"Yes," he groaned.

"Excuse me?" Beth asked sharply.

"Yes, Mother," he groaned more loudly.

She put her feet up on his lap, smiling as she felt his hard cock in his dress pants. She nodded and he gulped, looked down and began massaging her sweaty, stinky sock clad feet, hard and firmly. 

"My calves, don't forget my calves, they need attention too," she hissed, drink in hand, leaning back on her stool. "That's right, massage the muscles in them, feel the soft, smooth flesh covering that steel beneath! Do you like my calves, Michael, do you like your hands on my shiny, smooth shins as well, do you like the smell of my socked feet coming up to your nose?"

"Yesss...mother..." he moaned, thrusting his cock up into the soft curves of her calves.

"You disgusting pervert, your cock is hard, your cock is VERY hard from rubbing your mother's muscular calves and massaging her feet and smelling her dirty black socks!" she snarled. "Take your jacket off."

"Wh...what?"

"Take it off, you pervert, and drape it over your lap and my calves!"

He obeyed.

"Now," she hissed, swirling her drink. "Take your disgusting penis out and put it between your mother's muscular, socked calves! It's the only way to handle a dirty boy like you. DO IT!"

He trembled and obeyed, taking his stiff cock out of his pants and feeling it enveloped in the hot, meaty grip of Beth's socked, muscular calves. She crossed her feet and rippled her calf muscles on his cock, vibrating the meaty flesh on it, fucking him in her calves. He groaned, he'd never felt anything so delicious in his life.

"You want to cum in mommy's calves, don't you son?" she said sweetly. "Say it. Now."

"I want...to cum in your ... your calves, Mommy!" he groaned looking at her desperately, her look one of casual detachment. 

"Ask."

"What?"

Impatiently, Beth crushed his cock in her scissoring calves, making him wince.

"Are you that stupid, boy?" she growled. "I said ask if you may come in your mother's socked, scissoring calves!"

"May I cum your socked, scissoring calves mommy?" he squealed.

"Of course," she giggled. "I'm not totally heartless."

Mike closed his eyes and didn't move, letting Beth relax her calf grip and now just flex and roll and ripple and quiver those meaty gripping tubes of sexy, 60-year-old muscle on his young cock. He was close, so close, closer still when she slipped her legs up a bit and now captured just the head inside the velvet clamp of her meaty, undulating calf meat.

"This is what gets them most of all," she said proudly. "My calf quiver on their little cock heads, it feels heavenly the way that muscle, that sweet, sexy, smooth, socked 60-year-old muscle is just vibrating on you, doesn't it?"

"God, yes, Mommy, it does, your calves are incredible, your smelly socks, your feet, it's all so unbelievable!!!"

She smiled.

"Of course it is," she cooed, continuing to vibrate-fuck his oozing pecker. "Think of it, a 60-year-old woman – your 60-year-old MOTHER – is giving you such a great feeling in her old, wrinkled calves! And look at me, Michael, look at this!"

He turned to look and Beth tilted her head back, exposing her sexy neck wrinkles, sweet folds of them, sagging and white and smooth as silk.

"My neck wrinkles, Michael, that turkey neck they call it, look at the flesh of my neck, the creamy smoothness," she teased. "You'd like to suckle on my neck wrinkles wouldn't you, Michael, to lick, chew and suck your mommy's wrinkled old neck!"

Michael groaned, watching Beth finger her own wrinkles as her wrinkled meaty calves worked his cock. 

"And you know what, son of mine, once you cum, and you will cum, in your mother's scissoring, wrinkled old calves," she hissed. "You will get down on your knees, you will take each cum-covered calf in your hand and you will EAT up every disgusting drop of your boy sperm!"

"Oh..my God..." he moaned, eyes closed and about to spurt.

"Jim, Lucy, how are you?"

Mike's eyes shot open and there next to Beth were two other middle aged people, chatting away with the beautiful blonde, who laughed and talked and looked at Mike with an evil smile.

"And this is my new friend, Michael," she said sweetly. "Michael, Lucy and Jim!"

They smiled and reached for Michael's hand – which had just been under his coat feeling the sweet, sexy, smooth wrinkles of Beth's quivering calves and lifted it, with a dollop of pre-cum on it, taking Lucy's hand and shaking it weakly, feeling his pre-jizz transfer to her palm. She looked at it quizzically and wiped it on her blouse as Jim shook Mike's hand.

"You're not hitting on our friend here, are you, Mike?" Jim laughed heartily. "Though I can't blame you, she's gorgeous."

"Um..." Lucy said uneasily, pointing at Beth's legs draped on Mike's lap, only her socked, crossed feet sticking out the other side of his jacket.

"Michael was kind enough to give me a foot rub," Beth said. "You know, all work and no play, well Michael's VERY good at foot rubs."

"Wish Jim would give ME a foot rub," Lucy sighed. "Perhaps later, Michael?"

He smiled weakly and couldn't believe it as Beth's quivering calves quivered even more madly on his twitching cock, hidden by his jacket. His balls throbbed, his cock ached and he felt his orgasm building, though he tried to not let it happen. Beth's calves sensed the increasing thickness of his cock and the heat and quivered more and more those delicious muscles on it, smiling at Mike.

"Oh, I'm sure he will, Lucy, I'm sure he will," Beth sighed. "And he did my calves, too, a long, lingering rub of my calf muscles, mmmm, it was so good..."

Lucy looked uncomfortable and Jim looked keenly interested.

"Yes, well, Beth, you've got killer calves, we all know that in the office, don't we Lucy?" he said happily.

"You do?" she said coyly. "Why I didn't know my calves were that noticeable, Jim?"

"Oh, they are, they are," he practically gushed.

"We must go, we have reservations," Lucy fairly snapped.

"Oh, do stay one more minute," Beth smiled, looking at Mike and pulsating her meaty calf muscles on his cock.

Mike couldn't stop. 

He felt his balls knot and he came, long, hard, and wet, in the fiercely quivering clamp of Beth's scissoring calves, coating the insides of them and trying to not look like he was having the cum of his life. Beth chatted with her friends, never taking her eyes off Mike, and they widened and flashed as she felt the thick heat of his cum coating her pumping calf meat. He finally stopped, and Jim and Lucy excused themselves, walking away. Jim clapped Mike on the shoulder on his way by.

"You're a lucky man if you stick with this one, young fella," he whispered into Mike's ear as Lucy impatiently pulled him away.

Beth sat, looking at Mike who looked shyly away.

"Put your cock away now, Michael," she ordered.

Mike did, wiping his cummy cock on her socked feet and then slipping it into his pants. Beth leaned and took his jacket off his lap, at the same time dropping her feet back to the rungs of her bar stool. No one else was around. She dropped her cocktail napkin again, between her spread feet. Mike gulped, watching it flutter to the floor.

"Ooops!" Beth said in mocking tone. "Be a dear, would you ..son!"

"Yes...mother," he gulped.

He knelt and there they were again, those enormous muscles of Beth's wrinkled calves, the flesh soft, smooth, bulging and absolutely coated with thick wads of his cum. He leaned forward, could smell his load, and stuck his tongue out, into the goo. He felt Beth hiss above him.

"Clean my calves, boy," she growled. "The bartender's break is almost over, now hurry. And don't forget to suck my socks, you thought you would get away with soiling my dirty black socks with your cum? Clean them and my thick, muscular, wrinkled calves!"

Mike groaned and attached his mouth to Beth's right calf, vacuuming every drop of his cum, then the other, then her stinky black socks, his work done in 30 seconds. He looked at her calves, shiny now with his spit and a thin sheen of his remaining cum. He sat back on his stool, the taste in his mouth overpowering and he shot down his gin and tonic quickly.

"You may go," she sighed, pulling her pant legs down over her impossibly sexy old calves.

"But...I thought...maybe..."

She looked at him indifferently.

"You thought wrong, I've no need for you now," she said coldly. "Go."

He got up and started to shuffle away when she called out quietly, "Room?"

He turned.

"Room," she said again.

"Uh...223..." he stammered.

She crossed her legs, a hint of shiny shin showing above her sock.

"Perhaps," is all she said.

Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination Ch. 02



Beth sipped her drink as the hotel bar neared closing. She smiled, feeling the cooling cum on her supple old calves beneath her pant legs just above her sexy black trouser socks.

Earlier, she'd used them, her feet, her calves, her socks, on young Michael, a 21-year-old stranger in the bar. She'd been sitting alone, at the hotel for business, when she noticed the young man looking at her legs. She'd crossed them, the pant legs riding up to reveal her shiny shins and muscular calves, one black shoe dangling, and he took wide-eyed note. She beckoned him to her.

And she dominated him, with her sexy 60-year-old legs, those muscular calves and stinky black socks. He'd worshipped them in the nearly empty bar, then she'd made him cum in them, hoisting her meaty lower legs up on his lap, hidden by his suit coat, and jerked his aching cock in their velvety, scissoring fleshiness.

But just before he came, friends of Beth's stopped by to chat. She was undeterred, and during the course of conversation, with Michael's cock trapped in her calves and hidden beneath his coat, she quivered them on him, making him spurt. After they'd left, she made him kneel and suck his cum off her shapely calves and those dirty black socks.

And all throughout, she made him call her "Mother." She'd then sent him on his way -- but not before getting his room number.

"Room 223," she smiled to herself now, a good half hour after their encounter, draining the rest of her drink and putting it on the bar, standing to walk away, feeling the thin sheen of cum crusting on her muscular old calves.

Michael was about to turn in for the night, still processing the impossible situation that had just happened, how he had succumbed to her pressure, from her mind and those amazing legs. Granted, he'd long been a fan of older women, but this woman was something else, and he was completely under her spell. He wished she'd come to his room, but now, after 1 a.m. and with a series of boring business meetings facing him in seven hours, he clicked off the light and climbed under the blankets.

Beth stopped by her room, grabbing a chilled bottle of chardonnay, and took the elevator down to room 223. She knocked, waited, knocked again. Finally, she heard shuffling, coughing. She saw the eye piece darken. She smiled, and heard the door latch slide open, then the door. Michael blinked at the hallway light, the beautiful dominant woman silhouetted there.

"Here," she said, handing him the bottle. "Open this and pour me a glass."

She walked in, Michael's eyes riveted to her magnificent ass pressed tight in her black slacks. She sat on the bed, snapping the light on, crossing her legs. Again, the pant leg rode up, revealing that sexy, shiny shin, that marvelously sculpted calf bulging above her low-slung sock.

"Uh, I didn't...," he stammered, scampering to get a corkscrew to open the wine and pour her a glass with shaky hands. "I...didn't think you...."

"Don't think, thinking gets you into trouble," she said sternly, bouncing that leg, dangling the shoe. "Just do. The wine?"

He regained his composure and rushed the glass to her. She sipped as Michael sat beside her in his boxer shorts. She didn't look at him.

"Did I give you permission to sit?" she snarled, nodding to the floor. "There, kneel."

He obeyed, his cock hardening as he was inches from that sexy foot in the black sock and shoe dangling playfully from it. The smell hit him, ripe, raw, funky, that glorious sweaty aroma he remembered from the bar.

"Well?" she asked.

"Well....what?"

"WHAT!"

"Uh, Mother, what Mother!" he said quickly.

She smiled and let her shoe drop to the floor, taking his eyes with it.

"Pick it up, stupid," she sighed, sipping her wine and wiggling her toes, the shin creased with freckled flesh, that calf flexing. "And smell it."

"Yes...Mother..." he groaned, picking it up and putting the inside to his nose.

He thought he'd cum in his boxers. The stench was heavenly, acrid and sharp, alluringly so. He looked inside as he inhaled at the white insole coated with streaks of dark, evidence of her wearing them barefoot many times, a layer of sexy grime. Peripherally, he noticed her pulling up both pant legs, taunting him with the sight of her amazingly muscular old calves, knotted muscle bubbling above those sexy, stinky socks. He stuck his tongue out, tasting the funk, freshly sweated up and ripe.

She shot her feet out, knocking the shoe from his hands and clamping her solid calves around his neck. Calmly leaning back on the bed with one hand, drink in the other, she glared at him with her dark eyes, him on his haunches, her incredibly strong calves twisted vise-grip tight around his neck. His hands shot to them, feeling steel in his fingers. She laced her socked toes together behind his head and worked her chiseled calves harder into the sides of his neck. He went dizzy, his extremities tingling, about to pass out. His hands fell loosely to his side as she snapped his neck in her crushing calves with thrusting jolts.

"I did NOT tell you to lick my shoe, Michael, did I?" she snarled, now shaking her locked calves on his neck, jerking his head around like a rag doll.

"No...pleash..." he slurred drunkenly, his brain addled from the calf squeeze.

"What? No 'please Mother'?" she snapped angrily. "For that, you pay!"

Then he was out, in a sudden dream state, her calves crimping the blood flow to his brain, her leggy sleeper knocking him out cold. She let go, and he slumped to the floor, snorting as his body convulsed, fighting to regain consciousness. He finally came around and looked up. Beth sat, smiling, legs crossed, bouncing the top one. The shin and calf and sock were the first things he saw.

"What...what happened," he groaned, rubbing his neck, adding quickly, "Mother!"

"These happened, young man," she sighed, nodding toward her luscious lower legs. "My calves happened. You were warned."

She thrust the glass out. Michael took it, walking to the desk, refilling it and returning. He had a raging hardon sticking up in his boxers. Beth eyed it appreciatively.

"Tell me you didn't like my calf scissors!" she laughed. "They all do, young man, they all do."

She let him stand there for a long moment staring down at her. She put her drink down and slipped casually out of her jacket and blouse. She looked up, reaching back to unsnap her bra, letting her 38C boobs swing out. Michael gasped. They were beautiful, slightly saggy as befitting a woman her age, slightly pushed to the side, but thick, meaty and pure white, a delicate patchwork of sexy light blue veins crisscrossing the flesh. The nipples were big, brown, deliciously wrinkled. Her alabaster belly was slightly puffy. Above her tits, that sexy wrinkled cleavage, dark and tanned, and a lovely wattle of neck flesh, slightly saggy and wobbling as she moved.

She retrieved her glass, legs crossed, shins exposed. Turning her head to the side stretched out that gorgeous neck and throat.

"My neck," she said without looking at him. "Kneel before me and suckle my neck flesh. Older women love their necks adored and worshipped, Michael. Do it. Now."

"Yes, Mother," he groaned, his dick about to explode.

It was soft, fleshy, salty, the meat of her neck, and he feasted on it like a hungry dog. Moaning, he licked up and down the sides, the front, suckling, taking in mouthfuls of the delicious throat, tonguing it as he held it in his lips. She groaned as well, feeling her pussy get wet under her slacks. She smiled, lifting her head more, turning to give him access to the folded flesh on the other side. His cock was pressed into her shins and she didn't stop him, delighting in his insistent small thrusts, aching to press between her meaty calves.

She let him devour her neck meat slavishly for a few minutes, then pushed him away, offering him the empty glass. He anxiously retrieved it, his cock now poking out of his boxers on his return. She took it, leaning back on her elbows, those gorgeous tits splaying out to the sides, nipples fat and erect.

"Suck Mother's tits," she cooed, swirling her wine and sipping it. "Come here and nurse on Mother's tits."

He didn't need to be told twice. He groaned, lying to her right, tentatively draping an arm over her middle, bending to suck the nearest nipple. He moaned as it touched his tongue, lips sealed around it, tasting the lovely saltiness. His cock poked free of his boxers, pressing into her hip, precum streaking the black slacks still on her luscious legs.

"Nice, son, nice," she cooed, taking his hand and putting it on her far tit, allowing him to squeeze and massage it, the flesh warm and wrinkled under the pressure. "Suckle Mommy, my son, suckle....."

He groaned more loudly now, fearing he'd cum on her pants but unable to stop rubbing. He popped her tit from his mouth, licking across the freckled divide, leaning to suck the other into his lips, taking the nipple and opening wide to suck as much of the smooth, supple white meat of her entire boob inside.

She smiled, looking down at him work, placing a maternal hand on his head, urging him on. She let him nurse peacefully for a few moments then pushed his head away. She slipped off the bed, standing, drink in hand.

"Take off Mother's pants, son," she said, her tits glistening with his spit.

Never taking his eyes off hers, he knelt, trembling hands unsnapping her black slacks, tugging them over her slim hips. She wore a very small black thong and instantly the smell hit him as her pants cleared her crotch, a funky mix of woman, sweat and pee that made his cock throb harder still. He shucked the tight slacks down her thighs, staring at them now, brown from the sun, saggy and a bit loose on the insides but smooth and inviting. She lifted one foot at a time, allowing him to slip the pants off, standing with her drink, black socks drooping on her skinny ankles.

"Now my panties, Michael," she said firmly.

His hands tugged the waistband, pulling the tiny thong down, and before his astonished eyes sprang a bush, gray and full, curly and moist, and the smell blasted him in the face inches away. She stepped out of them, and with a giggle, brought them up to his face. The crotch panel was moist, thick with her juices, light colored and pungent.

"Smell Mother," she cooed, rubbing his face in her moist panty.

He couldn't believe how bad it smelled, a ripeness to it, having been worn all day at business meetings no doubt, raw and nasty. It was heaven to him, though he'd never been fond of pussy smells. But he couldn't get enough as he felt the moist fabric rough on his face. She rubbed it harder, ramming the wetness up his nostrils and then into his mouth.

"Suck," she snarled darkly, bending to glare into his eyes. "Suck the smell out of Mother's disgusting panties!"

He moaned and obeyed, clamping his mouth around it, sucking hard, drawing her funky moistness from the material, tasting it on his tongue and cheeks, swallowing and sucking for more. He was rabid now, eyes closed and groaning, tasting her essence. She laughed at him and walked to the bed, lying down, thighs spread. She coughed to get his attention. His eyes blinked open and he spun around to face her on his knees, a strand of panty sticking out of his lips, his face sweaty.

"Lick," she said, curling a finger of the hand holding her wine glass. "Lick Mother's pussy. I've had a long day, Michael, and need to cum, to relax. Now get over here and do your job!"

"Yes, Mother!" he cried out like a child offered first crack at opening Christmas presents, tearing the foul panty out of his mouth.

Eagerly, he dove into her musky crotch, the smell embracing him. His nose parted the furry lips, tongue darting inside the fleshy meat, wet and pungent. He licked deeply at her well, encouraged by her moans, thrusting in and out, the metallic raw taste magic on his tongue, grinding his nose to her oily clit. He read her body language as she reacted to his movement, his mouth. She moaned more loudly as he lapped down, to tease the hair-ringed rectum below, feeling her shiver. He looked up over her splayed tits to her face and eyes, gorgeous and heavy lidded. Tracing back up with his tongue, he felt her thighs quiver on his cheeks as he attached his mouth to her nub, suckling it like a nipple.

"Right there, son, right there," she growled with urgency, slowly capturing his face in her tanned, strong thighs, closing them around his neck, the inner muscles tight against the sagging flesh, squeezing. "Suckle...suckle it...suck on Mother's clit, boy...."

He groaned in pleasure and pain, happy to please his elderly mistress, slightly troubled by the increasing pressure of her insistent thighs. He sucked on that engorged wet nubbin, dribbling it with his tongue as he held it in his mouth, and Beth's legs tightened with her mounting pleasure, the inner muscles getting harder, pinching into the sides of his neck. He felt himself grow dizzy, and fought it, trying to keep up the sucking pace.

"Don't slow down!" she snarled, now folding her right calf over the back of his head, hooking that foot behind the other knee, pressing his face deeper and harder into her gushing pussy. "Don't slow down....suck...keep sucking...."

She squeezed harder and Michael's fingers and toes tingled from lack of blood to his brain, but he continued to suck on Beth's clit, his nose mashed painfully into her pubic bone, that muscular old calf strapped to the back of his head. His hands pulled at her thighs, seeking some relief of pressure but none came and he felt himself going dizzier, approaching that dream state from before when she'd squeezed him out in her calves.

"Cummmmmmmmmmmmmmming!" she shrieked, off in another world, hips bucking up off the bed, thrashing, legs crushing.

He was out again, body slack, face a prisoner of her aromatic, gushing pussy as it ground harder on him and she jerked side to side and up and down, his head snapping with it. She screamed in pleasure, completely oblivious to the unconscious man locked in her lethal old legs, and soaked his face with her copious squirting gel. When she finally and slowly came out of her orgasmic high, she settled her butt back on the bed and unwound her legs from his head, which plopped to the mattress. She giggled and slapped at his face with her socked feet until he woke.

"Wake up, young man, you're not done yet," she said with a dark smile.

She flipped over, legs together, presenting the delicious whiteness of her round ass, dimpled with the resplendent sag of age, quivering as she flexed the mounds playfully at him. Reaching back, she parted those cheeks. Within he saw the hair-ringed pucker, winking at him. He drew closer, straddling her legs, his exposed cock dragging on her muscular calves, making him groan, a strand of precum streaking them. The smell grew stronger, that musky ass smell of a long day.

"Eat it," she said over one shoulder. "Eat Mother's tasty ass!"

He was too far gone to disobey now, slave to her complete and overwhelming sensuality. He knelt over her legs, trying not to make contact with them. She felt the gooey tip on her calves and opened them.

"Put your cock and balls inside my calves, young man," she said plainly. "It's the only way to ensure you don't stupidly orgasm while you clean Mother's ass."

He dipped his waist down, feeling his nuts brush her silky calves and then incredible pain as Beth locked her socked feet, squeezing hard. She was crushing his balls, and cock as well, and the mix of pain and pleasure made him swoon. He didn't know if he'd cum or pass out or bother. What he did know is Beth now reached back with one hand for his head, pulling his face into the musky chasm of her spread cheeks. His nose immediately skewered the funky wet rectum and his mouth was smothered in butt and thighs, only able to breathe through the milking muscle clamping around his nose.

"Inhale," she said plainly. "Inhale Mother's ass."

He couldn't help but to do just that, the ripe, raw stench ripping up his nose and down his throat. He panted, desperate for air, clean air, but could only gasp, sniffing deeply at the clenching ring of her rump. She toyed with him a moment, then grabbing his hair, moved his head up, his mouth clamped around the hole. He took the hint, thrusting his tongue inside, spearing the matted hair around it, digging deep inside. She moaned, swiveling her hips, letting go of his head with her hand. She tightened her bum, the soft meat going hard in the flex, trapping his face inside.

"Tongue fuck me, Michael," she groaned, lifting her hips slightly to slip her hand beneath to frig her tireless old pussy.

He moaned and obeyed, thrusting his tongue in and out as quickly as possible, coating it with her ass fluids. His balls ached as she pulsated her steely calves around them, while the flesh teased the leaking head of his cock, lubricating it, fucking it. He was delirious with pain and pleasure and lay flat on her, face imprisoned in her hunching butt meat, his package squeezed blue in her crushing legs.

Mercifully, she came quickly under her expert hand, and slowly relaxed her grips, freeing first his face then his balls and cock. He sat up, panting, anxious to breathe fresh air. He looked down at her clenched calves, soaked from the crooks of her knees to her dirty black socks.

"Lick Mother's calves clean," she sighed, relaxing on her belly as Michael moaned and obeyed, dipping his head down to slavishly lap his gooey fluids from her sexy, freckled calves.

When he was done, he slipped back off the bed, cock dripping wet and bobbing out of his boxers, a desperate look on his face. She rolled over and opened her legs invitingly, the hair wet, lips open. With a slight smile, she curled a finger at Michael.

"Fuck Mother," she said, opening her legs wider, his eyes drawn to the sagging wiggle of her meaty inner thighs. "You've earned it. Now do a good job and Mother MIGHT let you cum!"

"YES MOTHER!" he growled, lurching forward, kicking off his shorts as he did.

He nearly came the second his anxious cock speared her furry lips, but held off, burying himself to the balls in a pussy tighter than most he'd ever experienced in girls 40 years younger. He thrust madly into her and angrily, she hoisted her legs up, thighs against her chest, calves alongside his neck. She locked her feet and squeezed, making him dizzy in the clamp of muscle.

"Slow down, boy, don't ever attack a woman like that, do you hear me?" she snarled through clenched teeth, squeezing his neck harder, watching his face go red and then bluish in her calves.

"Yes....Mother..." he groaned.

She eased the squeeze, but left her legs on his shoulders and now he slowly withdrew his cock, pushing it back in, finding a rhythm acceptable to his mistress. She smiled up at him and drew her feet to his face. He moaned, holding her skinny ankles in both hands, running his tongue up and down her foul-smelling black socks, digging hard and tickling her soles.

"Good boy, good boy," she cooed pleasantly, feeling his cock fill her, balls slapping gently against her ass. "Suck Mother's socks, smell them..."

He pressed his torso into the backs of Beth's legs as he deliriously lapped and smelled the thick richness of her feet, tonguing the black socks madly, devouring the sensory overload of smell and taste. He felt his balls knot as they slapped her supple flesh and slowed his thrusting. She laughed.

"Oh, close are we?" she said, pushing his face and chest with her feet, knocking him out of her. "Finish here. Mother likes it doggie."

He watched as she knelt on the bed, head down, wiggling that impossibly sexy white ass at him. Stepping up behind it, he fisted his cock, fitting it to the parted lips and groaned as he worked it fully inside her. The velvety milking walls pulsated and quivered around it as Beth expertly worked them, feeling his dick thicken deep within.




Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination Ch. 02



"You may cum now, Michael," she groaned. "Cum for Mother. Come IN Mother!"

He'd had great orgasms in his life, some better than others, none of them bed. As his balls emptied, this one instantly was off-the-charts good, the best, and he thought and wished it would never end. He howled, holding her hips, holding himself deep inside her, his balls emptying in a seemingly endless series of roping jets of cum that scorched Beth's twitching bowels. She smiled into the mattress as she felt his entire body tremble, his soul lost to the experience of her. When he finally stopped, he gasped, realizing he hadn't breathed the entire time.

"Pull out slowly," she ordered, coming up to her hands, pulling forward and feeling his wet cock slither out. "Wipe on Mother's socks."

He obeyed, slowly, watching his cock pop free, wet and white. He bent at the knees, dragging the sensitive head along Beth's socked soles, wiping himself clean. He stood, watching. Beth kneeled upright, spreading her cheeks in her hands. Instantly, a torrent of cum gushed from her hairy chasm, splashing wetly on the soles of her feet folded beneath her, a river of cream that soaked the black socks white. She squatted back, pressing her leaking pussy to them, releasing more sticky cum.

"On the floor, Michael," she said, pointing.

"Yes, Mother," he sighed, lying on his back.

She sat on the edge of the bed, dangling her cum-soaked socks over his face, then lowering them. He knew his place and obeyed, reluctantly at first, the creamy texture and bleachy taste startling him, but then with mounting enthusiasm as she pressed the gooey socks harder to him. He reached up, cupping her flexing muscular calves, kneading the flesh, lapping madly at her soles, ingesting his cum and then sucking the fabric clean. She smiled, curling her toes and pointing at his mouth. He opened wide and took them in, sucking the cream, devouring it and it's heady mix of cum and foot funk. For five minutes he slavishly cleaned her filthy socks until she was satisfied and pulled her feet from her mouth.

"Well now, that was interesting," she said, walking away to the dresser to pour herself another glass of wine, offering him none.

He watched her creamy, wrinkly ass jiggle as she walked, and from her crotch a thin sliver of cum escape to coat her flexing hamstrings. She turned to face him, leaning on the dresser, sipping her wine. He waited for her to speak. She said nothing, so he slowly gathered her clothes and brought them to her. She remained silent as he dressed her, pulling on the thong, the pants, clipping her bra in place over her majestic tits, buttoning her blouse and pulling on her jacket. He knelt, inhaling each shoe before slipping it over the wet socks.

He stepped back, cock hard. He smiled and looked at it.

"Perhaps," she said. "Tomorrow, what do you have tomorrow?"

"Business meetings," he shrugged. "Then I have to speak, something about young blood in an old industry, why I chose my company to work at, blah blah blah. But the president of the company will be there, from what I heard, so I guess I gotta make a good impression and try not to bore him."

Her eyes widened.

"What?" he asked.

She walked slowly to him, pulling him close with one arm, lips brushing his.

"Try not to bore her, Michael," she corrected, licking his cheeks, tasting his cum drying there. "Try not to bore her. Your. Mother."

"WHAT!" he cried out, mouth open. "It's...you mean...."

She laughed darkly, turning to walk to the door, playfully pulling up her pant legs, flashing her muscular calves and filthy socks at him.

"I'll be in the front row, Michael," she said. "With my legs crossed. And I will be wearing these socks!"

And she was gone. Michael slumped to the bed in disbelief. His cock hardened all the more.



Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination Ch. 03



Michael hardly slept a wink.

He'd just been the slave, the complete, eager and willing sexual slave to Beth, a very sexy 60-year-old woman he'd met in the bar at the hotel where he was staying on business. She'd seduced him with flashes of her sexy old legs, visible as her black pant legs rode up while she sat at the bar, showing her muscular calves bubbling above her low black trouser socks.

The horny 21-year-old had fallen for her fetishistic ways, slavishly worshipping those calves, those socks, those smelly feet, at the bar. She'd even gotten him off using her muscular calves, as friends of hers stopped by to chat. And later, when she came by Michael's room, dominating him with her entire, rather sinewy and lean body, controlling him body, mind and soul.

And before she left, wearing those black socks gone squishy from his cum, which she'd "made" him suck clean, he was privy to some disturbing news: At his business meeting tomorrow, he'd be giving a speech. Before a crowd that would include the company president. Which, it turned out to Michael's chagrin and Beth's delight, was the sexy older woman he was slave to.

Before she left his room for the night, Beth promised to sit in the front row of the meeting the next morning. Flashing her legs and those filthy socks at him. Hence, his inability to sleep much after she'd left his room - as she flashed those legs and socks at him on the way out.

He got to the meeting early, sizing up the crowd, making small talk with associates, trying to remember what he was going to say. He was a young hire at the company, and his speech would center around that, being new blood in an old business, this one being the insurance trade. 

He wanted her to show up. He wanted to impress this incredible, sexual older woman who was his boss. He wanted to please her. And at the same time, he didn't want her there, knowing the effect it would have on him. She would unravel him, he feared. 

He mingled, nibbled aimlessly at the mediocre buffet spread out in back, eyeing the crowd, seeking her out, a mix of relief and regret consuming him at her absence. The meeting started precisely at 9 a.m. His speech, which was to be fairly short and part of the day's proceedings, was preceded by other blathering sorts accompanied by boring charts and he heard none of it.

His time came, his name called. Beth was nowhere to be seen. He relaxed a bit as he made his way to the podium before a few hundred disinterested sorts who offered a polite smattering of applause as he walked up. He turned, shuffling his scant notes, tapping them on the podium. Smiling, he looked up.

The door in back opened, quietly but forcefully. In walked Beth, and all eyes turned toward her. She wore a smart dark business suit, navy-blue blazer, dark blouse with print scarf beneath, and matching slacks and the same shoes she wore last night. Michael gulped watching her walk confidently to the front of the room, acknowledging underlings along the way who sycophantically greeted her. He looked at her shoes, knowing the crusty secret the soles contained. She caught his eye as she strode down the center aisle. She smiled. He wanly smiled back.

She sat down, crossing her legs, gently tugging her pants up. A scant inch or so of pure white flesh of calf and shin shone above those socks that Michael imagined still reeked of his cum. He was rendered speechless as she casually bounced the top leg, the meat of her sexy calf flexing around her shin in freckled folds of silky skin.

"Uh...Michael?" the company vice president, an unremarkable little bald fat man, said, leaning over from his chair near Beth's. "Are you OK?"

"Maybe I make him nervous," Beth giggled softly behind her hand to the fat man, but loud enough for Michael to hear.

"Nonsense, and please, please forgive me for not introducing you, Ms. Sands," the fat man stammered, standing and facing the crowd. "We have the distinct pleasure today of having our company president, and CEO, wife of our founder, Ms. Elizabeth Sands!"

The crowd, which had offered Michael the scantiest applause, exploded as she stood to face them, her pant legs falling down over her supple legs, that exquisite ass pressed tight against her dark slacks. Michael recalled immediately the funky, sweaty aroma of it; he'd been licking only hours earlier, imprisoned in the depths of her meaty bum, devouring it. His cock went stiff. He was thankful to be behind the podium.

"I'm pleased to be here, and my late husband would be proud of you all for the job you are all doing," she said to more applause before turning to sit down, again with those pant legs riding up to flash a tease of her alluring legs at the nervous young man at the podium. "Michael? Is that it, that your name ... Michael?"

He nodded and felt his mouth go bone dry.

"Then Michael, my dear boy, please continue," she said. "Please, don't let me make you nervous!"

The crowd tittered, thankful for not being in Michael's place, the young man's brow beading with sweat as he rifled his notes, trying not to see her. He couldn't help but look, her slight teasing leg shots drawing his attention like a beacon. He took a sip of water.

"Uh...well, I'd like to say first of all...I'm very happy to be asked to...uh, speak to you today...," he stammered. "And of course, to have our leader, Mrs. Sands here with us."

She looked at him, silently mouthing "Mother," what she'd forced him to call her the night before as she so deftly controlled every fiber of his sexual being. His cock stiffened all the more.

As he talked, her leg bounced, crossed over the other, forcing that pant leg to rise higher, revealing more of her muscular old calf. She dangled a shoe playfully. Michael couldn't help but notice the residue coating the dark inner sole, streaked white from the night before.

He blathered on, trying to be sensible, layering in his talk how fortunate he was to be working for this company, to which the audience, otherwise bored senseless, saw fit to applaud, hoping to curry favor with the boss. He continued about being new blood in an old business, looking at the back wall, the side, the floor, his notes, anywhere but at that endlessly bouncing middle-aged calf flexing before him.

He finished with "and thank you once again, Mrs. Sands, for the opportunity to serve y...to serve this great company," to which Mrs. Sands rose to applaud him, those pant legs slipping back down over her shins, the crowd following her lead to rise as well.

"Kiss ass motherfuckers," Michael thought, forcing a smile on his face and acknowledging the audience, none of whom could give a rat's ass about what he had to say, as they tried only to please the beautiful older woman who signed their checks.

"Nicely done, young man," Beth cooed as he stepped off the podium, and the fat man took the podium to announce a half-hour break. "Get me a coffee. Cream. Just. Cream."

She smiled. He groaned. He walked to the back of the room to get her coffee, pouring the cream with a shaky hand, and walked back to her as she stood mingling with people lining up to kiss her ass. He handed it to her and she walked away from the others with him.

"Join me for lunch, Michael," she said, sipping her coffee, he watching the sexy pucker of her lips fold as she did. "At the head table."

"Certainly Mrs...," he started, then correcting very quietly to a whispered "Mother."

"Very nice," she smiled, walking away. "Now. Follow me."

He blindly obeyed, walking a few steps behind her, eyes fixed on that delicious ass packing her tight black slacks. She walked down a hallway to the restrooms. She stopped at the ladies room door, turning to see if anyone else were around. No one was.

"Wait here," she said.

"Yes, Mother," he answered.

She went in, and seconds later opened the door, curling a finger at him. His astonished look caused her to reach for his ear, and as if a teacher scolding a child, pulled him inside.

"We haven't much time," she said sharply. "Do make it count."

The rest room was large and empty, with several stalls, a huge handicapped one at the far end. She strode to it, her heeled shoes clacking on the cold tiles, pulling him into it, latching the door. Silently, and looking into his eyes, she backed to the toilet, unsnapping her pants and pulling them, and her black thong panty, down to her sock-clad feet in one smooth motion. Michael's eyes widened as her muscular calves and thighs flexed as she squatted to the seat, her bushy gray crotch coming into view.

He stood, transfixed. He could smell her sex.

She sat, feet curled in her shoes. Smiling, she pointed to those rocky calves and socks.

"Lick," she snarled. "Lick my calves and socks while I pee."

He hit his knees immediately, running his tongue over the salty bubbles of her fleshy, firm calves, tasting the meat of them, groaning. The socks below stunk so very badly but he licked there as well, down to where they disappeared into her shoes. She curled her toes and lifted her feet, heels up, toes inside, forcing those amazing, controlling calves into thicker, more insistent balls of muscle. Inside her shoes, he saw the crusty evidence of last night, the rancid aroma wafting to his nose. He grimaced.

"Lick them, Michael," she said. "Lick those nasty insides of my shoes! Now."

He did, dipping his face to the stinky soles, lapping the old cream, wincing at the flavor of cum and sweat and raw foot funk. She laughed a low laugh and unleashed a hot torrent of piss into the bowl, splashing noisily into the water. He could smell it and the pure forbidden smell of all of it nearly made him cum in his pants. Worse yet, the severity of her urine hitting the water caused tiny droplets to splash up between her sexy, wrinkled thighs and dot his worshipping face. Beth grunted out the last few spurts of piss, looking down at the slave on his knees, licking her foul footwear.

"Clean me," she sighed, standing up and leaning back against the far wall, legs slightly spread, feet close together as her pants bunched around her socked ankles. "Clean the pee from Mother's pussy!"

He'd never done anything like it before. The fantasy of being a piss slave, of tasting a woman's urine, never even entered his mind. And now as he knelt before his boss, his trembling hands cupping her marvelously wrinkled ass, her piss-glistening pubic hair inches from his mouth, it was all he wanted to do.

The taste wasn't as bad as he thought as he lapped at the wet fur of her pussy, then in the lips, sucking the piss from her hole. She groaned at his tongue, holding the back of his head in her hands, fucking his face, jamming her cunt into it, taking his tongue deep and using his nose against her oily clit.

"That's it, that's nice, lick Mother's piss," she hissed, humping his face harder, her orgasmic gel mixing with her pee and coating his plunging tongue. "Ooops! Guess I wasn't done yet!"

With that, a short squirt of scorching-hot piss jetted into Michael's mouth, filling it. He swallowed, eyes wide and looking up through her matted bush to her heavily lidded eyes as she pissed down his throat.

She stopped peeing and gently gyrated her slim hips, pushing harder into his mouth, his hands mauling the soft, saggy flesh of her ass, the young man marveling at the smoothness. She came with a grunt and a firmer hold on his head, pulling his licking face deep inside the piss-scented hairy maw of her pussy, pumping her woman cum into his mouth. He was fighting for air now, unable to breathe with his face a complete prisoner of her hirsute cunt. When she finally let him go, he slumped back, panting. She smiled down at him, turned and presented her delicious, delicately wrinkled ass to him.

"Now clean my bum hole, dear," she cooed over a shoulder, hands on her hips.

"Yes...Mother..." he sighed helplessly.

He dove in, spreading her meaty cheeks in his hands, the puckered, hairy rectum wet and winking before him. The musky smell of ass hit him first, caused him to pause as his nose brushed the sexy fleshy of her butt, and then pressed on, tongue extended. It was a riper smell than the one he'd endured the night before and he knew immediately she hadn't showered this morning. She giggled, reading his mind.

"There wasn't time for a proper cleaning this morning, Michael," she growled, reaching for his reluctant head with one hand and pulling his face into her ass. "That's why you're here. Now clean. Mother's. Ass."

He groaned, lapping madly through the slightly crusty muscle of her outer ring and plunging inside, his face buried in her flexing old ass, his tongue flashing in and out. He ignored, or tried to as best he could, the aromatic flavor of what was coating it, gulping down, going back for more, his hands braced against the back of her muscular old thighs. He saw nothing as he was buried up to the eyes in her undulating rump.

"Take your cock out, Michael, I suspect it's hard by now," she laughed. "Take it out for Mother while you clean her ass."

Anxiously, he obeyed, fishing out his super-hard cock from his pants as he continued to devour the boss lady's funky ass.

"My calves, Michael," she growled. "Continue to lick, but put your cock into those calves you cannot get enough of!"

It was awkward but he made it work, snuggling up close to Beth's amazing calves and inserting his cock into the velvety, muscular warmth of them as he continued to devour her asshole. He groaned at the feel of her sexy calves scissoring his cock around the sensitive head, the sensation overcoming any hesitance he'd initially had about cleaning her dirty ass. He ate deeper from it now, his tongue reaming it deeper and wetter, his hands massaging her thighs, as she fucked his dick in her legs.

He was oozing precum like a hose and the lubrication felt heavenly as Beth felt it coat her meaty calves, rubbing them back and forth on the head of his cock, the flesh wet, warm and silky. He moaned in her asshole, echoing urgency in the wet deepness.

"Cum, Michael, cum quickly, we're expected back at the meeting," she hissed.

He was about to when he heard the bathroom door open, followed by conversation of the two women entering the room. He froze, with his tongue deep inside Beth's gripping asshole. She squeezed his cock harder in her calves, working the velvety flesh around it. She grabbed his head in one hand and pulled, hinting that he should continue his oral slavery of her asshole. He did, silently, stifling the urge to moan.

"Wow, that guy was a dork, huh?" one of the women said as they both slipped into stalls to pee. "Jeez, what a doofus."

"Yeah, I guess old lady Sands was making him nervous," the other laughed. "Can't blame him, though, I hear she's a bitch, a tough old bitch."

Beth giggled quietly, quivering her ass meat around Michael's licking face. She tensed and relaxed her calves more rapidly now, drawing out more precum and bringing him to the edge of a delirious orgasm.

"Yeah, I hear that, too," the first woman said as both pissed. "But she is a pretty old broad, I'll give her that. Sexy, too, for a woman her age, she's a classy bitch."

"Oh, fuck that Cassie, she's what, 100?" the other woman laughed.

'Cassie', Beth thought to herself, making a mental note to look into the woman's file and perhaps reward her for her kind comments.

"Well, I hear she's got a thing for young men, really young men, and that's hardly fucking fair is it," the insulting other woman said.

"What's wrong with that, Lucinda?" Cassie giggled. "Hey, when I get to be that age and look that damned hot...why not?"

"She should be ashamed of herself, the stupid old twat," Lucinda growled, wiping herself clean.

'Lucinda', Beth thought to herself, making a mental note to somehow punish the woman for her comments, and nearly cumming at the thought.

The women lingered at the sinks, washing their hands, Michael wishing they'd leave so he could cum. But Beth's insistent stroking of his cock with her muscular old calves, slick with his precum, was too much. He came, trying with all his might not to make a sound, pumping out thick ropes of spunk into the scissoring flesh of Beth's insanely sexy old calves.

The women left, chattering away, as Michael drew his face from Beth's wet ass, and his cock from her cum-soaked calves. He looked down at them and the thick clumps of sperm coating the inside muscles. Beth stood, hands on hips, looking back over her shoulder.

"Well?" she said. "My cummy calves are not going to clean themselves."

He sighed, dipping forward, his tongue lapping at the cum streaking the backs of her calves, gamely gulping it down. She spread her legs just enough for his tongue to reach the insides, where the thickest portion of protein lay, and he lapped them clean, sticking his head through to lick up the streaks on her sexy shins. Playfully, Beth closed her calves on his neck, her scissoring muscles crimping the blood to his brain, making him dizzy before releasing him.

She pulled up her pants and straightened herself out as Michael did the same, unable to take his adoring eyes off his boss.

"See you inside, Michael," she said, walking out of the stall.

"Yes, Mother," he sighed.

He checked to make sure no one was in the bathroom and quickly walked out. There, by the water fountain, was the annoying fat vice president who looked up, shocked.

"What the fuck where you doing in the lady's room, Michael?" he asked.

"Uh, there was a line...men's room..I said fuck it, you know," Michael stammered.

"No, I don't know," the man answered curtly. "Damn good thing Mrs. Sands didn't catch you, I just saw her walking out, you must've just missed...what the fuck is that on your chin?"

Michael froze as the fat man pointed, squinting.

"Did you just eat a cream-cheese bagel or something?" he asked. "You got white shit on your chin, for fuck's sake, boy, get hold of yourself, you're a mess."

Michael wiped the cum from his face with the back of his hand as the fat man shook his head and waddled back to the conference. Michael followed, and the rest of the morning was a boring blur of talks and charts. Beth sat in the front row again, Michael next to her. Her pant legs rode up again, the scantest bit of flesh showing. Michael's eyes could not leave them.

"You'll be joining me for lunch, Michael," she whispered as the last of the speakers finished up. "At my table. A private lunch, in a smaller room off this one."

"Yes, Mrs...," he started to saw, then correcting very quietly, "Mother."

The meeting broke up and Michael followed Beth to the smaller room, with a round table and only a half dozen place settings reserved for her and a few vice presidents, which to Michael's displeasure included the annoying fat man. Beth stood at the far side, chatting with a young man with surfer-boy good looks, all blonde hair and blue eyes. All at once, jealousy overcame Michael, making him feel silly for it but unable to quell the feeling.

"Ah, Michael, allow me to introduce Bradford, do you know each other?" she said politely.

"No, no, we, uh, don't," Michael said, extending his hand with Bradford took, pumping it with too much force.

"Nope, never had the pleasure," Bradford said brightly as he pumped Michael's hand too long, looking sideways at Mrs. Sands. "Is this the one? Is this my competition?"

Michael had no clue what this asshole was talking about and didn't like the way he emphasized 'this' in a sarcastic tone. He shook his head, pulling his hand away, looking at Beth curiously.

"Competition? What..."

"Oh, I'm sorry Michael, I forgot to tell you," Beth said as she sat down, Bradford pulling out her chair for her before he could. "A position has opened up in the company, one of administrative assistant. To me."

"And...I...he..." Michael stammered, uncertain where this was going.




Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination Ch. 03



"Yes, you're both in line for it, isn't that exciting news?" she smiled, looking up at Bradford who stood next to him, his hand on her shoulder, which she now patted.

"Cheer up, bro, this is good news!" Bradford laughed, sitting in the seat to Beth's right. "Don't worry, dude, take that confused look off your face."

"Michael, the position came open because I retired Mrs. Williams," Beth said. "She'd been with my husband for years...decades actually, and her time had come. Don't worry, she received her full pension and despite her initial reluctance, seemed happy to finally leave our employ, to relax, spend time with her grandchildren."

"Of course, of course," Michael said, walking to her left, pulling out the chair.

"No," she said sharply, pointing across the table. "You're over there. I want to get to know young Bradford a little better."

Michael's heart sunk at that, and the triumphant look on the little prick's face as he smiled at him. He retreated to the other side of the table, sitting between two vice presidents - one of whom was the annoying fat man. No one sat to Beth's left. The chair remained vacant throughout lunch.

Michael picked at his food, unable to stop watching Beth and Bradford who gaily chatted away, the little prick leaning in too often to whisper something to her, with her looking at Michael as he did, relishing in his discomfort. Occasionally, he'd see her hand disappear below the table and Bradford's eyes widen. He knew, of course, what she was doing. Her eyes never left his as she did it.

Lunch continued, and just before dessert arrived, Michael watched his boss pull her cell from her expensive purse and tap on it. Seconds later, his phone vibrated. She looked at him, giving him a slight nod. He tentatively pulled his phone from his breast pocket. 

"Drop your phone, Michael," it read. "Under the table. Now. Make it look like an accident."

He gulped, staring at her, his hands dropping to his lap, obeying her and letting it slip from his fingers.

"Dammit," he said loud enough to interrupt the conversation the fat man next to him was having with another VP.

"What?" the fat man said.

"Dropped my damn phone," Michael said, pushing his chair back and kneeling.

"Christ, you're having a fucking day aren't you?" the fat man sneered, returning to his boring conversation.

Michael found the phone and looked across the underside of the table. Beth's muscular calves were in full view now, supple and warm and solid above her filthy black socks, her pant legs pulled up to the knees, the long table cloth over her thighs and lap. He stared as she bunched them, flexing them, taunting him with the silky hard flesh creasing around her shiny shins, above those cum-stained socks. He saw Bradford's hand come down casually, fingers long and slim, caressing the calf closest to him, stroking the meat of it, digging gently into the flesh, making in wrinkle under his touch. 

"What the fuck you doing down there boy?"

Michael snapped out of his reverie, tearing his eyes from Beth's amazing legs, and slipped back up into his seat.

"It, it, uh, bounced pretty far under," he said quietly.

"Christ, you're a case, kid, you know that?" the fat man glowered.

Michael's phone vibrated again. He looked at it.

"Did you get a good look? At Mother's calves and socks? And Bradford's lovely young hand touching? Makes you a bit jealous, doesn't it?"

He looked at her and that annoying prick next to her. He nodded. The phone hummed again.

"Good," it read. "Very good. Competition makes you stronger, Michael. Never forget that."

Lunch ended, and the meetings resumed. Michael sat in the back now, jealousy burning him up as Bradford sat with Mrs. Sands in the front row. As the afternoon droned on, all he could think about was her, her calves, her socks, her smelly feet, her tasty pussy, her piss he'd sampled, her ass he'd sucked. 

And Bradford. That cocksucking little shit. Anger mixed with jealousy and he had to force it from his mind. He wanted that job of being her assistant. He needed that job. He needed her.

The meetings ended, and Michael walked to the front of the room where Bradford was helping Mrs. Sands on with her coat. She turned to face him.

"We'll be having dinner here at the hotel, in the bar, the lounge," she said. "Do you know where it is, Michael?"

She smiled. It was, of course, the scene of their first encounter, of his first encounter with those incredible old legs. He nodded.

"It will just be the three of us," she continued. "At 8. Be there. We'll, uh, continue the interview process of the competition for my new administrative assistant."

He watched them walk away, chatting and laughing. He would be there. He would impress her. He would do whatever it took to get that fucking job, he thought to himself.

Little could he know exactly what that would entail.



Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination Ch. 04



AUTHOR'S NOTE: The continuing story of Beth Sands, a sexy company president, and her domination of young Michael, an employee, whom she'd enslaved with her sexy calves, socks and feet. You'll be more familiar with the theme if you read the prior three stories, but that's the nutshell summary. This chapter contains more of the same - female domination of a male, with enforced cum-eating and oral slavery - and delves into male-to-male sexual contact. Please enjoy if this sort of thing appeals to you, I offer the synopsis as warning to those who may not, and enticement to those who do...

*****

Michael groused on the way back to his room, anxious to wash the scent of her off him, and with it, the growing shame over what she'd done to him.

She was Beth Sands, a sexy 60-year-old woman who happened to be the CEO of the company Michael worked for. She'd dominated him sexually in a hotel bar, and later in his room where the unnerving truth came out: He'd be speaking the next day at the company conference, finding out that she was his boss, much to his chagrin and her controlling delight.

And she'd dominated him that day as well, by her stares throughout his stammering speech, and later in the lady's room, taking his face prisoner of her lusty old ass and powerful legs and smelly socks. The humiliation continued later when she curried favor with another young worker, Bradford, going as far as letting the young man caress her supple calves under the table at lunch, making Michael watch. The shelling of Michael's confused mind continued when Beth revealed Bradford and Michael were both in the running for the job as her administrative assistant.

And the way she carried on with the handsome, doting, sycophantic Bradford, Michael feared the job he longed to have would escape him.

At the end of the day, she'd told him to meet them in the hotel lounge at 8, where the "interview" process for the job would continue. Dinner for three: Herself, Michael and Bradford. 

He went to his room, turning on the shower as hot as it would get, and climbed beneath the scorching spray, scrubbing himself practically raw, thinking of how she'd dominated and shamed him earlier. Though he washed her ass scent from his face, and rinsed the taste of his own cum from his mouth that she'd made him suck off her muscular old calves, no amount of cleaning could cleanse the guilt he felt for allowing himself to succumb to her deviant wishes.

And it made his dick hard. He groaned, trying not to think of her ageless body, her wrinkled, sexy neck, her alluring muscular legs, her dirty black socks and smelly shoes, all of it. But it was all he could think of as he slowly stroked his cock with a handful of soapy lather, cursing the readiness of it. 

He stopped just short of cumming, his mind racing with thoughts of her, perversely thinking she'd want him to save his cream for her. For Mother, as she made him call her. That thought alone nearly made him shoot his load even as he'd stopped touching himself.

He entered the hotel lounge a little before eight, looking nervously around at the small dining area toward the rear. She was nowhere in sight, so he flagged down a waitress.

"Uh, I'm supposed to meet Mrs. Sands, Beth Sands, for dinner here, but I'm not sure...," he said.

"Oh, she reserved the private dining area out back, follow me," the young woman said brightly.

Michael did, and she walked through a door into a very small room with only a few tables. All were empty save for one tiny, cozy booth - where Beth sat laughing, Bradford by her side, leaning into her to tell her what Michael presumed she wanted to hear.

"Fucking kiss-ass," he hissed to himself.

She'd seen him before he'd seen her, laughing more loudly on purpose at young Bradford's bad attempts to humor her, and noticed Michael's reaction, a mix of anger and disappointment. It pleased her.

"Michael, dear boy, do have a seat!" she announced brightly as the waitress brought him over.

They'd been there awhile, that was clear, from the two empty wine glasses next to two full ones. The waitress took away the empties, and turned to Michael as he sat. At the only available seat, the one at the other end of the table, behind which his boss and the kiss ass sat quite closely on the single bench seat.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

"Yes, I'll have a Stoli, straight up," Michael said.

"No, he'll have the house white wine," Beth corrected with a smile and a quick look at Michael, adding, "company expenses mandate it."

The waitress left and Beth leaned over to him.

"Actually, Michael, the company will pick up the tab for just the two of us, Bradford and myself," she sighed. "Some silly rule my late husband instituted that I haven't gotten around to changing yet. So I thought I'd save you some of your own money by ordering the cheaper wine for you. You don't mind, do you dear? Of course you don't. Your dinner is on you as well. Check out the menu, I'm sure there's something someone on your salary can afford!"

"Me, I'm thinking of the filet for dinner, and crab legs for an appetizer!" Bradford laughed, his hand tucked down under the table drawing Michael's eyes to them as he was sure he was fondling Mrs. Sands' gorgeous gams. "That OK, Beth, you pretty little boss lady? Crab legs?"

"Of course, my dear, of course!" Beth answered brightly, lifting her glass of what Michael presumed to be expensive wine to her red lips and sipping. "Legs are perfect! Don't you think so, Michael? Legs?"

Her eyes widened staring at Michael as she said it. Legs. Her legs. Her legs are all he could think about, those marvelously muscled old calves bulging above the dirty black socks she wore. His dick stiffened in his pants and he wished now he'd relieved himself in the shower.

Never had Michael felt more like a fifth wheel, completely out of place as Bradford continued to chatter away, a mindless blather that contained no easy way in for Michael to cut in, to offer something witty, something pertinent. He was left out of the conversation completely, saying nothing and just stewing in his own gathering gloom and anger as the evening progressed, far more slowly than he would have liked.

The appetizers came with Michael's cheap chicken tenders and the ridiculous suck-ass Bradford's $40 crab legs, into which he dove noisily, sucking the sweet meat from the shell as Beth delicately ate her escargot.

"Good legs, Bradford?" she cooed to the slurping young man sitting so very close to her. "Nothing like good legs, are there Michael?"

"I wouldn't know," he answered dryly. "I can't afford them."

"Now, now, don't be like that, Michael," she said curtly. "Do have a leg, Michael. Bradford, since the tab is on me, do be a dear and offer Michael one of my legs..."

He thought his dick would explode in his pants as she said it, staring straight into his eyes, her sexy wrinkled lips puckering into a sly smile. Bradford shrugged and clattered the smallest crab leg he could find into Michael's plate. He picked it up and grimly cracked the shell, sucking out the flesh inside, trying not to notice how insanely good it was.

Dinner continued, with Michael's single pathetic pork chop, Bradford's filet, Beth's lobster. He picked at it, appetite dissolving by the second as the young kiss ass inched closer to their boss, making jokes that got worse with every one, her laughter, and stares at Michael cutting him to his core.

Between dinner and dessert, Bradford excused himself to go to the bathroom, stumbling as he did, clearly having had too much to drink. Beth smiled at Michael, leaning on her folded hands.

"Young man, your stand-offish behavior has been noted," she sighed.

"For Chrissakes, Beth, what the hell...what the hell do you expect!" Michael found himself saying loudly. "How can I...he's such an ass...this isn't far, dammit, it's just not fair!"

"Michael, what did you just call me?" she growled. "Did you just call me Beth?"

"Mrs...oh, dammit, Mother, I'm sorry, Mother, please..." he cried, remembering her insistence on being called that when they were alone. "But please...Mother...it's not fair!"

She smiled that smile, dark and foreboding, leaning back. Suddenly Michael's balls were compressed. She'd extended her legs up, kicking off her shoes, and rammed her socked feet right into his crotch. He winced in pain as she pressed harder, crushing his balls against his body. A small sweat broke on his brow. He looked under the table where her socked toes wiggled against him, and beyond them, a flash of the calves that drove him wild as she slowly pulled up her trouser legs to the knees.

"Fair has nothing to do with life, Michael," she cooed darkly. "Pleasing me does. Pleasing me is all that matters right now, young man. You do want to please me, don't you."

She didn't state it as a question. Michael gulped, inhaling deeply as she punched her socked feet harder into his balls. The sudden breath brought with it the pungent scent of her feet and socks. She had clearly not changed them in awhile. She smiled.

"They're so foul, aren't they, my black socks?" she giggled. "I decided to give you the pleasure of wearing the same ones I've had on for days now. The same ones I fouled with your sperm last night. The same ones you sniffed and licked today in the bathroom as I used my calves on your hard. Young. Cock."

His was in full flower now. Which Beth found, inching her feet up over his mashed balls and onto his stiff prick. She cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.

"You are so predictable, Michael, I'm not sure I want someone as predictable as you on my team," she sighed, wiggling her soles against his dick, making him moan, making his balls ache to give release even if it meant cumming in his pants and adding to the already heaping mountain of humiliation. "The slightest touch of my socks...the scent of my feet...the sight of my shiny shins and muscular calves...makes you hard! So predictable, Michael, so very predictable..."

She stroked his cock now, rubbing her feet up and down it, making him groan and fight the urge to cum. She suddenly dropped her feet to the floor and Michael's hips instinctively pumped the air, eager for the friction to return.

"Get under the table, son," she snarled. "Now."

Michael groaned, obeying, sliding under the table and kneeling in the dark. Only a couple feet away were those shiny shins and muscular calves and dirty socks as Beth crossed her legs, the top leg creased in a sexy flare around the shin, her filthy socks coming up to the bulge of muscle in back.

"Smell that sock," she growled.

Michael blindly obeyed. He bent his head forward to that nasty old socked foot bobbing at the end of her sexy crossed leg, burying his nose in the fabric. The stench was overpowering, funky and raw, smelling of his old crusty cum and her foot sweat. He inhaled deeply, blanching at first at the pungent flavor, then reveling in it, his cock at the bursting point in his pants.

"Where'd Michael go?"

Bradford had returned, sliding in next to Beth, his hand appearing to Michael's eyes, caressing her solid thigh through her black slacks.

"Oh, he had a family thing, he had to attend to, by phone, he offered his regrets but he had to leave for awhile," Beth sighed, her hand coming into view and patting his. "You are a randy young man, aren't you Bradford? You can't keep your hand off this old lady's thighs or calves, can you?"

"This sexy old lady," Bradford growled. "Glad the little shit is gone, more time alone with you, pretty woman!"

Michael cringed, still smelling her reeking sock and watching her point to the solid bubble of her calf, indicating that was his next destination. He traced his slavish tongue up over the top of her sock, lapping the salty shin and then around back, nervously licking the freckled, meaty thickness of Beth's supple calf, feeling the steely muscle quiver under his tongue. 

He heard wet sounds, kissing sounds, and knew the punk was making out with his boss, making his growing humiliation all the more acute. 

"My neck, Bradford," she cooed. "Do be a dear boy and suckle my neck, it's very sensitive and loves to be worshipped."

"You got it, boss lady," Bradford groaned and then Michael heard the slobbering sucking sounds of the punk sucking on Beth's gorgeous neck wattle, delicate folds of wrinkled flesh that he had adored himself. "God, you got one gorgeous throat, Beth, you really do...mmmmmm..."

Michael's eyes watered from shame as he lapped at Beth's calf, which she playfully tensed and relaxed, the muscle dancing in his lips. He looked up her thigh, which Bradford was still massaging with his hand, and then at her hand, which slowly slid up the young man's leg to the hard cock above.

"Mmmm, very nice, very nice," she cooed and to Michael's gathering horror, unzipping his pants and tugging out a thick, long, veiny cock, stroking it with her thin fingers. "Much larger than anything I've seen lately!"

The words ripped his heart out but Michael continued sucking and licking her hard calf, more eagerly now, anxious to please her, to outdo the asshole whose dick she now jerked faster and faster. Bradford groaned, nuzzling her neck with increasing urgency. Michael looked up and now Beth worked her fingers over the head, smearing them with the copious pre-cum flowing from Bradford's dick.

And then to his horror, she switched hands fluidly, jerking him with the other, and running the pre-cum soaked fingers of the other under the table. To wipe on the muscular calf Michael was worshipping. And then pointing to it.

He froze. He never in his life had entertained the notion of having sex with another man. This wouldn't be it exactly, but licking up the fluids of a man's cock was close enough. But as he looked at the thick sheen of clear juice coating his boss's undulating calf, he knew he had no choice.

He licked. He ran his tongue into the clear gel warm on her gorgeous calf and scooped it into his mouth. The fluid was tasteless, he noticed to his relief, and he licked it again and again, cleaning every sticky drop from his boss's supple calf, trying to ignore how turned on he was. He felt her shiver as he did, moaning under Bradford's sucking mouth at her wrinkled neck.

Then the other hand came into view, with even more pre-cum coating her fingers, as she moved her other hand back to his cock, stroking it. She wiggled the sticky digits in Michael's face. He gamely opened his mouth, sucking them inside, washing his tongue over them and cleaning them of Bradford's moistness.

His cock throbbed harder. The reason sickened him but made him suck her fingers all the more intently.

The door to the dining room opened, and Beth pulled her fingers from Michael's mouth. He watched her drop her napkin onto Bradford's lap, covering his cock and moving slightly away from him.

"Chocolate mousse for two!" the waitress announced, and Michael heard her put the plate on the table. "Where is..."

"Oh, he left, he won't be joining us, but do charge his meal to his room, which I believe is 223," Beth said politely. "In fact, charge everything to his room, he won't mind, he actually insisted!"

Michael moaned silently beneath the table, calculating the bill in his head and fearing his paltry salary would hardly cover the charges.

He heard them noisily devour the chocolate mousse, stealing wet kisses in between bites, Beth's free hand stroking Bradford's cock and treating Michael to the precum on it as she did. He sucked her fingers harder and with more urgency every time, wondering when the madness would end.

It got worse. The waitress came back, with Bradford and Beth covering their tracks briefly, and cleared the table.

"Miss, we'll be ending our business dinner soon, and do not wish to be disturbed for a bit," Beth said in businesslike voice. "Do make sure no one comes in, we'll leave when we're done."

"Certainly, Mrs. Sands, of course," the waitress answered, leaving the room.

"Now then," Beth growled, turning to kiss her young employee.

Michael watched as she unsnapped her pants, slithering them down to her knees, her massive, pungent hairy bush exploding into view. He heard her blouse being unbuttoned, her bra unsnapped, Bradford's anticipatory moans.

"God, they're beautiful, Beth, so fucking beautiful!" the young man gushed. 

"They're all yours, Bradford," she sighed, scooting her butt down a bit, pushing her pussy toward Michael, the scent wafting over his face. "Have at them..."

Michael heard the groans, the insistent slobbering over Beth's thick white tits, Bradford's mouth suckling madly at her huge brown nipples. Bradford's hand came down between Beth's saggy brown thighs and she grabbed it, directing his thumb to her engorged clit.

"Right there!" she groaned as he rubbed the nubbin with his thumb. "Just my clit, work my clit and suck my tits! I love that, my old tits worked while you play with just my clit!!"

Michael knew what she was up to. Diddling just her clit left the pussy below free for him. He moaned silently, pushing his face forward and under the bunched slacks around her bony knees, and up to face that matted, rank pussy. He inhaled the pungent aroma of his boss's pussy, a mix of piss and sweat and musk, forcing aside the hairy lips with his nose, feeling the clammy wetness on it. He moved his head back, his chin forward, his tongue out. It slithered into her creamy hole, deeper and deeper, thrusting into the moist grip of her ageless cunt, her juice flowing quickly and thickly onto his tongue.

"Yeah, like that, Bradford, just...like...that..." she cooed as the young man feasted on her tits and thumbed her clit as Michael devoured her gushing cunt.

The double dose of attention brought her to the edge quickly and with a sudden expulsion of her woman cream, a milky squirt of gel that filled Michael's mouth, washing over his probing tongue. He gulped and smacked his lips, another squirt coating his lips and into his nose. He lapped madly, eager to please her and now she came with a violent clapping of her thighs, slamming them around Michael's sucking face as she twisted Bradford's thumb from her clit, scissoring Michael's head in the quivering, saggy flesh, making him dizzy as her corded inner thigh muscles knifed into his neck, slowing the flow of blood to his brain.

"Wow!" he heard Bradford say, but just barely as Beth's thighs thickened around his ears, crushing his head, muting the sounds of his enthusiasm and her orgasmic grunting. "You cum so damn good, Beth!"

"That I do, that I do," she finally said with a sigh, relaxing her vise grip scissors on Michael's head to let him breathe again, his face soaked with her essence. "You give good thumb, young man!"

They kissed wetly for a few moments, and then Michael saw her lean the young man back against the booth back, tugging his pants down around his knees, and bend over to pop his cock into her puckered mouth.

"Now it's your turn," she snarled, ingesting his huge cock to the balls with one gulp, making the young man who owned it gasp at her proficiency.

"Oh, God, Beth...shit..oh, fuck, NOBODY deep throats me like you, NOBODY!"

"Well, and don't let this go to your head, young man," she laughed, popping his dick free of her sucking mouth for a moment. "But nobody I've known has had a cock quite this big, either!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot," Bradford laughed.

Michael winced and hated him all the more.

She blew him long and slow, pacing herself, backing off when he seemed to want to burst, speeding up and slowing again. All the while, her eyes were just below the table level, and she would wink at Michael as he watched, eyes wide, full of teary shame. She would occasionally run her fingers into her mouth as she sucked him, coating them with his flowing pre-cum, and then stuff them under the table and into Michael's waiting lips.




Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination Ch. 04



He was getting used to it. And to his growing shame, he found himself looking more forward to it. He touched his cock in his pants and then stopped. The mounting pleasure in being her total slave was making him crazy.

"Tell me, Bradford," Beth said with a sexy slowness, pulling his dick out of her mouth and stroking it, looking up at him. "Have you had many women in your life?"

"Shit, yeah, but none like you, boss, that's for damn sure!" he groaned excitedly, Michael blanching at the proclamation but not doubting it at all.

"And others?" she said playfully.

"Others?" he asked nervously now. "What do you mean, others?"

"Men, silly boy, men!" she laughed, stroking him harder. "Have you ever had sex with men?"

"Fuck no!" he cried out a little too eagerly, his body noticeably tense.

"Bradford," she growled, snaking her hand to his balls and squeezing until he cried out in pain. "Do NOT lie to your boss! That wouldn't be wise. Now, have you?"

Silence, a silence broken only by the rhythmic squishing of her hand bobbing wetly up and down his huge dick. Both Beth and Michael felt the answer in the palpable stillness.

"Well, no, but..." Bradford said nervously.

"But what?" Beth growled, squeezing his balls again. "Tell me, Bradford, but...what?"

"Well, in college," he groaned under her squeezing hand and lizard-fast tongue that now danced over the sensitive underside of his plum-sized dick head. "A couple times...oh, God...but never...I never...they did...gay guys...oh fuck, Beth!!"

"Ah, so you allowed gay men to suck this gorgeous cock, is that it?" she laughed darkly, stroking it against her wrinkled cheek, smiling at Michael. "But you didn't return the favor? Ever?"

"Well...maybe once...or twice...oh, fuck, Beth, don't stop, don't stop!"

"Oh, I won't," she sighed before returning his cock to her proficient old mouth. "In fact, there's so much more to come! And knowing this...well, it's definitely a point in your favor, young man!"

She blew him a few moments longer, then stopped, his urgent groans growing louder. She grabbed a napkin and Michael heard his confused moans.

"Blindfolding you will make things so much more interesting, Bradford," she said. "Limiting one sense heightens the others. I'm sure you'll agree."

"Yes, Beth, whatever you want!" he cried out.

She pushed the table back slightly, giving Michael room. She curled a finger at him, beckoning him up from beneath it. Michael obeyed, and found himself eye to eye with Bradford's huge cock, which Beth slowly stroked.

"Now then, young man, how badly do you want the job as my administrative assistant?" she asked, looking straight at Michael.

"Oh, very much, very much, Beth!" Bradford hissed in response, jutting his hips up into her slow-moving hand.

"Good, good," she cooed, nodding at Michael and then Bradford's cock. "Good..."

Michael shook his head side to side, eyes open with fear and shame. Beth smiled darkly, and nodding, mouthing the words "Suck. His. Cock."

Michael's reluctance melted just by looking into her flashing eyes, drawing his face down to Bradford's cock. He opened his mouth, fitting it over the leaking head, feeling its heft, its girth, the flow of precum oozing from it. He closed his eyes, tears flowing from them, and sucked. His first cock.

He thought his own would explode in his pants.

"Oh, fuck, Beth that feels so good!" Bradford groaned, making Beth stifle a giggle watching Michael feast on the thick knob, getting a good four or five inches into his mouth. "You're right, it's so hot not seeing what you're doing!"

She pulled Michael's head off his cock, and delighted in the fleeting look of disappointment in her slave's eyes. She continued to slowly stroke it.

"Do you want to cum, Bradford?"

"Oh, FUCK YES, Beth!" he cried out.

"You do adore my legs, don't you?" she continued. "The way you've been fondling them tonight, you just love my old calves and socks, don't you?"

She looked at Michael as she said it.

"Yes, God yes!" Bradford groaned.

"Then I shall use them to milk you," she snarled. "I will use my muscular old calves to scissor your load from your handsome young cock!"

"Oh fuck, yes!" Bradford cried out.

Michael watched in horror and fascination as she sat the blindfolded young man back against the seat. She pulled her pants back up and slowly slipped the legs up to her knees, lifting them from under the table, the creamy flesh flashing into view, capturing Michael's attention. She moved Bradford's legs down, under the table, his enormous cock jutting into the air. She swung her sculpted calves up and over her lap, scissoring the meaty flesh around that cock, locking her socked feet gently, and bobbing her lower legs up and down, the velvety flesh creasing and folding into a patchwork of gloriously sexy wrinkles as she did.

"That feel good, young man?" she cooed, looking at Michael's shocked eyes.

"Yessssss," Bradford hissed.

This cock scissor was the one she'd used on him the night they met at the bar, and he knew how good it felt, those amazing old calves, muscular beneath soft, creamy smooth skin. He watched her move them back and forth, and then quiver the meat of them, driving Bradford close to the edge.

"Cum, baby, cum for me!" she hissed, intensifying the quivering scissor lock on his dick, the head the only part sticking out of her meaty calves, the shiny shins pinched around the tip, milking him. "Cum for my calves!"

She grabbed Michael's hair, holding his face directly over Bradford's cock, inches away. He struggled to break free of her grip, but with just enough reluctance to make Beth laugh. She jerked Bradford's dick harder and faster and to his horror, Michael watched the thick eye swell and open and then felt the first steaming hot rope of cum jet out and up. And directly into his open mouth.

He thought he'd throw up at first, closing his lips and swallowing the thick, tangy slimy ribbon of cum that filled his mouth. But he opened it again, and the second blast entered, and a third, before he closed his lips again to swallow and felt subsequent ropes splash his face. Beth giggled, releasing him, pushing him back down under the table where he watched her thicken her amazing calves on Bradford's cockhead and milk the rest of his enormous load inside the silky smooth confines of that quivering, tanned flesh.

He cried, silently, mouth open, feeling strands of cum hanging over his lips, swallowing and blanching at the taste, texture and smell of another man's cum. He watched Beth finish him off, the young man's screams ebbing as he relaxed his ass back down into the seat. Beth's shins, from socks to knees, were coated with cum that bubbled out from the clenched calves. She parted them slightly, releasing his cock, and a thick blanket oozed down to coat her muscular lower limbs.

"Well now, wasn't that interesting?" she laughed, swinging her legs under the table, the cummy limbs inches from Michael's face. "Did you enjoy my calf job?"

"Oh yeah, baby, oh yeah..." Bradford groaned, pulling off the blindfold and lurching toward her face to lavish it with kisses. "Amazing...just amazing..."

She pointed to her cum-soaked calves under the table. Michael blinked, gulped and dove in, trying to ignore the shame consuming him, lapping wetly at Beth's muscular calves, slurping up the cum from them, swallowing, tracing his tongue up and down her shiny shins, ingesting every drop. His dick ached in his pants as he cleaned the mess Bradford had made.

"Well I think it's time to retire to my penthouse for the evening," she sighed, breaking the kiss with Bradford peppering her face and succulent neck with kisses. "Let me clean up first..."

She took a napkin and bent below the table, pretending to clean the cum from her calves that Michael already had. She looked into his eyes and smiled, wiping the residual sperm from his cheeks and chin, and playfully giving him a kiss as Bradford zipped himself up.

"We will continue the, uh, interview process upstairs," she laughed, standing and pulling down her pant legs, covering the muscular objects of Michael's fascination, his eyes watching them disappear under her black pant legs. "I'll text Michael to meet us there in 15 minutes."

"Shit, really, does he have to be there?" Bradford asked. "I mean, aren't I the front runner?"

Michael groaned, hearing them kiss as they stood by the table.

"Yes, you are, my boy, you are," she sighed. "But to be fair, he should be there to...shall we say, compete for the job? Fair is fair, after all, fair is fair..."

Michael groaned, feeling his dick twitch in his pants, looking up from under the table as they walked away, hand in hand. It took him almost all of the 15 minutes to will his stiff cock down enough to stand, straighten himself up, wipe away his tears and the rest of Bradford's cum from his face, and make his way to her penthouse.

Where he would do whatever it would take to win the job.



Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination Ch. 05



This is the continuing story of Beth Sands, a sexy company president, and her domination of Michael, a young employee she'd enslaved with her sexy calves, socks and feet. It's helpful to have read the prior stories but that's the nutshell summary. This chapter contains more of the same - female domination of a male, with enforced cum-eating and oral slavery - and contains male-to-male sexual contact. Please enjoy if this sort of thing appeals to you, I offer the synopsis as warning to those who may not, and enticement to those who do...

*****

Michael wanted the job as Elizabeth Sands' administrative assistant more than anything in the world. Wasn't what he'd been through enough proof of that?

He'd become her slave, her willing and eager and thoroughly humiliated sex slave, taken prisoner by her dominant mind, her incredible, lean and strong 60-year-old body, spectacular calves, her smelly black socks and hairy pussy and commanding asshole.

He'd done everything he'd been told to do, which this night consisted of sucking another man's cock as he was blindfolded, and eating his cum as his leggy boss jerked the man off with her solid, superbly proficient calves.

Now he walked out of the restaurant's back room of the hotel where his humiliation had begun the night before, on his way to her penthouse suite where she waited with Bradford, the impossibly annoying suck-up kiss-ass who was after the job as well, and whose spunk Michael was still wiping off his face. 

And all he could think of was how much he wanted the job - and to continue as her very submissive, eager sex slave to her lovely calves, sinfully smelly socks and deliciously dominant mind. He wasn't sure which he wanted more - and then was rattled by the realization he wanted the latter more than the former.

"God, what the fuck's happening to me?" he groaned, punching the elevator in the hotel lobby outside the restaurant he'd just been shamed in, feeling his cock stiffening in his pants. "Christ..."

He got into the elevator and pressed the key to the penthouse on the 30th floor. It wouldn't light up. He pressed it again and again, getting more frustrated. A hotel worker walked into the car, and Michael asked him what was wrong with it.

"Are you a guest in the room?" the snooty punk asked indifferently.

"Yeah," Michael lied.

"You have to swipe your key card to access the penthouse," the punk said, pointing to the holder.

"I'm a guest of the hotel..but not the...but my boss is there, I'm supposed to go..to have a meeting, now," Michael said.

"Then you'll have to call your boss to come down and get you, won't you," the punk said, holding the door open for Michael, cocking his head outward as signal he exit the elevator and stop bothering him. "House phone is right there."

He pointed to a nearby table as the door closed, a snarky smile on his face as Michael stepped out. He picked up the phone and rang the penthouse.

"Hello, Mrs. Sands' assistant, may I help you?" Bradford's bright voice answered

His heart sank.

"What the fuck, you're not her assistant yet, asshole," Michael snapped.

"Oh, Michael, how good to hear from you, we thought you'd forgotten," Bradford laughed, Michael's heart sinking further, sensing by the 'we' that his ship had sailed. "What's kept you?"

"Look, you fucking kiss ass, I'm trying to get the fuck up there, but I can't because you need a fucking room key card to use in the elevator, so get your sorry fucking ass down here now, goddammit!"

"Michael, do you think that's the tone of voice you want to use with me?"

Beth Sands' voice was icy cold. Bradford had passed off the phone.

"No! God, no, Bet...Mother, I'm so sorry, it's just that..." he babbled, using the name she insisted he call her since she started tormenting him the night before.

"You need a keycard, right? Well, I'm certainly not coming to fetch you, and young Bradford here...well...," she hissed, Michael's imagination running wild with what young Bradford was doing at the moment, likely pawing at her luscious body as they both mocked him. "He's busy at the moment...mmmm, that's nice, Bradford, you do such good work, you're so good with your hands!"

"But..." Michael stammered.

"Take the stairs," she growled before slamming down the phone. "If you're not here in three minutes, I'll assume you don't want the job that Bradford is so eagerly applying for!"

"But!"

Click. But not before he heard Bradford's sycophantic laughter.

"Mother fucker!" he snapped, bolting for the staircase.

He ran as fast as he could, taking two and sometimes three steps at once. He was in good shape, young, fit, he knew he could do 30 floors in three minutes. He calculated as he ran, but with every floor, he slowed, tiring. He looked at his watch as he jogged, sweat pouring off his face. He made the 20th floor in a couple of minutes, and knew he'd be fucked if he didn't pick up the pace. He forced his legs to move swiftly, panting for air, his clothes soaked with perspiration. 

He made the 30th floor, finally, but to his horror noting he was 30 seconds behind. He leaned on the penthouse door, gasping for air and pounding on it as well as ringing the bell.

The door opened. Beth Sands stood, still in the same black business suit she'd been wearing all day and through dinner. She was barefoot, save for those familiar, nasty black socks. She did not look pleased.

"You're late," she said plainly. "Thirty-seconds late. But you made a valiant effort, and that counts for you. Your tardiness counts against you. What you do in this room will make all the difference. Come in, and do go freshen up, I don't want you dripping your sweat all over the place."

"Tha...tha..." he wheezed, walking in, the door closing behind him.

He staggered to the hallway bathroom, dousing his face and cleaning up with a towel. From the majestic living area he heard laughter and low voices, the tinkling of glasses and the vision of his professional future dimming by the second.

He walked into the room where Bradford and Beth were sitting quite cozily on the sofa, drinking champagne. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his breathing still labored.

"Well now, we seem to have a dilemma," she finally said, holding up her glass as she glared at Michael, Bradford dutifully and seamlessly lifting the champagne bottle to refill it. "Both of you young men want to be my assistant. Both seem eager, quite eager, perhaps one of you..."

She tilted her head Bradford's way but continued to stare at Michael, who hated the smirking prick's satisfied smile as she spoke.

"...more than the other."

"No, Mrs...Mo..."

"Yes, Michael, Mother it is," she smiled, patting Bradford's thigh, squeezing it. "I told my friend here all about our...well, our unique history..."

"You...you...everything?" Michael groaned, feeling his position grow weaker by the second.

"Yeah, everything, man you are such a pussy!" Bradford laughed, putting his glass down to hook his arm around Beth's slender shoulder, massaging it. "But hey, if you gotta be a pussy to a woman, THIS is the woman to be with!"

"That's very sweet of you, young man," Beth cooed, slipping her hand up his thigh to fondle his hard cock in his dress slacks, Michael's eyes going wide in the watching, head hanging somberly on his chest, resignation written all over his sad face. "But, this contest is just beginning."

"Contest?" Bradford asked. "What contest?"

"A contest, a test of skill and will between you two," she said, standing up with her glass, sipping, walking to the middle of the room to face Michael. "There will be events..shall we say five events, and the first to win three events..."

She turned, sashaying casually to Bradford, who stood, putting one arm around his neck and giving him a long, very deep and wet kiss. Bradford groaned with pleasure as he cupped her old but shapely ass, Michael groaning for different reasons. She broke the kiss and sat down, crossing her leg. 

She slowly, and with a smile, slipped up her pant leg a bit to flash her incredibly sexy shiny shin and supple, hard calf above black sock - the first sight of her that started Michael's madness in the bar the night before.

"...wins the administrative job," she finished. "And the loser? Well, the loser will still be in my employ - as my and my administrative assistant's cuckold! You are familiar with that, aren't you Michael?"

His head drooped lower. Bradford's cocked in curiosity.

"He is?"

"Bradford, in the interest of full disclosure, young Michael here was never out of the room at dinner," she said. "He was under the table, servicing me - and you. Cleaning up the mess we made."

Bradford's eyes widened.

"You've had man-to-man encounters before, Bradford, you told me, and it's something I find rather attractive in a man, especially one who could be my new assistant. Is that a problem, young man?"

"No, no, of course not," he said, a smile breaking out on his face, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll do whatever it takes, and will ALWAYS be there for you!"

"Of course you will," Beth said.

Bradford hooted, clapping his hands, eager for the battle to begin. Michael could only stand and stare helplessly at that flash of leg on the couch belonging to the woman who controlled his destiny.

"Bring it on, whatcha got in mind, gorgeous lady?" Bradford hollered, slapping the stunned Michael on the back and nearly knocking him down, Michael shooting the beaming bore a snarling look.

"Gentlemen, start your engines," Beth cooed seductively, sitting back and sipping her champagne, bouncing her crossed leg, the flare of freckled muscle alongside her shin making Michael feel weak in the knees. "Strip. Naked. Now."

Bradford eagerly peeled off his clothes, quickly, Beth making approving noises as his rugged, muscular smooth body came into view, particularly his long, thick soft cock, which appeared to be a good six inches long even in repose. 

Michael shucked his clothes more slowly, standing and covering his cock, which was shrunken to a nub in the chill of the suite.

"Event number one: Get it up for your boss. First one to full hardness wins."

"Piece of cake, I'm already halfway there!" Bradford laughed, hoisting his thick, soft dick in his hand as Michael fingered his little one.

"No, no, no, that's far too easy," Beth laughed. "No hands. Let your imagination and your eyes do all the work..."

She eyed their cocks and slowly unbuttoned her blouse, taking it off, then her bra. Bradford groaned; he was a tit man through and through, and this was the trigger he needed. His huge cock thickened under her stare as he looked at her deliciously wrinkled titties bounce into view.

She giggled and sat back, pulling up her pant legs to her bony knees, the full length of her alluring calves above her stinky, low black socks making Michael's cock spring to life. He stared hard at them, loving them, wanting and needing them, letting the vision permeate his sexual being, knowing how hard her legs made him before.

"So far, a tie," Beth cooed, sipping champagne again, tits creamy white, calves creased with muscle, watching both cocks rise quickly.

Michael had the advantage of far more experience with this lady and her mind, and his cock sprang up fully before him, bobbing proudly in the air. Bradford's impressive dong swung up fully scant seconds later. Michael smiled, looking at it, then his, then into his boss's approving eyes.

"Michael wins!" she laughed. "He leads 1-0."

"Fuck you," Bradford snarled in a whisper.

"Perhaps in due time but meanwhile, there's no need for that kind of language, young man," Beth scolded in a playful tone.

She leaned forward, hands on knees, her face drawing closer to both stiff cocks as they stood naked before her.

"Second event," she said, smiling. "Cock size!"

Michael's confidence waned, his face going white, shoulders sagging. Bradford roared with laughter. 

"Need a ruler, pretty lady?" he said, winking at her. 

"Hardly," she sighed, eyeing Bradford's huge cock. "But just for accuracy's sake..."

She slipped off the couch, kneeling before them. She placed one hand each under their balls, Michael's small and tight to his body, Bradford's plum-sized and hanging low, draping their hard cocks over her palms and wrists. Michael's tip came just to her wrist. Bradford's extended halfway up her slender forearm. 

Michael sighed. Bradford laughed. Beth smiled.

"Well THAT was easy!" she laughed, sitting back on the couch. "We have a tie!"

The men watched her very slowly slither out of her pants, peeling them down her rugged old legs, tossing them aside, and with them her panties, soaked and soiled from wearing the last 24 hours. She sat, spreading her luscious, meaty thighs, calves balled in muscle as she pointed her toes, her stinky black socks falling on her thin ankles.

"Third event: Making your boss orgasm as quickly as possible, with your mouths," she said, parting her furry pussy lips with her fingers, exposing the fleshy, wet lips and protruding clit. "Bradford, do the honors if you would.."

"Hell YES!" he growled, hitting his knees and shuffling between Beth's spread thighs.

Michael watched, aghast as the instant his tongue slithered into Beth's wet pussy her body tensed and trembled, eyes rolling over in their sockets, gasping. The kid was a pro, Michael realized, not seeing what he was doing but hearing the sloppy, wet sounds of his tongue drubbing her pussy, slashing up and down and around her eager clit. She ran one hand through his hair as he feasted on her cunt, and in the other held her cell phone, watching the timer tick away.

"Very nice, young man, you are VERY good at this task, that will serve you well in the job...should you earn it, as it certainly feels like you will!" she hissed, pulling his face to her cunt, grinding against it. "Mmmmm...nice, very very nice..."

She came moments later, flooding his sucking, adoring face with her cream, grunting and snapping her pussy against it, thighs trembling along with the rest of her delicious body. She slowed her tremors, stopping and tilting Bradford's face up and out of her pussy, smiling at him.

"Three minutes!" she announced, clearing the counter of her phone. "Let's see if your opponent has what it takes to do it even more quickly..."

Bradford stood, cockily walking back to the center of the room, motioning with a sweep of his hand that Michael take his place between their boss's waiting thighs. He knelt, nervously looking at her matted pussy, inhaling the sweet-sour scent of her musk. He balked at its wetness, knowing some of it belonged to his opponent.

"Oh, come now, Michael, you ate Bradford's cum earlier, a little bit of his spit bothers you now?" she scolded, fingering her cell phone. "Time has started. I wouldn't waste any if I were you, that young man was very good at what he did to me..."

Michael groaned and dove in, ignoring the smell and texture, attacking her soggy cunt with his mouth, attaching his lips to her engorged clit and sucking it into his mouth. He took heart in her reaction as he dribbled her clit with his tongue, her body trembling.

He looked up through her bush, over the saggy tits splayed slightly to the sides, and into her groaning face. He was on the right track.

Then it got tougher. With a violent snap, Beth clamped her muscular old thighs around his ears and neck, locking up her socked feet and twisting her legs tightly around him. He groaned in pain, a familiar one as she'd done this to him before, punishing his head in her scissoring thighs as he satisfied her, his extremities tingling as her legs slowed the blood flow to his brain. He had to finish her and quickly before he succumbed to her crushing scissor lock and be denied oral victory.

His hands pulled at her crushing thighs, tugging them apart just enough to allow him to work more freely, and he redoubled his efforts, driving his tongue over her clit with a vengeance, flashing it side to side with laser precision, feeling her hairy pussy moisten and drench his face.

She finally screamed, which she hadn't done with Bradford, and slammed her legs around his head harder, hunching over him and pounding his face with her pussy, driving it into him with erotic power as she came long and hard.

She released him moments later, and he fell back, groggily, hoping in her orgasmic stupor she hadn't forgotten to stop the timer. She slumped back to the couch, thighs splayed apart, the sexy inner meat of them swaying slightly as she relaxed. Michael wiped his face and looked at her cell phone held in her palm as it rested on one thigh.

"Beat that, sucker," he said proudly, looking at Bradford and pointing to the phone which read 2:50.

"You got lucky, asshole," he sneered. "I warmed her up for you."

"Boys, boys, boys," Beth sighed, snapping out of her orgasmic reverie and noting the time on her phone. "Nicely done, Michael...surprisingly so, but to your credit, you did a wonderful job. You lead, 2-to-1!"

Michael beamed, a goofy smile on his face, offsetting Bradford's glum look.

"What's next, Mother," he asked brightly, emphasizing the name, casting a snarling sidelong glance at the dour Bradford standing next to him with his proud, huge cock flagging slightly in the humiliation of loss.

"Fourth event: You make love to me, and whoever lasts the longest wins, quite simple, really," Beth sighed, parting her legs and holding up the phone. "Michael, given your recent victory, you get to go first."

"Gladly, pretty woman," he laughed, looking derisively at his morose opponent and kneeling between his boss's spreading thighs. "This position good?"

"Of course," she growled, fisting his cock and fitting it to her furry slit, scissoring his ribs and drawing him fully inside her, sheathing his dick with her velvety cunt, making him gasp at its tightness and worry about cumming too quickly. "Begin!"

She snapped the timer on and Michael fucked her. He leaned over her on the couch, hands on the back, looking down into her beautiful face, and fucked her, long and hard, feeling his balls swell. He fought the urge and she knew it, squeezing him harder in her muscular legs, locked feet pounding on his ass.

"You want to cum right now, don't you young man!" she hissed, curling her arms around his neck, pulling his face to her sweaty cleavage. "Lick them, boy, suck your Mother's tits!"

He groaned, unable to breathe, unable to disobey her edict and he suckled her breasts madly, sweeping his tongue over the thick white flesh, lashing her nipples with it, sucking, chewing, groaning. She pumped her hips up to meet and then overpower his thrusts, controlling the action, every second of it, quickly bringing him to the edge. He felt her pussy tighten and relax, flexing, milking his pounding dick.

"Don't cum, son, don't cum too quickly!" she admonished with a snarling laugh. "Do not cum in Mother's tight...hot...cunt..."

He fought it as hard as he could, sucking her tits but forcing his mind elsewhere. He made himself think of unpleasant tasks, changing the oil in his car, sitting through boring meetings, anything that would stem the urge to cum. And then he found himself thinking of being under the table of the restaurant, sucking Bradford's cock, surely the most unpleasant thing he could think of.

Until he realized he didn't mind it. The thought of Bradford's thick dick in his mouth was having just the opposite effect he'd intended it to, and his balls boiled with anticipation. He cleared his mind again, or tried to, but was too far gone to stop.

And then it got worse. Beth unlocked her scissoring old thighs from his middle and swept her calves up and around his neck, squeezing it in their powerful, sexy embrace. He looked down into her smiling, determined face as she pressured her lower legs around his neck, again making him dizzy as she'd done with her thighs earlier. 




Beth's Shin, Socks, Feet Domination Ch. 05



His eyes shot left to right, drinking in the sight of those magnificent, muscular old calves and stinky socks and found himself driving deeper and harder into her clinging cunt.

"Smell them, baby, smell Mother's socks!" she snarled, unlocking her legs and bringing her feet to his astonished, moaning face, ramming the socked soles into his nose and mouth and soul. "SMELL 'EM!"

He did, breathing deeply and completely, devouring the foul, acrid, sweaty stench of them, a stench of foot and cum, and could not stop the inevitable. With an anguished growl, he nutted deep inside his boss's womb, sending ribbons of steaming hot cream into her that never seemed to end.

"FUCK!" he howled, emptying inside her, his nuts feeling as if they were turning inside out. "FUCK!!"

He finally stopped, panting, slumping back. Her thighs splayed open, her face smiling, her cunt wide and welled with pearly white cream. She looked at her clock.

"Wow, Michael, you have such little willpower," she sighed disapprovingly. "One minute? 60 seconds? That's all you could last, 60 seconds? My, my, I'm not sure you're the corporate material I was looking for, you act in haste..."

"But Mother...I couldn't..you're too...your socks...your calves..." he stammered, looking at her. 

"Yes, excuses, excuses, excuses, have no place in my board room, Michael," she said sternly. "Now, Bradford, do you think you can do better?

"Stand aside, rookie," Bradford snarled, pushing Michael to his ass on the floor, stroking his huge cock as he knelt between Beth's legs.

"Let's get more comfortable, Bradford," she said, holding a hand up to his smooth, muscular chest and giggling. "The bed, shall we?"

"Of course, m'lady, whatever the boss wants, the boss gets," he said graciously, offering a hand and pulling her to her feet for a quick, playful kiss, Michael's dejected groan accompanying it as he watched. "After you..."

They walked to the bedroom, Michael shuffling along behind. Beth sat on the bed, thighs spread, her pussy dripping with cum.

"Now, young man, what's your favorite position?" she asked. "We know what Michael's is: Atop me, my smelly old socks in his face, that seemed to trigger him pretty quickly. So what's yours?"

"Oh, that's good, so good, you are a very, very clever woman, my dear!" Bradford said in a mock scolding down, wagging a finger at her. "My favorite position will make me cum faster, right? So what if I told you it was woman on top? Now you're not sure if I'm lying or telling the truth, right?"

"I like how you think, young man," she cooed, curling a finger at him to beckon him to lie between her thighs, and then framing his handsome face for a long, lingering kiss. "That sort of devious mind is just what I'm looking for in an assistant..."

They rolled around the bed, laughing, kissing, ignoring Michael who could only stand and watch. Finally, Beth positioned herself on all fours, her magnificent ass, dimpled, sexy and gleaming white, wiggled at Bradford who knelt behind her, stroking his dick and moaning.

"I have no idea what your favorite position is young man," she hissed, looking over her shoulder and backing herself onto his cock, making him shiver with pleasure. "But this is mine!"

She groaned as he drove into her and she started the timer on the phone in her hand. He pounded away at her, holding her hips, driving his cock into her sloppy pussy, the squishing sounds filling the air along with his balls slapping into her and her insistent growls of pleasure.

"Come here, Michael," she gasped.

He sat by her head. She showed him the phone. It was already at 45 seconds and Bradford showed no signs of cumming.

"I'm a little loose and open, thanks to you," she snarled into his face, eyes flashing wide. "I do think you're about to lose this event...fuck me, Bradford, fuck me!"

"Oh God yes!" the blonde stud howled, thundering into her with increasingly impassioned thrusts.

Michael's eyes filled with tears as the timer hit 60.

"Nicely done, stud," Beth cooed over her shoulder. "Take your time...Michael, get beneath me. Now."

"But B...Mother," he protested, looking at the beaming Bradford banging his boss's succulent pussy.

"Do it or you lose right now, the entire contest," she barked. "Put your face under my pussy, watch a REAL cock satisfy me and while you're there...suck his balls!"

She and Bradford roared with laughter, not stopping their frantic fucking, as Michael forlornly slithered under his boss, his crotch at her mouth, his face pressed under her hairy wet pussy and worse, Bradford's huge, smooth nuts dragging over his nose and mouth.

"Hold still a moment, young man," Beth sighed. "You're already at two minutes, so let's enjoy this. Push your beautiful cock ALL the way in and hold it..."

He obeyed, groaning at the heated velvety feel of her spongy pussy embracing him. Beth inched forward, laying flat atop Michael, cinching his trapped face between her strong, firm thighs, locking her socked feet as Bradford slid his legs around her hips to allow her room. 

Michael's mouth was right at the juncture of cock and pussy and was flooded with her juices seeping out, along with the semen he'd pumped into her moments earlier. And worse yet, Bradford's huge nuts were draped over his nose, and he could smell the sweat of them.

"Open up, Michael, and clean the dear boy's balls would you?" she giggled.

He obeyed, opening his mouth. Bradford laughed, and forked his fingers around his cock, stuffing his hanging nuts into Michael's mouth, holding them inside.

"Wash 'em clean, bitch!" he laughed.

Michael could scarcely breathe, and what breath he could take was through his nose, which to his mounting shame and horror, was buried inside Bradford's sweaty, hairless asshole. He sucked the balls in his mouth, feeling his eyes flood with tears as they were pressed against the young stud's smooth rump, washing his tongue over them, feeling every wrinkle and fold of meaty flesh as he cleaned them. 

Finally, Bradford couldn't hold back, grunting, feeling Beth's cunt ripple and flex around his still cock, milking him.

"You may cum now, Bradford, it's been four minutes," she growled, tensing her muscular thighs around Michael's trapped face and mouth full of balls. "You've earned it..."

Michael felt Bradford's huge balls throb in his sucking mouth and felt them explode, sending rivers of red-hot white cream into his boss's clutching womb. The kid growled with pleasure, his body trembling as she drained him, holding tight inside her, emptying his nuts, filling her up without moving a muscle.

Beth's educated pussy did all the work and now a thick trickle of Bradford's cum seeped out around the base of his cock and coated Michael's face.

"Pull out, my dear," Beth sighed. "Michael missed our chocolate mousse dessert earlier, so now he can enjoy some creampie!"

Bradford laughed, popping his balls from Michael's mouth and his huge cock slid wetly from Beth's clinging pussy with a lewd sucking sound, sliding over his face, soaking it with fluids, Beth's and Bradford's. The beautiful woman reached back for Michael's head, pulling his face into her dripping, hairy chasm and locking it into place by tucking one socked calf over the back of his neck and hooking that foot under the opposite knee. 

The figure-four scissor ensured that Michael's face was firmly buried into her soppy snatch. He opened his mouth to beg for mercy, and was rewarded with sticky jets of jism she shot out, squeezing his head, convulsing her womb to send Bradford's cum down his throat with grunting jolts of grinding power.

He cried genuine tears of shame and humiliation and defeat as he gulped down mouthful after mouthful of his foe's tangy ball brew, trying to keep from drowning in the never-ending flow. 

Finally, Beth ground her hairy snatch fully on his face as she came with a guttural growl. Sated, she unlocked her gripping legs and rolled off, Michael lying stunned on the bed, feeling the heat of all that cum cooling on his face.

"Tied up again," Beth sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed as Bradford stood, taking his wet cock in her puckered lips, lapping the cream from it as the young man groaned to her touch. "One more event to go..."

Michael's face turned to the side to watch as she double fisted the stud's huge dick in her small hands, twisting around it, silky hair swaying with the movement as her pretty head bobbed back and forth. Bradford stood, hands on hips, watching her work, and smiling at Michael.

"Damn, I just came as hard as I ever have and I'm ready to pop again!" he howled, looking down at Beth's eyes that looked up at him. "Is that what you want, pretty boss lady? Want me to cum again?"

She didn't answer, instead redoubling her efforts, sucking his cock faster, harder, twisting her hands in a blurry double stroke that had the young stud standing on tip toes, body trembling.

A moment later, as the sound of sucking filled the big bedroom, he let loose another prodigious load, and she mewed like a satisfied kitten as she felt the thick stream of Bradford's cum bolt down her throat and fill her billowed cheeks.

She stopped, letting his dick slip wetly from her lips. Bradford staggered back, spent, leaning on a credenza and watched as Beth slid back onto the bed, straddling Michael and forcing her mouth to his. She opened it and let a thick bubble of cum dribble into his moaning mouth. She clamped her lips to his, eyes locked into his eyes, and made him swallow every drop. She sat up, wiping her lips with her hands.

"And now, the final event, the tiebreaker!" she said happily, jumping off the bed and guiding Bradford back to it. "Mutual oral sex. You two blow each other. And the first one to cum - loses the contest!"

"But...but that's not fair!" Michael cried out, sitting up, his cock hard, watching Bradford's sag between his muscular thighs. "You just...he came...he came twice! He's not gonna cum again so soon! That's...that's not fair!"

"It is fair," Beth hissed, leaning over to grab Michael's cock and stroke it, breathing fire into his stunned face. "If I say it's fair. Now get busy. If you're really good at sucking cock, you have nothing to worry about..."

She laid Bradford on his side and Michael on his. Bradford's cock, wet and slimy, hung half hard, Michael's fully erect, both at each other's mouths. Bradford looked up at Michael, winking.

"Hey, I'm not crazy about sucking your dick either, pal, or eating your cum, but I do want that fucking job," he growled, fisting Michael's cock in his hand, making him jump. "May the best man win! HAHAHA!!

He devoured Michael's cock, taking him balls deep in one stroke. Michael screamed - in pleasure. It felt good, too damned good, the young man's proficiency staggering him into inaction as he felt Bradford's hand slickly stroke him up and down and in and out of his sucking mouth.

He had to act quickly, and now took Bradford's huge dick into his mouth, stroking him as well, sucking on the cap and running his tongue over the sensitive tip, eager to make him cum and secure victory.

But he was losing. His enemy was too good at sucking cock, Michael was too horny from the past 24 hours of sexual overload and he felt his orgasm building. He moved fast, cupping Bradford's ass in one hand, parting the muscular cheeks and suddenly ramming two fingers into the sweaty hole, burying them deeply inside, hoping to trigger a quick orgasm with a violent prostate massage.

To his horror, Bradford felt his orgasm building as well as Michael's plunging finger tips rubbed his prostate gland, making his balls ache and cock throb in the slurping mouth. Quickly, he tried doing the same to Michael, but the young man clamped his cheeks together and asshole shut securely, thwarting his probing advances. He sucked Michael's cock harder and faster, squeezing his balls now, trying desperately to coax the cum from them before he unloaded his own nuts into his enemy's sucking mouth.

"All's fair in love and war, boys," they heard Beth hiss as she knelt on the bed behind Michael on his side.

She parted Michael's cheeks with both hands, in a stronger position to do so than Bradford, and the flesh opened wide, even as Michael struggled to clamp them shut. She wet her fingers in her mouth and suddenly and accurately jammed them - one at a time - inside Michael's tight asshole until all four were lodged deep inside.

"FUCK NO!!" Michael howled, popping Bradford's cock from his mouth and stroking it as hard and fast as he could, then stuffing it back inside his lips eager to finish him off, make him cum and win the job he needed so badly.

But it was not to be. Beth's fingers were too precise and rubbed at his prostate, held tight inside him, wiggling, twisting. He felt his balls erupt, the flow complete and intense, shooting ribbons of hot cum into Bradford's gulping throat as the young blonde stroked him.

Michael finished cumming, the fog lifting from his mind as he realized with horrid clarity he'd lost the contest and the job. 

And in a cruel twist of fate, Bradford unloaded his own scorching load into his mouth seconds after, helped along by Beth's hand, Michael watching the slender, small fingers encircle Bradford's cock, jerking him off into Michael's sad mouth.

She got up, pulling one hand from the victor's dick, the other from the loser's ass. She stood, helping Bradford to his feet, hugging him, kissing him, sharing Michael's load with her until their lips were a foamy, bubbling smear of cum.

Michael lay still on the bed, eyes closed, trying to ignore the sucking wet sounds of the lovers standing, embracing, a few feet away.

He felt the bed sag and opened his eyes. Beth sat next to him, looking down at him.

"Bradford is my new administrative assistant, and you are my...well, our cuckold," she said. "You are, of course, free to leave the company. Under the circumstances, I would understand. I'll write a letter of recommendation for you if you'd like."

She let her words hang in the air for long, painful seconds, just staring at him. He blinked, unsure of what to say, what to think, what to do.

Then the words spilled out of him easier than he thought they would, as he looked at the beautiful older woman standing in the short black socks that had driven him wild with lust since he first saw them the night before.

"I...I'll stay," he said, sitting up on the edge of the bed, head hanging on his chest. "Mother..."

She walked to him, tilting his head up by his chin. Almost gently, maternally, she placed her lips on his and kissed him tenderly.

"I think that's a wise decision, son," she said.

She put one foot on the bed next to him. He looked at it, the wrinkled sock draped around her ankle.

"Take it off," she said.

He did, slowly peeling off the sweaty fabric, moaning as he watched her slender, sexy foot come into view, the toes long and beautiful. She offered the other, and he took that off as well. She took them from his hand.

"I'm not totally heartless, Michael," she smiled. "For you..."

She bent and placed one foul-smelling sock over his cock, which stiffened the instant she touched it. The other she balled up and slowly stuffed into his mouth, the stench and taste filling his being and fully hardening his cock. She stood up, taking his hand, leading him to the suite's living room and lying him down on the couch, covering him with a blanket. 

She stepped back and he looked at her fantastic old body bathed in the iridescent glow of the moonlight shafting through the windows. She never looked more beautiful.

"Sleep well, son," she said, walking toward the bedroom where Bradford already lay in bed waiting for her. "Your new job, as company cuckold, starts in the morning..."

He curled into a fetal position, crying himself to sleep, Beth's socks still in his mouth and around his cock, trying to ignore the sounds of their passionate lovemaking.