The mother-in-law had no idea.
The story, friends, is not long, but it's exciting. I've been married for several years, my wife has amazing legs, I've introduced her to the theme, so footjobs, foot worship, and whatever the soul desires are all available to me. I've always been drawn to middle-aged women, and their legs appealed to me too. We live separately from our parents, I rarely see my mother-in-law, Galina Nikolaevna, and I never experienced any particular arousal in her presence.
She's great, though, keeps herself in good shape, and her legs are nice too. Once, my wife went on a week-long vacation with her friends, I was completely immersed in work, and then unexpectedly my mother-in-law calls, asking for help with checking some documents. Of course, I said. And she came over. It was early autumn, I saw my mother-in-law for the first time after her vacation in the south, and there she was, Galina, in high heels, a tight skirt, tanned legs, the tops of her feet a couple of shades lighter, just chic! My wife, in a word, only slightly younger.
"Don't take off your shoes," I say, immediately coming up with some compelling reason. She agrees, goes into the room, word after word, and then suddenly she says: "Oh, I got a pedicure, such a great beauty salon, it was my first time there." She slips off her sandals and wiggles her feet back and forth, admiring them. "Is that a French pedicure?" I ask. "Yes," she says. "Well, take a look, isn't it cute?!" And she extends one foot towards me.
I'm sitting in the armchair opposite and start to feel a bit lightheaded when that foot ends up in my hands. My mother-in-law, it was immediately clear (and I know her well), did this action without any ulterior motive, which is why the arousal that washed over me was incredible. "A massage?" I offer cheerfully. "Go ahead!" my mother-in-law laughs. I start massaging her foot, and she tells me about work, about various family matters, periodically says something funny, we both smile, I nod along, massaging, or rather, just stroking.
Then her phone rings, she shows it to me, like, it's work, I'll be distracted, but she doesn't get up, and arranges her other foot more comfortably, that is, on my lap. While talking, she completely forgets about what I'm doing, and I'm already starting to get a slight tremble. I've never cheated on my wife and don't intend to, I glance at other legs just for aesthetic pleasure, and even that's rare, my fiancée's beauty is enough for me.
But here it just washed over me. My mother-in-law stopped chatting, commented on the conversation somehow, playfully took her feet off my lap and ran to the kitchen, says the kettle's boiling, I'll make some sandwiches. She made them, returned with a tray, put it on the table, took a cup herself and back into the armchair, tucking her feet under herself, continues to chatter non-stop about something. I was already starting to come to my senses, and then she blurts out:
"Today, for once, my husband appreciated my look, and I liked it myself, and also, can you imagine, while I was on the bus, some guy kept staring at me, and then he says: 'You, lady, have first-class legs.' Well, and I laughed for some reason, in a very good mood. 'First-class, he's right,' I blurt out. And then about the tan, and about the pedicure. 'Thank you, thank you,' she laughs.
"It's more exciting than anything else," I say playfully, matching her laughter. "Oh, come ooon, you men only look at butts and boobs," she laughs again. "Sorry, I'm talking about others, you're a well-mannered guy, but that's all men want, what legs, I beg you, dear." "Well, for me it's like this, not the butt, not the boobs (at this stage of the conversation I start getting aroused again), but specifically legs — and then, forcing it out with a breath — the toes..." "Seriously?" my mother-in-law is surprised. "Listen, I'm embarrassed to ask my daughter such things, but I'm still curious, how is it with you.
Strictly between us, son, my husband always follows the standard program — then she laughs, blushes herself, in short, it's chic, and adds — and I, oh, mama, wanted him to kiss me everywhere-everywhere, literally everywhere. He's lazy." "Strictly between us, I adore kissing women's feet, and sucking their toes like candies, as one poet said, well, I agree with him, so here's your answer, how it is with me and your daughter." "You mean how, kiss feet? And like, lick them? And you get pleasure from that? Really?!" And then she's all in surprised mode, genuine surprise, and I'm introducing her to the theme, everything is sweet, touching, without alcohol, just under a cheerful mood and such reckless frankness.
And still she thought it was just a game to spice up sex, she doesn't believe, clearly doesn't believe, that this alone is already a full-fledged high. "If I just look at your legs, how you play with them, then stroke them, and then kiss your toes, I'll be at the peak of bliss (and here it slips out), I'll come, in a word." A pause hangs, my heart sinks.
Mother-in-law laughs like a girl after a magic trick explanation. "Well then," she says, "I won't let you kiss my feet, I'm your mother-in-law, wait until your wife comes back. But I'll hint to my husband that such a thing exists. I'd like to try it, maybe I'll get pleasure from it myself." "You will," I smile. She smiles too. "I won't even tell you not to look at others." "No need, I'll wait for my wife, relieve the tension, it's just all so unexpected, I'm even intoxicated from talking with you."
She blushed. "Yeah, we got carried away with confessions." And then she jumps up: "Wait a minute, I was here boasting about my pedicure, agreed to a massage, and you, poor thing, were getting seriously aroused. Oh, son, I had no ulterior motive!" "I know, Galina Nikolaevna, it's all good. Please forgive my frankness, after you leave, I'll remember this and relieve the tension myself." Then she got serious. "You'd really come if you just kissed?" "Really, I think, yes, really." "Kiss," she says, and laughs, and that laugh really defuses the situation.
She extends one foot to me... And for about five minutes I caressed her feet, she was very tense, watching to make sure I didn't go too far, and I didn't. "All done?" she asks. I didn't lie: "I probably won't come, but this is just fantastic, thank you!" And emboldened, I add: "I'll take care of the rest myself later, I won't offer a footjob, don't worry." She smiles again, but still very tense: "What kind of beast is that?"
Well, and off I went, educating her further over the cooled tea. She left with shining eyes, and then, a day before my wife's return, she called: "I persuaded my husband today to do what you did then... He called me a silly old fool (eh, and my mother-in-law is only 44!) and told me to spend less time on the Internet. But he sort of smacked a bit (laughs). Then I tried that footjob on him, I secretly looked online to see what and how.
He didn't like it, probably I did it poorly, or more likely, because he only wants the same old thing." Well, and then my wife came back, and about a week later (they have a very friendly, trusting relationship with her mom), she declares: "If I didn't know you and her, I'd kill you!" And she laughs herself. Then, before I could even utter a word, she continues: "Well, mom shared, you know, over a drink. About wanting more in sex, she always talked about it, I feel sorry for her, let it at least be such a small thing, I bet you gave her a lecture."
She laughs again. That night, against this backdrop, everything was especially hot for us, and towards the end my wife herself (miracles do happen) says: "If mom asks to kiss or stroke again, don't be shy. I know nothing further will happen, but let it be. It's a thrill for you and for her. I'm not offended, it even arouses me a little." The next time I met Galina Nikolaevna (my wife was in the kitchen), I scolded her in a whisper with a smile, she shrugged her shoulders, smiled.
"No more, never again," she says, "although my daughter sort of allowed me and warned you." My wife entered the room, praised my foot worship in front of her mom, who almost turned tomato-red from embarrassment. Then my wife says: "Mom, let him do it again now, if you want, I'll go to the store, or better yet, I'll watch, our sex with my husband afterwards gets even hotter than hot." Well, and in general, brothers, I caressed my mother-in-law's feet right in front of my wife. It might seem nasty or wild, but it was sweet and thrilling. Although, if someone told me this story, I wouldn't believe it. Especially that it happened to me.
After my mother-in-law left, my wife and I immediately had sex again that would be the envy of any porn film. Do I feel drawn, does my stomach churn at the thought of a threesome, with my wife and mother-in-law (even though I've never had such thoughts and can't imagine anyone else in that role besides my mother-in-law). Yes, I'm drawn. Will I dare to say it? No, that would already be crossing a line, from unusual but amusing to something fundamentally wrong. My wife, I think, understands this too. Especially my mother-in-law. But I'm sure I'll be able to caress my mother-in-law's feet right in front of my spouse more than once.
P.s. yesterday, going to bed, my wife says: "Next time I thought about giving you a footjob after your games with mom, but no. And in general, somehow it turns out we're using her, poor thing, imagine how she must want it afterwards." "Your father exists." "That's true, but mom complains it's standard. Although let it at least be standard." "Are you happy with everything?" "Yes," I say. "Okay. If I ever come around to thinking about what can't be helped but thought about, I'll say." "Don't," I say. "Probably not."