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Story Notes:

This story was done as a commission for TalkingHead.

If you're in the market for a little sultry cougar foot-action, look no further. This story is technically set in the same universe as my Time-Out series, though the connections are slight.

Interested in commissioning me for your own custom story? Read details here: https://thejacksmith.deviantart.com/journal/Story-Commissions-698491757

Jason Burton always felt smaller when he returned to the familiar, confined walls of his childhood home. He’d only been away at college for a year now, having just returned this very afternoon with a trunk packed full of belongings. The year away was a serious confidence booster, and a necessary one at that, for the five-foot-five sandy-haired young man who, despite an athletic frame and self-assured vocal timbre, possessed somewhat of a baby face and the stature to go along with it.

            He wandered into the living room of his mother’s home and flopped into the comfy leather couch cushions. Returning here reminded him that, despite his bravado, he was still the same kid who had to prove on a daily basis he was bigger than his below-average height let on.

            It was nice to have some alone time before his mother returned from her errands. On his drive home, she’d texted to let him know a home-cooked meal was en route once she returned, and to simply make himself comfortable for the personal homecoming.

            Jason smiled to himself. He was looking forward to seeing his mother, and heck, even the inevitable string of chatty cathys from the never-ending parade of her book club, Bible study, activism team, and nature conservation collective who all would inevitably find their way into the house over the coming weeks and want a full spiel on his year at college.

            Of course, there was one of those frequent household callers in particular whom Jason was looking forward to seeing just that little bit extra, though he often wanted to deny the sensation of repressed curiosity and even hesitant desire.

            “Hello?” a lilting voice boomed from the back porch door. Jason was so deeply relaxed now into the couch cushions, back slouched and arms outspread, he barely registered the voice as recognizable in his memory banks.

            “Hey!” he said back, assuming it to be his mother.

            Jason listened closer now. In the quietude of the house, he could make out the sound of shoes being scraped softly along heels for removal followed by the clunk of them landing on the welcome mat. Next the padding of smooth skin along the tiled floor, and finally, a vague shadow looming over Jason’s head from the back of the couch. He looked up.

            “Well, hello, hello there, Jason,” said Heather Goodman: a neighbor from down the block, a high-powered executive businesswoman, his mother’s best friend, and the six-foot-six object of Jason’s gentle adolescent torments. In more ways than one, she was a giant.

            “Oh!” he sputtered, instantly correcting his posture on the couch out of instinct. Just as always, he was hopelessly dwarfed by her. “Mrs. Goodman!”

            He gazed upside-down toward the striking countenance of the woman above. Her glamorous chestnut hair hung in silky tresses down over her shoulders, framing her magnetic features. As usual, those piercing hazel-green eyes of hers met his with imperious need. Her smile curved broadly across her cheeks, punctuated by ageless laugh line creases. She was an absolutely hypnotizing creature.

            “Now, Jason, you know perfectly well that not only is it Ms. Goodman as of three years ago, but that you have no business calling me by that name anyway,” the woman explained with a wink. “It’s Heather, remember?”

            “R-Right, yes. Sorry about that.”

            “You apologize too much, hon, you know that?” the woman sighed with a pitying smirk. She rested her forearms on the back of the couch, her slender, elegant hands hanging above Jason’s head. Those long fingertips dipped into his hair and began to knead with utmost gentleness.

            “Maybe I do, yeah” he laughed. Goose bumps rippled at the sensation of her casual fingertips.

            Though he’d never probably be capable of explaining it fully, Jason was reduced to something of a puddle in Heather Goodman’s presence, almost without fail. Throughout his teenage years, he’d always compensated for his shorter height with humor and smooth talk, even charming some of the cutest girls in his grade. But all of that skill fell by the wayside when he was in the aura of Heather, this frankly drop-dead gorgeous neighbor who was entering middle age with a grace and cool that was an embarrassment to the very concept of human maturation.

            “It’s funny, I could’ve sworn your mother was supposed to be around now, but just as I came through the door, it occurred to me she told me she’d be out. Isn’t that funny of me, to forget a thing like that?” Heather inquired softly.

            “Maybe a little.”

            “Speaking of little, hon, I’m glad to have a “little” company while we wait on her to come back. You don’t mind if I join you, do you?”
            “Hmm? Oh, no, no!” he said, a little more desperately than he hoped to sound. “Please, um… go ahead and sit anywhere, if you…”

            “Why thank you, Jason. That’s so sweet of you,” she commented before the full sentence was out. Her palms gave Jason’s scalp a final stroke, and then she was circling around the couch.

            Now Jason was treated to the full view. The vision that tended to make his throat go dry and his vocal cords tick out of sync.

            Heather Goodman was something of a knock-out. There wasn’t a much better word for it. At six and a half feet tall, she was a voluptuous hourglass of a woman. Though Jason was often used to seeing her in tasteful pantsuits or business skirts, today, she was adorned in a simple crimson-red top which complemented her ample bust, and skinny jeans which lovingly hugged the shelf of her derriere and bulge of her full-bodied thighs.

            For a few instants, the woman simply stood above the couch, lording over this young man whom she beat out in height by a full foot-and-an-inch. Her broad hands, with fingernails painted a delicate chocolate-violet hue, sculpted their way up from her hips to her stomach, with such casualness, Jason couldn’t be sure she was doing it on purpose. Yet, as he watched her eyes hungrily contacting his, it was hard not to wonder what was going through her head.

            Heather sunk down into the couch, conveniently in the very center, which put her inches away from Jason to her left. The college freshman was treated to a new sight he hadn’t experienced in over a year but he now realized was sorely missed, at least on a subconscious level.

            The woman, with a last twirl of her lustrous brown locks, leaned fully back in the couch and propped her left leg up upon the glass coffee table beyond. Her bare, beautiful, size-eleven-and-a-half foot. Almost porcelain in its immaculate geometry, it was laid to stand on its heel, facing out toward the room. Internally, Jason felt a twinge of disappointment to be distanced from it.

            Next, then, in answer, Heather’s other foot rose from the opposite side and crossed her left leg, using it to prop her right foot over her knee, less than twelve inches away from Jason: her smooth, creamy sole aimed directly at him.

            Every time Jason caught a glimpse of Heather’s feet in the past, he had to remind himself by context of their sheer size, because nothing about them suggested her feminine appendages were nearly as humongous as they were. No long hammer toes, no desiccate heels, no bony joints; save for the fact that Heather’s foot was about eleven inches long from end to end, it may have belonged to any ordinary woman, which Heather most certainly was not.

            Jason swallowed and cast a glance out the side toward the woman’s proudly displayed right foot. It wore its curves and slopes proudly, with a plush instep and supple, deeply wrinkled sole. Every few seconds, her toes idly flexed, scrunching down from the ball of her foot to the heel and altering the hue from pale to peachy.

            “Something the matter, Jason?” Heather questioned at length. She rested her head in her palm as she stared sideways at the neighbor boy huddled into his half of the couch.

            “Hmm? No… no, Ms. G… I mean, Heather.”

            “There you go, you’re getting it now,” she murmured. “Now, Jason, no more beating around the bush. I’m sure you’re going to get sick of telling everyone about your first year off in the big wide world, so I’d love to hear the first account, before you’re tired of it.”

            “Oh. Uh, sure, yeah,” he said. “Where should I start?”

            “Anywhere you like,” Heather sighed contentedly. The toes of her right foot flared out, her largest digit pointed to the ceiling. Her sole flushed rose.

            “Well, uh, classes were pretty good! I feel like I learned a lot, and…”

            “Uh-huh, I’m sure that was really the first thing that came to your mind, hon. Believe me, I know what college is like. God knows I went for enough years, getting those extra degrees,” Heather laughed, gently interrupting. “C’mon now. You can tell me. What was it actually like?”

            Her body was shifting on the couch now toward the opposite end, putting greater distance between herself and Jason. Still, her heel remained anchored on the coffee table, the flesh of her heel squished against the transparent surface. Meanwhile, her opposite displayed sole continued its casual dance, flicking toes and rippling sole.

            Jason was having trouble keeping his eyes off of her peds now. It was like they had their own gravitational pull. He forced himself to lock eyes again with Heather, who was smirking cheekily now.

            “It was, uh, pretty great,” he said. “I met a lot of new people, made some new friends-”

            “What kind of friends?”

            “Huh? You mean… like, girlfr-”

            “Only teasing you, Jason. You know I like to tease,” Heather giggled. This much was true.

            “Right. Ha, ha, yeah… well, got invited to some parties, rushed a fraternity or two, joined some clubs…” he rambled, realizing how fast he was passing over the events. He couldn’t help it. By now, the amazonian neighbor was stretched across almost the entirety of the couch, her body reclined in a queenly glory with her curve-hugging jeans and top. Focus was at a premium.

            “You’re so tense, Jason. That’s what it’s sounding like to me. Like you need to let loose a little, and stop being so nervous all the time,” Heather explained coyly. “It’s as if you don’t know how to talk to me, when we’ve known each other for so many years now.”

            At last, she straightened herself out on the lengthy leather sofa. Her prominent bare foot hovered over from the coffee table to the cushions, and before Jason knew it, each of the woman’s firm heels was pressed up against his leg.


Chapter End Notes:

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