“You just have to relax,” Heather Goodman repeated. “That’s all, Jason.”

            “I… probably do, yeah,” he agreed, unable to keep from staring at the meaty toes and thick-slabbed soles which lingered a matter of inches away from his arm. God, she was massive. A real leviathan of a woman. Sometimes he forgot, when he was sitting down and just about everything seemed more distant; right now, though, he had this lovely woman’s towering, naked soles flanked to his thigh.

            “Speaking of tension, Jason, I hope you wouldn’t mind terribly. But I noticed just on the walk over here, well… my feet are a little sore. I suspect from too much stalking in those too-high heels of mine around the office. They’re something of a killer, but damn it, I just can’t muster the strength to throw them out. What do you say? Could you help a girl out and give me a little foot rub? Just for a minute?”

            Jason froze. There’d been several occasions in the past where he came into fleeting contact with Heather’s monstrous, pretty feet, but never quite in such an intentional, personal context. Never when it was just the two of them, alone in a space, when he didn’t feel the same anxieties of whether someone might look strangely at him: the comparatively little man playing servant to the deserving feet of a powerful woman old enough to be his mother (despite her body shape and facial composition suggesting the contrary).

            “Of c-course! Yeah, sure,” Jason said, weighing each word to ensure he didn’t sound too eager. Frankly, he wasn’t sure it was such a great idea, sinking deeper down the rabbit hole of his own internal adequacies which this woman’s mere presence seemed to pull out. Nevertheless, his curiosity got the better of him; he wanted those feet in his hands.

            “Such a gentleman, as always. Thanks, hon,” Heather said warmly. Her legs angled lithely, allowing the twin heels to plop gingerly onto Jason’s thigh.

            Momentarily unsure of where to begin on such sizable peds, Jason’s open hands hung inches away from Heather’s soles. However, she seemed to note his hesitation, and stretched just a little further forward, clasping her warm sole flush to his palm. That was enough to start.

            In no time, the young man was kneading the deep slope of her sole and driving his thumb hard up the curve to the ball of her foot. With his other hand, he tweaked her juicy toes between his fingers and even took the liberty of tracing his digits into the fleshy crevices between hers.

            Jason couldn’t lie to himself. It was just a little exhilarating.

            “Oooh, that hits the spot, hon. Thank you so much,” Heather whispered with apparent satisfaction. She leaned her head back against the opposite poofed-leather arm of the couch, her eyelids drifting closed.

            The work was coming naturally to Jason now. He hadn’t ever really attempted a serious foot massage before, but the next moves just flowed. Cupping her heels into his pathetically smaller palms, he began low, then traced upward. Fingers digging at the velvety skin and testing the firm muscle beneath, Jason dragged his knuckles up the considerable, almost literal foot-long mass of the woman’s naked appendage. Once he’d focused for long enough on one foot, it seemed Heather’s opposite became jealous, because the bulk of it would squeeze itself between Jason’s busy hands and the other foot: insisting on immediate return to service of the neglected foot. Obligingly, Jason listened to these silent directions.

            The murmuring from Heather was slurring into low moans. Nothing uncouth, at least to Jason’s ears, but the woman was certainly not shy in letting him know he was successful in the request to relax her. By now, as he focused on one foot, the opposite one took to stroking itself along his forearm and hand, in yearning to be touched again. Her toes curled playfully at his smaller fingers, occasionally gripping in the soft crevices and then releasing him to continue his good work.

            It was obvious to Jason that Heather took care of every square inch of her body, including these feet. They were so soft and liquid-silky, almost like undisturbed ice cream; he had to imagine she was a pedicure recipient on a weekly basis at least. A fresh, fragrant aroma of mango and tangerine as well as some mysterious flower wafted from her flesh. This only intoxicated Jason further.

            Now, though, the foot massage had stretched lazily on for at least twenty minutes, with no mention from Heather to halt. If anything, her sleepy moans of comfort were encouragement to continue on. Being honest with himself, Jason was dreading the instant she asked him to stop.

            And only now, when he was so deeply entranced in this semi-sacred act of caressing these feet which somehow always found their way to be near him throughout his youth, Jason became aware of a tingling. An awakening between his legs and, inconveniently enough, just a couple inches away from where Heather’s meaty soles were patiently waiting for him to fondle her wrinkles again. His pants were beginning to tent.

            Jason exhaled upon Heather’s wriggling toes. Ever so subtly, he began to roll himself into a diagonal, such that the protrusion in his clothing was angled away from the surface of wrinkled foot flesh. Even then, part of him deep down was curious what it would feel like to lean in the opposite direction instead and brush his rod against a feminine foot nearly double as long.

            Again, the decision was made for him. Heather seemed to sense his gentle retreat and she compensated, following further across the couch such that each of her feet was now draped comfortably in the center of the young man’s lap. While one grateful, silky bare foot remained in Jason’s grasp, the second was now squashed ever-so-tenderly down upon his crotch: the bulge beneath his jeans was fitted snugly to the curve of Heather’s long sole.

            He bit his tongue, begging his biology to cool. But it did no such thing. The best Jason could do now was remain perfectly still, hoping that, given her reclined, half-napping position, Heather would just assume her right foot had come to rest upon his other leg instead of his erect shaft.

            “I noticed something about you, Jason,” Heather purred softly, without opening her eyes and lifting her chin up. By now, her left leg was angled such that the foot Jason was currently massaging was leaned into his chest, which allowed her toes to squirm and grip the cloth of his shirt while he rubbed her heel. The tangerine scent was ever-pungent now.

            “What’s that?”

            “I think you’ve grown.”