Once Cameron had thoroughly swabbed his sister’s bitter-tasting yet beautiful toe along his inner cheek, he felt her sole releasing its vice on his cock. Suddenly the Lazy Susan was spinning again, with such speed that he was nearly tossed off of it; Brianna’s strong calves allowed her to thrust the device around at alarming pace. She didn’t give her son time to catch his breath before the ball of her foot, this time smeared with cakey Danish, was kissed forcibly to Cameron’s lips.

            He responded in kind by making out with Brianna’s pastry-strewn sole. The boy opened his lips as wide as possible as though trying to grapple with a candy jawbreaker, rather than a hunk of his mother’s firm foot. He sucked and cleaned the delicious crumbs from the bottom of her foot, and when he was through, Brianna arched her toes into Cameron’s tired lips. She’d collected a large volume of pastry in the divots between her regal piggies, so the boy had his work cut out for him licking, suckling, and nibbling every scrap of it off his own mother’s damp naked foot. When this portion was finished, the wheel spun again, and Alyssa’s rotund heel came swinging for her brother’s dick.

            Breakfast concluded without a single word being addressed to Cameron. Brianna and Alyssa had enjoyed an animated conversation covering every topic except him, even though they’d simultaneously taken rapid turns feeding their slave from their feet and toe-tickling his erection well into blue-ball territory. By the end, as mother and daughter worked on cleaning up the mess, Cameron stayed hunched on the Lazy Susan, out of breath, his face painted in gummy breakfast food, and his desperate member aching to release.

            “I suppose we ought to get ready for the day,” Brianna sighed. “I’m expecting company in a little while, after all.”

            Company? Who could that mean, Cameron wondered.

            Alyssa had plans of her own with the same friends she’d spent the previous day teaching to humiliate Cameron. While she freshened up in her bedroom and eventually departed with a cheery farewell to her family, the broken foot-slave was on duty with his mother.

            Brianna took her time with a luxurious shower, followed by the selection of her outfit and application of her makeup, during which Cameron followed her around on his knees the entire time, massaging her freshly washed feet whenever she paused.

            Glossy and sweet-smelling after being sudsed and rinsed, Brianna’s large feet were a particular pleasure for Cameron to pamper. He adored this part of the semi-regular routine, as it felt appropriately private, given his altered familial relationships. His mother would arch her thick, shapely foot off the carpet and bring it to rest upon her son’s crossed thigh, which gave him the chance to work his fingers between her toes and circle his thumbs on her soles. Here and there, Cameron sneaked an extra sampling of his mother’s feet, either sharply inhaling the citrus soap aroma from out of her sole wrinkles, or even flicking his tongue at the bulb of her big toe. Brianna pretended not to notice, but she wore an ear-to-ear smile the whole time. Almost as if she was hiding something devious.

            “Come along now, dear,” Brianna instructed. “Company will be here soon.”

            “Okay,” he said. “Do you… want me to stay in my old room?”

            “Don’t be silly,” she said, tousling the boy’s hair. “You’ll be showing off some of your new talents today.”

            Brianna led the way back downstairs, though she still hadn’t mentioned anything about who was coming. Cameron couldn’t help but think back to her seemingly idle jokes this morning about inviting former friends to witness his foot-flavored undoing. Who was it now? One of her coworkers? A neighbor? Perhaps even his aunt, whose promiscuous and free-spirited demeanor would make her a thoroughly involved guest; secretly, Cameron longed to be beneath his aunt’s pretty feet, which had entered middle age like fine wine.

            In the living room, Brianna set out coffee and muffins, then took a seat in the armchair. Cameron, as usual, acted as a footrest in front. For a long while, the woman brushed her plush sole over her son’s face, earning a kiss on her deep arch with each pass. The other foot found a place on his stomach, occasionally taunting his boxer waistline again. Cameron was shivering now. It took all his willpower to keep his hand off his tool.

            “Oh, sweetie. You look like you’re almost in pain,” Brianna cooed, glancing to his full-standing hard-on. She took another sip of coffee, then gave her son a fawning look. Her toes scrunched and rolled back and forth on his lower lip. “C’mon. I don’t have all day. Open up that pretty mouth, then go ahead and take care of yourself down there. I just showered, so I don’t need more of your mess on me.”

            Eternally grateful, Cameron opened his jaws and let in his mother’s four biggest toes. Brianna continued relaxing, aside from dropping a tissue into her boy’s hand to catch the refuse. When he finished, Cameron quaked, wiped himself off, but continued enjoying Brianna’s fleshy digits in his mouth a few minutes more. Always the kind mother, she allowed this without comment. Finally, the doorbell rang.

            When Brianna returned to the living room with a single guest behind her, not even with a thousand guesses could Cameron have predicted their identity. Yet there stood Ms. Heather, his eleventh grade English teacher, and a woman he’d harbored a lustful crush over for a very long time. She looked just as the boy remembered her: tall, elegant, slender, with honey-colored shoulder length blonde hair. Ms. Heather was even clad in similar suggestively alluring attire from those bygone school days, including a colorful top, dark skirt, sheer pantyhose, and black flats.

            Cameron’s jaw hung open at the sight of his beautiful, youthful, smart-as-a-whip schoolteacher standing there in the living room with a radiant smirk on her face. Abruptly, he realized just how exposed he was in his pajama shirt and boxers. His instinct was to run for the stairs and change, but something kept him rooted in place.

            “Say hello to Ms. Heather, dear,” Brianna said. “Really, we practiced this.”

            “S-Sorry,” he muttered, and hung his head. “Good morning, Ms. Heather.”

            “Good morning to you, too, Cameron,” the perky visitor said; her mirthful voice was just as energetic as though he was entering her classroom for another lesson. She crossed her arms. “It’s certainly been a while, hasn’t it?”