Planting the Seed

Every fetish has its inception. A careless kick between the legs as a boy can have a grown man begging to worship the toes that just pulverised his most sensitive organs. 

     Tracey yawned as she sauntered into the kitchen, her hips sashaying as she did. Her silk robe was parted, the tie hung down open by her waist as superfluously as my thoroughly-sterilised testicles now hung between my legs. Her ample cleavage poured out from the curtains the robe formed, framing her bodice perfectly, unencumbered by a bra. Her panties alone provided the only semblance of modesty as she greeted us that morning. I couldn't help but gaze longingly at her buxom frame, her beautifully maintained manicure and pedicure. There may even be more nail polish on her body than fabric I thought.

     I gazed over to my wife, seated at the dining table beside me, dressed much the same, but looking every one of her 30 years older than her young daughter Tracey. Of course she was 30 years older than me too, I had met her as the mother of my friend, but of course I had met her in that formative period of my life when a passing infatuation with an older woman became an obsession that could last a lifetime. Ever since she caught me as a shy 12 year old, masturbating furiously in the bathroom of her home to a picture of her in a swimsuit from a family vacation, I was hers. I remember she was stunned initially but didn't leave the room, she instead surveyed my pathetic form, holding my adolescent cock in my right hand and the photo of her in the other. I couldn't help but remember the subtle passing of a smirk across her face, I had hoped she was perhaps even flattered. She crossed her arms, emphasising her bust, "Go on," she stated, "Finish." She raised an eyebrow, egging me on.

     I was shocked but too caught up in my lust to think sensibly. I held her gaze, then looked her womanly figure up and down. She was a stunning specimen in her early 40's at the time, she'd just returned from her office job wearing a pencil black skirt, stockings and black pumps with a tight full length woollen blouse. I started to slowly masturbate once again, she let me build up slowly, breathing harder and harder in a false sense of security. She removed a cigarette from a pack she'd been holding and lit it slowly, taking a sensual drag and narrowing her gaze. Oh, how I wanted those lips to purse around me in that moment.
     She was a seasoned woman and could tell that I was soon approaching climax. As the first spurt of cum rocketed forth, so too did her athletic and sleek right leg, jamming her rounded high heel's toe into my vulnerable developing organs. I was in sudden agony, the pain rushing up from my balls into my abdomen, crippling me suddenly. I fell to the floor, still sending wave after wave of cum across the floor. I was oblivious to what happened next, other than knowing I must have been on the floor for some time before I had the strength to stand against the pain.

     She returned much later with an ice pack in her dainty hand. "Oh good, you're up." She walked menacingly to my person, taking her time, the click of her heels lingered with intent. I shuddered, expecting another assault on my delicate organs. She laughed at my shudder, the lit cigarette still hanging from her crimson lips, a girlish but cruel laugh. "Don't worry, I think you've learned your lesson. Now don't let me catch you doing that again or I might have to make sure you never can, if you catch my drift." She winked at me.

     "What do you mean?" I stuttered.

     She rolled her eyes, looking every bit the brat she must have been in her teens and early twenties, twisting every man effortlessly to her whim. "I mean, if you do it again I'll kick you so hard between the legs that I'll rupture both of your nuts. Understand now?" She spat. "Or do I need to put those balls on the toilet seat and slam down the lid?"

     I nodded hurriedly, ashamed of my profound weakness before her.

     "Good," she chided, bringing her hand up to my chin in a consolatory fashion. "Now, this is for you." She pulled the waistband of my underpants away from my body a good 6 inches, slipping the rock-hard ice pack inside. I looked up to meet her gaze as she stared deeply into my eyes, giving me a condescending glare as she cocked her head to the side, drinking in my fear of the impending agony I was about to experience. My eyes begged her not to follow through in vain. "Oh God, no."

     She let go of the band suddenly and with a loud "crack" the ice pack slammed into my groin, already sensitive from having her toes buried deep within, the pain hit me like a wave, I was momentarily delirious. I whimpered, frozen. She stood and surveyed me menacingly, hands on ample hips, awaiting the full reality of the pain to sink in. Then it hit me like a wall and I was prostrate on the ground in seconds.

     What felt like hours later I hobbled out of the bathroom and stumbled down the street back home, never mentioning this to anyone. Despite what she must have only been doing with the best of intentions to set me straight for my actions, she had embedded a deep-seated lust for older women, their feet and the pain they could cause so easily to my reproductive organs.

     Fast-forward to the current moment, as I stared longingly at her, just as I did that bikini-clad photograph. She was sitting beside me, reading the newspaper through her tortoise-shelled glasses, her silver hair flowing in waves enticingly down her chest.

     "Do you remember that time you caught me jerking off to that photograph of you?"
     She lowered her newspaper and raised an eyebrow over her thick-rimmed glasses,  surveying her pet "As I recall I told you if you didn't cut it out, I'd make your little nads very familiar with my toilet seat and how it feels with me on top of it." She pursed her lips enticingly, "Tell me, did you ever blow your load while thinking about me after that day?"
     She smirked, she already knew the answer. She raised her heavenly body from her chair, leaned over me, slipping her small, soft and warm hand past my waistband and around my balls. "Come now, we've got some toilet training to do." She squeezed me roughly, eliciting a guttural moan.