Hard Sexy Wooden Clogs.pdf

A cramped apartment, a mother and son living in close quarters. In the dim light, I huddle on the floor amidst my model cars, escapism from my loneliness. My mother, a voluptuous woman, shuffles into the room, her wooden clog heels clicking on the hardwood.

She scans the cluttered space, looking for something. "Damn, where did I put those magazines?" she mumbles to herself, bending over to rummage through a stack of papers and books. I shrink further, hoping she won't notice my presence. The room seems to expand as I watch her, the furniture looming larger than life.

My eyes are drawn to the tantalizing sight before me. Up her skirt, I see not just panties, but nothing at all. My mother's plump, hairy pussy is on full display as she continues her search oblivious to my presence. I've never seen anything like it, her mature sex so different from the airbrushed perfection in my stolen Playboys.

She straightens up, a well-worn copy of Playboy clutched in her hand. "There you are, you naughty girl," she coos, plopping down on the couch for a private reading session. Her legs cross and recross, knees parting briefly to reveal more of her abundant womanhood. I'm entranced, almost forgetting to breathe.

Clogs still on, she gets up to fetch a drink from the kitchen. One heel comes down squarely on my chest. I cry out in shock and pain, but the sound is barely audible over her humming. She shifts her weight, grinding the rough wooden sole into my body. The pressure forces the air from my lungs as she remains standing on me, lost in thought.

Is this what it's like to be crushed beneath her, I wonder dizzily, consciousness fading. To be nothing more than a tiny bug under her sexy shoe... My last sight is of her fat ass straining against the confines of her pants before merciful darkness takes me.

I awoke to find myself right back where I started, scattered model cars and all. Had it been a dream? A fantasy? The only clue was the weird taste of wood and leather in my mouth, a phantom sensation. I looked around furtively, but found myself alone. My mother was still in the kitchen, humming tunefully as she clinked about with dishes.

Hesitantly, I crept to the threshold and peered inside. There she was, washing a plate, a pair of wooden clogs sitting by the door, the rough soles caked with a reddish brown substance. My heart began to race at the implications.

I backed away, mind whirling. Had it been real then? Had I really been crushed under her sexy shoe? I ran my hands over my chest, feeling the phantom painful pressure. The taste of leather flooded my mouth again and I knew, I knew it had happened.

Somehow, I had survived being inadvertently crushed to death by my own mother's unaware foot, only to be revived. And now, now I understood the true depths of my own dark desires. The taboo thrill of being so small and helpless beneath a woman's shoe. The heady aroma of foot sweat and leather and...and something coppery and thick.

I had to have more. I needed more. I WOULD have more. One way or another, I'd make mommy mine. My own personal footwear fetish crush toy to smother under her sexy soles whenever I desired.

The game was afoot. Or rather, under shoe. I concealed a tiny camera in my room, focusing it on the center of the floor. Not long after, mother shuffled through, magazine in hand, seeking her usual spot. Right on cue, she plopped down with a little "oof" directly in the camera's sights.

"Oopsie, what have we here?" she tittered, spotting my prone form. Quick as a flash, she pinched me between thumb and forefinger, lifting me high. "A little intruder, are we? Mommy's going to HAVE to deal with you!"

I dangled and squirmed but her grip was firm. She brought me up to her face, eyes narrowing as she examined me. Then slowly, deliberately, she lowered me towards her cleavage. "Down the hatch you go, little man." And with that, she popped me into her mouth.

"Mmmm, crunchy and sweet!" she giggled around me, tongue sliding obscenely over my body. I could only squirm helplessly, overwhelmed by the wet heat engulfing me. She tilted her head back, swallowing audibly, and I slid down her throat to plop heavily in her stomach.

I lay there in the fleshy darkness, listening to her satisfied sigh. "What a naughty boy you are," she purred, patting her tummy. "Mommy's going to have to teach you a lesson."

She shifted on the couch and I felt the world tilt. The next instant I was falling through the air, tumbling head over heels. I landed on my back on the floor with a pained grunt.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Mother exclaimed, voice muffled. "I still have to put the mower away!"

A shadow fell across me and I looked up to see my mother looming overhead, arms laden with the lawn mower. She seemed to blot out the entire sky, her visage stern.

"No more games, little man," she scolded, shaking a finger at me that was as big as a tree trunk. "Mommy has work to do. You just lie there like a good boy and think about your sins."

I barely had time to process her words before a rough sole pressed down on my chest, pinning me. The wooden clog's surface was ridged and unforgiving against my body. I squirmed but her weight was unyielding.

"Stay put now," she said, voice strained with effort as she wrestled the mower out to the garage. Each step made the clog grind down on my torso, forcing out pained squeaks.

I lay there, half delirious, as she clomped about, Garage door groaning open then shut. Finally, the pressure eased as she kicked the clog off. I gulped air, ribs aching, as she strode by, humming.

I'd survived again. But I knew this was only the beginning. My sexy, oblivious mother had unwittingly become my personal dominatrix. What new torments and pleasures did she have in store for me, her tiny new plaything?

One thing was certain: I'd never look at her the same way again. That wholesome, comforting maternal figure had transformed overnight into a walking wet dream, each step promising both pain and ecstasy in equal measure.

My lips curved into a blissful, masochistic grin. If this was to be my fate, I couldn't wait to be crushed under her cute clogs again. And again and again and again...