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My Mrs. Robinson
Published on Thursday, February 23, 2017

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A fake name I made up for this story, Mrs. Robinson was a neighbor when I was born. At that time she was a very young 19 year old newlywed who had married a police officer. She operated her family's bakery, and sandwich shop, which she later inherited after her parents retired. She and her husband had a son who became a friend of mine since we were about the same age. He and I went to school together clear up to high school before he moved to another city after having gone to college.

I'm guessing a lot of you have a foot fetish because you're reading this story on the Great Feet site. As such, many of you will understand how it came to be that I developed my fetish for feet at a very young age. Of course, at the time I had no real clue that my foot fetish was a sexual proclivity, so the kinds of things I did to turn myself on were enjoyed, and pursued quite innocently. Only in retrospect do I now understand what had been going on.

One example of relatively innocent sexual fun is when Mrs. Robinson's son and our friends would sometimes have fun ganging up to tackle her to the ground to tickle her. Of course, the gang tickling was always much too brief for my liking, and the other guys were simply playing around as kids like to do.

In retrospect, there seemed to have been a few times when my sexual arousal had become obvious to Mrs. Robinson, and each time that happened she would extricate herself from what was going on.

As an example, one time just after her son and our friends had gotten bored with the gang tickling, which to my dismay usually happened within a minute or two, I found myself alone with Mrs. Robinson in a kind of locked battle of wills to see who could stand being tickled the most.

"Okay, let's see how YOU like it," I remember her saying in a tone of voice that almost seemed angry after she grabbed onto my ankles to tickle the soles of my bare feet.

As I mentioned, we had kind of gotten locked into a battle of wills to see who could stand being tickled the most. We had literally sandwiched ourselves together in the backyward on the grass as we laid there together. Her feet were trapped onto my chest as I held her legs together with one arm while tickling the soles of her wrinkled soles with my free hand, and she was doing the same thing to me.

I really think that she meant to give me a little of what I had given to her just so that it would stop me from tickling her feet again. But as you would expect because of my foot fetish, her lesson as it were only served to arouse me. In retrospect, that became very evident when shot a load of cum inside of my shorts, which showed quite clearly.

I remember how quickly she ended our little tickling game, and I remember how she counselled me that "this isn't something we should do again." She wasn't mean about it, nor did she purposely make me feel embarassed about what had happened even though I was.

I could also tell that she realized that I wasn't educated enough about what had happened to really understand exactly what had happened. All I knew then was that I had felt this sudden rush of adrenalin that I hadn't understood was sexual, and that I definitely wanted to do it again. But I don't remember that kind of thing happending again, with my friends, nor on my own with her.

That brings to mind a recurring memory I have about Mrs. Robinson even though, again, she delicately put a stop to what was going on when she realized what I was doing. For a while when I was playing with her son and some of our other friends in their backyard, I'd excuse myself to sneak into her bedroom while she was napping. She regularly took a nap at about the same time every day, and I had been told that she was a heavy sleeper. I didn't learn until years later that she was actually a light sleeper. She only pretended to be a heavy sleeper.

Mrs. Robinson mostly wore the same kind of clothing every day, which were a pair of capri pants, usually white, but sometimes black, and a light blouse. I've always liked capri pants because they're designed to be short on the legs. She usually wore flip-flops or house slippers, but whenever she napped she was in her bare feet.

The first few times I sneaked into her bedroom, all I really ever did was to barely touch her feet. Even though I thought back then that she was a heavy sleeper, she sometimes moved her feet as if she was reacting to my touch. At that time I didn't know if this was involuntary or not. It seemed involuntary, at least until I became bolder in my desire to enjoy her soles, and toes.

But even back then I suspected that her claim of being a heavy sleeper was so that she could pretend to be asleep whenever her son or one of our friends came into her bedroom during nap time to ask for something. That way, unless there was some kind of dire emergency, anybody disrurbing her would go away, and she could relax again. But back then at such a young age I couldn't know for sure. I just figured that nobody could really be that heavy of a sleeper.

I remember one time when her son wanted to prove that she was a really heavy sleeper, so in front of me and our friends he lifted up one of her ankles a couple of times, and he dropped her leg back onto the bed. He even challenged a few of his friends to do the same. They did. She didn't move at all. I now know that had been a ruse.

In any case, the bolder I got with her feet, the more aroused I got with the idea of getting caught even though I didn't really want to get caught. My boldness got to the point where I was licking each of her soles quite obviously, and sucking each of her toes quite thoroughly, and at no time did she awake. Of course she didn't. Looking back at it now, I remember that she'd inadvertently show her satisfaction with a few low moans that would sometimes escape her lips, and she'd squirm a bit while I was having my way with her feet.

I also began to notice a distinct wetness that started showing in between her legs, which made her camel toe much more pronounced. That's when I took it upon myself to explore her wetness with my fingers, and then instinctively with my lips on the outside of her pants. From then on I was hooked.

Keep in mind that I was probably only about 8 or 9 years old, so I had no real idea about what I was doing, or why it was that I was so turned on. But over a relatively short periood of time, my instincts to sexually explore Mrs. Robinson overcame me, so explore her I did in the naughtiest of ways.

Things got to the point when I began to strip off her capri pants so that I could play around with her naked pussy, and clit. The first time I ever did that I was happily astonished that she wore no panties underneath her capri pants. She simply put on a new pair of pants every day as if they were a new pair of underwear. I now wonder if that's what got me to do the same thing in my 20s when I would swap out my blue jeans every day sans underwear.

Stripping off her capri pants, playing with her, and then putting them back on was hugely arousing. Part of that arousal was due to the real possibility that I'd get caught, and part of it was the obvious arousal of the foreplay of playing with her soles, and toes.

I'll never forget the time that I finally got caught. Or more accurately as I learned from her much later in life, this was the time when Mrs. Robinson fully realized that she had allowed things to go too far. As an adult, it was an awkward conversation for her to discuss the hard truth with me about what had happened, but it wasn't an entirely uncomfortable conversation either. For me, it helped to put things into perspective.

As she confessed to me after I became an adult, and she had hired me to do plumbing work, the last time I played with her as a minor was "a real wake up call" for her as she put it. As it turned out, starting from the time when I had involuntarily climaxed in my jeans while we were in that tickling battle I described, she realized that I had a foot fetish, and that meant my interactions with her were naturally sexual.

As for her allowing me to play with her sexually, her main concern at that time was that her son might walk in on us. As she put it, "I justified letting you play with me because I kept telling myself that I wasn't reciprocating."

Especially in retrospect, she acknowleged how wrong it was to have allowed it.

"I was the adult, or at least I should have been" she told me. "You weren't, which means you did nothing wrong."

While I agreed, I also told her that at least in this particular circumstance there was nothing intentional about corrupting me. "It would have been different if you had been a sexual predator," I told her. "In our case it was simply something that shouldn't have happened."

After we discussed things a bit more, one thing lead to another until after a bit of pushing from me she agreed to let me basically role play what I had enjoyed as a minor with her, BUT with a very important, and necessary caveat. That's to say, we would not role play any kind of sexual activity with me as a minor. She doesn't condone it, I don't condone it, and I know enough about this site that this isn't condoned here either.

The role playing we do now is that I show up at her house as the plumber I am, and I pretend to work a job while she's taking a nap. Distracted by the vision of seeing her napping on the bed in her bare feet, I naturally make my way into her bedroom to take full advantage of the deep sleeper she pretends to be while she role plays being fast asleep.

This role playing has been "a thing" for us that's worked out quite well.

This story was submitted anonymously.

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