O-PED-IPUS FLEX
By andrewrue@hotmail.com 
Demolition Mom

It was a while back when I was 17, but I can still vividly remember 
that hot Sunday in spring where I was standing in our one acre yard 
with that helpless feeling of no hope and fear, watching those 
regularly spaced clouds of dust and gravel puffing up the long 
driveway.

We had only moved to our "new" home - four miles out of a small 
town, on a little bit of acreage and far away from inquisitive 
neighbors. I was already beginning to hate it. 
It was one of these "fixer - uppers" that my Mom had decided on and 
you can guess who was stuck with all the backbreaking dirty work - 
her big, undisciplined son - me. Yeah I guess I probably was a bit 
big for my age, 6' 1" and a solid 180 pounds, taking after my Dad I 
suppose, but to my Mom I was no more than a worm. It was my sister, 
four years my younger who was Mom's pride and joy.  So you could 
imagine the friction going on - but Mom really liked it that way. It 
was a situation where she could readily impose her will and 
dominance over the only male in the family - and to teach my sister 
where a man's place was under a woman. It would have been a 
situation totally unbearable for me if Mom was this ugly, fire 
breathing dragon of a woman -  but as it was quite different to 
that. Mom was an absolutely stunning and gorgeous, fire breathing 
dragon of a woman. Mom's looks were something that couldn't be 
exaggerated, she had to be the best looking woman on the planet. At 
5' 10" with long golden blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and a cut 
and fit body of an Olympic athlete 15 years her younger, there was 
no way anyone could have guessed she was 36 years old - in fact most 
people thought she was my older sister. Mom's fantastic looks, to a 
smaller part, caused a horrible dilemma to a shy boy who had grown 
up to fear women (thanks to his mother) when his sexual maturity was 
just starting to kick into overdrive. 

Even before I was 17, I knew it was forbidden to see Mom's perky 
hard breasts, fantastic hard ass, ripped washboard tummy or long, 
killer gorgeous, super legs in the sexually salivating way that 
every other man saw them, and I could just handle that - but it was  
something else that put me over the top. That something else that 
made me see Mom in that forbidden way....
It was her feet. Mom's incredibly beautiful, big and powerful, size 
12 bare feet!
As long as I can remember I always seemed to be around her feet - 
either by choice or by force. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that I 
grew up under her bare feet (these were my early years - which is 
another story). And if there was one thing that Mom hated more than 
men, it was wearing anything on her feet. I guess footwear cramped 
her style like marriage. Except for special functions, where she'd 
wear these sexy, narrow, backless slides that she would slap so hard 
and loud against her massive bare soles, Mom would always be 
barefoot. So I grew up around her bare feet and I grew to love her 
bare feet - the way they looked, their sweet strong smell, even 
their salty earthy taste. I learned to enjoy everything about them - 
Mom's feet were my childhood security blanket - even if they were 
also the things I feared most. It would be true to say that Mom 
never laid a hand on me in anger - that's because when it came to 
punishment, Mom would dish it out with her feet. So you can imagine 
I got to know Mom's bare feet better than anything else. And of 
course this would form the foundation of a fully blossomed foot 
fetish in a tortured 17 year old boy - his world rotating around his 
mother's bare feet. 

I remember my level of fear rising on that hot day when I could 
actually hear the angry clouds of stones and dirt coming up the 
gravel track that connected the house to that goddamned, 
impregnable, old brick tool shed. I was supposed to have knocked it 
down by the time Mom got back from the gym and shopping. She didn't 
even go into the house to drop off the huge backpack full of 
groceries on her back or the gym-bag in her hand, she was heading up 
to deal with me first. But even at that time of growing anxiety I 
had to be so impressed with my mother. Even something like going 
into town was an extraordinary thing. She never drove - Mom always 
ran... and always in bare feet! Not over grass and soft dirt either, 
but barefoot over sharp rocks and thorns in a constant effort to 
make her and her feet always tougher. It was so fantastic. There was 
nothing that could hurt Mom's bare feet - that always did and always 
will impress me. 
As Mom ran toward me I really didn't think about the tight, short T-
shirt she was wearing which stretched over her hard bra-less breasts 
and exposed the ripped muscles on her stomach. Nor did I dwell too 
much on those sexy Levis cut-offs she liked to wear which molded to 
her hard compact butt and showed off her long, strong and gorgeous 
legs. However improper, I was old enough to appreciate my kind of 
sexual beauty. It was those magnificent, curvy and high arched 
feminine bare feet that pounded painlessly into the pointed rocks 
and sharp gravel that gathered my full attention. The thick muscular 
soles with great pads of callous crushed down on stones and dirt 
relentlessly, sending out a cloud of dust with each impact before 
Mom's large and perfect toes spread and dug into the ground - firing 
out plumes of loose rock and earth behind her.

As Mom approached she didn't have to say anything to make me feel 
pathetic - her presence and her anger was enough. With hands on hips 
she roared:
"What have you been doing all day? I told you to knock down this old 
tool shed before I got home and there is not even one brick broken!"
I meekly stood with sledgehammer in my hands and looked at the pock 
marks in the large red bricks of the walls. I had spent hours 
swinging against that shed but all I had to show for it was a bunch 
of dents - the bricks were too big and too hard. I was feeling so 
low - the shed had effectively defeated me. Mom grabbed the 
sledgehammer one hand and shook it at me as she spoke:
"I gave you this sledgehammer to do the job and you've accomplished 
nothing! You are worse than your hopeless father for Christ-sake! Do 
I have to show you how a woman does this job?" Then she turned and 
dropped her gym bag behind her. The handles fell open as it hit the 
ground and a black belt embroidered red symbols fell out. Yet 
another reminder of my mother's absolute power - she was a degreed 
Black Belt in Karate and Taekwondo. In fact she was so accomplished 
that she often contracted to the Government as an instructor to 
Secret Service Agency (or at least that's what she lead us to 
believe). When it came to using bare hands and especially bare feet 
- no one was more deadly than my Mom.
"Come here." she ordered and we walked over to the big heavy oak 
plank door that was locked shut with a rusted padlock. Without 
fanfare or a running start she raised her great and mighty foot up, 
and drove the full, hard and dusty bare sole into the center plank 
of the door. The force of Mom's foot was unbelievable as the heavy 
door literally exploded inward. The plank was splintered and broken 
in half and the rusty steel hinges and latch were torn from their 
screws as the door flew into the shed. I stood in disbelief. I had 
spent most of my strength trying to break down the door. My 
countless swings of the sledgehammer bouncing harmlessly off the 
unbreakable boards, yet my mother kicked it in with an effortless 
single blow from her incredible
"I'm smaller and lighter than you and I don't need a sledgehammer to 
demolish this shed - I only need my bare feet!" and with that she 
symbolically threw the sledgehammer far away from us. 
It was just then that I felt an odd pang of self worth and pleaded 
with a feeble: "But I tried." 
My mother glared at me with her cover girl eyes and in perfect form, 
jumped up from her planted foot and slapped my face with the tops of 
her toes using a snap kick. Before I could feel my cheek burn, the 
rough, hard ball and pointed toes of that foot swung down and 
smacked my other cheek sending me sprawling to the ground beneath 
her.
"Don't you dare talk back to me - or you'll get a beating from my 
bare feet that you'll never forget." 
I was terrified at this as I looked up to see powerful bare toes 
spread out and curled back,  pointing the big callused ball of Mom's 
bare foot at my head. But then she cocked her leg up and fired her 
foot back toward the shed with a supercharged mule kick - the 
extended ball of her bare foot, as hard as a horses hoof , smashing 
right through the brick wall!
"Look up and watch." Mom ordered - and she pulled her foot out of 
the wall and continued. Mule kick after mule kick - all the way down 
the wall, each tremendous blast shaking the entire building, 
smashing two or three of the large, heavy red bricks to pieces, 
Mom's incredible bare feet penetrating the brick wall up to her 
heels! It was like a dream - this beautiful woman who happened to be 
my Mom, demonstrating unbelievable power and kicking form, her 
gorgeous bare feet like horse hooves, smashing holes in a brick 
wall! She motioned me to follow her around the corner to the narrow 
side of the shed where and I saw her raise her foot to head height 
and mark the first brick with the thick muscular side of her foot. 
She then coiled her leg back and launched the side of her bare foot 
into the wall with an incredible side kick that totally obliterated 
the corner brick. Then with her leg still raised, Mom lashed out at 
the wall with a series of rapid fire side kicks. Her bare foot was a 
blur as it smashed along a row of bricks, leaving a perfect line of 
broken and dislodged masonry.... and it took less than ten seconds. 
I could now see large cracks forming throughout the brick work as 
the incredible barefoot barrage was now taking its toll on that 
still defiant shed. Mom took a moment to catch her breath and admire 
her footwork. I couldn't help but sense that she had forgotten about 
me and was truly enjoying the power of her bare feet. It was an 
understatement to say that I marveled at her feat - there was no 
word to described how I marveled at her feet! 
I followed Mom around the corner to watch her take a Karate stance 
before she unleashed an unreal front kick that drove the ball of her 
bare foot right through the wall. As it turned out, that kick was 
only the start of a fantastic dance of destruction. Mom pulled her 
extended foot from the wall, twisted to step down on it and then 
spun and jumped to drive the other ball of her foot into the wall 
with a crash. Again, as only Mom  could do, unbreakable bricks were 
more like mere styrofoam before her barefoot kicks. Still wearing 
her heavy backpack, she continued to spin and jump and kick 
gracefully down along the side of the shed as front kicks, side 
kicks and back kicks had the rock hard soles of Mom's bare feet 
punch gaping holes through the brick wall. I could see light coming 
through the shed from barefoot-holes in the opposite wall. The 
impregnable brick building showed great cracks and stood crumbling 
beneath its own weight. At the end of the last long wall Mom just 
stood with hands on hips and took a few deep breaths before she 
flexed the tapered cords of muscles in her awesome legs and 
squatted. Then with a tremendous thrust from her legs she jumped up 
above the height of my head and twisted so that she could unload an 
incredible double mule kick to the top of the shed, the callused 
soles of her powerful bare feet ripping into the corner bricks and 
causing the top of the shed to break up and collapse in on itself 
with a deafening crash. My invincible mother had demolished the 
brick shed in a matter of minutes using nothing but her bare feet.
Mom looked over at me with a stern look and then walked over. With 
hands on hips she interrogated:
"Since I did your work for you, I think you owe your mother 
something don't you?"
Without looking up at her, I slowly shook my head in agreement.
She continued: "Yes, I thought you'd agree. Your mother deserves a 
big kiss." and she raised her foot to my head and planted it firmly 
in my face. 
"Now show me a little effort this time." and Mom pressed the ball of 
her foot into my lips. I didn't think of the implications, the sole 
of Mom's huge and powerful bare foot nearly covered my entire face 
and it was a lethal weapon - I just puckered up and gave it a good 
kiss, tasting the earthiness of ground brick and road dirt, and 
smelling the scent of sweat from her lovely toes.
"You call that a kiss? Mom yelled and she pressed her foot more 
firmly into my face. "You just keep trying until I tell you that you 
are trying hard enough."
I knew where this was going so I reached up and grabbed Mom's foot 
so that I could press my face into the sole. There was such a 
contrast between the soft, smooth skin on the top of Mom's foot in 
my hands and the rough, hard texture of her bare sole bruising my 
lips. Yet it wasn't something I was going to complain about - 
humiliation from my Mom did have its rewards.
andrewrue@hotmail.com