This was a custom. I call you into my room, as the camera focuses on my thick calves and pretty toes and arches in high heeled leather sandals. I want to talk with you, my son, about something I'm unhappy about. I lay on the bed, heels facing you and ask if you remember when you were younger, you used to massage my feet after a long day of work and you loved it so much. You got older and interested in young girls, and their pretty, young, soft feet and you started to neglect mommy. I'm not happy, son, and I want you to stop worshipping and paying attention to the feet of young sluts at school, I tell you, as I remove my heels and show you my wrinkled, aging soles. Rub mommy's feet and tell me you still love them. Mommy's feet really are the best aren't they? Let me tell you how things are going to be from now on...