About 20 something years ago, my Mother worked her fingers to the bone at small diners as a waitress for as long as I can remember. The last place we lived was next to a slightly bigger facility and built right next to a major highway which meant a constant stream of customers day or night. She was always there or so it seemed, and I was usually at school until the afternoon. Needless to say I spent a lot of time alone. I had no siblings and my Dad hadn't been heard from since I was a toddler. My Mother and I had to fend for ourselves and that meant the household chores were my responsibility while she brought home the paychecks.
I took care of the cleaning, laundry and other chores since I was about 12. We had moved into the area and stayed there for the last 6 or so years and we liked it. It was a nice little town and we got along great with everyone. Mom fit in perfectly at this diner and the customers treated the both of us very well. The Only problem was due to the long shifts, my poor Mother used to come home completely exhausted. She was a dainty thing but always seemed to have lots of energy. I always felt so sorry for her when she finally came home. She would be completely wiped out from moving about serving others all day long.
We had a nightly ritual to where I would prepare her dinner, catch a little T.V. and prepare her for bed. My favorite part was a guilty pleasure of mine and I always liked doing it for her and I had done it for years. As a waitress, Mom wore the typical uniform. A blouse with the diner's logo on it, an above the knee skirt with apron, neutral colored pantyhose, and non slip pumps with a short heel. Every night when Mom came home, she would plop down in the bed or couch and I removed her shoes exposing her petite, sometimes sweaty nylon encased feet. She loved when I massaged them and so did I. I had a pretty good technique and My Mom would squirm and coo with delight as I rubbed her silky heels, toes, ankles, and calves.
I had a real affinity for hosiery back then and I still do. I couldn't wait for her to come home, kick those heels off and let me have my way with her stocking feet. The best part was when she was really burnt out, she would let me remove her pantyhose completely. I was now a lonely 18 year old boy and admittedly, I got a small thrill from reaching up her skirt, searching for her waistband and pulling her nylons completely down and off. I tried not to look "up there" as I did this, but sometimes curiosity would get the best of me and I would steal an awkward glimpse of her woman parts. She always wore these really dark, sun-tan, colored hose. They were a bit thicker for support I guess but I loved the way the light glistened off her legs and feet with that sexy sheen.