Later I speculated (fantasized is more accurate) that her mother bound her feet or gave her something to stop growing. I knew this wasn’t true, but ...t was fun to think about. She slid her feet back under my blanket. My dick was starting to rise. She slowly wiggled her feet under my thigh. She was right, they were cold. I apologized for doubting her. It’s strange but as I felt her feet under me I had thoughts of Jesus, and Mary washing his feet. Then I thought about the other Apostles and women. A musty smell pervaded the room. "Jesus, Faye. If you're this sick you have to be looking after yourself." What are you, my mum now?" She bent over the armchair next to the sofa, her wide hips and round bum framed nicely by her robe as she cleared the seat of detritus. "Sit down, eh?"I did as I was asked, trying to ignore the fact that among the newspapers and magazines she dumped on the floor was a dildo of considerable size. Even from here I could see a long pube stuck to it. Faye disappeared. More

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