While my mom ironed clothes

My dad was a truck driver and on the road most of the time. It was usually just my mom and me and my mom did a lot of ironing clothes for neighbors and a few relatives who worked, in order to make extra money.

I was about 5 years old at the time and would play on the floor with my toys while my mom ironed. She wanted me there so she didn't have to constantly look for me or wonder where I was or what I was doing. Mom always wore house dresses when the ironed and they were all really short, reaching less than half way between her knees and butt. She had this favorite pair of sandals that she always wore around the house and when she ironed clothes.

Every time Mom finished ironing a piece, she would step over beside me to put it on a hanger and then go hand it up on a rod nearby. One time as she was standing over me, hanging up a shirt of something, I happened to look up her dress and was really impressed at how her butt and thighs looked from my view point, even at my young age.

When she stepped away to hang up the shirt, I wanted to see under her dress again so when she started ironing again, I got up really close behind her and was looking up her dress again when suddenly she moves her foot over and stood on my fingers. She obviously didn't realize it and it wasn't hurting too much so I didn't say anything. Something about lying there looking at my fingers protruding from under the heel of her sandal and watching Mom's weight shift back and forth from one foot to the other and feeling her weight mash my fingers really hard, woke up something in me that said, "hey, this feels good!"

I would lay there looking from my mashed fingers under her heel, to up her dress at her butt and thighs and it was driving my little 5 year old hormones absolutely wild! I was loving every second of it no matter how much it hurt when she stood on my fingers with all her weight. I was surprised she hadn't noticed or felt my fingers under her foot, but it was a long time before she finally did notice it and of course she stepped off of my fingers quickly and was very concerned that she had hurt me.

When she was satisfied that I was okay, she started ironing again and it wasn't long before she raised her heel off the floor to re-position the article she was ironing, and I slid my fingers under her heel again. Soon she mashed her weight back down on them again and stood on them a fairly long while again before she noticed it. This time she just kept standing on my fingers and asked me if I was putting my fingers down there on purpose. I didn't answer because I didn't know what to say. Finally my mom said, "if you want me to stand on your fingers then just leave them there. I bet if I hurt you enough you'll stop this nonsense."

Then she raised her heel to give me a chance to pull my fingers from under it. When I left them in place, she just mashed her weight back down on them and continued ironing without any more thought about it. I stayed there and let my mom crush my fingers under her heel for most of the afternoon but they finally got so sore that I couldn't take it anymore. However the next day, even though my fingers still hurt, Mom was standing on them again. My fingers became her little heel cushions and she never said anything else to me about it.

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