First Love
by Heel
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Romance Story: A fleeting encounter. A memory that never fades. When a young boy crosses paths with a mysterious woman, his world quietly changes forever. Years later, he discovers that some moments — and some people — are impossible to forget.
Caution: This Romance Story contains strong sexual content, including Consensual Heterosexual Tear Jerker Amputee Foot Fetish Leg Fetish .
“Come with me and give me a hand,” said Mary to her twelve-year-old son, Gavin.
“Mom! I told you I’m going out with friends!”
“I have to clean a very big apartment. I’ll need your help. Otherwise, I won’t finish on time and I’ll be late for my next job.”
Gavin lowered his head. He didn’t want to argue, but he was upset he’d miss the party.
Mary patted him on the shoulder, then bent down and kissed him. She rarely took him along, but this time she insisted—she feared he might end up in bad company, with kids who smoked and drank. She’d heard rumors from a neighbor. Mary cared deeply that her son studied hard so he could have a better life.
“All right, Mom,” Gavin finally said, forcing a smile. Mary kissed him again.
They got on the bus and rode for a long time.
The building was old but grand, with a clean, well-kept entrance.
They climbed to the third floor, where the apartment was. Mary took out a key from her purse and, as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, she called:
“Hello, it’s Mary. We’re coming in.”
No one answered, which struck Gavin as odd. But Mary didn’t seem to expect a reply.
They began cleaning the spacious, luxuriously furnished rooms. In fact, there wasn’t much to clean.
“Mom, why did you say there was a lot of work?” Gavin protested.
“The owners want everything perfect, so we have to be thorough.”
“You just didn’t want me to go out with those kids—admit it.”
Mary frowned.
“That’s true. I heard bad things about them.”
“I wouldn’t have smoked or done anything stupid.”
“All right, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad, Mom. I don’t really like them anyway. Some of them are rude.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re not mad,” Mary smiled.
After a while, Gavin asked,
“Mom, who did you call to when we came in?”
“There’s a sick woman in one of the bedrooms. I call out so she doesn’t get startled. That’s our arrangement.”
“She lives here alone?”
“Her relatives visit sometimes. And a nurse comes twice a day. We won’t touch that room.”
That satisfied Gavin’s curiosity—at least for a while.
Later, while rinsing a rag in the bathroom, he heard a faint voice as he walked back down the hallway:
“Please ... if anyone can hear me ... please...”
Gavin froze. The voice came from the door on the right. He stepped closer.
“Please...” came again, weak and trembling.
He hesitated for a moment, then knocked and slowly pushed the door open.
The small room contained only a bed, a nightstand, a chair, and a TV on the wall. The woman on the bed had turned her head toward him, blinking in surprise. She was young—maybe in her twenties—with a pale, weary face. Long black hair spread across the pillow, and her messy bangs half-covered her forehead. Her hazel eyes looked feverish, unfocused. Her right hand twitched and lifted weakly.
“Please...” her lips moved. Tears glistened on her cheeks.
“Can I do something for you, ma’am?” Gavin asked politely, just as his mother had taught him.
“Water ... please ... I’m thirsty.”
“Of course, right away,” he said quickly.
He noticed the glass on the nightstand was empty. He ran to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and hurried back.
The woman greeted him with a gentle but exhausted smile.
“I didn’t ask the nurse for water earlier—I’d dozed off because of the medicine. Now my throat is burning,” she said softly.
“No problem,” Gavin replied.
As he poured the water, he saw that her left leg rested on a pile of pillows, wrapped in a thick plaster cast from ankle to thigh. Her foot stuck out stiffly, pointed like a dancer’s. Black nail polish glistened on her pale toes. Her left arm was also in a cast, lying motionless at her side. Only the fingertips peeked out.
Gavin held out the glass.
“Here you go.”
She tried to sit up. Her hand trembled; the glass nearly spilled.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It’s just nerves ... and I’m left-handed. My right hand doesn’t cooperate.”
Gavin took the glass, steadied it, and lifted it to her lips. She drank greedily, some of the water spilling down her chin.
When she finished, she sighed deeply and lay back, closing her eyes. A calm expression softened her beautiful face.
“Thank you, thank you so much, sweetheart. You saved my life.”
“Really?” Gavin asked, startled.
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