SmileyTkls
2nd Level Orange Feather
- Joined
- Sep 14, 2001
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Just a little something I dug up recently, an old story I wrote when first online and discovered the feet/tickling gangs online. Now, there's not a whole lot of tickling, but there is some and I hope you enjoy. ;-)
The First Time...with Feet
It all started in college, actually. I, pardon me, I'm Scott Parker,
and I had had been dating this girl, Joan, for about a month. We
did the usual date activities: movies, dance clubs, restaurants, nothing
really extraordinary...until The Date.
Joan had been wanting to go to this really fancy club that just
opened in town, Marceau's. Tablecloths, linen napkins, BIG prices.
I finally saved up enough money tutoring to take her there. She was
elated and showed me this incredible black dress with diamondette
studs. She also pulled out a pair of velvet black high heels with the
low sides to see the arches. My heart went into overdrive.
You see, I'd always had a great passion for women's feet: the
curves, the cute toes, the soft, warm feel of their feet. Large or small,
I loved `em. And Joan had GREAT feet. She'd hurt her ankle a few
weeks earlier playing vollyball and I removed her shoe and sock to
make sure she was alright. I could tell she lotioned her feet daily
because the soles were smooth and had that silky feel to them. Her
big toes were big - and I'd wanted to suck on them for quite awhile
now. I wasn't sure if she knew about my secret desire, but Joan could
always sense what I was thinking and feeling, so I suspected she might.
Well, anyway, the big night came and I got prepared, nervously
thinking about what might happen. Joan's parents, Rev. and Mrs.
Baxter, would be gone this weekend and we'd have the house to
ourselves. I never expected to get sexually intimate...but I prayed that
I'd get a crack at her beautiful feet.
I got to her house wearing my black suit and a tie Joan had gotten
me for my birthday. My new dress shoes were kind of tight, but they
were the only ones I had and, besides, I was going to be with Joan. I
held the yellow roses (her favorites) and checked my watch for the third
time. When I looked up, there she was, a vision of lovliness. Her long
honey-blond hair cascaded down to her bare shoulders, begging to be
touched. Her black dress hugged each and every voluptuous curve and
the slit up the side gave a great view of her full legs. And there they were,
those heavenly peds, in black sheer nylons. I was struck speechless as
she giggled and took the roses.
We drove to Maurice's and all the while, Joan was crossing and un-
crossing her legs, allowing her shoes to dangle from her toes. If she
didn't know how this affected me, she sure was unintentionally torturing
me. I tugged at my collar, releasing some imagined steam just as we
arrived.
I gave the Maitre'D our name and he escorted us to our table. The
club was very elegant, more than I expected for the Midwest. The tables
all had long white linen tablecloths that went down to just above the floor.
The chandeliers were dazzling and the dance floor was spacious and
inviting. I made sure I had my wallet and credit cards at least five times
before the waiter arrived for our orders. We ordered something very
expensive and Joan said, "Why don't we take a turn on the dance floor
while we wait?"
I'm no graceful dancer, but they were playing a slow song so I led us
out among the couples and we danced. Joan coyly managed to brush
her legs up against mine several times, each time smiling and mock
apologizing, "Oops, I'm SO sorry." My cheeks must have been fire
engine red. After about three songs, we returned to the table and began
chatting about college, classes, friends and other routine topics.
At some point, I felt something on my left foot. It was warm and
played up and down my foot and ankle. I slowly made eye contact with
Joan and her smile confirmed her covert actions. I could feel her soft
stockinged foot tracing patterns along my lower leg and I LOVED it! I
knew the tablecloth prevented onlookers from seeing this and it added
a strange secretive pleasure to it. She eventually placed both feet on
my knees and smiled invitingly. I reached under and slowly kneaded
the soft flesh of her soles. She groaned in pleasure, but covered it by
adding, "This food is wonderful." I was in Heaven.
I ultimately got the check, and we entered my car. Joan took my
free hand in hers and said, "I could REALLY use a good foot massage
when I get home. Would you do it for me?" She batted her eyes and
I sarcastically replied, "Eeeww, touch your feet? Yuck!" She hit my
shoulder and I laughed and said that I would gladly do it, "but only for
you." "I hope so, Scott," she replied.
We got back to her house and went into the living room. I removed
her wrap and my jacket and tie and we sat on the overstuffed couch.
Joan kissed me on the cheek and said, "That was wonderful. Now, only
one more thing would make this perfect."
She put her heeled feet into my lap and laid her head back on the arm
of the couch. I oh so slowly slipped off the shoes, one at a time, stretching
out that wonderful swooshing sound of shoes being removed from a woman's
feet. I then started to rub the toes of one foot with one hand and the same
foot's arch with the other.
Joan smiled and groaned in ecstasy. I remained on that foot for several
minutes, rubbing, kneading and pushing the tension away. I repeated this
with the other foot, taking methodical care to issue the same treatment as
it's mate. I also massaged Joan's calves and appreciated the curve and
firmness it held.
She finally opened her eyes and leaned upright. Joan rested her chin
on my shoulder and teased, "Was it good for you, too?" I honestly replied,
"Possibly better." She kissed me on the lips with her full, soft lips and
caressed my tongue with hers. I surprisedly asked, "I didn't think pastors'
daughters knew that kind of thing!" She said, "What they don't know won't
hurt them." We kissed again and gave each other a big hug.
I started to get up, but I got a devilish (no pun intended) idea. "Hey, did
I ever tell you the story of the Little Piggies?" She gave me a skeptical
look and said, "No. Do I want to hear it?" "Oh, yeah! I guarantee it'll make
you laugh," I said, managing to keep a straight face. "Okay. Tell me."
I picked up her foot and said, "Well, I need this for a prop." Joan kept
eyeing me, but allowed me to continue. "It seems that there were these
Little Piggies and each one had a specific task. This Little Piggie," I wiggled
her big toe, "went to Market, this Little Piggie," wiggle the next toe, "stayed
home. This Little Piggie," wiggle, "had roast beef and this Little Piggie,"
wiggle, "had none. And this Little Piggie," wiggle the little toe while getting a
firm hold on the ankle,"went...wee, wee, wee, all the way home!" At that
point five fingers dug into her sole, scratching up and down, underneath
toes, across the arch, pecking the heel.
This, of course, sent Joan into hysterical laughter, thrashing around the
couch. This kept up for about, oh, five minutes in which Joan actually laughed
so hard, she didn't make noise and had tears streaming down her cheeks. I
finally stopped and allowed her to catch her breath.
Taking a chance, I raised her foot to my face, moving my tongue up under
her toes, and around the ball of her foot. This caused her to simultaneously
giggle and coo at the same time. I sucked that big toe, and caused her to
intake a breath sharply and hold it. I stopped and waited for Joan's reaction.
Joan opened her eyes after a minute, sat up, took my hands and said,
"I thought you liked my feet; I didn't know how much I liked the attention."
She kissed and hugged me again.
I gathered up my coat and tie and Joan walked me to the door. We lightly
kissed and she said, "I hope we can do this again, soon." I kiddingly said,
"I don't know if I could afford it." She smacked my arm and said, "Not the
restaurant, goof."
That's about it, I suppose. I've gotta go for now, but I'll be back to tell you
some more...if you're good. ;-)
The First Time...with Feet
It all started in college, actually. I, pardon me, I'm Scott Parker,
and I had had been dating this girl, Joan, for about a month. We
did the usual date activities: movies, dance clubs, restaurants, nothing
really extraordinary...until The Date.
Joan had been wanting to go to this really fancy club that just
opened in town, Marceau's. Tablecloths, linen napkins, BIG prices.
I finally saved up enough money tutoring to take her there. She was
elated and showed me this incredible black dress with diamondette
studs. She also pulled out a pair of velvet black high heels with the
low sides to see the arches. My heart went into overdrive.
You see, I'd always had a great passion for women's feet: the
curves, the cute toes, the soft, warm feel of their feet. Large or small,
I loved `em. And Joan had GREAT feet. She'd hurt her ankle a few
weeks earlier playing vollyball and I removed her shoe and sock to
make sure she was alright. I could tell she lotioned her feet daily
because the soles were smooth and had that silky feel to them. Her
big toes were big - and I'd wanted to suck on them for quite awhile
now. I wasn't sure if she knew about my secret desire, but Joan could
always sense what I was thinking and feeling, so I suspected she might.
Well, anyway, the big night came and I got prepared, nervously
thinking about what might happen. Joan's parents, Rev. and Mrs.
Baxter, would be gone this weekend and we'd have the house to
ourselves. I never expected to get sexually intimate...but I prayed that
I'd get a crack at her beautiful feet.
I got to her house wearing my black suit and a tie Joan had gotten
me for my birthday. My new dress shoes were kind of tight, but they
were the only ones I had and, besides, I was going to be with Joan. I
held the yellow roses (her favorites) and checked my watch for the third
time. When I looked up, there she was, a vision of lovliness. Her long
honey-blond hair cascaded down to her bare shoulders, begging to be
touched. Her black dress hugged each and every voluptuous curve and
the slit up the side gave a great view of her full legs. And there they were,
those heavenly peds, in black sheer nylons. I was struck speechless as
she giggled and took the roses.
We drove to Maurice's and all the while, Joan was crossing and un-
crossing her legs, allowing her shoes to dangle from her toes. If she
didn't know how this affected me, she sure was unintentionally torturing
me. I tugged at my collar, releasing some imagined steam just as we
arrived.
I gave the Maitre'D our name and he escorted us to our table. The
club was very elegant, more than I expected for the Midwest. The tables
all had long white linen tablecloths that went down to just above the floor.
The chandeliers were dazzling and the dance floor was spacious and
inviting. I made sure I had my wallet and credit cards at least five times
before the waiter arrived for our orders. We ordered something very
expensive and Joan said, "Why don't we take a turn on the dance floor
while we wait?"
I'm no graceful dancer, but they were playing a slow song so I led us
out among the couples and we danced. Joan coyly managed to brush
her legs up against mine several times, each time smiling and mock
apologizing, "Oops, I'm SO sorry." My cheeks must have been fire
engine red. After about three songs, we returned to the table and began
chatting about college, classes, friends and other routine topics.
At some point, I felt something on my left foot. It was warm and
played up and down my foot and ankle. I slowly made eye contact with
Joan and her smile confirmed her covert actions. I could feel her soft
stockinged foot tracing patterns along my lower leg and I LOVED it! I
knew the tablecloth prevented onlookers from seeing this and it added
a strange secretive pleasure to it. She eventually placed both feet on
my knees and smiled invitingly. I reached under and slowly kneaded
the soft flesh of her soles. She groaned in pleasure, but covered it by
adding, "This food is wonderful." I was in Heaven.
I ultimately got the check, and we entered my car. Joan took my
free hand in hers and said, "I could REALLY use a good foot massage
when I get home. Would you do it for me?" She batted her eyes and
I sarcastically replied, "Eeeww, touch your feet? Yuck!" She hit my
shoulder and I laughed and said that I would gladly do it, "but only for
you." "I hope so, Scott," she replied.
We got back to her house and went into the living room. I removed
her wrap and my jacket and tie and we sat on the overstuffed couch.
Joan kissed me on the cheek and said, "That was wonderful. Now, only
one more thing would make this perfect."
She put her heeled feet into my lap and laid her head back on the arm
of the couch. I oh so slowly slipped off the shoes, one at a time, stretching
out that wonderful swooshing sound of shoes being removed from a woman's
feet. I then started to rub the toes of one foot with one hand and the same
foot's arch with the other.
Joan smiled and groaned in ecstasy. I remained on that foot for several
minutes, rubbing, kneading and pushing the tension away. I repeated this
with the other foot, taking methodical care to issue the same treatment as
it's mate. I also massaged Joan's calves and appreciated the curve and
firmness it held.
She finally opened her eyes and leaned upright. Joan rested her chin
on my shoulder and teased, "Was it good for you, too?" I honestly replied,
"Possibly better." She kissed me on the lips with her full, soft lips and
caressed my tongue with hers. I surprisedly asked, "I didn't think pastors'
daughters knew that kind of thing!" She said, "What they don't know won't
hurt them." We kissed again and gave each other a big hug.
I started to get up, but I got a devilish (no pun intended) idea. "Hey, did
I ever tell you the story of the Little Piggies?" She gave me a skeptical
look and said, "No. Do I want to hear it?" "Oh, yeah! I guarantee it'll make
you laugh," I said, managing to keep a straight face. "Okay. Tell me."
I picked up her foot and said, "Well, I need this for a prop." Joan kept
eyeing me, but allowed me to continue. "It seems that there were these
Little Piggies and each one had a specific task. This Little Piggie," I wiggled
her big toe, "went to Market, this Little Piggie," wiggle the next toe, "stayed
home. This Little Piggie," wiggle, "had roast beef and this Little Piggie,"
wiggle, "had none. And this Little Piggie," wiggle the little toe while getting a
firm hold on the ankle,"went...wee, wee, wee, all the way home!" At that
point five fingers dug into her sole, scratching up and down, underneath
toes, across the arch, pecking the heel.
This, of course, sent Joan into hysterical laughter, thrashing around the
couch. This kept up for about, oh, five minutes in which Joan actually laughed
so hard, she didn't make noise and had tears streaming down her cheeks. I
finally stopped and allowed her to catch her breath.
Taking a chance, I raised her foot to my face, moving my tongue up under
her toes, and around the ball of her foot. This caused her to simultaneously
giggle and coo at the same time. I sucked that big toe, and caused her to
intake a breath sharply and hold it. I stopped and waited for Joan's reaction.
Joan opened her eyes after a minute, sat up, took my hands and said,
"I thought you liked my feet; I didn't know how much I liked the attention."
She kissed and hugged me again.
I gathered up my coat and tie and Joan walked me to the door. We lightly
kissed and she said, "I hope we can do this again, soon." I kiddingly said,
"I don't know if I could afford it." She smacked my arm and said, "Not the
restaurant, goof."
That's about it, I suppose. I've gotta go for now, but I'll be back to tell you
some more...if you're good. ;-)
