A 41-year old city worker was charged today in the assault of a female. The woman, whose name was not available, stepped on a grate in the sidewalk that was not properly closed. When she partially fell through the unsecured grate, the assault occurred over a period of approximately an hour, late last night. While the victim would not give her name, police did disclose the confession of the assailant. The confession, in its entirety, is what follows.
After I completed the repair, I only needed to secure the grate. I left the tool I needed in the toolbox and went back to get it. Since it was late, I wasn’t worried about anyone walking on the grate and falling through. I got the tool, heard a click followed by a short scream, and a pair of legs dropped down in front of me. I was horrified that someone fell through the grate I was working on. It was my fault and I thought that if I just left, no one would know I was to blame.
But then I heard the woman cry out, “Hello? Can anyone hear me? Help”! I felt so guilty. I wanted to leave but I just couldn’t. It then occurred to me that I could push her up and out. She wouldn’t be able to identify me and I wouldn’t feel as bad or get in trouble.
As I approached her to see how to proceed with pushing her out, I saw that she was wedged in pretty well. One of her shoes had fallen off her feet as well so I’d have to put that back on her before pushing her out. As I stood there dumbfounded, I noticed the scent of musk. That seemed to calm me and I stopped thinking about my dilemma and started thinking about my opportunity. I couldn’t see this woman’s face, but she had very nice legs. I was suddenly walking closer to her, like I was drawn to her. The musk, the nice legs, and now I could see her legs were covered in stockings.
While I was certainly curious about what was under the dress, I couldn’t bring myself to move her skirt and look. But I had brought myself close enough to see something else – her feet. They were so perfectly shaped – a round heel, high arches, and straight long toes with red polish.
She called out again, “Hello? Please, somebody help me. I’ve fallen through a hole. Help me please”! She then began to mutter to herself, “What kind of an idiot left the grate unsecured? When I get my hands on him, he’ll be sorry.”
I realized then that she had a mean, vindictive streak. I suddenly felt less guilty and began to believe that maybe she deserved what happened. Maybe she was rude to waitresses and doormen. Maybe she treated her coworkers like dirt. And maybe I deserved a treat. I’m nice to everyone. I’m thoughtful. I occasionally do a random act of kindness.
I realized I was paralyzed, paralyzed by an urge. I wanted to touch this woman. She has beautiful legs, beautiful feet, and a nice scent. I realized that I didn’t want to just touch her. I realized that the old fantasy I had as a child was back. I realized I wanted to tickle her.
I’d felt this way at other times in my life. I wanted to tickle Ms. Rodio, my fifth grade teacher. I did tickle Mrs. Morgan, my friend’s mother. And I had tickled my girlfriend Carolyn. They all had the same things in common – nice legs, nice feet, a nice scent and stockings.
But this wasn’t right. This was a total stranger. A total stranger who was helpless because of my mistake. But I had to do this. I rationalized. She was mean spirited. She wished bad things for me without knowing me. She couldn’t see me nor could she stop me. I didn’t want to hurt her but I did want to have fun at her expense. After all, if she was wishing bad things for me for an honest mistake, how nice could she be? Where is her compassion and understanding?
The argument was won. I was going to have a good time and she was going to laugh like she had never laughed in her life.
I got that feeling in the pit of my stomach. An overwhelming nervousness combined with excitement. My mouth dried. My heart raced and my breathing accelerated. I got close to those feet – real close.
I was at the side of her ankle. I figured she’d kick forward or backward, but not sideways. I reached out with my index finger pointed upward. I was going to run my finger across the bottom of her foot, from her toes to her heel. I did it and I did it quickly. Her foot jumped forward, she yelped and I smiled.
She yelled, “Hello? Is someone down there? Please help me. After all, it’s your fault that I’m stuck here. Idiot! Hello?”
Idiot? She’s trapped in this position calling me names? That settled it. No more hiding.
I called out, “Hello? Are you ok?”
She replied, “Yes, just get me out of this.”
I said, “What’s the magic word?”
She said, “Magic word? Are f**king kidding me? The magic word is “now”!”
I said, “OK, but I have to do something first.”
She screamed, “No! You have to get me out of here first! Then do whatever you want!”
I said, “You’re not a nice person, are you? I’ve been here the whole time. I’m sorry you fell but it was an honest mistake. You’ve called me an idiot and screamed at me when you need help and I’m the only one who can help you at this hour. You’re going to pay for being rude.”
She said, “Fine! Just get me out of here and I’ll give you $20. OK?”
I said, “Sorry, this isn’t about money. I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
Clearly scared, her voice softened. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have called you names. Please just get me out of here”
I bargained with her, “OK, but only on one condition.”
She asked, “What condition? Just name it.”
I said, “You need to tell me if you’re ticklish and if so, where.”
She freaked. “Are you kidding me? Get me out of here now!”
I replied, “Fine. I’ll help you wiggle your way out…..by finding your ticklish spots myself!”
As she screamed, “No! Don’t you dare!” I grabbed her left ankle with one hand and used my other hand to drag my fingertips across the bottom of that soft, sexy, warm sole, from her toes to her heel. I took at least three seconds to go from her toes to her heel.
She kicked, or at least tried to, while screaming, “Oh my God! Noooo! Not my feet! Please!”
My brain heard from my senses, “That felt great. Do it again.” Like an addict relapsing, the urge was irresistible. I grabbed her right ankle this time. Again, I slowly dragged my fingers across her sole. She continued to try to kick and she continued screaming, but I didn’t stop. Once my fingers reached her heel, I just changed direction and dragged them forward toward her toes. And when I got to her toes, I just went across to her heel again. I lost count of how many times I did this. The last number I remember was 187. I must have tickled her for nearly 10 minutes nonstop.
Then, two things happened. She stopped screaming and trying to kick. And, the dull ache in my lower abdomen went away. I had tickled her until she passed out. I had also experienced a total release. I tickled her until I had an orgasm. Holy crap! I needed to clean myself up.
I kept paper towels and hand cleaner in my toolbox. I only needed the paper towels to clean up and she needed a few minutes to wake up. As I finished cleaning, I heard her moan. I saw her feet flex upward and her toes spread apart.
She called out, “Hello? Ok, you’ve had your fun and I’ve learned my lesson. Please let me go now.”
Slightly concerned, I asked, “Are you ok?”
She said, “Yes. I’m just exhausted and I would like to get home and take a shower.”
I felt like I had done enough, although I certainly wanted more. I said, “OK, I’m going to push. I’ll squat down and then I’ll place your feet on my shoulders and stand up.”
She said, “OK, I’m ready.”
I squatted down, placed her feet on my shoulders, cupped my hands across the top of her feet and started to stand. I stopped immediately.
She said, “I’m waiting. What happened?”
I realized that my left shoulder was wet. I looked at her foot and it was wet. I could see the stockings were wet from the bottom of that cute little sexy ticklish foot, up the inside of her leg, disappearing under the skirt.
“Your stockings are wet”, I replied. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing. It’s very embarrassing. It’s just from all the excitement”, she explained.
“Oh.” That was all I got to say before the urge took over. I couldn’t control it. I said, “Well if you found that exciting, you’ll really like this.”
I grabbed the left ankle and dug my fingers in under her toes. I heard the unearthly scream and some jumbled words. The only word I heard clearly was “toes”. I worked in there for quite a while, even pressing through the stockings to ensure I tickled between her toes. It didn’t seem like long, but I guess it was. Again, she stopped fighting. I felt disappointment as her resistance was part of the thrill for me.
Guilt started to set in but the addict in me keep thinking. I thought again that I should leave. I reached for the toolbox, but the addict in me noticed the can of oil. The inner fight ensued and I lost – quickly.
As she awakened again, she yelled out, “What’s wrong with you? How could you do this to me? Please stop.”
I apologized. “I’m sorry. I wish I could but…..”
“You’re such an a**hole!” she interrupted.
There was the justification. Away went the guilt.
I went back to her right foot and tore open her stocking.
“What are you doing now? Haven’t you done enough? Those are silk stockings that you’re ruining.” she said.
I acknowledged by saying, “Yes, but I’m providing you with more excitement”.
I poured a small amount of oil across the top of her toes. She felt that and asked, “What is that? It’s cold.”
As the oil seeped evenly between her toes, I replied, “It’s just a little oil to help my fingers glide across your foot.”
I heard her whisper, “Please God, not that.”
As I rubbed the oil under her toes and across the bottom of her foot, she giggled – repeatedly. Then she pleaded, “Please, please, please, I’m begging you not to do this.”
I answered by pulling back her toes and tickling the hell out of the bottom of her foot. I did everything – slow gliding across the sole, under the toes, and even twisting my finger between the toes. Her reaction was orgasmic – for both of us. The screaming and laughter mixed with begging and pleading. Then her sounds subsided and deep breaths began. They didn’t last long. Her toes curled, her ankles flexed, and she let out of guttural groan of “OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH GOD!!!!!!”
My second release was on the way. Instinctively, I just ripped open the other stocking and tried to swallow her whole foot. I flicked my tongue across the bottom of her foot. I put her whole heel in my mouth and slowly but gently dragged my teeth across it. I put all of her toes in my mouth. I sucked on them individually. I licked in between them. She gently giggled but didn’t fight much. The giggling was the perfect sound track to induce my second release.
The clicking of the gun behind me was the sound of my first arrest.
Police said the woman was in good spirits and left the scene once she was lifted out of the hole.
After I completed the repair, I only needed to secure the grate. I left the tool I needed in the toolbox and went back to get it. Since it was late, I wasn’t worried about anyone walking on the grate and falling through. I got the tool, heard a click followed by a short scream, and a pair of legs dropped down in front of me. I was horrified that someone fell through the grate I was working on. It was my fault and I thought that if I just left, no one would know I was to blame.
But then I heard the woman cry out, “Hello? Can anyone hear me? Help”! I felt so guilty. I wanted to leave but I just couldn’t. It then occurred to me that I could push her up and out. She wouldn’t be able to identify me and I wouldn’t feel as bad or get in trouble.
As I approached her to see how to proceed with pushing her out, I saw that she was wedged in pretty well. One of her shoes had fallen off her feet as well so I’d have to put that back on her before pushing her out. As I stood there dumbfounded, I noticed the scent of musk. That seemed to calm me and I stopped thinking about my dilemma and started thinking about my opportunity. I couldn’t see this woman’s face, but she had very nice legs. I was suddenly walking closer to her, like I was drawn to her. The musk, the nice legs, and now I could see her legs were covered in stockings.
While I was certainly curious about what was under the dress, I couldn’t bring myself to move her skirt and look. But I had brought myself close enough to see something else – her feet. They were so perfectly shaped – a round heel, high arches, and straight long toes with red polish.
She called out again, “Hello? Please, somebody help me. I’ve fallen through a hole. Help me please”! She then began to mutter to herself, “What kind of an idiot left the grate unsecured? When I get my hands on him, he’ll be sorry.”
I realized then that she had a mean, vindictive streak. I suddenly felt less guilty and began to believe that maybe she deserved what happened. Maybe she was rude to waitresses and doormen. Maybe she treated her coworkers like dirt. And maybe I deserved a treat. I’m nice to everyone. I’m thoughtful. I occasionally do a random act of kindness.
I realized I was paralyzed, paralyzed by an urge. I wanted to touch this woman. She has beautiful legs, beautiful feet, and a nice scent. I realized that I didn’t want to just touch her. I realized that the old fantasy I had as a child was back. I realized I wanted to tickle her.
I’d felt this way at other times in my life. I wanted to tickle Ms. Rodio, my fifth grade teacher. I did tickle Mrs. Morgan, my friend’s mother. And I had tickled my girlfriend Carolyn. They all had the same things in common – nice legs, nice feet, a nice scent and stockings.
But this wasn’t right. This was a total stranger. A total stranger who was helpless because of my mistake. But I had to do this. I rationalized. She was mean spirited. She wished bad things for me without knowing me. She couldn’t see me nor could she stop me. I didn’t want to hurt her but I did want to have fun at her expense. After all, if she was wishing bad things for me for an honest mistake, how nice could she be? Where is her compassion and understanding?
The argument was won. I was going to have a good time and she was going to laugh like she had never laughed in her life.
I got that feeling in the pit of my stomach. An overwhelming nervousness combined with excitement. My mouth dried. My heart raced and my breathing accelerated. I got close to those feet – real close.
I was at the side of her ankle. I figured she’d kick forward or backward, but not sideways. I reached out with my index finger pointed upward. I was going to run my finger across the bottom of her foot, from her toes to her heel. I did it and I did it quickly. Her foot jumped forward, she yelped and I smiled.
She yelled, “Hello? Is someone down there? Please help me. After all, it’s your fault that I’m stuck here. Idiot! Hello?”
Idiot? She’s trapped in this position calling me names? That settled it. No more hiding.
I called out, “Hello? Are you ok?”
She replied, “Yes, just get me out of this.”
I said, “What’s the magic word?”
She said, “Magic word? Are f**king kidding me? The magic word is “now”!”
I said, “OK, but I have to do something first.”
She screamed, “No! You have to get me out of here first! Then do whatever you want!”
I said, “You’re not a nice person, are you? I’ve been here the whole time. I’m sorry you fell but it was an honest mistake. You’ve called me an idiot and screamed at me when you need help and I’m the only one who can help you at this hour. You’re going to pay for being rude.”
She said, “Fine! Just get me out of here and I’ll give you $20. OK?”
I said, “Sorry, this isn’t about money. I’m going to teach you a lesson.”
Clearly scared, her voice softened. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have called you names. Please just get me out of here”
I bargained with her, “OK, but only on one condition.”
She asked, “What condition? Just name it.”
I said, “You need to tell me if you’re ticklish and if so, where.”
She freaked. “Are you kidding me? Get me out of here now!”
I replied, “Fine. I’ll help you wiggle your way out…..by finding your ticklish spots myself!”
As she screamed, “No! Don’t you dare!” I grabbed her left ankle with one hand and used my other hand to drag my fingertips across the bottom of that soft, sexy, warm sole, from her toes to her heel. I took at least three seconds to go from her toes to her heel.
She kicked, or at least tried to, while screaming, “Oh my God! Noooo! Not my feet! Please!”
My brain heard from my senses, “That felt great. Do it again.” Like an addict relapsing, the urge was irresistible. I grabbed her right ankle this time. Again, I slowly dragged my fingers across her sole. She continued to try to kick and she continued screaming, but I didn’t stop. Once my fingers reached her heel, I just changed direction and dragged them forward toward her toes. And when I got to her toes, I just went across to her heel again. I lost count of how many times I did this. The last number I remember was 187. I must have tickled her for nearly 10 minutes nonstop.
Then, two things happened. She stopped screaming and trying to kick. And, the dull ache in my lower abdomen went away. I had tickled her until she passed out. I had also experienced a total release. I tickled her until I had an orgasm. Holy crap! I needed to clean myself up.
I kept paper towels and hand cleaner in my toolbox. I only needed the paper towels to clean up and she needed a few minutes to wake up. As I finished cleaning, I heard her moan. I saw her feet flex upward and her toes spread apart.
She called out, “Hello? Ok, you’ve had your fun and I’ve learned my lesson. Please let me go now.”
Slightly concerned, I asked, “Are you ok?”
She said, “Yes. I’m just exhausted and I would like to get home and take a shower.”
I felt like I had done enough, although I certainly wanted more. I said, “OK, I’m going to push. I’ll squat down and then I’ll place your feet on my shoulders and stand up.”
She said, “OK, I’m ready.”
I squatted down, placed her feet on my shoulders, cupped my hands across the top of her feet and started to stand. I stopped immediately.
She said, “I’m waiting. What happened?”
I realized that my left shoulder was wet. I looked at her foot and it was wet. I could see the stockings were wet from the bottom of that cute little sexy ticklish foot, up the inside of her leg, disappearing under the skirt.
“Your stockings are wet”, I replied. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing. It’s very embarrassing. It’s just from all the excitement”, she explained.
“Oh.” That was all I got to say before the urge took over. I couldn’t control it. I said, “Well if you found that exciting, you’ll really like this.”
I grabbed the left ankle and dug my fingers in under her toes. I heard the unearthly scream and some jumbled words. The only word I heard clearly was “toes”. I worked in there for quite a while, even pressing through the stockings to ensure I tickled between her toes. It didn’t seem like long, but I guess it was. Again, she stopped fighting. I felt disappointment as her resistance was part of the thrill for me.
Guilt started to set in but the addict in me keep thinking. I thought again that I should leave. I reached for the toolbox, but the addict in me noticed the can of oil. The inner fight ensued and I lost – quickly.
As she awakened again, she yelled out, “What’s wrong with you? How could you do this to me? Please stop.”
I apologized. “I’m sorry. I wish I could but…..”
“You’re such an a**hole!” she interrupted.
There was the justification. Away went the guilt.
I went back to her right foot and tore open her stocking.
“What are you doing now? Haven’t you done enough? Those are silk stockings that you’re ruining.” she said.
I acknowledged by saying, “Yes, but I’m providing you with more excitement”.
I poured a small amount of oil across the top of her toes. She felt that and asked, “What is that? It’s cold.”
As the oil seeped evenly between her toes, I replied, “It’s just a little oil to help my fingers glide across your foot.”
I heard her whisper, “Please God, not that.”
As I rubbed the oil under her toes and across the bottom of her foot, she giggled – repeatedly. Then she pleaded, “Please, please, please, I’m begging you not to do this.”
I answered by pulling back her toes and tickling the hell out of the bottom of her foot. I did everything – slow gliding across the sole, under the toes, and even twisting my finger between the toes. Her reaction was orgasmic – for both of us. The screaming and laughter mixed with begging and pleading. Then her sounds subsided and deep breaths began. They didn’t last long. Her toes curled, her ankles flexed, and she let out of guttural groan of “OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH GOD!!!!!!”
My second release was on the way. Instinctively, I just ripped open the other stocking and tried to swallow her whole foot. I flicked my tongue across the bottom of her foot. I put her whole heel in my mouth and slowly but gently dragged my teeth across it. I put all of her toes in my mouth. I sucked on them individually. I licked in between them. She gently giggled but didn’t fight much. The giggling was the perfect sound track to induce my second release.
The clicking of the gun behind me was the sound of my first arrest.
Police said the woman was in good spirits and left the scene once she was lifted out of the hole.
