ElFewja
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Synopsis: This one contains a lengthy foot play intro, which is characteristic to a classroom setting that I am sure almost everyone here can enjoy. It continues on in a fantasy esque study/tickling game. M/F feet, light tickling, when it gets to it.
I really enjoyed this one for some silly reason. It was one of the first things I wrote last summer, since I was basing it heavily off of a history class I was taking, though the girl that inspired this didn’t give nearly as much foot play as my imaginary one. A LOT of the protagonist’s anecdotes are things that have happened to me or I’ve done, including the cheesy pick up lines. Really, that jogging thing worked. Really. Alright whatever, I’m done with this; enjoy.
This History Course I Have M/F feet
It’s that first week of classes starting up again after summer break. Man, let me tell you, it sucks. Second day – Tuesday – already, but it’s still that awful mood. You come in and are given a half hour lecture about the fucking syllabus that they just handed to you; like you can’t read it on your own, or something. No intelligent conversations or lectures at all today, and I know it. You can tell nobody else wants to be here for this; there’s an air of lethargy to the room while the professor drones about how every semester he hasn’t made it through the entire book, but we damned well will this time. As I found out, he’s a great and energetic professor; really into his material, but today isn’t showing that whatsoever. While pretending to look at the papers that had been distributed, I muse over my decision to come today while picking at my unshaven mess of a summer beard; you know the kind, you have a job but you don’t need to look good for it, and schools out, so you just don’t shave, and end up with this amazingly patchy beard causing you to look like a hobo. Man, it’s cold, it’s raining… and it’s 10 am! I don’t want to be here. Looking back, I don’t regret going at all; it was the first day I met her.
She sat in front of me – of course she sat in front of me, though, because I always sit in the back; easiest way to check out feet during class, when it’s boring – and to my left. Not an unattractive thing, but certainly not the prettiest girl, either, though truthyfully, as I learned over the years, the pretty ones never are my type; the one major thing, and for some reason I always find this kind of attractive, was that she wore a bit too much eye-liner; it worked very well for her because she had such enchanting eyes. There were other girls in the class, but I noticed her in particular for her attire. A light jacket and blue jeans, showing that she was aware of the cold and rain, and that she was in fact cold, but she wore flip flops all the same. Oh man, and those feet: gorgeous! They look absolutely succulent! I wanted to kiss and lick them until she moaned as soon as I saw them upon entering class, and then she gave me a foot show that rivaled even the best online ones.
I couldn’t walk immediately after this one, which had never happened in the classroom before; still, nobody noticed. It began when the syllabus was first handed out; she crossed her legs, left over right. That was when I first noticed, and in my mind I thought, score. Bright pink toenail polish does it for me – I wanted those toes in my mouth as soon as I saw it – but the added effect of her flip flops also being the same shade of color drove me wild. I couldn’t see her heel clearly, and the fact that I only could see the side of her foot was torture, though there was some solace in the hint of what appeared to be extremely soft sole I could see from her incredible arches. It was such a tease when she let her toes slacken, causing the flip flop to dangle from them, leaving her foot unprotected. Her foot, that was so pale and dainty it looked as if it could have been the foot of Venus, hung in the air only a few feet away from me. If I had just sat two seats closer to the front, I could have easily dropped my arm and scratched at the heel hiding behind that awful denim. As if nervousness struck her, she began to quickly flex her toes, lightly slapping the pink shoe rapidly against the bottom of her sole, revealing tantalizingly tasty bits of flesh consistently.
Soon, she set her foot back down upon the ground, much to my disappointment. I thought the show was over, so I looked up from the paper that my head faced, back towards the professor. That’s when she leaned forward onto her desk, lifting both heels away from the leather that rested where I wish my hands could, showing the world her wonderful soles. Knowing me, my eyes probably went wide when I saw this happen; luckily, though, I wear a set of tinted glasses, so at the very least it would not be as noticeable. Though I’m sure it was just because their flesh was stretched taut, the skin looked so smooth and soft that I could instantly feel the throbbing pressure of my pants. As if she had heard my thoughts, she then swayed both of her feet gently, removing the last bit of those accursed pieces of leather, and pressed her toes against them, wrinkling her clean soles beautifully. I was entirely entranced. She continued to do things with her feet for the remainder of the class, each time she struck a new pose I half expected her to turn to me with a wicked smile on her face because she seemed so skillful at it I could hardly imagine the show to be accidental; I still cannot believe that it was mere chance that I was allowed to enjoy such a show. When she crossed her legs again, forgetting the flip flop this time, I thought it could get no better; but then she began gently rubbing her foot, causing me to almost groan each time she caressed one of her round, adorable toes.
After class I made sure to stay in my seat, fidgeting with my things long enough for her to leave, so that I could follow her at a distance and watch her feet as she walked, the soles of her feet revealed with each step, flexing and contracting as she moved. For the rest of the semester I followed her after class like this, even though it led me entirely in the wrong direction and made me late for my next class very consistently. I swore that I would, at the very least befriend her, in hopes of caressing and possibly tasting that soft flesh. For two weeks much was the same; it was still warm enough for her to wear the flip flops, though I had hopes that she was aware of how nice her feet were and would continue to wear them even after it became cold. At one point, when I was in the cafeteria, moving from one building to another at the time, I noticed a male speaking to her in a very friendly manner, then reaching out and grasping her ribs, causing her to nearly fall out of her chair. Her reaction was absolutely astonishing; she must be incredibly ticklish, I thought. I hardly heard her laughter, as she was fairly far from me, but it reminded me of silver bells, the angelic sort from church. During the class I had after that event, I could think of nothing more than how ticklish her feet must be if such a reaction came from a mere touch of her mid-section.
Another two weeks passed, and I had yet to make a move; not that I was ever good with women to begin with. Actually, get this; one time, I needed to get this girl’s number to set her up on a blind date with a friend of mine. She happened to be walking across a field after our gym class together, and I was about a quarter of a mile away from her, so I needed to jog to catch up. The point of this anecdote is that I did just that, and my opening line was, hey yea sorry, any time I see a cute girl I have to jog past her. Somehow it worked.
That might seem pointless, but it gives incredible insight on the next segment of our story. Now you know I have a history for this shit, and I have done this more than once with results, so it’s been positively enforced. Let me tell you, today had been another incredible foot show; probably the best. After class ended and my junk (not a ship, but comparable) settled down, I walked out of the room and looked around for her; a good thing I did not intend to follow her today, I thought, as she was leaning against the wall just outside of class, texting someone with her pink cellphone. That would have been difficult, but I might have been able to find a way. I had made sure, through the friend of a friend, that she wasn’t seeing anyone before doing something stupid like this. So I walked up to her, said I liked the things in class and wanted to get to know her a bit better, maybe go get lunch or study together sometime for the upcoming test, but definitely hang out sometime. She tilted her head, gave me this weird look, snorted and smiled. It worked, and she agreed to meet me for lunch, but she had a class in a few minutes, so she wanted to meet after that. Now, I didn’t tell her this of course, but I have a class then; I said I’d meet her down in the cafeteria. I enjoyed watching her soles reveal themselves, imagining them scream come and get me.
I skipped class and met her for lunch. It was uneventful, and the food is garbage, so I didn’t order anything; ironically, neither did she. It went well, I thought; we talked, made jokes, and laughed for about an hour. As I found out from meeting her, she is definitely my type; any girl bold enough to steal a cell phone to give you their number keeps me interested.
While at work one empty night, she texted me for the first time. I hadn’t contacted her yet – I heard somewhere that if the girl doesn’t contact you first, it won’t work – so I was incredibly pleased to hear from her. The conversation was short and varied: hi, hello, how are you, lousy weather, and a damned test that she nearly failed. That last part fit in so perfectly; my goal had been to get a study session with her, and this was such a beautiful opportunity. I texted her back, saying I knew a flawless study strategy, and asked if she wanted to get together some nigh to study for history, since we had a test coming up. It got busy around then at work; I was hard pressed to finish the last text message, let alone finish all the crap I had to do that I put off until just before I left. Later that night I found out she had agreed to it, and had asked me when and where, as well as why I wasn’t responding. Actually, I only got around to reading them late that night; my phone died shortly after work, and I’ll be damned if I could find my charger. Figured, I’ll see her tomorrow at school, I’ll just discuss it then.
A restless and horny night passed slowly, and then, finally I was in the seat I had secured that first day. Another brilliant foot show later and the two of us were in the hall, speaking together. We agreed; her place, tonight. Waiting for the day to end sucked so much.
It did end, though; actually, I guess I would have been more surprised if it didn’t. I should take that sentence out, but I’ll leave it in anyway. Through a series of unassuming events, which included – as it always does when I’m going somewhere new – getting lost, I arrived at the door to her place. After the door opened, I noticed she was barefoot; I don’t know why I was surprised by that, but I was. I guess because her feet are always so clean it didn’t occur to me that she ever had trodden the earth without some sort of protection; it just seemed that she always wore something, even in bed. At any rate, combined with the always perfect nail polish, the cleanliness of her feet, even when she seemed to walk barefoot so often, really spoke a lot about her personality. She was wearing her blue jeans, which covered a good amount of foot flesh, saddening me a bit, but her metallic red polished, well tended toe nails were still viewable, so I was happy. Walking in, I was careful not to stare directly down – which is something I did upon arriving at a friends when I was younger… leading to all sorts of questions - instead taking the time to look around. It was sort of a mess; just by the junk lying around I surmised this to be a house rented out to college kids. No surprise, really; it seemed nobody else was around, though, which was surprising. Maybe she had the same sort of idea I had. Oh, yeah, definitely; she definitely wanted me to tickle her; just to tie her down and tickle her crazy, and she didn’t want her friends to be a part of this. That was it for sure, I thought sarcastically. Maybe she had a similar idea, then.
We chatted for a bit on her couch, both of us sitting a little ways away from each other. I commented on the fireplace in the corner, so she shrugged and turned it on. Said something about never really using it, so she might as well; it was nice. After doing that she turned and asked, so, what is this amazing studying secret you have? I laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck like I always do when I’m nervous or don’t know what to say, and suggested that she tell me what she thought had been important from the lectures. Took about ten minutes, but she did just that; I commented and expounded upon some things here and there, taking mental notes on what she had left out. After that, we opened up her notebook and went over everything there, After a while I took her notebook and set it down, to which she asked if that really was it; if that was all of my genius plan, asking with that sort of sly smile that told me she thought I might have lied in order to get into her house because I was interested. Of course not, I told her, thinking to herself that she had pretty much been right about my intentions, if I had interpreted that sly look properly; I then asked her to lie down, while flipping through her notebook and ripping out a clean page. She gave me this sort of curious and perplexed look, tilting her head slightly, but she complied; all the while I searched the room for a pen. Found one, got up, grabbed it, and then sat back down. Ten would be enough, I thought; she was already on her stomach, those soles tempting me, but I knew that I needed patience, to let the wait build up until it was too much, and then to enjoy it all that much more when I finally did.
Very, very quickly, I scribbled down ten sort of half questions that she had either forgotten entirely or else had gotten wrong; they were notes more than anything, answers included. At least, I knew the material well enough to understand what I had written down. She grew impatient, asking again and again what I was going to do; she could never have known I was way more impatient than her right then. I hurried over, my notes in hand, saying just wait, just wait as I sat down upon her ankles, looking onto those glorious soles.
I asked her to sit like that for a lot of reasons, the least of which so that she couldn’t see the cheat sheet I had set onto the floor, as I knew I would need both hands for this. It would be easier to tickle her like this, and aside from the position being so much hotter, she wouldn’t be able to see my expressions. I think she knew what I had planned as soon as I sat down, because she asked what I was doing; I just said I was going to quiz her on the work. With a stout and questioning ok she responded, anticipating me to divulge more information, but I was so entranced by her feet that I said nothing else; I did start to drool a little bit, but that’s embarrassing. Let me tell you about them; they were, despite her having walked around barefoot most of the night, entirely clean and a delicious buttery white throughout. Her ever so delicate toes curved at such a cute angle; cute, plump and round toe pads that screamed to me of their forbidden desires to be kissed and nibbled upon, their stalks begging to be wrapped in the edges of my tongue; Not tonight, I wished to whisper to them. Beyond forbidden thoughts, if such a thing can be imagined, I knew they craved to be tickled; that, despite needing this, they would retreat should I not pin her down like this. Not tonight, I wished to whisper to them. I gently laid my hands upon the bottoms of her feet, feeling the wrinkles and absolutely soft and delicate skin beneath them while she quivered slightly, before telling her my plan.
Basically, I said, I ask a question and then tickle your feet; if you get it wrong, you get tickled for fifteen seconds. Oh, if you don’t answer fast enough, I reminded her, I tickle you until you do answer. Finally, if you get too many wrong, you get tickled for a long time, and then you have to try again. I didn’t wait at all for an answer; I began to tickle immediately, even before asking the question; of course, I hadn’t told her that anything less than a perfect score was too many wrong, but she would find that out later.
Oh man, were those delightful girlish giggles fun to listen to. Now, I didn’t tickle her hard – and it was hard to restrain myself – just light tickles, running my fingers slowly up and down her soles. This story is going to be much shorter than the actual events, because I don’t remember the questions, or even if she got them right or wrong; just the heavenly sense of her almost helpless flesh beneath my relentless fingers.
Well, I don’t remember the order, but she got six of them right. I do remember that the first time, she yelled at me, saying it wasn’t fair to tickle her while asking the question, but I didn’t stop or repeat myself. That one she did get wrong, so I slid my fingers up to her toes, spread my nails – which, like a psychotic, I had grown out for a month simply for this night - out so that one touched each of her toe pads, and really dug at them. It was super effective for all of a few seconds before she curled them against her soles in defense, but it was absolutely stunning to see that metallic red nail polish against her soles; very worth it. I tickled her for longer than twenty seconds – I counted – and she began to yell at me again that I was tickling her for way too long; I had just found out how ticklish her arches were, but felt lenient, so I stopped.
So, nine questions, and they all pretty much played out the same. I asked, gave her all of a second – though admittedly I think I started giving her less and less, because I know near the end I just began tickling immediately, and at the last one I definitely tickled her during the question again, before I began. Sometimes I tickled after she answered correctly, but only twice at most. I was just so blown away to have such a gorgeous thing at my whims; this kind of thing NEVER happens, you know? Better still, she didn’t seem to mind; she sounded like she was having a lot of fun by her playful responses, even saying after one of the questions that she answered right – that I tickled her after regardless – that it tickled the most when I slowly and delicately ran my nails over her toes.
Her feet swayed back and forth, but for the most part I held them still; the soles were crunched together because she was forcing that gap at her toes shut for protection, but it didn’t matter to me. I teased her a lot, and definitely did this little piggy for one of the wrong answers; turned me on so much when she screamed NOT THAT at me, followed by telling me that her brother did that to her all the time when she was little, and that she was never able to stand it through the entire game. So I of course continued doing it, heh, but I didn’t do it a second time. But over all it was just light tickling; I didn’t want her to think anything more of it. We both laughed; she cursed a bunch of times, more so when she got it wrong, but other than that it was just playful and fun.
But right, and this is the good part, she got too many of them wrong. Not that it mattered, even if she had gotten nine out of ten, I would have done it anyway, since it wasn’t perfect, and had she gotten all of them right I would have rewarded her with more tickling. I told her she got too many wrong, and she giggled a little bit and said crap in a flirty way, then I really began.
I dug in; I raked my uncut nails across her soles and she howled. Distantly, I heard her slam her hands against the ground in an attempt to deal with the extreme amount of tickling I put her through; once or twice, I felt her grabbing at me, but I was so absorbed with her flesh and laughter that I hardly noticed. A curious thing really, to have so much control over someone, just by simply running a finger down an arch or around a toe. Anyway, she kind of deserved it, for making me suffer all those times in class; she deserved to be suffering now at the whim of my merciless fingers, laughing, begging, pleading for it to stop. I became quite feverish with the assault, and enjoyed every second of it, hearing her laughter become more and more strained as it lost that playful feel to it; the begging becoming more real to my ears, which woke me from my daze. She was saying something like ok, ok, repeatedly, sometimes saying that’s enough, stop. I went a bit over my limit, I realized.
So, I stopped and gave her a break, but didn’t move. Actually, I massaged her feet for a bit during this time, which she enjoyed a lot. I dunno how long I massaged – I was absorbed – but it was really, really long; longer than it should have been, anyway. Something like fifteen minutes long. She was very much at peace when I asked her if she was ready for round two, to which she hesitantly said yes. It went on about the same as before, except she got all of them right this time; I smiled when I turned around and told her for being so good, I’d tickle her as a reward, since she seemed to like it so much. Yeah, she shouted no, but I still went at it anyway; she had that really large playful smile on her face when she shouted no, I realized later, so it was all good.
Tickled her for a bit, but after I finished this time, I got up and set her feet in my lap. She rolled over onto her back and let me massage them for a while again, during which we didn’t talk. After the massage, I kissed one of her toes, and immediately felt ashamed and knew I went way over my boundaries by doing that. We both looked at the clock around then and decided that it was late and I needed to go. I left, but afterwards I felt like total crap. No, it was great and all, but she must have thought I was a real creep, you know?
Our test came during the next class, and since we were allowed to leave as soon as we finished, I managed to avoid her; dude, I was beyond terrified. I take tests very, very fast, by the way; that particular one, even with the two page hand written essay I did, only took twenty three minutes. Figured, yeah, theres no way she would want to talk to me again after that. But hey, you know, I did get a text after an hour or so asking why I didn’t wait for her. Yeah, she told me she felt that our little tickle session – well, study session to her, tickle session to me – really helped her out on the test. Actually, she said she had a math test coming up, and wanted to know if I’d be down for helping her study like that again, maybe for a bit longer, even.
I won’t bore you with that tale, as it was the same thing. You know, squirming, begging, laughing, etc. But, I will tell you this part, reader; I found out she didn’t actually have a math test, though this was some time later. Put a real smile on my face when I did discover that.
I really enjoyed this one for some silly reason. It was one of the first things I wrote last summer, since I was basing it heavily off of a history class I was taking, though the girl that inspired this didn’t give nearly as much foot play as my imaginary one. A LOT of the protagonist’s anecdotes are things that have happened to me or I’ve done, including the cheesy pick up lines. Really, that jogging thing worked. Really. Alright whatever, I’m done with this; enjoy.
This History Course I Have M/F feet
It’s that first week of classes starting up again after summer break. Man, let me tell you, it sucks. Second day – Tuesday – already, but it’s still that awful mood. You come in and are given a half hour lecture about the fucking syllabus that they just handed to you; like you can’t read it on your own, or something. No intelligent conversations or lectures at all today, and I know it. You can tell nobody else wants to be here for this; there’s an air of lethargy to the room while the professor drones about how every semester he hasn’t made it through the entire book, but we damned well will this time. As I found out, he’s a great and energetic professor; really into his material, but today isn’t showing that whatsoever. While pretending to look at the papers that had been distributed, I muse over my decision to come today while picking at my unshaven mess of a summer beard; you know the kind, you have a job but you don’t need to look good for it, and schools out, so you just don’t shave, and end up with this amazingly patchy beard causing you to look like a hobo. Man, it’s cold, it’s raining… and it’s 10 am! I don’t want to be here. Looking back, I don’t regret going at all; it was the first day I met her.
She sat in front of me – of course she sat in front of me, though, because I always sit in the back; easiest way to check out feet during class, when it’s boring – and to my left. Not an unattractive thing, but certainly not the prettiest girl, either, though truthyfully, as I learned over the years, the pretty ones never are my type; the one major thing, and for some reason I always find this kind of attractive, was that she wore a bit too much eye-liner; it worked very well for her because she had such enchanting eyes. There were other girls in the class, but I noticed her in particular for her attire. A light jacket and blue jeans, showing that she was aware of the cold and rain, and that she was in fact cold, but she wore flip flops all the same. Oh man, and those feet: gorgeous! They look absolutely succulent! I wanted to kiss and lick them until she moaned as soon as I saw them upon entering class, and then she gave me a foot show that rivaled even the best online ones.
I couldn’t walk immediately after this one, which had never happened in the classroom before; still, nobody noticed. It began when the syllabus was first handed out; she crossed her legs, left over right. That was when I first noticed, and in my mind I thought, score. Bright pink toenail polish does it for me – I wanted those toes in my mouth as soon as I saw it – but the added effect of her flip flops also being the same shade of color drove me wild. I couldn’t see her heel clearly, and the fact that I only could see the side of her foot was torture, though there was some solace in the hint of what appeared to be extremely soft sole I could see from her incredible arches. It was such a tease when she let her toes slacken, causing the flip flop to dangle from them, leaving her foot unprotected. Her foot, that was so pale and dainty it looked as if it could have been the foot of Venus, hung in the air only a few feet away from me. If I had just sat two seats closer to the front, I could have easily dropped my arm and scratched at the heel hiding behind that awful denim. As if nervousness struck her, she began to quickly flex her toes, lightly slapping the pink shoe rapidly against the bottom of her sole, revealing tantalizingly tasty bits of flesh consistently.
Soon, she set her foot back down upon the ground, much to my disappointment. I thought the show was over, so I looked up from the paper that my head faced, back towards the professor. That’s when she leaned forward onto her desk, lifting both heels away from the leather that rested where I wish my hands could, showing the world her wonderful soles. Knowing me, my eyes probably went wide when I saw this happen; luckily, though, I wear a set of tinted glasses, so at the very least it would not be as noticeable. Though I’m sure it was just because their flesh was stretched taut, the skin looked so smooth and soft that I could instantly feel the throbbing pressure of my pants. As if she had heard my thoughts, she then swayed both of her feet gently, removing the last bit of those accursed pieces of leather, and pressed her toes against them, wrinkling her clean soles beautifully. I was entirely entranced. She continued to do things with her feet for the remainder of the class, each time she struck a new pose I half expected her to turn to me with a wicked smile on her face because she seemed so skillful at it I could hardly imagine the show to be accidental; I still cannot believe that it was mere chance that I was allowed to enjoy such a show. When she crossed her legs again, forgetting the flip flop this time, I thought it could get no better; but then she began gently rubbing her foot, causing me to almost groan each time she caressed one of her round, adorable toes.
After class I made sure to stay in my seat, fidgeting with my things long enough for her to leave, so that I could follow her at a distance and watch her feet as she walked, the soles of her feet revealed with each step, flexing and contracting as she moved. For the rest of the semester I followed her after class like this, even though it led me entirely in the wrong direction and made me late for my next class very consistently. I swore that I would, at the very least befriend her, in hopes of caressing and possibly tasting that soft flesh. For two weeks much was the same; it was still warm enough for her to wear the flip flops, though I had hopes that she was aware of how nice her feet were and would continue to wear them even after it became cold. At one point, when I was in the cafeteria, moving from one building to another at the time, I noticed a male speaking to her in a very friendly manner, then reaching out and grasping her ribs, causing her to nearly fall out of her chair. Her reaction was absolutely astonishing; she must be incredibly ticklish, I thought. I hardly heard her laughter, as she was fairly far from me, but it reminded me of silver bells, the angelic sort from church. During the class I had after that event, I could think of nothing more than how ticklish her feet must be if such a reaction came from a mere touch of her mid-section.
Another two weeks passed, and I had yet to make a move; not that I was ever good with women to begin with. Actually, get this; one time, I needed to get this girl’s number to set her up on a blind date with a friend of mine. She happened to be walking across a field after our gym class together, and I was about a quarter of a mile away from her, so I needed to jog to catch up. The point of this anecdote is that I did just that, and my opening line was, hey yea sorry, any time I see a cute girl I have to jog past her. Somehow it worked.
That might seem pointless, but it gives incredible insight on the next segment of our story. Now you know I have a history for this shit, and I have done this more than once with results, so it’s been positively enforced. Let me tell you, today had been another incredible foot show; probably the best. After class ended and my junk (not a ship, but comparable) settled down, I walked out of the room and looked around for her; a good thing I did not intend to follow her today, I thought, as she was leaning against the wall just outside of class, texting someone with her pink cellphone. That would have been difficult, but I might have been able to find a way. I had made sure, through the friend of a friend, that she wasn’t seeing anyone before doing something stupid like this. So I walked up to her, said I liked the things in class and wanted to get to know her a bit better, maybe go get lunch or study together sometime for the upcoming test, but definitely hang out sometime. She tilted her head, gave me this weird look, snorted and smiled. It worked, and she agreed to meet me for lunch, but she had a class in a few minutes, so she wanted to meet after that. Now, I didn’t tell her this of course, but I have a class then; I said I’d meet her down in the cafeteria. I enjoyed watching her soles reveal themselves, imagining them scream come and get me.
I skipped class and met her for lunch. It was uneventful, and the food is garbage, so I didn’t order anything; ironically, neither did she. It went well, I thought; we talked, made jokes, and laughed for about an hour. As I found out from meeting her, she is definitely my type; any girl bold enough to steal a cell phone to give you their number keeps me interested.
While at work one empty night, she texted me for the first time. I hadn’t contacted her yet – I heard somewhere that if the girl doesn’t contact you first, it won’t work – so I was incredibly pleased to hear from her. The conversation was short and varied: hi, hello, how are you, lousy weather, and a damned test that she nearly failed. That last part fit in so perfectly; my goal had been to get a study session with her, and this was such a beautiful opportunity. I texted her back, saying I knew a flawless study strategy, and asked if she wanted to get together some nigh to study for history, since we had a test coming up. It got busy around then at work; I was hard pressed to finish the last text message, let alone finish all the crap I had to do that I put off until just before I left. Later that night I found out she had agreed to it, and had asked me when and where, as well as why I wasn’t responding. Actually, I only got around to reading them late that night; my phone died shortly after work, and I’ll be damned if I could find my charger. Figured, I’ll see her tomorrow at school, I’ll just discuss it then.
A restless and horny night passed slowly, and then, finally I was in the seat I had secured that first day. Another brilliant foot show later and the two of us were in the hall, speaking together. We agreed; her place, tonight. Waiting for the day to end sucked so much.
It did end, though; actually, I guess I would have been more surprised if it didn’t. I should take that sentence out, but I’ll leave it in anyway. Through a series of unassuming events, which included – as it always does when I’m going somewhere new – getting lost, I arrived at the door to her place. After the door opened, I noticed she was barefoot; I don’t know why I was surprised by that, but I was. I guess because her feet are always so clean it didn’t occur to me that she ever had trodden the earth without some sort of protection; it just seemed that she always wore something, even in bed. At any rate, combined with the always perfect nail polish, the cleanliness of her feet, even when she seemed to walk barefoot so often, really spoke a lot about her personality. She was wearing her blue jeans, which covered a good amount of foot flesh, saddening me a bit, but her metallic red polished, well tended toe nails were still viewable, so I was happy. Walking in, I was careful not to stare directly down – which is something I did upon arriving at a friends when I was younger… leading to all sorts of questions - instead taking the time to look around. It was sort of a mess; just by the junk lying around I surmised this to be a house rented out to college kids. No surprise, really; it seemed nobody else was around, though, which was surprising. Maybe she had the same sort of idea I had. Oh, yeah, definitely; she definitely wanted me to tickle her; just to tie her down and tickle her crazy, and she didn’t want her friends to be a part of this. That was it for sure, I thought sarcastically. Maybe she had a similar idea, then.
We chatted for a bit on her couch, both of us sitting a little ways away from each other. I commented on the fireplace in the corner, so she shrugged and turned it on. Said something about never really using it, so she might as well; it was nice. After doing that she turned and asked, so, what is this amazing studying secret you have? I laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck like I always do when I’m nervous or don’t know what to say, and suggested that she tell me what she thought had been important from the lectures. Took about ten minutes, but she did just that; I commented and expounded upon some things here and there, taking mental notes on what she had left out. After that, we opened up her notebook and went over everything there, After a while I took her notebook and set it down, to which she asked if that really was it; if that was all of my genius plan, asking with that sort of sly smile that told me she thought I might have lied in order to get into her house because I was interested. Of course not, I told her, thinking to herself that she had pretty much been right about my intentions, if I had interpreted that sly look properly; I then asked her to lie down, while flipping through her notebook and ripping out a clean page. She gave me this sort of curious and perplexed look, tilting her head slightly, but she complied; all the while I searched the room for a pen. Found one, got up, grabbed it, and then sat back down. Ten would be enough, I thought; she was already on her stomach, those soles tempting me, but I knew that I needed patience, to let the wait build up until it was too much, and then to enjoy it all that much more when I finally did.
Very, very quickly, I scribbled down ten sort of half questions that she had either forgotten entirely or else had gotten wrong; they were notes more than anything, answers included. At least, I knew the material well enough to understand what I had written down. She grew impatient, asking again and again what I was going to do; she could never have known I was way more impatient than her right then. I hurried over, my notes in hand, saying just wait, just wait as I sat down upon her ankles, looking onto those glorious soles.
I asked her to sit like that for a lot of reasons, the least of which so that she couldn’t see the cheat sheet I had set onto the floor, as I knew I would need both hands for this. It would be easier to tickle her like this, and aside from the position being so much hotter, she wouldn’t be able to see my expressions. I think she knew what I had planned as soon as I sat down, because she asked what I was doing; I just said I was going to quiz her on the work. With a stout and questioning ok she responded, anticipating me to divulge more information, but I was so entranced by her feet that I said nothing else; I did start to drool a little bit, but that’s embarrassing. Let me tell you about them; they were, despite her having walked around barefoot most of the night, entirely clean and a delicious buttery white throughout. Her ever so delicate toes curved at such a cute angle; cute, plump and round toe pads that screamed to me of their forbidden desires to be kissed and nibbled upon, their stalks begging to be wrapped in the edges of my tongue; Not tonight, I wished to whisper to them. Beyond forbidden thoughts, if such a thing can be imagined, I knew they craved to be tickled; that, despite needing this, they would retreat should I not pin her down like this. Not tonight, I wished to whisper to them. I gently laid my hands upon the bottoms of her feet, feeling the wrinkles and absolutely soft and delicate skin beneath them while she quivered slightly, before telling her my plan.
Basically, I said, I ask a question and then tickle your feet; if you get it wrong, you get tickled for fifteen seconds. Oh, if you don’t answer fast enough, I reminded her, I tickle you until you do answer. Finally, if you get too many wrong, you get tickled for a long time, and then you have to try again. I didn’t wait at all for an answer; I began to tickle immediately, even before asking the question; of course, I hadn’t told her that anything less than a perfect score was too many wrong, but she would find that out later.
Oh man, were those delightful girlish giggles fun to listen to. Now, I didn’t tickle her hard – and it was hard to restrain myself – just light tickles, running my fingers slowly up and down her soles. This story is going to be much shorter than the actual events, because I don’t remember the questions, or even if she got them right or wrong; just the heavenly sense of her almost helpless flesh beneath my relentless fingers.
Well, I don’t remember the order, but she got six of them right. I do remember that the first time, she yelled at me, saying it wasn’t fair to tickle her while asking the question, but I didn’t stop or repeat myself. That one she did get wrong, so I slid my fingers up to her toes, spread my nails – which, like a psychotic, I had grown out for a month simply for this night - out so that one touched each of her toe pads, and really dug at them. It was super effective for all of a few seconds before she curled them against her soles in defense, but it was absolutely stunning to see that metallic red nail polish against her soles; very worth it. I tickled her for longer than twenty seconds – I counted – and she began to yell at me again that I was tickling her for way too long; I had just found out how ticklish her arches were, but felt lenient, so I stopped.
So, nine questions, and they all pretty much played out the same. I asked, gave her all of a second – though admittedly I think I started giving her less and less, because I know near the end I just began tickling immediately, and at the last one I definitely tickled her during the question again, before I began. Sometimes I tickled after she answered correctly, but only twice at most. I was just so blown away to have such a gorgeous thing at my whims; this kind of thing NEVER happens, you know? Better still, she didn’t seem to mind; she sounded like she was having a lot of fun by her playful responses, even saying after one of the questions that she answered right – that I tickled her after regardless – that it tickled the most when I slowly and delicately ran my nails over her toes.
Her feet swayed back and forth, but for the most part I held them still; the soles were crunched together because she was forcing that gap at her toes shut for protection, but it didn’t matter to me. I teased her a lot, and definitely did this little piggy for one of the wrong answers; turned me on so much when she screamed NOT THAT at me, followed by telling me that her brother did that to her all the time when she was little, and that she was never able to stand it through the entire game. So I of course continued doing it, heh, but I didn’t do it a second time. But over all it was just light tickling; I didn’t want her to think anything more of it. We both laughed; she cursed a bunch of times, more so when she got it wrong, but other than that it was just playful and fun.
But right, and this is the good part, she got too many of them wrong. Not that it mattered, even if she had gotten nine out of ten, I would have done it anyway, since it wasn’t perfect, and had she gotten all of them right I would have rewarded her with more tickling. I told her she got too many wrong, and she giggled a little bit and said crap in a flirty way, then I really began.
I dug in; I raked my uncut nails across her soles and she howled. Distantly, I heard her slam her hands against the ground in an attempt to deal with the extreme amount of tickling I put her through; once or twice, I felt her grabbing at me, but I was so absorbed with her flesh and laughter that I hardly noticed. A curious thing really, to have so much control over someone, just by simply running a finger down an arch or around a toe. Anyway, she kind of deserved it, for making me suffer all those times in class; she deserved to be suffering now at the whim of my merciless fingers, laughing, begging, pleading for it to stop. I became quite feverish with the assault, and enjoyed every second of it, hearing her laughter become more and more strained as it lost that playful feel to it; the begging becoming more real to my ears, which woke me from my daze. She was saying something like ok, ok, repeatedly, sometimes saying that’s enough, stop. I went a bit over my limit, I realized.
So, I stopped and gave her a break, but didn’t move. Actually, I massaged her feet for a bit during this time, which she enjoyed a lot. I dunno how long I massaged – I was absorbed – but it was really, really long; longer than it should have been, anyway. Something like fifteen minutes long. She was very much at peace when I asked her if she was ready for round two, to which she hesitantly said yes. It went on about the same as before, except she got all of them right this time; I smiled when I turned around and told her for being so good, I’d tickle her as a reward, since she seemed to like it so much. Yeah, she shouted no, but I still went at it anyway; she had that really large playful smile on her face when she shouted no, I realized later, so it was all good.
Tickled her for a bit, but after I finished this time, I got up and set her feet in my lap. She rolled over onto her back and let me massage them for a while again, during which we didn’t talk. After the massage, I kissed one of her toes, and immediately felt ashamed and knew I went way over my boundaries by doing that. We both looked at the clock around then and decided that it was late and I needed to go. I left, but afterwards I felt like total crap. No, it was great and all, but she must have thought I was a real creep, you know?
Our test came during the next class, and since we were allowed to leave as soon as we finished, I managed to avoid her; dude, I was beyond terrified. I take tests very, very fast, by the way; that particular one, even with the two page hand written essay I did, only took twenty three minutes. Figured, yeah, theres no way she would want to talk to me again after that. But hey, you know, I did get a text after an hour or so asking why I didn’t wait for her. Yeah, she told me she felt that our little tickle session – well, study session to her, tickle session to me – really helped her out on the test. Actually, she said she had a math test coming up, and wanted to know if I’d be down for helping her study like that again, maybe for a bit longer, even.
I won’t bore you with that tale, as it was the same thing. You know, squirming, begging, laughing, etc. But, I will tell you this part, reader; I found out she didn’t actually have a math test, though this was some time later. Put a real smile on my face when I did discover that.
