The first time I was tickled as an adult, it was an odd and mystifying experience. I was naïve, so much so, I didn't know what was going on. It wasn't a turnoff, because it started with a loving, soft and worshipping touch. Maybe I was sheltered or maybe the opposite, ignored all my married life by a husband only touching me for an orgasm: his. I was at work and training a new guy. The shift work required only one person, and I couldn’t have a day off until he was ready to work alone. He was a little slow at catching on, or maybe he just wanted to drag out my obligation to be there and not be on his own. Maybe he was lazy. Now, I like to think it was to spend time with me, at the time I was slightly irritated, 10 days without a night off.
I was starved for any attention; I wanted intelligent conversation, willing to trade my touch to get it. It had been a long night and I ended up doing most of the work, the numbers crunched, and reports processed and completed. I was cleaning up my work area, and sitting on the counter top that ran alongside my computer in the corner. That way I could face the trainee, Cole, without turning my back on him, still not quite trusting this large 6’ 4” man. My feet were dangling, and because I wasn’t officially “working” I could wear jeans instead of the usual skirt and button down blouse or dress. I had on tennis shoes and socks, fully covered, but I noticed he kept looking at my feet.
“Oh, my shoe’s untied!”
“Let me, Anna” he offered.
He knelt down and took my foot on his bended knee. I looked down at his black hair and white shirt, I felt like a princess. A quickening of my heart, butterfly in my stomach, and sensation of anticipation. I couldn’t see his face, but I noticed he was taking his time holding the shoelace. Then he held the shoe by the heel and started to pull it forward, it was coming off!
“Hey, wrong direction!” I wasn’t sure, maybe he was sleep walking since we worked nights.
“Not! Let me fix your sock, it’s slipping down inside your shoe.”
“OK..”, hesitantly.
We were alone and it was a weekend, the office doors were locked but I was still wary of someone coming in and getting the wrong idea. He took off my shoe, he pulled on my sock. It came off and he tossed both shoe and sock on the floor. He looked up at me then and took my bare foot in his hand. His hands were soft, and felt so soothing, I felt so treasured. First he massaged my toes with both hands, he watched my face. His eyes showed he cared that I was enjoying this, would stop if I dissented. Yet I could not. He pulled each toe, and I moaned. His fingers played across the sole of my foot, I giggled, this time he moaned. He locked my ankle with one hand, and then took a red pen from his shirt pocket. He sat cross-legged in his black dress slacks, on the floor. Then he pulled my foot to his mouth and kissed it, his tongue came out with tiny licks between my toes. This time I had to outright laugh.
“I didn’t know I was ticklish!” I was able to gasp out.
“That’s because you have not encountered the Tickle Master!”
He then took the red pen and wrote on the sole of my foot, each stroke forcing a giggle from deep in my belly.
“Sttooppp, oh, pleeesse, stop, Cole. You’re driving me crazy!”
“OK . Sixty seconds, then get ready!” He started counting backwards.
“60-59-58-57” With each lessening number my trepidation heightened, I started to wiggle and squirm. My ankle was tightly locked in his grip, he tossed the pen.
“38-37-36” started wiggling his fingers at me. I stared at him..I could break away, I could end this now.
“15-14-13-“ I took a deep breath, I leaned back against the wall. I took another breath and closed my eyes. I wiggled my foot one more time, and I prepared to take it.
I was starved for any attention; I wanted intelligent conversation, willing to trade my touch to get it. It had been a long night and I ended up doing most of the work, the numbers crunched, and reports processed and completed. I was cleaning up my work area, and sitting on the counter top that ran alongside my computer in the corner. That way I could face the trainee, Cole, without turning my back on him, still not quite trusting this large 6’ 4” man. My feet were dangling, and because I wasn’t officially “working” I could wear jeans instead of the usual skirt and button down blouse or dress. I had on tennis shoes and socks, fully covered, but I noticed he kept looking at my feet.
“Oh, my shoe’s untied!”
“Let me, Anna” he offered.
He knelt down and took my foot on his bended knee. I looked down at his black hair and white shirt, I felt like a princess. A quickening of my heart, butterfly in my stomach, and sensation of anticipation. I couldn’t see his face, but I noticed he was taking his time holding the shoelace. Then he held the shoe by the heel and started to pull it forward, it was coming off!
“Hey, wrong direction!” I wasn’t sure, maybe he was sleep walking since we worked nights.
“Not! Let me fix your sock, it’s slipping down inside your shoe.”
“OK..”, hesitantly.
We were alone and it was a weekend, the office doors were locked but I was still wary of someone coming in and getting the wrong idea. He took off my shoe, he pulled on my sock. It came off and he tossed both shoe and sock on the floor. He looked up at me then and took my bare foot in his hand. His hands were soft, and felt so soothing, I felt so treasured. First he massaged my toes with both hands, he watched my face. His eyes showed he cared that I was enjoying this, would stop if I dissented. Yet I could not. He pulled each toe, and I moaned. His fingers played across the sole of my foot, I giggled, this time he moaned. He locked my ankle with one hand, and then took a red pen from his shirt pocket. He sat cross-legged in his black dress slacks, on the floor. Then he pulled my foot to his mouth and kissed it, his tongue came out with tiny licks between my toes. This time I had to outright laugh.
“I didn’t know I was ticklish!” I was able to gasp out.
“That’s because you have not encountered the Tickle Master!”
He then took the red pen and wrote on the sole of my foot, each stroke forcing a giggle from deep in my belly.
“Sttooppp, oh, pleeesse, stop, Cole. You’re driving me crazy!”
“OK . Sixty seconds, then get ready!” He started counting backwards.
“60-59-58-57” With each lessening number my trepidation heightened, I started to wiggle and squirm. My ankle was tightly locked in his grip, he tossed the pen.
“38-37-36” started wiggling his fingers at me. I stared at him..I could break away, I could end this now.
“15-14-13-“ I took a deep breath, I leaned back against the wall. I took another breath and closed my eyes. I wiggled my foot one more time, and I prepared to take it.
