PART ONE HERE:
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...46#post4399746
PART TWO HERE:
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ish-Swede-of-07-quot-PART-2-(FFFFFFFF-F-Feet)
=============================================
"Freya, the Tall Ticklish Swede of '07"- PART 3 (FFFFFFFF/F Feet)
- A side story / addendum to Gabriella at the World Massage Competition (which I recommend you read all three parts of first)
=============================================
“You gotta let me in, Freya. You gotta let me iiiiiiin” Stella sang to Freya’s clenched toes in a teasing way.
Freya’s feet had survived all the caresses and tickles so far without her having to curl her toes, as there hadn’t been a need to up until then. As Freya was keenly aware, what’s unique about tickling of the soles of the feet is that so long as they’re exposed and held steady, they really have no reflexive defense mechanism. Tickled armpits can be covered by arms, hands can cover bellies and sides, necks can be scrunched. The most similar area of the body to foot soles are the palms of hands, but a tickle of a palm by a feather can immediately be stopped by making a fist. Feet can’t make a fist, and even the most experienced ballerinas cannot curl their toes enough to completely block a good sole tickle, and Freya’s feet were no different.
There was, however, a place on Freya’s extremely ticklish feet that they had not explored yet, and it was by far the most ticklish area of her entire body, not just on her feet. It was technically eight spots, and unlike her arches and heels these spots could be defended against by simply tightly curling her toes.
These spots of course were the crevices of her toes. The eight spaces between each of Freya’s ten long toes were so sensitive that she couldn’t even wash between them in the shower without squirming. She shuddered to think what Stella’s skinny fingers would feel like slithering around in there, and she was doing everything within her power to hold off that inevitable moment as long as possible. She honestly thought she would lose her mind if Stella got in.
Stella’s fingers were waiting for the moment. Probing, spider tickling all over her clenched soles, trying to open them, she poked her fingers playfully at her big toes, but she knew how strong Freya was, everywhere, so she’d have to get creative.
“Guys, I’m going to need some help. Klara and Molly, do me a favor and scratch her heels all over. Ellie, can you do me a favor and lightly tickle the tops of both feet? This has got to work.”
Ellie sat on the lower empty bunk facing outward and looking up and so was the only one with a view of the tops of Freya’s long feet. She lifted up her hands and began lightly scratching from the front of her thin ankles all the way to the tops of her toes, then ran her fingernails back up, then back down again, then caressed her skin with her finger pads, then her fingernails again, then her finger pads.
“Even the tops of her feet are super soft. Oh my gosh Freya your feet are so awesome.”
Molly and Klara were on the top bunk, one on each side of Freya's long body and the tickle pile, with their heads at her feet. They rested on their elbows and each took a heel with both of their hands, racking their nails downward all the way to her arch. Freya was slowly breaking. The tickling on her heels was maddening, and the tight curling of her toes couldn’t protect her smooth round heels from Klara and Molly’s raking. Ellie’s alternating between caresses and nails was driving her absolutely nuts on the tops of her feet and as much as she tried to dance her feet away, Ellie’s fingers followed. Still laughing hysterically, her feet were confused and didn’t know whether the curl or point back, and the splaying of her toes was all Stella was waiting for to hit pay dirt.
And just like that, Freya’s reflexes couldn’t take it any more, and her toes finally pointed all the way back and splayed.
“Bingo.”
Stella immediately darted all eight of her fingers between Freya’s toes at once and gripped the tops on the other side. Stella’s fingers were so small and skinny and Freya’s toes so big that they fit like keys into keyholes. Freya reflexively tried to curl her toes again but Stella’s fingers prevented her, and as she wriggled them around Freya’s body became electrified.
Of all the feelings -- the ticklings, and the caresses, all the scratches, the massaging -- nothing reached the level of intensity in Freya’s body as when Stella’s fingers got between her toes. Freya first screamed at the top of her lungs, which turned into a sort of scream-laughing. While the scream-laughing continued something deep inside her began to well up. It was a warmth at her core, like nothing she had ever felt before, and with every move of Stella's fingers in and almost out, and in and almost out, and in an almost out between her toes, the building up grew.
“It sounds like Stella got in,” laughed Alice as Freya’s body shook underneath her.
Nobody told Molly and Klara to stop tormenting Freya’s heels, so the raking and scratching continued. The warmth inside Freya only grew as the scream-laughing continued on.
“AAAAAAAHHHHH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
This new intensity of laughter caused the tickle pile on top of Stella to reignite. Agnes tickled Alice onto her back, arching on top of the pile, and someone instinctively grabbed her wrists to pull them down over her head. Somebody grabbed a socked foot and starting tickling it. And another. And another. It got to a point where either you were tickling or being tickled, and no one was left out. The cacophony of giggling intensified, but no one’s was louder than Freya’s.
===
Coach Kirk was mad at himself and bummed about everything that occurred leading up to that morning. The volleyball team was having a below .500 season, he was getting paid a pittance, there was really no prospects for promotion, and he had absolutely no social life, especially when the team was on a long road trip like they were that January. Being a male coach on a women’s university volleyball team meant no drinks after work with the guys, as there weren’t any guys. He felt like a failure and started to question his life decisions and everything that led up to that morning. He was angry at Freya for sleeping in. He was angry at the girls for challenging his authority. More than anything else, he was angry at himself for caving to Ellie’s ultimatum. Coach Kirk had no girlfriends, no pets, no time for hobbies. The only thing in his life that gave him any semblance of happiness was pacing the sidelines of the volleyball court, watching his girls compete. He deeply loved the entire team and would take a bullet for any one of them, though he’d never say so out loud. Granted, he was a like any testosterone-fueled 31-year old heterosexual male…a hot girl is a hot girl. He had his own little fantasies about each of them in his mind, and he certainly had his favorites on the team, but he never, ever crossed the line, verbally or physically. He was a consummate professional and would never make a suggestive remark or even a casual double entendre in front of them. His fantasies remained always between his ears and nowhere else.
The brightest part of his weekend – really the high point of his entire season – was earlier that hour when Ellie said to him, on behalf of the team, “We love you too, coach.” They had never said those words to him before, and it hit him in the heart like an arrow. Did they really all love him, or was she just saying that? If they were sincere, maybe this was all worth it? Maybe all this anguish and late nights and early mornings and drama and miserable lonely social life made this all worthwhile, just for that one moment. Just to hear those five precious words, his deep platonic love for his team all reciprocated and verbally expressed back to him.
The girl’s bunk room was in the same corridor that led to the breakfast cafeteria, and around 7:40 he made his way to it to get some coffee. He had nothing else to do after all as he had cancelled pre-breakfast drills because of Ellie’s ultimatum. The hosting team wasn’t arriving until noon so the complex was completely empty, save for a solitary cafeteria worker preparing their breakfast. As he walked down the hall leading up to the girls’ bunk room he heard the giggling. It was giggling and giggling coupled with one really, really loud hysterical laughing by a voice whose laugh he honestly didn’t recognize.
Coach Kirk’s blood boiled. His girls said “they would take care” of Freya’s tardiness problem. They begged to “give them one more chance.” They said “they would all quit” if he kicked Freya off the team, but he trusted Ellie when she promised him she’d fix it. And here they were laughing away in their bunkroom about God knows what, like immature little girls, probably mocking him with how weak he was as a coach. He was livid as he approached the door. The laughing, especially from the mystery girl, was getting REALLY loud.
The bunkroom door was agape about an inch, and as his figure darkened the doorway Molly noticed him first. “Um, I think Coach Kirk is here.”
He didn’t peek in – even in his rage he was too respectful to violate their privacy – he stared ahead down the empty hallway and yelled in a monotone but loud and assertive voice:
“WHAT. IS. GOING. ON??
ELLIE, COME TO THE DOOR. NOW.”
Ellie sauntered over nonchalantly.
“Oh, hi Coach! I think we’re almost done. You can come in, actually. I want you to see that we’re taking care of this like we said we would.”
Her casual attitude caught him off guard and he was dumbstruck, first that she invited him in to their personal living space, something he had never been privy to previously when the team travelled, but even more so dumbstruck with what he immediately saw to his right after taking half a step in.
The visual images he was about to consume would be singed in his mind for the rest of his life on earth.
First it was the 10 girls on the top bunk in the hug pile, tickling each other. This was where all the giggling was coming from. This ticklefest alone was something out of the hottest fantasy he ever had: gorgeous athletic college age girls in thigh high socks frolicking on a bed and laughing. Some of the girls’ head were towards him, some were away, some legs were kicking in the air. Those whose heads were away had their thigh-high socked feet towards him, and some of those feet were being held in arm locks and tickled by the girls facing his way. One girl, it looked like Alice, was on her arched back perched on top of the pile with her hands held down by girls underneath her and she was writhing and squirming as third and fourth sets of random hands were mercilessly tickling her partially exposed stomach and sides. There were ticklers and ticklees, all young and athletic, all gorgeous (they were Swedish volleyball players, after all), all laughing. A real life, actual group tickle fight. To top it all off, like dual lion statues at a mansion, Molly and Klara were at the foot of the bed facing out, behind them slowly with their knees bent waving their thigh high royal blue socked legs in what foot freaks like Coack Kirk called "the pose." Even if he didn’t privately have both a raging tickling and foot fetish – which he did – even if he was just a boring vanilla red blooded heterosexual 31-year old male, the scene on the top of that bed was sexy as fuck.
But something else was going on as well.
Molly and Klara were doing something with their hands, he couldn’t see what, but the looks on their faces were of deep concentration and glee. The back of Stella’s head and body blocked Coach Kirk’s view as to what it was they were paying so much attention to at the foot of the bed. He slowly stepped more into the room, he was given permission to come in, after all, to look around Stella’s body, and then it all came into view. A dozen butterflies danced in his stomach and his heartbeat accelerated so fast to pump blood to his core that he became lightheaded.
Extended from the top bunk bed and contrasted against the dark gray linens of the bed and the backdrop of royal blue and yellow uniforms of the rest of the girls frolicking behind them where two long, beautiful bare feet from their thin ankles down, toes pointed downward. The perfect soles of these gorgeous feet were lit now by the morning sun shining through the window. They were specimens of pure beauty and as Coack Kirk walked by them got to view them at a moving angle, like a camera moving on a dolly in a film. He silently gasped as they literally took his breath away. Stella continued pulling her fingers in and almost out between all the toes, and because Stella's hands were so small they barely separated the natural distance between each of the phalanges. Molly and Klara were expertly tickling the heels, raking their nails all the way to her arches, two hands on each heel, on each side, up and down and up and down and up and down.
Ellie reported to the coach matter-of-factly, “So Freya is SUPER ticklish and we decided that tickling her feet would be the best way to teach her a lesson about being late.” She had to almost shout her words over Freya's laughter in the background like she was talking over a running vacuum.
Molly spoke without looking up, “Her feet are amaaaaaaazing.”
Stella finally pulled her fingers completely out of her toes and Freya’s laughter went down only slightly. She decided to play with one toe at a time now, pulling on each one after the other as Freya screamed and shrieked.
Coack Kirk’s heart was beating out of his chest.
“Here, you’ve got to touch them.” Ellie pulled him over and Stella stepped aside there he was, a mere inches from Freya’s stunning soles, wriggling and splaying and just looking like the two most beautiful things he had ever seen in his life. He was a foot expert, a private secret he shared with no one, and he gazed at them like a horny scientist. He thought to himself that they must be a European size 43 (12 US). They didn’t have a blemish or a callous on them to speak of and looked so, so incredibly soft.
“They were already super soft before we put all this lotion on them but now they're like, I don't know, the softest thing in the world? haha. Go ahead, you’ve got to feel how soft these feet are, Coach.”
Coach Kirk was hypnotized and dumbfounded and dumbstruck and he was in absolute heaven and still in utter shock himself and he wanted to touch them so bad…but the coach in him got the best of him, and he chickened out.
“Ugh. I hate feet. Feet are gross.” He couldn’t believe the words that just came out of this mouth. It was some sort of defense mechanism and was also the biggest lie he could possibly tell.
“Suit yourself, coach.”
Stella sung as went back to work, adjusted her technique a bit to now drawing figure 8s and the letter Ss over Freya’s soles.
“Not these feet. Not theeeeese feet, right Freya?” She was talking baby talk. “These feet aren't gross. These feet are beeeeaaaauuutiful. Are these little feet ticklish? Are they??” She raked the entire surface area of Freya's soles with the tops of her nails while her hands were held like a "C," from the toes all the way up to her heels, then down in a caressing way with her finger pads cascading down like a waterfall, then up with her nails, down with her fingers, then sped the tempo up, and up and down and up and down and down. Freya's laugh was so loud it actually hurt his eardrums.
Coach Kirk couldn’t take it any longer and had to excuse himself. “I will see you girls at breakfast. 15 minutes.” Ellie was watching Coach Kirk’s eyes the entire time he was in the room and slyly smiled at his back as he walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.
Fifteen minutes was not enough time for him to go to his room on the other side of the complex to do what he needed to do and still make the breakfast hard time of 8AM. That would have to wait. He definitely had no time for a cold shower. So he simply went to the cafeteria with wobbly knees, poured some coffee, and sat staring straight ahead alone for the next quarter hour, mouth half agape, and with a throbbing erection in his pants. “Why did I not touch them? Why did I not touch tall Freya’s beautiful, perfect, soft feet? Ellie TOLD me I could touch them! It wouldn’t have been weird. They were RIGHT THERE, like PRESENTED to me. I am an idiot. I am a fool. I will never, never have an opportunity like that again,” he cursed to himself in his head.
Coach Kirk would have to be satisfied with the visual memories in his mind alone. He convinced himself that just that one touch to Freya’s feet would have been crossing the line, ruining all the trust he had built up with these girls. They were his team, after all, he was their coach, in their charge. One quick scribble…on those two, gorgeous huge soles…GOD, THOSE SOLES…might have gotten him in some sort of trouble, he just couldn’t take that chance. Right? He considered himself a disciplined man. Right? But SHIT…they invited him. They TOLD him to feel them. He could have gotten away with it, and nobody would have said a thing. Freya was in such a state she wouldn't have even known it was his hands. Just one quick touch and he would have cherished that feeling forever...but he didn’t take it. Coach Kirk stared ahead and uttered one just word out loud in exasperation, which made the cafeteria worker briefly turn around.
“FUCK.”
Though he could only imagine what happened after he left that room, even his most elaborate fantasy could not top what actually transpired. In fact if Coach Kirk had stayed just a minute longer he would likely have exploded in his pants on the spot.
===
TO BE CONTINUED…
Actually, PART 4 is right here: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ART-4-(FFFFFFFF-F-Feet)&p=4401566#post4401566
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthr...46#post4399746
PART TWO HERE:
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ish-Swede-of-07-quot-PART-2-(FFFFFFFF-F-Feet)
=============================================
"Freya, the Tall Ticklish Swede of '07"- PART 3 (FFFFFFFF/F Feet)
- A side story / addendum to Gabriella at the World Massage Competition (which I recommend you read all three parts of first)
=============================================
“You gotta let me in, Freya. You gotta let me iiiiiiin” Stella sang to Freya’s clenched toes in a teasing way.
Freya’s feet had survived all the caresses and tickles so far without her having to curl her toes, as there hadn’t been a need to up until then. As Freya was keenly aware, what’s unique about tickling of the soles of the feet is that so long as they’re exposed and held steady, they really have no reflexive defense mechanism. Tickled armpits can be covered by arms, hands can cover bellies and sides, necks can be scrunched. The most similar area of the body to foot soles are the palms of hands, but a tickle of a palm by a feather can immediately be stopped by making a fist. Feet can’t make a fist, and even the most experienced ballerinas cannot curl their toes enough to completely block a good sole tickle, and Freya’s feet were no different.
There was, however, a place on Freya’s extremely ticklish feet that they had not explored yet, and it was by far the most ticklish area of her entire body, not just on her feet. It was technically eight spots, and unlike her arches and heels these spots could be defended against by simply tightly curling her toes.
These spots of course were the crevices of her toes. The eight spaces between each of Freya’s ten long toes were so sensitive that she couldn’t even wash between them in the shower without squirming. She shuddered to think what Stella’s skinny fingers would feel like slithering around in there, and she was doing everything within her power to hold off that inevitable moment as long as possible. She honestly thought she would lose her mind if Stella got in.
Stella’s fingers were waiting for the moment. Probing, spider tickling all over her clenched soles, trying to open them, she poked her fingers playfully at her big toes, but she knew how strong Freya was, everywhere, so she’d have to get creative.
“Guys, I’m going to need some help. Klara and Molly, do me a favor and scratch her heels all over. Ellie, can you do me a favor and lightly tickle the tops of both feet? This has got to work.”
Ellie sat on the lower empty bunk facing outward and looking up and so was the only one with a view of the tops of Freya’s long feet. She lifted up her hands and began lightly scratching from the front of her thin ankles all the way to the tops of her toes, then ran her fingernails back up, then back down again, then caressed her skin with her finger pads, then her fingernails again, then her finger pads.
“Even the tops of her feet are super soft. Oh my gosh Freya your feet are so awesome.”
Molly and Klara were on the top bunk, one on each side of Freya's long body and the tickle pile, with their heads at her feet. They rested on their elbows and each took a heel with both of their hands, racking their nails downward all the way to her arch. Freya was slowly breaking. The tickling on her heels was maddening, and the tight curling of her toes couldn’t protect her smooth round heels from Klara and Molly’s raking. Ellie’s alternating between caresses and nails was driving her absolutely nuts on the tops of her feet and as much as she tried to dance her feet away, Ellie’s fingers followed. Still laughing hysterically, her feet were confused and didn’t know whether the curl or point back, and the splaying of her toes was all Stella was waiting for to hit pay dirt.
And just like that, Freya’s reflexes couldn’t take it any more, and her toes finally pointed all the way back and splayed.
“Bingo.”
Stella immediately darted all eight of her fingers between Freya’s toes at once and gripped the tops on the other side. Stella’s fingers were so small and skinny and Freya’s toes so big that they fit like keys into keyholes. Freya reflexively tried to curl her toes again but Stella’s fingers prevented her, and as she wriggled them around Freya’s body became electrified.
Of all the feelings -- the ticklings, and the caresses, all the scratches, the massaging -- nothing reached the level of intensity in Freya’s body as when Stella’s fingers got between her toes. Freya first screamed at the top of her lungs, which turned into a sort of scream-laughing. While the scream-laughing continued something deep inside her began to well up. It was a warmth at her core, like nothing she had ever felt before, and with every move of Stella's fingers in and almost out, and in and almost out, and in an almost out between her toes, the building up grew.
“It sounds like Stella got in,” laughed Alice as Freya’s body shook underneath her.
Nobody told Molly and Klara to stop tormenting Freya’s heels, so the raking and scratching continued. The warmth inside Freya only grew as the scream-laughing continued on.
“AAAAAAAHHHHH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
This new intensity of laughter caused the tickle pile on top of Stella to reignite. Agnes tickled Alice onto her back, arching on top of the pile, and someone instinctively grabbed her wrists to pull them down over her head. Somebody grabbed a socked foot and starting tickling it. And another. And another. It got to a point where either you were tickling or being tickled, and no one was left out. The cacophony of giggling intensified, but no one’s was louder than Freya’s.
===
Coach Kirk was mad at himself and bummed about everything that occurred leading up to that morning. The volleyball team was having a below .500 season, he was getting paid a pittance, there was really no prospects for promotion, and he had absolutely no social life, especially when the team was on a long road trip like they were that January. Being a male coach on a women’s university volleyball team meant no drinks after work with the guys, as there weren’t any guys. He felt like a failure and started to question his life decisions and everything that led up to that morning. He was angry at Freya for sleeping in. He was angry at the girls for challenging his authority. More than anything else, he was angry at himself for caving to Ellie’s ultimatum. Coach Kirk had no girlfriends, no pets, no time for hobbies. The only thing in his life that gave him any semblance of happiness was pacing the sidelines of the volleyball court, watching his girls compete. He deeply loved the entire team and would take a bullet for any one of them, though he’d never say so out loud. Granted, he was a like any testosterone-fueled 31-year old heterosexual male…a hot girl is a hot girl. He had his own little fantasies about each of them in his mind, and he certainly had his favorites on the team, but he never, ever crossed the line, verbally or physically. He was a consummate professional and would never make a suggestive remark or even a casual double entendre in front of them. His fantasies remained always between his ears and nowhere else.
The brightest part of his weekend – really the high point of his entire season – was earlier that hour when Ellie said to him, on behalf of the team, “We love you too, coach.” They had never said those words to him before, and it hit him in the heart like an arrow. Did they really all love him, or was she just saying that? If they were sincere, maybe this was all worth it? Maybe all this anguish and late nights and early mornings and drama and miserable lonely social life made this all worthwhile, just for that one moment. Just to hear those five precious words, his deep platonic love for his team all reciprocated and verbally expressed back to him.
The girl’s bunk room was in the same corridor that led to the breakfast cafeteria, and around 7:40 he made his way to it to get some coffee. He had nothing else to do after all as he had cancelled pre-breakfast drills because of Ellie’s ultimatum. The hosting team wasn’t arriving until noon so the complex was completely empty, save for a solitary cafeteria worker preparing their breakfast. As he walked down the hall leading up to the girls’ bunk room he heard the giggling. It was giggling and giggling coupled with one really, really loud hysterical laughing by a voice whose laugh he honestly didn’t recognize.
Coach Kirk’s blood boiled. His girls said “they would take care” of Freya’s tardiness problem. They begged to “give them one more chance.” They said “they would all quit” if he kicked Freya off the team, but he trusted Ellie when she promised him she’d fix it. And here they were laughing away in their bunkroom about God knows what, like immature little girls, probably mocking him with how weak he was as a coach. He was livid as he approached the door. The laughing, especially from the mystery girl, was getting REALLY loud.
The bunkroom door was agape about an inch, and as his figure darkened the doorway Molly noticed him first. “Um, I think Coach Kirk is here.”
He didn’t peek in – even in his rage he was too respectful to violate their privacy – he stared ahead down the empty hallway and yelled in a monotone but loud and assertive voice:
“WHAT. IS. GOING. ON??
ELLIE, COME TO THE DOOR. NOW.”
Ellie sauntered over nonchalantly.
“Oh, hi Coach! I think we’re almost done. You can come in, actually. I want you to see that we’re taking care of this like we said we would.”
Her casual attitude caught him off guard and he was dumbstruck, first that she invited him in to their personal living space, something he had never been privy to previously when the team travelled, but even more so dumbstruck with what he immediately saw to his right after taking half a step in.
The visual images he was about to consume would be singed in his mind for the rest of his life on earth.
First it was the 10 girls on the top bunk in the hug pile, tickling each other. This was where all the giggling was coming from. This ticklefest alone was something out of the hottest fantasy he ever had: gorgeous athletic college age girls in thigh high socks frolicking on a bed and laughing. Some of the girls’ head were towards him, some were away, some legs were kicking in the air. Those whose heads were away had their thigh-high socked feet towards him, and some of those feet were being held in arm locks and tickled by the girls facing his way. One girl, it looked like Alice, was on her arched back perched on top of the pile with her hands held down by girls underneath her and she was writhing and squirming as third and fourth sets of random hands were mercilessly tickling her partially exposed stomach and sides. There were ticklers and ticklees, all young and athletic, all gorgeous (they were Swedish volleyball players, after all), all laughing. A real life, actual group tickle fight. To top it all off, like dual lion statues at a mansion, Molly and Klara were at the foot of the bed facing out, behind them slowly with their knees bent waving their thigh high royal blue socked legs in what foot freaks like Coack Kirk called "the pose." Even if he didn’t privately have both a raging tickling and foot fetish – which he did – even if he was just a boring vanilla red blooded heterosexual 31-year old male, the scene on the top of that bed was sexy as fuck.
But something else was going on as well.
Molly and Klara were doing something with their hands, he couldn’t see what, but the looks on their faces were of deep concentration and glee. The back of Stella’s head and body blocked Coach Kirk’s view as to what it was they were paying so much attention to at the foot of the bed. He slowly stepped more into the room, he was given permission to come in, after all, to look around Stella’s body, and then it all came into view. A dozen butterflies danced in his stomach and his heartbeat accelerated so fast to pump blood to his core that he became lightheaded.
Extended from the top bunk bed and contrasted against the dark gray linens of the bed and the backdrop of royal blue and yellow uniforms of the rest of the girls frolicking behind them where two long, beautiful bare feet from their thin ankles down, toes pointed downward. The perfect soles of these gorgeous feet were lit now by the morning sun shining through the window. They were specimens of pure beauty and as Coack Kirk walked by them got to view them at a moving angle, like a camera moving on a dolly in a film. He silently gasped as they literally took his breath away. Stella continued pulling her fingers in and almost out between all the toes, and because Stella's hands were so small they barely separated the natural distance between each of the phalanges. Molly and Klara were expertly tickling the heels, raking their nails all the way to her arches, two hands on each heel, on each side, up and down and up and down and up and down.
Ellie reported to the coach matter-of-factly, “So Freya is SUPER ticklish and we decided that tickling her feet would be the best way to teach her a lesson about being late.” She had to almost shout her words over Freya's laughter in the background like she was talking over a running vacuum.
Molly spoke without looking up, “Her feet are amaaaaaaazing.”
Stella finally pulled her fingers completely out of her toes and Freya’s laughter went down only slightly. She decided to play with one toe at a time now, pulling on each one after the other as Freya screamed and shrieked.
Coack Kirk’s heart was beating out of his chest.
“Here, you’ve got to touch them.” Ellie pulled him over and Stella stepped aside there he was, a mere inches from Freya’s stunning soles, wriggling and splaying and just looking like the two most beautiful things he had ever seen in his life. He was a foot expert, a private secret he shared with no one, and he gazed at them like a horny scientist. He thought to himself that they must be a European size 43 (12 US). They didn’t have a blemish or a callous on them to speak of and looked so, so incredibly soft.
“They were already super soft before we put all this lotion on them but now they're like, I don't know, the softest thing in the world? haha. Go ahead, you’ve got to feel how soft these feet are, Coach.”
Coach Kirk was hypnotized and dumbfounded and dumbstruck and he was in absolute heaven and still in utter shock himself and he wanted to touch them so bad…but the coach in him got the best of him, and he chickened out.
“Ugh. I hate feet. Feet are gross.” He couldn’t believe the words that just came out of this mouth. It was some sort of defense mechanism and was also the biggest lie he could possibly tell.
“Suit yourself, coach.”
Stella sung as went back to work, adjusted her technique a bit to now drawing figure 8s and the letter Ss over Freya’s soles.
“Not these feet. Not theeeeese feet, right Freya?” She was talking baby talk. “These feet aren't gross. These feet are beeeeaaaauuutiful. Are these little feet ticklish? Are they??” She raked the entire surface area of Freya's soles with the tops of her nails while her hands were held like a "C," from the toes all the way up to her heels, then down in a caressing way with her finger pads cascading down like a waterfall, then up with her nails, down with her fingers, then sped the tempo up, and up and down and up and down and down. Freya's laugh was so loud it actually hurt his eardrums.
Coach Kirk couldn’t take it any longer and had to excuse himself. “I will see you girls at breakfast. 15 minutes.” Ellie was watching Coach Kirk’s eyes the entire time he was in the room and slyly smiled at his back as he walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.
Fifteen minutes was not enough time for him to go to his room on the other side of the complex to do what he needed to do and still make the breakfast hard time of 8AM. That would have to wait. He definitely had no time for a cold shower. So he simply went to the cafeteria with wobbly knees, poured some coffee, and sat staring straight ahead alone for the next quarter hour, mouth half agape, and with a throbbing erection in his pants. “Why did I not touch them? Why did I not touch tall Freya’s beautiful, perfect, soft feet? Ellie TOLD me I could touch them! It wouldn’t have been weird. They were RIGHT THERE, like PRESENTED to me. I am an idiot. I am a fool. I will never, never have an opportunity like that again,” he cursed to himself in his head.
Coach Kirk would have to be satisfied with the visual memories in his mind alone. He convinced himself that just that one touch to Freya’s feet would have been crossing the line, ruining all the trust he had built up with these girls. They were his team, after all, he was their coach, in their charge. One quick scribble…on those two, gorgeous huge soles…GOD, THOSE SOLES…might have gotten him in some sort of trouble, he just couldn’t take that chance. Right? He considered himself a disciplined man. Right? But SHIT…they invited him. They TOLD him to feel them. He could have gotten away with it, and nobody would have said a thing. Freya was in such a state she wouldn't have even known it was his hands. Just one quick touch and he would have cherished that feeling forever...but he didn’t take it. Coach Kirk stared ahead and uttered one just word out loud in exasperation, which made the cafeteria worker briefly turn around.
“FUCK.”
Though he could only imagine what happened after he left that room, even his most elaborate fantasy could not top what actually transpired. In fact if Coach Kirk had stayed just a minute longer he would likely have exploded in his pants on the spot.
===
TO BE CONTINUED…
Actually, PART 4 is right here: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ART-4-(FFFFFFFF-F-Feet)&p=4401566#post4401566
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This is a wonderful series. 
