phreakadelic
Registered User
- Joined
- Jun 22, 2001
- Messages
- 21
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One of my experiences.
My excitement was growing. My hands a little shaky. My heart beating hard in my chest.
It was late August of '98. I was parked in an abandoned cul-de-sac with the windows down and the radio on low. In the passenger seat was Carole, a girl I had met at work. We had talked at work for some months but this was our first time together away from work.
Carole leaned against the door with her legs pointing towards me. They were nice legs. Short and a little padded but with an attractiveness nonetheless, like their owner. Medium length blond hair framed eighteen year-old blue eyes and a nervous smile. Away from work, she wore a purple tee with black shorts. Purple ankle socks and black Keds completed her outfit.
I felt the moment was right or my courage was at it's peak. Leaning forward, I grasped her ankle.
"Are you ticklish?", I asked.
"Huh? I...", she began.
As she spoke, I placed her foot on my knee and began to pull at the laces of her shoe.
"No. Don't...".
My focus was unbreakable as my fingers finished unlacing her shoe. She leaned forward as I slipped her shoe off.
"I think you are.", I smiled.
My fingers traced the outline of her foot. Carole's foot was warm, her sock pressed to it. i could see the outline of her toes through the thin material. She jerked back but I held tight. Carole arched her back as laughter errupted from her.
"Nooo! Stop!", she cried.
I relented, changing my technique to a gentle massage.
"I'm very ticklish! My mom holds me down and tickles me sometimes!"
Thinking about that scenario, i continued to massage her foot. As she began to relax, my fingers slipped underneath her sock, slowly pulling it off.
"Don't take my sock..."
Carole wasn't able to finish as I peeled the sock form her foot. Her foot was soft and moist with small pudgy toes and no polish.
Immediately, my fingers attacked underneath her toes as if they were possesed. Carole squealed and bucked, rocking the car with her movements. After some minutes of giggles, shrieks, and pleading I stopped.
No more tickling that day as I was afraid she would hurt herself in such an enclosed space. This was ok and she even allowed me to massage her other foot. All in all, not a bad tickling adventure.
---phreak
My excitement was growing. My hands a little shaky. My heart beating hard in my chest.
It was late August of '98. I was parked in an abandoned cul-de-sac with the windows down and the radio on low. In the passenger seat was Carole, a girl I had met at work. We had talked at work for some months but this was our first time together away from work.
Carole leaned against the door with her legs pointing towards me. They were nice legs. Short and a little padded but with an attractiveness nonetheless, like their owner. Medium length blond hair framed eighteen year-old blue eyes and a nervous smile. Away from work, she wore a purple tee with black shorts. Purple ankle socks and black Keds completed her outfit.
I felt the moment was right or my courage was at it's peak. Leaning forward, I grasped her ankle.
"Are you ticklish?", I asked.
"Huh? I...", she began.
As she spoke, I placed her foot on my knee and began to pull at the laces of her shoe.
"No. Don't...".
My focus was unbreakable as my fingers finished unlacing her shoe. She leaned forward as I slipped her shoe off.
"I think you are.", I smiled.
My fingers traced the outline of her foot. Carole's foot was warm, her sock pressed to it. i could see the outline of her toes through the thin material. She jerked back but I held tight. Carole arched her back as laughter errupted from her.
"Nooo! Stop!", she cried.
I relented, changing my technique to a gentle massage.
"I'm very ticklish! My mom holds me down and tickles me sometimes!"
Thinking about that scenario, i continued to massage her foot. As she began to relax, my fingers slipped underneath her sock, slowly pulling it off.
"Don't take my sock..."
Carole wasn't able to finish as I peeled the sock form her foot. Her foot was soft and moist with small pudgy toes and no polish.
Immediately, my fingers attacked underneath her toes as if they were possesed. Carole squealed and bucked, rocking the car with her movements. After some minutes of giggles, shrieks, and pleading I stopped.
No more tickling that day as I was afraid she would hurt herself in such an enclosed space. This was ok and she even allowed me to massage her other foot. All in all, not a bad tickling adventure.
---phreak