true accounts
The thread isn't dead just yet. I'll post two things. Some of you may have read these before (I posted them in other TMF threads). These are two of my favorite real-life experiences.
This first one took place when my cousin and I were in high school. Aside from a pesky tornado and a horrible thunderstorm it was a great weekend. NOTE: This one is too large to post here.
True Youthful Tickling
The second event took place when I was much younger and involved a beautiful woman who was sent to watch me. I'll post it here.
** Tickling Sarah **
AUNT SARAH: This incident took place when I was I was about eleven years old. It involved a beautiful woman named Sarah. She knew my parents for many years, but moved away when I was just a baby. I’d only met her twice (once when I was in first grade, and again years later at a family birthday party). Although she was not related to me, my parents always referred to her as Aunt Sarah… I still don’t know why.
At the time of this incident, Sarah had just returned to the area. She’d been living out of state, but decided to move back when she and her husband divorced. When she got to town, she called my parents.
What I didn’t find out until weeks later was that Sarah had recently been told she couldn’t have children. She always loved kids, and the news was devastating.
In a conversation with my mother, Sarah expressed a need to be around children and asked if she could watch me sometime. Despite the fact I was in fifth grade, my parents thought it was a wonderful idea. They wanted to help Sarah and didn’t like leaving me home alone for extended periods (I think they were afraid I might start a fire or something).
The following day, my parents told me that Aunt Sarah would be visiting us sometime during the weekend. To be honest, the news of her impending arrival didn’t excite me. Had I known what Sarah was going through, I would have displayed a more positive attitude.
Later that day, I came home from school to an empty house. This didn’t bother me, and I went about my customary after-school ritual… devouring homemade cookies and milk while watching cartoons. Shortly thereafter, my parents called.
My father had a business trip that day, and he took my mother with him. There were problems, and he needed to stay longer than expected. They wouldn’t be home until very late that evening, and they’d arranged for Aunt Sarah to come and stay with me. Spending Friday night with a babysitter didn’t sound like fun, but I didn’t give them any static about it. Our phone conversation ended, and I sprawled out on the couch and continued watching TV.
Sometime after five o’clock, the doorbell rang. Upon opening the door, I nearly fainted. Sarah looked incredible. She was approximately 30 years old, 5’7, with beautiful blonde hair, deep blue eyes, a phenomenal smile, and an aerobically sculpted figure. She was wearing a blouse, skirt, and strappy high heels that showed off her immaculately painted toenails. She also had a suit coat slung over her shoulder, and the scent of her perfume was captivating.
Sarah came to the house directly from her new job. She didn’t stop to change, and I was glad she didn’t. Before I could say anything, she bounded through the door, hugged me, and planted a wet sloppy kiss on my cheek. She was being quite affectionate, and I didn’t complain.
I encouraged Sarah to make herself comfortable, and she sat in my father’s Lazy-Boy recliner. Acting entirely on instinct, I plopped down on the floor just inches from her feet… an action she found cute.
As our conversation progressed, I casually reached over and placed my hand on Sarah’s left foot. She looked at me and smiled, but made no effort to pull away. We talked for a while longer, and she took me to the local pizza parlor for dinner.
When we returned, Sarah was eager to entertain me, and offered to play card games or Monopoly, watch TV, or do seemingly anything else I wanted. She seemed surprised when I asked her to sit and talk for a while.
We resumed our original position – her sitting in my father’s chair, and me at her feet. Things got better when she kicked off her shoes, complaining they were uncomfortable. As we talked, I placed my hands on her feet. She didn’t seem to mind.
Before long, Sarah seemed a bit antsy. She wanted to do something with me and repeated her previous offer. I didn’t want to blow the entire evening on a card game, so I suggested an activity that might afford me some chances to play with her feet… drawing.
Sarah was pleased with my suggestion. I led her to my room and produced some sketch pads, crayons and colored pencils. Then I offered her a comfortable chair. She smiled, sat, and graciously accepted a box of Crayolas and some paper.
While Sarah started drawing, I tried to focus. I was eager to play with her feet but didn’t want to be obvious. For roughly fifteen minutes, I made some respectable drawings that impressed her.
Doing my best to look innocent, I knelt beside Sarah’s chair and asked if I could trace her hands. She thought it sounded like fun and was eager to comply. Using multiple crayons, I traced her hands in various regions of the page, creating a colorful collage.
Sarah was impressed with my artwork, and the door was open for the next logical progression… tracing her feet. She stood up and placed them on my sketchpad without hesitation.
Aunt Sarah proved to be a tickler’s delight. As my crayons traced around the outer edges of her feet, she giggled, squirmed, and complained she was ticklish.
The collage turned out well, and she hugged me before sitting down.
Sarah asked me what I’d like to do next, and tickling was the only thing that came to mind. I dove at her ankles and began wildly scribbling my fingers all over her soles. She thrashed in the chair and screamed with laughter, but I managed to hang on. This went on for more than two minutes, when I took pity on her and stopped.
I was almost expecting Sarah to be angry, but she wasn’t. Instead, she dismissed my actions as those of a playful child. She continued laughing for a few minutes and playfully slapped my shoulder.
While Sarah recovered from my ticklish assault, I put the art supplies away and attempted to start another conversation. Trying to be casual, I once again placed my hands on her feet. This time, I was a bit more bold and started playing with her toes. The gesture did not go unnoticed, and she confronted me.
“I could be wrong, but I think someone really likes feet,” Sarah said in a coy tone.
My emotions ran a gamut from embarrassment to fear. I was mortified by the prospect that she would tell my parents about my love of women’s feet. I alternated between blushing and begging her to keep quiet about this. She hugged me until I thought my ribs would break, and reassured me.
“This will be our little secret,” Sarah said. “I promise.”
I thanked Sarah and hugged her for a few minutes. When I pulled away from her, she looked a bit sad. Looking back on it, she was probably thinking about the child she couldn’t have. When I asked Sarah if something was wrong, she denied it and painted a bright smile on her face.
As she’d one earlier in the evening, Sarah asked me what I’d like to do next.
She emphasized that she wanted me to have fun, and any ideas I had would be fine with her. Frankly, this woman was so determined to entertain me that I could have suggested burning the house down and she would have complied. That weighed in my favor.
Since my foot fetish secret was already out, I asked Sarah if I could massage her feet. She erupted with laughter up on hearing my suggestion. Fearful that she might turn me down, I swung into action.
I removed my foot massage supplies from the closet and arranged them on a towel beside the chair. With lightning quickness, I took my best basin to the bathroom and filled it with warm water and foot soap. When I returned, Sarah smiled at me, undoubtedly stunned that an eleven-year old boy would own a collection of foot massage supplies.
Before Sarah could say anything, I knelt in front of her, placed her feet in the basin, and massaged them with soothing techniques. She reclined in the chair and sighed, content to let me have my fun. I bathed Sarah’s feet for more than ten minutes, during which she became quite relaxed.
“What’s next?” she asked in a giggly voice.
I rinsed her feet and raised the footrest on the chair. Sarah’s skirt was a bit short, and I sensed she was uncomfortable, so I covered her with a floral-patterned sheet. That solved the problem.
Attempting to make Sarah feel like I was waiting on her, I dashed to the kitchen and returned with a bowl of homemade cookies and a thoroughly chilled Coke.
She laughed and smiled as I served them to her.
With everything in place, I sat near Sarah’s feet and began the massage. She watched with interest as I applied a richly moisturizing foot cream to her delicate soles. The room quickly filled with the aroma of coconut and peppermint.
Sarah remarked that her feet felt wonderful. She was genuinely surprised that someone my age had such advanced foot massage skills. While nibbling on cookies, she questioned me.
“What’s the story mister?” she giggled. “You’ve obviously done this before.”
Although I didn’t specifically tell Sarah about my cousin Kate, I did let her know that I had a friend who let me play with her feet. I added that I’d given her many hours of foot massages. She thought it was sweet.
While Sarah was questioning me about my foot fetish, the urge to tickle her returned. She’d been very kind to me, and I didn’t want to torture her. With my lightest touch and a soft voice, I initiated one of my favorite tickling games.
"Your toes are so cute,” I said. ”This little piggie went to market, this little piggie satyed home, this little piggie had roast beef, and this little piggie had none… and this little piggie went tickle tickle tickle all over the cute little piggies!“
Sarah responded to my efforts by giggling and squirming about the chair. She briefly protested, explaining she was too old for piggies. I assured her she wasn’t and tickled harder.
When the tickling intensified, Sarah pleaded with me to stop. I couldn’t resist the urge to negotiate and gave her two options. I said I would tickle her for two hours, or she could let me massage her feet. Through gales of hysterical laughter, she begged me to rub her feet. NOTE: I never would have tickled this poor woman for two hours.
As Sarah struggled to catch her breath, I resumed the foot massage with my best techniques. It only took her a few minutes to relax, and I continued pampering her for more than thirty minutes.
Sarah never ordered me to stop the foot massage. After an hour or so, it naturally seemed like a good time to quit, and I did so instinctively. I organized and put away all of my foot massage supplies while Sarah thanked me for pampering her.
We walked back to the living room and sat on the couch. Sarah couldn’t resist the urge to grill me about the girls at my school. We talked quite openly for more than an hour, and it was fun. Then she took me to the arcade, followed by a stop at a fast food place.
When we returned to the house, my parents were home. They thanked Sarah for watching me and visited for a while. She said I was on my best behavior and winked at me.
I walked Sarah to her car, hugged her, and pleaded with her to come back soon. She did come to visit the following week, and before she moved away, my parents invited her to watch me many more times.
One final note… things worked out well for Sarah. The last time I heard from her, she was living in Seattle and happily married. By the way, she has a son (apparently doctors don’t know everything).
