I found this story over at the mousepad and thought it was great, it is foot fetish themed but has tickling involved as well.
Very well written!
Kisses Under My Mistletoes
--a present from JenSorel--
For me, there’s nothing more exciting than slipping my feet into a pair of sexy shoes. My ticklish soles sliding across leather, my toes being bound together by straps, my arches accentuated by high heels, my slightly upturned big toes defying gravity and winking at you with every step.
However, there’s nothing more thrilling than slipping my feet out of a pair of sexy shoes. My soles being tickled as leather slides across them, my toes being released from confinement, arches diminishing, yet remaining just so charmingly curved, my upturned big toes still defying gravity, waiting to be made wet by the one with my shoe in hand.
-----
“Take my shoe off,” I softly say, my lips right up near your ear, surely tickling your lobe as I mouth the words.
My long brown hair is all tousled. It’s tickling my face, so I know it tickles you.
You’re kissing my neck and you only stop when I issue this desire of mine.
I feel your heart pounding against my breasts.
Mine’s playing catch up with yours. It’s a little behind, but as you start to move down my body I think the THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! in my chest overtakes yours.
I squirm along with you, pushing parts of my body into your smiling face as it moves past them.
A breast, its thimble-shaped nipple fully roused.
My ribs.
This taut belly of mine.
A belly-button winking at you.
My sex, dripping with joy.
A silky thigh.
An adorable knee.
Then, my shapely calf.
I give myself to you piece by piece and you kiss and lick and bite and tickle every part of me, not only what I’ve offered to you along the way, but the parts of me I didn’t try and deliciously smother you with.
My shuddering shoulders.
My palms and fingers.
My arching back.
The tender cheeks of supple ass.
My bush, all matted wet.
The backs of my knees. God that tickles.
And these thin tendons of mine.
You appreciate it all. I love you for that.
You, following my command, tug at the heel of my left shoe and the leather gives and suctions off my warm sole.
“Oh, baby.”
The back of the shoe slides across my curvy sole until I know you can see the yummy pink flesh underneath.
The shoe slides across my toes, freeing them, and one of my finest features is now completely exposed.
You hold my foot in one hand, my shoe in the other. I think you put down the shoe, because now I feel two hands where I yearn to be touched.
I learn so much about you just from the way you hold my foot.
“Yes. Yes.”
There it is before you, a stunningly delicious foot, the likes of which you have only dreamt about before. So smooth, so curvy in all the right places, so baby soft all over.
Five toes, dripping with droplets of naked flesh below and painted bright pink on top.
Five delicious toes waiting for you.
Five succulent toes wanting you.
“Oh, baby.”
I exhale and smile wide, knowing I am about to get what I love.
“Suck on my big toe. Please. Make it wet. For me.”
-----
I can always tell when someone has a foot fetish. It’s obvious. Sometimes it’s so obvious, it’s the eyes that give it away. Fixed on the floor, undressing my finest features, making love to my toes in their mind, they are a dead giveaway.
I love that.
But most of the time, I can tell the moment they touch my feet. It’s their touch that tells me if they will thrill me right off the bat or if I will have to teach them some things, teach them the wonderful things they hold in their hands and how they can make me tingle and burst all over, just from touches.
A touch of the hand.
A touch of the lips.
A touch of the tongue.
A touch of what’s warm and hard.
A touch of what’s slippery and wet. Depends on the sex. Depends who I’m with.
My feet are powerful, the energizer batteries of this could-be Playboy Bunny.
My feet. Sevens. Pampered and pedicured to the point of obsession.
My finest features.
Perfectly formed, they boast a glossy slope silky smooth skin on top that cascades into the pools of my luscious and delectable toes. Each toe is a tad shorter than the previous and seemingly stands at attention, but it is my attention-grabbing plump big toes that take the cake. They seductively curve upward at their tips, seemingly defying gravity, almost beckoning others to look at them.
It’s like both these large-than-life toes are smiling at those carefree eyes that bestow a passing glance and it’s as if they are winking at the chosen few, those foot-avid eyes belonging to those in the know.
They make me smile.
They seemingly make both sexes melt.
I love that. Love them, the exclamation points on each alluring attribute.
“Yes.”
My most favorite intimate moments include watching these bulbous toes of mine disappear in the mouths of lovers, very shortly after I coo, “Suck on my big toe. Please. Make it all wet. For me.”
It something I love to say. Something I have whispered forever, going back to the earliest days of discovering and exploring this fetish of mine.
They are words I have found no one can resist, whether they are of the fetish mind or not. Maybe it’s me, the usually unclothed beauty that whispers the words, or maybe it’s the naked toes I so desperately desire to be loved.
I like to think maybe it’s both.
My nurtured toenails are consistently painted some attention-grabbing color, sometime red but usually, a vibrant pink.
In between each digit, lies a weakness I fancy to be discovered. In between you find caverns of idle, unemployed flesh, so protected, yet so vulnerable. In between you find my weakness, a hidden source of glee. Slither a tongue in between and I go wild. It’s a sight to behold. Too delicate. Too tantalizing.
“Oh, baby.”
My soles are mesmerizing, figure-eightish in shape. Featuring pristine and pampered skin that seems all too soft, all too smooth and all too sexy for a pair of overworked bottoms.
They are also all too sensitive, much to the delight of me, the youngest of the Sorel sisters. Ticklish and hyper-sensitive, my feet are the seductive foundation to my most carnal delights.
Put it all together and you have a favorite part of me. A part you have to look down to appreciate, which brings us back to where we started.
“Take my shoe off.”
-----
I was reborn the day I discovered this fetish and have flourished ever since. I give thanks for my god-given beauty, my finest features and the satisfying, powerful indulgence a foot fetish brings.
It’s something I was all too grateful to discover in college, at the hands of a very memorable lover. And it's something I know I would feel incomplete without.
I have a strong feeling you understand my every word.
-----
Right now, I’m looking at my feet. They’re peeking out from the cuffs of my favorite jeans.
Toenails polished pink. Smooth all over. Bottoms all curvy. Supple heels. Mouth-watering toes, all lined up, just waiting to be made all wet.
“Suck on my toes,” I whisper, while I type, all giddy and barefoot this sun-drenched morning.
I smile, knowing exactly where your eyes would fall.
“Please. Make them wet. For me.”
Close your eyes and I’m all yours.
----- ------ -----
Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Kisses under my mistletoes…
JS.
Very well written!
Kisses Under My Mistletoes
--a present from JenSorel--
For me, there’s nothing more exciting than slipping my feet into a pair of sexy shoes. My ticklish soles sliding across leather, my toes being bound together by straps, my arches accentuated by high heels, my slightly upturned big toes defying gravity and winking at you with every step.
However, there’s nothing more thrilling than slipping my feet out of a pair of sexy shoes. My soles being tickled as leather slides across them, my toes being released from confinement, arches diminishing, yet remaining just so charmingly curved, my upturned big toes still defying gravity, waiting to be made wet by the one with my shoe in hand.
-----
“Take my shoe off,” I softly say, my lips right up near your ear, surely tickling your lobe as I mouth the words.
My long brown hair is all tousled. It’s tickling my face, so I know it tickles you.
You’re kissing my neck and you only stop when I issue this desire of mine.
I feel your heart pounding against my breasts.
Mine’s playing catch up with yours. It’s a little behind, but as you start to move down my body I think the THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! in my chest overtakes yours.
I squirm along with you, pushing parts of my body into your smiling face as it moves past them.
A breast, its thimble-shaped nipple fully roused.
My ribs.
This taut belly of mine.
A belly-button winking at you.
My sex, dripping with joy.
A silky thigh.
An adorable knee.
Then, my shapely calf.
I give myself to you piece by piece and you kiss and lick and bite and tickle every part of me, not only what I’ve offered to you along the way, but the parts of me I didn’t try and deliciously smother you with.
My shuddering shoulders.
My palms and fingers.
My arching back.
The tender cheeks of supple ass.
My bush, all matted wet.
The backs of my knees. God that tickles.
And these thin tendons of mine.
You appreciate it all. I love you for that.
You, following my command, tug at the heel of my left shoe and the leather gives and suctions off my warm sole.
“Oh, baby.”
The back of the shoe slides across my curvy sole until I know you can see the yummy pink flesh underneath.
The shoe slides across my toes, freeing them, and one of my finest features is now completely exposed.
You hold my foot in one hand, my shoe in the other. I think you put down the shoe, because now I feel two hands where I yearn to be touched.
I learn so much about you just from the way you hold my foot.
“Yes. Yes.”
There it is before you, a stunningly delicious foot, the likes of which you have only dreamt about before. So smooth, so curvy in all the right places, so baby soft all over.
Five toes, dripping with droplets of naked flesh below and painted bright pink on top.
Five delicious toes waiting for you.
Five succulent toes wanting you.
“Oh, baby.”
I exhale and smile wide, knowing I am about to get what I love.
“Suck on my big toe. Please. Make it wet. For me.”
-----
I can always tell when someone has a foot fetish. It’s obvious. Sometimes it’s so obvious, it’s the eyes that give it away. Fixed on the floor, undressing my finest features, making love to my toes in their mind, they are a dead giveaway.
I love that.
But most of the time, I can tell the moment they touch my feet. It’s their touch that tells me if they will thrill me right off the bat or if I will have to teach them some things, teach them the wonderful things they hold in their hands and how they can make me tingle and burst all over, just from touches.
A touch of the hand.
A touch of the lips.
A touch of the tongue.
A touch of what’s warm and hard.
A touch of what’s slippery and wet. Depends on the sex. Depends who I’m with.
My feet are powerful, the energizer batteries of this could-be Playboy Bunny.
My feet. Sevens. Pampered and pedicured to the point of obsession.
My finest features.
Perfectly formed, they boast a glossy slope silky smooth skin on top that cascades into the pools of my luscious and delectable toes. Each toe is a tad shorter than the previous and seemingly stands at attention, but it is my attention-grabbing plump big toes that take the cake. They seductively curve upward at their tips, seemingly defying gravity, almost beckoning others to look at them.
It’s like both these large-than-life toes are smiling at those carefree eyes that bestow a passing glance and it’s as if they are winking at the chosen few, those foot-avid eyes belonging to those in the know.
They make me smile.
They seemingly make both sexes melt.
I love that. Love them, the exclamation points on each alluring attribute.
“Yes.”
My most favorite intimate moments include watching these bulbous toes of mine disappear in the mouths of lovers, very shortly after I coo, “Suck on my big toe. Please. Make it all wet. For me.”
It something I love to say. Something I have whispered forever, going back to the earliest days of discovering and exploring this fetish of mine.
They are words I have found no one can resist, whether they are of the fetish mind or not. Maybe it’s me, the usually unclothed beauty that whispers the words, or maybe it’s the naked toes I so desperately desire to be loved.
I like to think maybe it’s both.
My nurtured toenails are consistently painted some attention-grabbing color, sometime red but usually, a vibrant pink.
In between each digit, lies a weakness I fancy to be discovered. In between you find caverns of idle, unemployed flesh, so protected, yet so vulnerable. In between you find my weakness, a hidden source of glee. Slither a tongue in between and I go wild. It’s a sight to behold. Too delicate. Too tantalizing.
“Oh, baby.”
My soles are mesmerizing, figure-eightish in shape. Featuring pristine and pampered skin that seems all too soft, all too smooth and all too sexy for a pair of overworked bottoms.
They are also all too sensitive, much to the delight of me, the youngest of the Sorel sisters. Ticklish and hyper-sensitive, my feet are the seductive foundation to my most carnal delights.
Put it all together and you have a favorite part of me. A part you have to look down to appreciate, which brings us back to where we started.
“Take my shoe off.”
-----
I was reborn the day I discovered this fetish and have flourished ever since. I give thanks for my god-given beauty, my finest features and the satisfying, powerful indulgence a foot fetish brings.
It’s something I was all too grateful to discover in college, at the hands of a very memorable lover. And it's something I know I would feel incomplete without.
I have a strong feeling you understand my every word.
-----
Right now, I’m looking at my feet. They’re peeking out from the cuffs of my favorite jeans.
Toenails polished pink. Smooth all over. Bottoms all curvy. Supple heels. Mouth-watering toes, all lined up, just waiting to be made all wet.
“Suck on my toes,” I whisper, while I type, all giddy and barefoot this sun-drenched morning.
I smile, knowing exactly where your eyes would fall.
“Please. Make them wet. For me.”
Close your eyes and I’m all yours.
----- ------ -----
Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. Kisses under my mistletoes…
JS.
