phreakadelic
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- Jun 22, 2001
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The school bus. Many an adventure have begun on this transit to the halls of doom, I mean school.
This is one of those adventures.
It was spring. A couple of months before there had begun a rash of tickle attacks on the bus. To this day, I am uncertain as to what began these attacks, although I know I had a "hand" in them. My own tickle fetish had begun a year earlier. Now at the age of 13, the story begins...
A street over from me lived a young lady named Michelle. She was of average height and build with short dark hair. Michelle had pale blue eyes with a smattering of freckles across her nose. Even white teeth were framed by thin lips which were usually held in a sneer. Two years my senior, Michelle was a bit of a snob with a sour outlook of those younger than her.
So, on a sunny afternoon, I bumped into Michelle as I made my way to the back of the bus.
"Watch where you're going!", she spoke a little sharply.
"Sorry", I muttered and sat down in a nearby seat.
Why was she so mean to me? Or to everyone for that matter? Well, maybe I had a cure for her malady.
As we progressed home, I leaned near her and asked," Why are you always mad?"
She looked a bit surprised and replied, "I'm not ALWAYS mad."
"Well, you never smile."
"I just don't feel like smiling at the moment."
"I bet I can make you smile."
With that, I grasped her by the ankle and pulled her foot towards me. Michelle was wearing light blue high top Converse sneakers and white ankle socks. To top it off, I had never seen her bare feet. Let the fun begin!
My fingers trembled lightly, as I began to untie her shoe, in anticipation of getting at her feet.
Her hand shot out grabbing for her foot as she whispered urgently,"What are you doing?!"
"Making you smile", I grinned.
Michelle's blue eyes widened in understanding as my fingers continued to unlace her sneaker.
"No!", she hissed.
I ignored her, determined to get her shoe off at all costs. She continued to whisper for me to stop and finally grabbed hold of her shoe as I started to pull it off. She was strong for her size but I was on a mission. Slowly, the shoe came off and I made my move for her sock. Pulling her forward, I peeled her sock off in one fluid motion.
"No! No! No!"
In my hand was pale foot with a slight arch and short pudgy toes. Her nails were unpainted and her sole slightly damp. I scrabbled my fingers across her sole and she bucked in the seat, holding her hand to her mouth to stifle the laughter.
"I see you smiling!", I exclaimed.
She laughed hard continuing to try and hold it in. My fingers were possesed moving up and down her sole as well as attacking the soft area under her toes. This went on for several minutes and would have continued longer except the bus had come to Michelle's stop. She grasped her shoe and sock from me, making her way down the isle. Just before she left the bus, Michelle looked back and smiled. Things were always better between us from that day on.
This is one of those adventures.
It was spring. A couple of months before there had begun a rash of tickle attacks on the bus. To this day, I am uncertain as to what began these attacks, although I know I had a "hand" in them. My own tickle fetish had begun a year earlier. Now at the age of 13, the story begins...
A street over from me lived a young lady named Michelle. She was of average height and build with short dark hair. Michelle had pale blue eyes with a smattering of freckles across her nose. Even white teeth were framed by thin lips which were usually held in a sneer. Two years my senior, Michelle was a bit of a snob with a sour outlook of those younger than her.
So, on a sunny afternoon, I bumped into Michelle as I made my way to the back of the bus.
"Watch where you're going!", she spoke a little sharply.
"Sorry", I muttered and sat down in a nearby seat.
Why was she so mean to me? Or to everyone for that matter? Well, maybe I had a cure for her malady.
As we progressed home, I leaned near her and asked," Why are you always mad?"
She looked a bit surprised and replied, "I'm not ALWAYS mad."
"Well, you never smile."
"I just don't feel like smiling at the moment."
"I bet I can make you smile."
With that, I grasped her by the ankle and pulled her foot towards me. Michelle was wearing light blue high top Converse sneakers and white ankle socks. To top it off, I had never seen her bare feet. Let the fun begin!
My fingers trembled lightly, as I began to untie her shoe, in anticipation of getting at her feet.
Her hand shot out grabbing for her foot as she whispered urgently,"What are you doing?!"
"Making you smile", I grinned.
Michelle's blue eyes widened in understanding as my fingers continued to unlace her sneaker.
"No!", she hissed.
I ignored her, determined to get her shoe off at all costs. She continued to whisper for me to stop and finally grabbed hold of her shoe as I started to pull it off. She was strong for her size but I was on a mission. Slowly, the shoe came off and I made my move for her sock. Pulling her forward, I peeled her sock off in one fluid motion.
"No! No! No!"
In my hand was pale foot with a slight arch and short pudgy toes. Her nails were unpainted and her sole slightly damp. I scrabbled my fingers across her sole and she bucked in the seat, holding her hand to her mouth to stifle the laughter.
"I see you smiling!", I exclaimed.
She laughed hard continuing to try and hold it in. My fingers were possesed moving up and down her sole as well as attacking the soft area under her toes. This went on for several minutes and would have continued longer except the bus had come to Michelle's stop. She grasped her shoe and sock from me, making her way down the isle. Just before she left the bus, Michelle looked back and smiled. Things were always better between us from that day on.
