This happened to me over five years ago when I was 21. I had been married about a year when my husband admitted to me one night when we were visiting my grandparents that he had a foot and tickle fetish. This was convenient for him since I am deathly ticklish, especially on my feet.
He had teased me with tickling ever since we had gone together but now the intensity and frequency of the tickling increased. I had been tickled all my life by brothers and cousins and uncles and later by guys in school but never combined with intimacy the way Jack liked to tickle.
He asked if he could tie me up and I reluctantly agreed because I was unsure how much tickling I could stand. We were pretty clumsy about tickling in those days. We used some old pantyhose of mine to secure my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. That was lousy bondage material. It stretched so I could move around pretty well but after I had pulled hard on it while being tickled it was almost impossible to untie. After a few times we pushed the pantyhose under the bed (wasn't I embarrassed when we moved a couple years later and the guys helping discovered the pantyhose tied to the four corners of the bed frame and Jack told them it was used to tie his ticklish wife down!).
Jack loved to tickle me in public like grabbing me in the ribs in the grocery store. He also liked to tell people how ticklish I was and watch me blush. I am naturally shy and when my ticklishness was exposed like that I was doubly shy. I still am that way.
Tickling became our form of foreplay and I discovered that it not only turned on my tickler husband but could turn me on as well. Jack was the only man I'd ever been with and my natural shyness along with my relative inexperience kept me from admitting to him (or even myself) how much erotic tickling was acting like a powerful turn on for me.
This is all background so you understand what happened next. This is something I have never told anyone, even Jack, until recently. He suggested I write it out here.
We lived at that time in a mobile home out in the country. A friend of ours needed a place to stay for about a month until he went back to his hometown. His apartment lease had run out. His name was Jules. He was a big, powerful mountain of a man, a Native American, well over 6 feet tall and over 200 pounds. At 5' and under 100 pounds I was like a child next to him. Jules was the gentlest giant of a man I ever met. He was very quiet, kept to himself, helped out with chores like cleaning and shopping, and was the perfect house guest.
The walls in our old trailer were paper thin and when Jack tickled me at night there was no way Jules didn't hear my laughter and squeals and giggles and whispered begging. Naturally Jack loved this, knowing Jules could hear my ticklish agony and ecstasy. I have a hard time being quiet with any intense intimacy, particularly if it involves tickling. I would bury my face in the pillow to let out my shrieks.
In the mornings after Jack had tickled me the night before, he often made some smart remark to Jules like "Sorry if we kept you awake last night. Jan is just so ticklish." Naturally I blushed; Jules mumbled it was no problem; Jack grinned like a Cheshire cat. This little scene happened two or three times while Jules stayed with us. Jack was always suggesting to him that he should tickle me to see just how ticklish I was. Jules would just smile and I'd blush and look down.
At the time Jack sometimes traveled for a day or two for his job. He took one of his short trips the last week Jules was with us. I was putting away some groceries and asked Jules if he could help me reach a top shelf to put something away. Without saying a word he came over and lifted me up like I was a puppet so I could reach the shelf. In hindsight I should have realized something was up then. Why did he lift me up when he could just as easily have placed the item up there himself? As he put me down I squirmed a bit and let out a soft giggle as his big hands on my ribs tickled a little.
There was a pregnant moment of silence after he put me down with me against the counter and him standing right behind me with his hands still resting on my ticklish ribcage. I remember all of what happened next because it was both so unexpected and so intense.
Jules started tickling my ribs. Though his large hands and arms were powerful his tickling was light and absolutely devastating. I did what I usually do when tickle attacked and fell to the floor trying to curl into a fetal position. Jules followed me down, tickling all the way. His fingers found their way into the hollows under my arms. I know I must've shrieked for my underarms are one of my most ticklish spots.
We wrestled around on the floor though I was no match for Jules. Suddenly I found myself on my back and he was straddling me, pinning my arms out from my sides. He renewed his tickling up and down my vulnerable ribs. I was madly wiggling and writhing beneath him but not escaping a single second of tickling.
While still running one hand up and down my ribs he reached back and began to squeeze one of my thighs. This sent me into a whole other level of ticklishness and I was howling with laughter and begging for mercy. He kept up his relentless tickling. I was kicking and screaming and offering to do anything if he'd stop. He paused and for the first time said something. It sent a chill through me. He said, "Let me tie you up." My eyes met his and I said something like, "Anything but that!" So Jules just went back to tickling me on my ribs and my thighs.
After what seemed an eternity but was probably a couple minutes I felt dizzy and exclaimed, "OK, OK, you can tie me up." I guess I was thinking -- if it is possible for anyone being tickled to be thinking rationally -- that at least I'd get a break and could catch my breath and maybe I'd escape before he did tie me up.
He immediately stopped tickling, stood up, pulled me up and over his shoulder like a rag doll and carried me into my bedroom where he gently deposited me on the bed. Keeping a hand on my stomach, he began pulling the pantyhose ties out from under the bed. How did he know those were there?
I knew if he tied me up with the pantyhose I'd never get away. I started protesting and trying to bargain, but Jules would hear none of it. He began tickling me around my hips and after a minute or so I relented. He stopped tickling, looked at me and said, "Take your clothes off." I started to protest and he grabbed my sides again. More tickling. I caved.
My heart was pounding and I was trembling as I unbuttoned my blouse and removed it. I kicked off my shoes and stood up to undo my jeans. As I stepped out of my jeans I bolted for the bedroom door but Jules was quicker than me. He grabbed my arm and swung me around onto the bed. He sat on top of me. He felt like a thousand pound weight on me. He began to tie my wrists and ankles to the bed. I was wearing only bra, panties and socks. In no time I was tied spread eagle and helpless
My ticklish encounter with the strong, silent house guest was only beginning. Just writing this now brings back all the emotion of that ticklish day. I feel my tummy churning just like it did then as I was there bound and at the mercy of this man who clearly had a passion for tickling.
Jules moved to the bottom of the bed and began to pull my socks off. I curled my toes and scrunched my feet as if that somehow would prevent him from removing my socks. I always do that even though it is irrational, I want to do something - anything to put off the moment of being tickled. I think I said something like "No! Not my feet!" which, for a tickler, is like a giant flashing sign that says "Tickle Here" with an arrow pointing to my feet.
My socks came off. I don't know about you but when my feet are first exposed to the air they feel extra sensitive and ticklish. I remember my bare feet felt that way then. My heart felt like it was on high speed and my mouth was dry. I remember Jules running a finger up each sole as he looked into my eyes -- the tickler watching for the reaction of his ticklee. I did not disappoint. I burst into loud laughter and my entire body jerked on the bed. I pulled with all my might to draw my feet out of tickling range, curling my toes and waving my feet back and forth.
Jules tickled with all his fingers and between my laughter and gasps I renewed my pleading for mercy. Jules carried on like a man with a mission and his mission was to tickle me to insanity. He'd had enough of my wiggling feet. With the pantyhose ties I could move my feet around pretty good. I felt Jules strong hand grasp the top of one foot and hold it firm. He attacked my helpless sole as I howled with laughter. He gave the same tickle treatment to each foot. I thought I was going to faint from lack of breath. It was the most intense tickling I had ever experienced. Every nerve ending in my body felt alive and ticklish.
I remember looking down at Jules tickling my foot and I had a sort of out of body experience. It was like I was looking at some other small bare feminine foot in the grasp of this large hand. It looked like a little girl's foot in the hand of a big man. Then his fingers danced across my arch again and the reality came crashing back that it was my foot, my ticklishness and my predicament that I was watching. He just tickled and tickled and tickled.
Jules began sliding his spidery fingertips along my calves and while this tickled, it was nothing compared to the foot tickling of a moment before so I was able to catch my breath. At least until his hands reached behind my knees. I went down the roller coaster ride of ticklishness again, twisting every which way on the bed, unable to escape his exploring hands. I remember the bottoms of my feet were still tingling as he tickled up my legs.
This was all happening in the moment. There had been no quiet conversation prior to my tickling about limits or safe words. When you are being tickled, at least when I am being tickled, time stops. There is just the moment and the maddening tickling sensations and everything else flies out of my mind except the thought, "how do I make the tickling stop?" But there was no relief. Just a big powerful man and a small very ticklish woman tied to her bed in a trailer in the country with no one around. And the man was tickling with no mercy.
Jules began to lightly tickle inside my thighs. I lost all control screaming things like, "No,NO,NO!!!" and "Please, please, please not THERE!" He tickled up to the edge of my panties focusing on that deadly ticklish crease between hips and thighs.
In the midst of my ticklishness I felt another sort of internal tickle or tingle that started deep down inside me and began working its way out between my legs. I was getting aroused! I could feel myself getting wet. In my mind I was gushing down there. In reality there was probably just the merest damp spot, if that.
I was losing my mind at that point. With Jack I always knew what came next as he tickled and we both became aroused. But what do I do now? Was Jules turned on too? Could he tell I was turned on? Under my bra my nipples were becoming hard and erect.
Jules was tickling my hips and he ran his hands up and down my sides again with a swirl into my underarms. As he did that he leaned down and softly blew across my tummy. I giggled, hoping he wasn't noticing my giggles and squeaks and laughs were punctuated now with little moans and whimpers. He slid his hands back down and traced around my panties. I arched up off the bed. I think my body actually shuddered. I was losing all inhibitions. I was beginning not to care if this man saw I was aroused. I was beginning to want him to notice!
He noticed. Suddenly I felt something -- a thumb? an index finger? press against the moist spot on my panties. It began to stroke me, rubbing me through my panties. He reached back with his other hand and began tickling one of my feet. I giggled. I moaned. I twisted my foot. I pushed my hips up to meet the pressure of his fingers rubbing me.
I was so aroused that the twin sensations of sexual touching and foot tickling quickly pushed me over the edge. I exploded in an orgasm like I'd never felt before and sank back into the bed.
The next thing I was aware of, Jules was standing at the foot of the bed. He was fumbling trying to untie the damn pantyhose, the knots of which had become small and tight beyond belief. He finally released one foot from bondage. He grabbed my ankle and brought my foot to rest on the bulge in his pants.
Our eyes met for a moment. There were no words but I smiled at him. I began rubbing my foot on his erection. He unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants and pulled down his underwear. My bare foot touched his bare manhood. I started to give my first ever foot job. As my smooth sole rubbed against him Jules struggled with my other ankle. He finally got the knot undone and he guided that foot to join the other. I cradled him between my soles and stroked him with my toes coming into play at the end of each stroke. I closed my eyes feeling him stiffen. The next thing I knew I felt something warm and thick and wet and gooey oozing over my toes and down my insteps. It was the first time I ever felt a man ejaculate on my feet. I enjoyed knowing I'd given him that moment of pleasure.
Jules let out a long sigh. He pulled up his underwear and pants and leaned over me to untie my wrists. As he did so he gave me a kiss on the cheek and on my neck. The neck kiss tickled and my girlish laugh returned. He kissed the other side of my neck. I giggled more. As he got both my wrists untied I whispered, "Thank you." He kissed my other cheek.
We went our separate ways to clean up, never speaking and we each stayed pretty much in our separate rooms that evening and night. I replayed every moment of my ticklish erotic experience. I wondered if he would return to my bedroom in the night for more tickling. He didn't and I slept that deep sleep that comes from tickle exhaustion.
Jack returned the next evening and I felt the conflicting emotions of guilt over what had happened and yet still enjoying the intensity of the experience. Jules and I never spoke of it. He moved out at the end of the week. We lost touch and I don't know where he is today. Jack may have been surprised at the new level of intensity I threw into our tickle play and he seemed delighted with my new skill with my feet on his anatomy.
From that day to this I never told anyone of my ticklish encounter with a gentle giant of a man. Now Jack knows and he smiles at my secret. Now you know.
He had teased me with tickling ever since we had gone together but now the intensity and frequency of the tickling increased. I had been tickled all my life by brothers and cousins and uncles and later by guys in school but never combined with intimacy the way Jack liked to tickle.
He asked if he could tie me up and I reluctantly agreed because I was unsure how much tickling I could stand. We were pretty clumsy about tickling in those days. We used some old pantyhose of mine to secure my wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. That was lousy bondage material. It stretched so I could move around pretty well but after I had pulled hard on it while being tickled it was almost impossible to untie. After a few times we pushed the pantyhose under the bed (wasn't I embarrassed when we moved a couple years later and the guys helping discovered the pantyhose tied to the four corners of the bed frame and Jack told them it was used to tie his ticklish wife down!).
Jack loved to tickle me in public like grabbing me in the ribs in the grocery store. He also liked to tell people how ticklish I was and watch me blush. I am naturally shy and when my ticklishness was exposed like that I was doubly shy. I still am that way.
Tickling became our form of foreplay and I discovered that it not only turned on my tickler husband but could turn me on as well. Jack was the only man I'd ever been with and my natural shyness along with my relative inexperience kept me from admitting to him (or even myself) how much erotic tickling was acting like a powerful turn on for me.
This is all background so you understand what happened next. This is something I have never told anyone, even Jack, until recently. He suggested I write it out here.
We lived at that time in a mobile home out in the country. A friend of ours needed a place to stay for about a month until he went back to his hometown. His apartment lease had run out. His name was Jules. He was a big, powerful mountain of a man, a Native American, well over 6 feet tall and over 200 pounds. At 5' and under 100 pounds I was like a child next to him. Jules was the gentlest giant of a man I ever met. He was very quiet, kept to himself, helped out with chores like cleaning and shopping, and was the perfect house guest.
The walls in our old trailer were paper thin and when Jack tickled me at night there was no way Jules didn't hear my laughter and squeals and giggles and whispered begging. Naturally Jack loved this, knowing Jules could hear my ticklish agony and ecstasy. I have a hard time being quiet with any intense intimacy, particularly if it involves tickling. I would bury my face in the pillow to let out my shrieks.
In the mornings after Jack had tickled me the night before, he often made some smart remark to Jules like "Sorry if we kept you awake last night. Jan is just so ticklish." Naturally I blushed; Jules mumbled it was no problem; Jack grinned like a Cheshire cat. This little scene happened two or three times while Jules stayed with us. Jack was always suggesting to him that he should tickle me to see just how ticklish I was. Jules would just smile and I'd blush and look down.
At the time Jack sometimes traveled for a day or two for his job. He took one of his short trips the last week Jules was with us. I was putting away some groceries and asked Jules if he could help me reach a top shelf to put something away. Without saying a word he came over and lifted me up like I was a puppet so I could reach the shelf. In hindsight I should have realized something was up then. Why did he lift me up when he could just as easily have placed the item up there himself? As he put me down I squirmed a bit and let out a soft giggle as his big hands on my ribs tickled a little.
There was a pregnant moment of silence after he put me down with me against the counter and him standing right behind me with his hands still resting on my ticklish ribcage. I remember all of what happened next because it was both so unexpected and so intense.
Jules started tickling my ribs. Though his large hands and arms were powerful his tickling was light and absolutely devastating. I did what I usually do when tickle attacked and fell to the floor trying to curl into a fetal position. Jules followed me down, tickling all the way. His fingers found their way into the hollows under my arms. I know I must've shrieked for my underarms are one of my most ticklish spots.
We wrestled around on the floor though I was no match for Jules. Suddenly I found myself on my back and he was straddling me, pinning my arms out from my sides. He renewed his tickling up and down my vulnerable ribs. I was madly wiggling and writhing beneath him but not escaping a single second of tickling.
While still running one hand up and down my ribs he reached back and began to squeeze one of my thighs. This sent me into a whole other level of ticklishness and I was howling with laughter and begging for mercy. He kept up his relentless tickling. I was kicking and screaming and offering to do anything if he'd stop. He paused and for the first time said something. It sent a chill through me. He said, "Let me tie you up." My eyes met his and I said something like, "Anything but that!" So Jules just went back to tickling me on my ribs and my thighs.
After what seemed an eternity but was probably a couple minutes I felt dizzy and exclaimed, "OK, OK, you can tie me up." I guess I was thinking -- if it is possible for anyone being tickled to be thinking rationally -- that at least I'd get a break and could catch my breath and maybe I'd escape before he did tie me up.
He immediately stopped tickling, stood up, pulled me up and over his shoulder like a rag doll and carried me into my bedroom where he gently deposited me on the bed. Keeping a hand on my stomach, he began pulling the pantyhose ties out from under the bed. How did he know those were there?
I knew if he tied me up with the pantyhose I'd never get away. I started protesting and trying to bargain, but Jules would hear none of it. He began tickling me around my hips and after a minute or so I relented. He stopped tickling, looked at me and said, "Take your clothes off." I started to protest and he grabbed my sides again. More tickling. I caved.
My heart was pounding and I was trembling as I unbuttoned my blouse and removed it. I kicked off my shoes and stood up to undo my jeans. As I stepped out of my jeans I bolted for the bedroom door but Jules was quicker than me. He grabbed my arm and swung me around onto the bed. He sat on top of me. He felt like a thousand pound weight on me. He began to tie my wrists and ankles to the bed. I was wearing only bra, panties and socks. In no time I was tied spread eagle and helpless
My ticklish encounter with the strong, silent house guest was only beginning. Just writing this now brings back all the emotion of that ticklish day. I feel my tummy churning just like it did then as I was there bound and at the mercy of this man who clearly had a passion for tickling.
Jules moved to the bottom of the bed and began to pull my socks off. I curled my toes and scrunched my feet as if that somehow would prevent him from removing my socks. I always do that even though it is irrational, I want to do something - anything to put off the moment of being tickled. I think I said something like "No! Not my feet!" which, for a tickler, is like a giant flashing sign that says "Tickle Here" with an arrow pointing to my feet.
My socks came off. I don't know about you but when my feet are first exposed to the air they feel extra sensitive and ticklish. I remember my bare feet felt that way then. My heart felt like it was on high speed and my mouth was dry. I remember Jules running a finger up each sole as he looked into my eyes -- the tickler watching for the reaction of his ticklee. I did not disappoint. I burst into loud laughter and my entire body jerked on the bed. I pulled with all my might to draw my feet out of tickling range, curling my toes and waving my feet back and forth.
Jules tickled with all his fingers and between my laughter and gasps I renewed my pleading for mercy. Jules carried on like a man with a mission and his mission was to tickle me to insanity. He'd had enough of my wiggling feet. With the pantyhose ties I could move my feet around pretty good. I felt Jules strong hand grasp the top of one foot and hold it firm. He attacked my helpless sole as I howled with laughter. He gave the same tickle treatment to each foot. I thought I was going to faint from lack of breath. It was the most intense tickling I had ever experienced. Every nerve ending in my body felt alive and ticklish.
I remember looking down at Jules tickling my foot and I had a sort of out of body experience. It was like I was looking at some other small bare feminine foot in the grasp of this large hand. It looked like a little girl's foot in the hand of a big man. Then his fingers danced across my arch again and the reality came crashing back that it was my foot, my ticklishness and my predicament that I was watching. He just tickled and tickled and tickled.
Jules began sliding his spidery fingertips along my calves and while this tickled, it was nothing compared to the foot tickling of a moment before so I was able to catch my breath. At least until his hands reached behind my knees. I went down the roller coaster ride of ticklishness again, twisting every which way on the bed, unable to escape his exploring hands. I remember the bottoms of my feet were still tingling as he tickled up my legs.
This was all happening in the moment. There had been no quiet conversation prior to my tickling about limits or safe words. When you are being tickled, at least when I am being tickled, time stops. There is just the moment and the maddening tickling sensations and everything else flies out of my mind except the thought, "how do I make the tickling stop?" But there was no relief. Just a big powerful man and a small very ticklish woman tied to her bed in a trailer in the country with no one around. And the man was tickling with no mercy.
Jules began to lightly tickle inside my thighs. I lost all control screaming things like, "No,NO,NO!!!" and "Please, please, please not THERE!" He tickled up to the edge of my panties focusing on that deadly ticklish crease between hips and thighs.
In the midst of my ticklishness I felt another sort of internal tickle or tingle that started deep down inside me and began working its way out between my legs. I was getting aroused! I could feel myself getting wet. In my mind I was gushing down there. In reality there was probably just the merest damp spot, if that.
I was losing my mind at that point. With Jack I always knew what came next as he tickled and we both became aroused. But what do I do now? Was Jules turned on too? Could he tell I was turned on? Under my bra my nipples were becoming hard and erect.
Jules was tickling my hips and he ran his hands up and down my sides again with a swirl into my underarms. As he did that he leaned down and softly blew across my tummy. I giggled, hoping he wasn't noticing my giggles and squeaks and laughs were punctuated now with little moans and whimpers. He slid his hands back down and traced around my panties. I arched up off the bed. I think my body actually shuddered. I was losing all inhibitions. I was beginning not to care if this man saw I was aroused. I was beginning to want him to notice!
He noticed. Suddenly I felt something -- a thumb? an index finger? press against the moist spot on my panties. It began to stroke me, rubbing me through my panties. He reached back with his other hand and began tickling one of my feet. I giggled. I moaned. I twisted my foot. I pushed my hips up to meet the pressure of his fingers rubbing me.
I was so aroused that the twin sensations of sexual touching and foot tickling quickly pushed me over the edge. I exploded in an orgasm like I'd never felt before and sank back into the bed.
The next thing I was aware of, Jules was standing at the foot of the bed. He was fumbling trying to untie the damn pantyhose, the knots of which had become small and tight beyond belief. He finally released one foot from bondage. He grabbed my ankle and brought my foot to rest on the bulge in his pants.
Our eyes met for a moment. There were no words but I smiled at him. I began rubbing my foot on his erection. He unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants and pulled down his underwear. My bare foot touched his bare manhood. I started to give my first ever foot job. As my smooth sole rubbed against him Jules struggled with my other ankle. He finally got the knot undone and he guided that foot to join the other. I cradled him between my soles and stroked him with my toes coming into play at the end of each stroke. I closed my eyes feeling him stiffen. The next thing I knew I felt something warm and thick and wet and gooey oozing over my toes and down my insteps. It was the first time I ever felt a man ejaculate on my feet. I enjoyed knowing I'd given him that moment of pleasure.
Jules let out a long sigh. He pulled up his underwear and pants and leaned over me to untie my wrists. As he did so he gave me a kiss on the cheek and on my neck. The neck kiss tickled and my girlish laugh returned. He kissed the other side of my neck. I giggled more. As he got both my wrists untied I whispered, "Thank you." He kissed my other cheek.
We went our separate ways to clean up, never speaking and we each stayed pretty much in our separate rooms that evening and night. I replayed every moment of my ticklish erotic experience. I wondered if he would return to my bedroom in the night for more tickling. He didn't and I slept that deep sleep that comes from tickle exhaustion.
Jack returned the next evening and I felt the conflicting emotions of guilt over what had happened and yet still enjoying the intensity of the experience. Jules and I never spoke of it. He moved out at the end of the week. We lost touch and I don't know where he is today. Jack may have been surprised at the new level of intensity I threw into our tickle play and he seemed delighted with my new skill with my feet on his anatomy.
From that day to this I never told anyone of my ticklish encounter with a gentle giant of a man. Now Jack knows and he smiles at my secret. Now you know.
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Very intense and hot story. Thanks for sharing it. 
) was the fact that it was a secret for over 10 years. I suppose we can all relate to keep a secret (i.e. Our tickling fetish) from the world, it just brought me back 
just teasing - what a lee does until the tickling begins
