My Nylon Tickling Fetish, where it all began M/F

Welcome aboard Mick....great story to start you off..!!

@Kano u're amazing! I envy u. Great experiences!!! Love it. Hope u tied and tickled here too!!! congrats!

red devil said:

Welcome aboard Mick....great story to start you off..!!

Click to expand...

Seconded! It's been a while since I've posted anything, so it's time to rectify that! When I was 7 years old, one of my teachers (a pleasantly plump woman) was demonstrating how to pick things up without hurting ourselves. I remember she had a slightly off kilter dress sense even for the early 80s; she seemed to wear a lot of muted colours like purple or claret and looked somewhat arty. Anyway, while teaching us how to pick things up, using a tissue as a prop, as well as doing all of the usual 'bend your knees, bend over slowly' stuff, she left the best for last by slipping off her clog and using her dark brown stocking toes to clench the tissue between each toe and lift it that way.

Best of all, she demonstrated it about three times, the clog being slipped on and off over and over. I was disappointed when it stopped, for needless to say I'd been playing very close attention!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Every year at the end of Christmas term, the school would put on a talent show, where pupils and/or staff would enter various acts. One year, when I was about 12 I think, three teachers (all of whom had a surname beginning with D) formed a sort of girl group. They took to the stage (essentially wooden boxes slotted together with mats over the top), and I noticed that none of them were wearing shoes. They were all in trousers so no leg action, but two were in stocking feet, one bare. Why they were shoeless I've no idea, but I wasn't complaining! I had no interest in the barefoot teacher, and tried as hard as I could to see the stocking feet of the other two. I was about 6 rows back, so had a pretty decent view, but no sole action or anything like that.

About halfway through, one of the teachers (Mrs D) got off the stage and brought the headmaster on for a dance; I was practically kneeling now to get a view of her padding across the sportshall floor in her stocking feet. She was in beigey coloured tights, with the other teacher - Miss D - in white tights. Everyone else cheered when the headmaster went onstage, but I was more concerned with the foot action in front of me! Memory serves me that the teacher in the white tights, a music teacher had exposed her feet a year or so previously when playing the piano. She went behind the piano with shoes, then came out behind it walking around in purple stocking feet! Her feet had been quite slender, while the teacher in beige tights had stockier, chubbier feet.

Inevitably, it was over all too briefly, but for the last day of term it was a very nice treat!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

When I was 14 I was in an IT lesson (this is in the late 80s, so the PC industry was just beginning to take off) where we were being taught about spreadsheets. The teacher Mrs H was a serious shoe player, as I'd seen her slip her shoes on and off under the desk in other lessons, heels and a bit of sole often exposed, but never the whole foot. She wasn't overly attractive, with short dark hair and glasses, but had a quite sexy air of authority. She wore a grey suit, black blouse, faint black tights and black heels, and was explaining how data could be stored in a table, read appropriately, set in a certain order etc. She then suggested we do a format of our own, using a certain subject and take it forward throughout the week.

In a flash of inspiration, I decided to go for teacher heights! It just popped in there, the idea formulating so that I could ask Mrs H to remove her shoes and hopefully see her feet! The guy I was working with thought this was a good idea, and I insisted on asking Mrs H to participate. She was talking to a male teacher at the time, and I apologised for interrupting, but explained we'd come up with the idea of height....and would she mind taking her shoes off to be measured? I remember gesticulating at her feet when I asked, and Mrs H was happy to accommodate, as after all it was part of the lesson. She stooped down to take her shoes off, which was a rather clunky affair as they were black suede clog type shoes, with a huge metal buckle on that needed loosening. My heart was racing, but I was quite reassured that Mrs H was willing. She eventually got her shoes off, stamped and shuffled her feet on the floor, and stood against the wall. Her feet were quite big, and the toe band on her tights was quite pale, making her black tights look slightly purple/bluey. I got a large ruler and pretended to measure her, starting from her feet and working up while the male teacher gave me a funny look!

Mrs H was very patient throughout the whole thing, and had seemed happy to help. Once I was finished I jokingly said that she 'could put her shoes back on now if she wanted', which she sadly did! I went back to my desk, still slightly stunned as to what had just happened; I'd actually asked a teacher to take her shoes off to fulfill my desires, and she'd complied. I spent the rest of the lesson in a daze, but then a thought hit me; if one teacher had done it, then maybe that meant some others would? It was the end of the school day, so it was too late to put this idea into practice. However, there was always the future....!

To be continued....

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Hi guys, hope you all had a good Christmas; my Boxing Day was quite interesting! I phoned my aunt and uncle to wish them a happy Christmas, and much to my delight my aunt answered. We spoke for about ten minutes or so, but then she said that they had guests and she couldn't stay for long.

'So, I'll have to go now as the guests are waiting. Thanks for calling, darling boy (her nickname for me), and remember that you're my favourite nephew who gives me the best feet (not foot, but feet!) massages!'

Wow...that came from nowhere! Did my aunt really just say that? I was momentarily silenced, but when I replied I realised that I could turn this to my advantage!

'Sorry, I didn't hear that. Could you say it again?'

Of course, my aunt was wise to it and said she wouldn't repeat it....but then did word for word, albeit a bit quieter but more directly! I laughed and told her that it was good to hear her say that and that she was my favourite auntie. We said goodbye, but I couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said. An hour or so later, I decided to text her, asking if it was okay to send her a text about the phone call.

Her reply: 'Yup! xx'

Had she been expecting it? I then sent her a text saying that she was my favourite auntie and my sexy auntie, and that she KNEW that I'm the best foot massager and tickler....especially when she wore her sexy black tights! I then got bold and asked if she was wearing her tights now. A few seconds later, my phone pinged:

'You'll never know, Sweetie! You'll have to wait until I next come down! xx'

Now, I don't know when that will be, but trust me - any events will be recorded here!

Take care, gents.

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Ah Smash....my Christmas and New Year just got better from hearing that....hope it's not long before she comes down...!!!!!

Happy New Year Mate.!!

As I don't have any stories to add....I thought I'd share some nylon feet. These are found on Facebook in a closed group called "Feet and Nylon Stockings".....I really really want to tickle them....!!!

Good work, sir! Isn't the Internet wonderful?

Actually, you mentioning Facebook there's also a group/page on there called 'Nylon Tickling Community'. I'm not sure that it contains any stories (alas), but it's got a fair few clips on there, a lot of which I'd not seen before. Well worth checking out - though I'm only observing as I value my privacy!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

And we're back! Due to technical and privacy issues I've not been able to post much lately, but as I'm off home sick today I've got plenty of time on my hands!

In the late 80s and early 90s, there wasn't a lot else to do for teenagers at the weekend other than head into town. My usual routine was to browse a few record shops, look for some new computer games and maybe visit the local amusement arcade. One of the things I noticed in those days, partly by chance, was that many women working in retail would ditch their shoes behind the counter. Back then the female uniform for most supermarkets was a dress/tunic and tights - mostly white, tan or neutral, it seemed. I began to notice which ones would have lost their shoes, and would often seek them out to sneak peeks behind the counter. This also lead to some inspiration - if one had removed her shoes (usually black flats or small heels), then surely others would follow?

One of my favourites was a lady who owned a card stall in the local indoor market. She was slender and had auburn hair, late 30s I'd say, with blue doe-eyes and seemed like a very mellow person. She'd ALWAYS be in sheer black tights and heels, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before the heels would be lost and she'd serve in her black stocking feet. Her store was in the centre of the market, and as a result it was accessible from the front and back. I'd often loiter behind her, watching her flex her feet, pointing her toes and the like. It was a weekly occurrence, and I couldn't believe my teenage luck that I'd be treated to such a display. This went on for months on end, and I don't think she ever sussed me - I was in fear of getting caught, but it never happened. I'd stick around for about twenty minutes at a time, and would then give up while the going was good. However, one day I went there....and she was in slippers! I knew then that things had come to an end, and I never saw her feet again.

However, there were many others to choose from; opposite the market was a Tesco supermarket, filled with some twenty or so checkouts. Not all of them were operated by women, of course, but I'd walk down the aisle parallel to the checkouts and see if any of them were shoeless. There were two middle aged women, both with blonde hair and glasses, who'd always be in their tan/white stocking feet behind the counter. One didn't show them off a lot, but when she did it was jackpot - endless sole shots, rotations and flexing! The other showed them off constantly, but you didn't see much other than the sides of her feet. I'd fantasise about being under the counter, tickling their feet and knees as they served customers and tried to maintain their composure. I honestly once toyed with the idea of doing it, but didn't fancy being held by security guards! The best thing about this for me was that they had no idea what they were doing to me - they'd all kicked off their shoes for comfort, totally oblivious to the fact that they were unwittingly teasing a teenage nylon foot lover!

Sometimes, I'd only see the feet and legs! On one occasion, there were two women in a shop window putting up a window display; they were both in black tights, one sheer and the other a bit thicker. They were stuck behind a poster, so I had no idea what they looked like but was safe in the knowledge that they also couldn't see me! I must have been staring at them for some fifteen minutes before they'd finished, and loved every second of it! Sadly, nowadays most women in supermarkets wear trousers and boots, so the chances of seeing nylon feet are pretty remote. I'll still take the odd chance to sneak peeks, just in case - you never know right, and it's always worth looking. However, I'm very glad that I grew up in the 80s, and have such memories to help keep me fulfilled.

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

I always love reading your stuff, Smash. Thanks for writing in such vivid (and true) detail. I hope you'll never stop recollecting for us.

Thanks mate; when I write, I do so for others as well as myself. I write the sort of stories I'd like to read, and also because I want to remember the experiences as best I can. I could have gone into some other experiences here - the middle aged shoeless optician dusting her glasses stand and exposing her black stocking soles to me....Clare the 18 year old brunette cutie who worked in a video game store when I was about 15/16 and walked around the store pricing games in her black opaques (and who incidentally knew my car washing friend whose mum's feet I rubbed and tickled earlier in this thread!)...the 20 something cashier in the amusement arcade who always kicked off her heels in her booth showing slinky black stocking feet and putting me off my gaming...

There was always something about seeing the women in retail going shoeless that was appealing not just from a foot fetish point of view, but the fact that it somehow made them more 'human'. I've worked in offices for the last fifteen years, and while I've seen many shoeless women in that time they're not public facing so they can get away with more. Seeing the retail women losing their shoes was always quite cute and cheeky in my teenage eyes, and something I looked forward to regularly. It was always 'my' thing, and while everybody else was going about their business either shopping or serving, I was happily getting my rocks off without anyone knowing it. Happy days...

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

WOW what a story in the OP! If anyone would like to RP about something like that, message me at any time!

I love seeing retail women walking around in their stocking feet too....any woman who does that has my attention. Even women in an office, resting their tired feet by removing their heels and walking round the office like that.....

Thanks Mate, another great addition to this amazing thread. Have you heard from Kano at all....he seems to have gone missing.

No worries; as for Kano, he mailed me a week or two back, and I owe him a reply to be honest! I think he's just a bit busy at work - it's always there to spoil the fun, eh?

About eight years ago the office I worked in housed loads of different teams, and on any given occasion there'd be a woman wandering around in stocking/bare feet. The latter didn't bother me, but the former always roused my curiosity. More often than not they'd be from another team so I didn't interact with them, but some women in my own team more than made up for it. They'd either be shoeless under the desk, dangling flats, padding around in stocking feet - I remember two instances where a woman was on her knees, providing an awesome sole shot.

I only ever got one tickle in on one of them, though; she was a glamorous black lady who I got on well with, so when she was kneeling on her chair with her shoes off, it was too good a chance to miss. My fingers scampered quickly along her shiny black stocking soles which got a delightful giggle and cheeky grin. Of course, being in the workplace you do have to be careful, but in fifteen years I've calculated I've got 27 tickles in on women, all of various grades, ages, shapes and sizes. Some tickles were prolonged, most were little side pokes and things, but still.....27 is nothing to sneeze at, eh?

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Returning to the theme of teacher's feet, here's some more stories from the old Smashy memory banks!

When I was about 13 or 14 I was in a science lesson, and we had a long examination to sit through. All the pupil's heads were down and the classroom was silent, save for the sound of pens writing frantically on paper. The teacher, Mrs L, was a short, stocky woman in her mid 40s who at times could be pleasant and funny, but woe betide you if you got on the wrong side of her. Although with hindsight, that 'domineering' side is quite sexy...anyway, I had always pictured her as a shoeplayer, but as she spent most of her time sitting at her solid desk, it was impossible to tell. She was wearing an orange jumper, black skirt, black tights and black heels.

The exam went on, until two distinct clattering noises broke the silence. The instantly recognisable sound to all foot lovers of discarded shoes hitting the floor! I was sure she'd just kicked her shoes off behind her desk! My desk was nowhere near hers, however, but I had to check to make sure if my instincts were correct. I got up from my desk and went to the coat stand, under the pretence of getting something from my coat. As it was an exam, who was going to think any different? The coat stand was in line to the teacher's desk, albeit about three metres away. As I got there a quick sideways glance confirmed my suspicions. Her shoes were lying empty on the floor, with her stocking heels resting off the bar of her stool. My heart raced, and I intentionally slowed down the charade I was doing at my coat, sneaking peeks at her feet as she sat there unaware of my desires.

I returned to my desk, but couldn't get the image out of my head. Besides, I'd only seen her heels, and wanted more! I repeated the coat stand routine, still stealing glances, but then made up my mind to see her feet. Instead of taking the same route back to my desk, I went behind Mrs L's, which was a slightly unwritten rule; you didn't go behind the teacher's desk EVER. As I got closer, I knelt down and pretended to do my shoelace up, and from my view I had a near perfect view of her stocking feet, her heels at my eye level and a pretty good view of her soles. I was lost as I took in the view, until a voice snapped me out of my dream.

'What are you doing?'

SHIT! She must have realised I was looking! How long had she known for? I could think of only one thing to say.

'Er....nothing, miss. I was just tying up my shoelace....'

She looked at me suspiciously, before telling me to sit back down, which I did in a hurry. I did try to see if her shoes were still off when we left the room, but to no avail. It was a lucky escape, but there were other teachers I had my sights set on....

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

I mentioned earlier about how I came up with the idea of measuring teachers for a 'science experiment' when I was 14 or so. This is another one of those stories. I'd tried it with one teacher, and it had worked successfully, so why not try it with another? After all, they couldn't stand in the way of my education, could they?

It was a wet lunchtime, and I was in the computer room at school. It was the late 80s/early 90s, and computers were 'the next big thing', and so we were encouraged to use the computers to broaden our skills. As it was a wet lunchtime, many of us just stayed in the computer room to play games, and the room was more packed than usual. However, I noticed Mrs A, the teacher from a previous thread, enter the room with a stack of papers to mark. I personally had a 'thing' for Mrs A in my latter school years, but on this day she was wearing a white blouse, grey check skirt, fleshy/white tights and blackish blue leather heels (this was her standard look before branching out into sexier colours in the early 90s). She busied herself with her papers, but seemed distracted at something. I was talking to my friends, but kept looking at Mrs A, and thinking about her feet. Should I try my new experiment? It wasn't a lesson, and it wasn't as if she was busy. We'd always got on well, but there were lots of people in the room. What would they think? Maybe they wouldn't notice, maybe I'd get away with it...

The more I thought about it, the worse my curiosity got, until I could take it no longer. Steeling myself, I went over to her, trying to remain natural.

'Hello, Miss...er...I know you're busy, but I was wondering if you've got time for a...erm....experiment...'
'Erm...sort of....what sort is it?'
'Well, nothing major, but...I was wondering if....well....would you mind taking your shoes off, and being measured. It's for a science experiment'
'Oh...okay...'

...at which she began to kick off her shoes, but something wasn't right. She was too in the open, to exposed, and I wanted her all to myself.

'Tell you what, why don't you stand against the wall? That way I can measure you more easily'.

Mrs A agreed, kicked off her shoes and padded over to the wall, albeit about five steps away. However, it was here that I realised I had no ruler or measuring stick, and my plan began to unravel. I had to improvise, and bent down near Mrs A's feet. Her feet were bigger than I expected, slightly longer as well. I took stock of her feet, placed a hand near them, then moved it up to the top of her head, and then offered a pretend estimate. Mrs A neither confirmed or denied it, but instead challenged me on my motives.

'Why did you want to know that? Shouldn't you have used a ruler or something?'
'Er....yes, sorry, Miss....I didn't think it through. (*blushing, and quite self conscious by now*). Thank you for your help...'

And with that, I tried to leave as quietly as possible before Mrs A said loudly across the room...(albeit good naturedly)

'You just wanted me to take my shoes off, didn't you?'

Shit, how did she know!?!? A few people looked up at this, and I suddenly felt VERY self conscious. I tried to laugh it off, and suggested she might have been more comfortable. She shooed me away, and continued with her work. When I arrived back to my group of friends, one of them (who I often thought was also 'one of us') gave me a mock scolding, which I laughed off. While I was glad I was able to get Mrs A to remove her shoes, I was embarrassed everyone else knew about it. Not that Mrs A was the last teacher I 'experimented' on....!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

At the risk of taking over this thread, here's another story.

High on the successes of my new found trick to get teachers to remove their shoes in the name of science, I decided to try my luck with some of the other teachers. The other two I had got on well with, but there were others I had my sights set on. The only problem was that I had no familiarity with some of them, as I had no classes with them. One such teacher was Miss H, a pleasantly plump, smiley faced woman with pleasant disposition. Sometimes she'd dress like a kids TV entertainer from the mid 80s (big jumpers, cordouroy trousers and brightly coloured shoes), while at other times she'd dress in short skirts, heels (boots if it was winter) and opaque black tights. Guess what attire she was wearing when I asked her for some assistance...?

It had just gone home time when this happened, and I'd seen Miss H walking around the place throughout the day in heels and skirt. I'd mulled over the possibility of asking her throughout the day, as her opaque black tights that looked super smooth inside those black suede heels. Add to the list a black skirt and a chunky dark purple and red jumper, she was looking cute this day. Like I said, I'd never had her for a lesson in the four years I'd been at the school, so it seemed odd to ask her out of the blue. However, that was exactly what I did!

I actually met her by chance in one of the corridoors, and decided in that split second to go for it. I asked her if I could 'borrow her' for a while, and ushered her into the nearest classroom, which was empty. She looked at me curiously, and I explained the situation of the 'science experiment', and if she'd mind taking off her shoes. She laughed slightly, amused and bemused at what I'd asked her to do, but happily complied. I remember her shoes came off very gracefully, as if she was stepping out of them. I gently pushed her shoes to one side, grabbed a ruler (the classroom was in the maths block, so there were plenty of measuring tools around) and placed it near her right stocking foot. Her feet were very cute and dainty, very rounded and well formed. However, as Miss H was in opaque black tights (my favourite!, I was determined to try and enjoy this chance as much as I could. I bent down as far as I could go, to make sure that ruler and foot were in alignment. In doing so, I made sure that my fingers gently (but not blatantly) touched against her heel and outline. The soft material of her tights felt glorious against the edge of my hands and fingers, and she didn't flinch, so maybe she wasn't ticklish. However, I didn't want to force my luck, so I got on with the task at hand.

As she put her shoes back on after 'measuring' her, I thanked her for her time. Although only about two minutes had transpired, I was worried about getting caught or seen, but thankfully I'd gotten away with it again! As we left the room, I felt compelled to cover up any awkwardness, and pushed my luck slightly by saying that I hope she didn't mind me asking to take her shoes off. She said not to worry, and that she'd 'had many an odd demand' in her time. Bless her...!

Hope you enjoyed, guys.

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Another 'measuring the teacher' story.

After getting quite a few teachers to remove their shoes for me, I was beginning to run out of suitable options but was also quite confident that my approach was working. I'd seen most of the ones I'd wanted to, but was slightly short of teachers. However, Madame B taught French at the school, and during this time I seemed to be in and out of the school due to personal issues. She was quite tall and skinny, with shoulder length brownish blonde hair, big glasses and had taught me French when I was 11 and again at 13. I always remembered a lesson from when I was 11, where she'd sat on the desk in a brown jumper, tweedy skirt, black tights and heels, and had spent a good 20 minutes or so balancing the shoe on her toes, heel popping and foot flexing, although the shoe never dropped. However, the whole thing had me enthralled, my eyes focused on that elusive foot...

I'd decided to opt for Madame B as I'd seen her that day in assembly, and memories of her sitting on the desk that day came rushing back. Once assembly was over, I watched Madame B leave the hall to go to her next class. The room she was in was next to the form area where my bag was stored, and while everyone else got their bags for the next lesson I hung back, waiting for Madame B to arrive. She was wearing knee high brown leather boots, black tights, a brown skirt and green jumper. When she did, however, there was already another teacher in the room with her, which meant I had longer to wait. I hid around the lockers for a couple of minutes before peeking through the door. There was Madame B, talking to the other teacher, and her empty boots on the floor! From my vantage point I couldn't see Madame B's feet, but this was a turn up! I walked past the room casually, glancing in to see if the boots were being put on. However, not wanting to draw attention to myself I hid again, until I heard the other teacher leave. This was my cue!

I entered the classroom, trying to be natural, excused myself and asked Madame B if she'd help me out.

'Pardon? 'Elp you out? But of course!! 'Ow can I 'elp you?' (*excuse the stereotypical accent!*)

'I was wondering if you'd mind being measured. You'll have to take your boots off, though....'

'Hahahaha! Oui, oui!'

And with that, reached down and slowly undid the zip on her right boot, yanked it off and then did the same with the second. This was even better than the other teachers kicking their shoes off!! The anticipation of seeing stocking leg, then foot, was mesmerising!! Madame B stood there, toes wiggling, asking what to do next. I ushered her against the wall, grabbed a ruler and proceeded to measure her, making sure my eyes and one of my hands were firmly near her feet at all times. Her feet were quite long and narrow, I seem to remember. I was lost in my little world, until her class came in for a lesson. They all seemed taken aback to find their teacher standing there shoeless with someone at her feet, but Madame B addressed them properly, making them aware of the situation.

'Do not worry about 'eem, 'e is measuring me. 'Owever, I note that 'e 'as not taken 'ees muddy boots off!'

At which they all laughed, and I, satisfied at another job well done, laughed along with them and made my exit. I watched while Madame B put her boots back on, and went to my lesson. I was a few minutes late for it, but explained that I'd been talking about some coursework with Madame B. Which wasn't strictly untrue...!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

The next experience I can recall again does not involve measuring a teacher. I only did it about two more times, at least when I was 14, and neither teacher (one was actually a dinner warden) was a looker. Both had average feet as well (through black tights). In fact, these were the last two I got to measure back then, as I asked another teacher who said 'No' so bluntly I thought it best not to push my luck...

Anyway, this tale occurs in a school play, again when I was 14 or so (a lot of foot experiences seemed to happen that year, eh?). Instead of having lessons this particular afternoon, we were taken to the school assembly hall, where we saw a play on the dangers of alcohol. The story was that a young lad gets a car, his mates buy him drinks, he gets carried away and kills people when drunk driving. It was actually quite good, and although it was aimed at pupils there were a few teachers present, including Mrs A who I've mentioned previously in this thread. The play was ongoing, when I saw Mrs A stand up at the side of the room. She was wearing a yellow t shirt, grey check skirt, white tights and black heels, and for some reason needed to leave the room. She was some distance from where I was sat in the middle of the room, and with 130 or so people in the room it would be awkward for her to get out. Either to not disturb proceedings or to maintain her balance, Mrs A shuffled her legs slightly and then picked up her shoes, walking delicately through the crowd before putting them on just before leaving the room. I'll say now that I had no chance of seeing her feet, and nor did I, but just the fact that I knew she was shoeless was a turn on.

A few minutes later, the door to the hall opened and Mrs A came back in, shoes in her hand, making her way through the sitting crowd. I craned my head to see even a heel or an ankle, but to no avail. Mrs A then sat down, and I returned to the play. Once it was over about 45 minutes later, I stood up as quick as I could to see Mrs A's feet, but there were just too many people. However, when she stood up the first thing she did was put her shoes on. She'd been sat there, on the floor, shoeless for all that time! I so wished I could have been close to where she sat, to see HOW she sat! Were her feet on display, tucked under her skirt, cross legged? The possibilities were endless! I don't know who was sat near her, but I'm envious of them to this day. Lucky bastards...

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Fourteen pages in....and I can't believe that this story hasn't been included. I take absolutely no credit for it whatsoever (it's from a fellow TMFer called ShadowTickler), but it's one of my all time favourites and has been for years. Enjoy, one and all...

Ticklish Aunt Sarah
By ShadowTklr

Aunt Sarah was about the most ticklish person I ever knew. Also, at my age at the time, I didn't know too many other women, but today, as a grown man, I can honestly say that still. Aunt Sarah wasn't really my aunt; she was my mother's best friend and I only knew her as Aunt Sarah. She would often baby-sit my younger brother Pete and I. She was so pretty. She had long, brown hair and a slim, sleek body with curves in all the right places. I always found her feet particularly attractive. She liked to take her shoes off in the house and walk around in her stockings. Her feet looked so sheen, so deliciously smooth and soft in those black stockings she used to wear. Aunt Sarah always dressed well. She would wear skirts and heels and tight fitting shirts. My libido was intense back then, and as my sexuality was forming, my hormones raced like moray eels through my body, electrifying me with fervent desire. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that anything having to do with tickle torture seemed to ignite my loins with the most intense feelings. I often fantasized about rendering aunt Sarah helpless and then tickling her slowly. I imagined how she would react; begging me through a continuous stream of womanly laughter--that mature, deep and hearty laughter that only a full-grown woman could produce. Those thoughts filled many a night as I lay, nursing my raging, young erection, in my bed.

I had heard her laugh like that before at a party my parents had at the house. I was supposed to be asleep, but I snuck downstairs from my bedroom when the loud sounds of people talking and laughing, turned into a solo of laughing, screaming fits! I can spot the sound of beautiful, yet urgent laughter anywhere; even then! What I heard was sheer music. I got a hard-on so fierce from the sound that I had to scurry down the stairs to see what was happening. What I would see would change my life forever. There she was, this beautiful lady that had been the focus of so many late-night tickling fantasies, pinned down by my mother and some other friends, all obviously drunk beyond reasonable inhibitions, while two other women and a man tickled her on her sides and stomach. She was frantic! She was laughing like crazy and begging them to stop the tickling. My mind was racing at the sight of this ticklish, beautiful woman being subjected to such horrific, yet delightful torture. It was obvious that she couldn't stand to be tickled. She thrashed and screamed. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut one moment and sprang wide the next, followed by a flood of perpetual giggling and breathless pleading! Despite her incredible desperation, the group would not stop tickling her.

I had heard aunt Sarah laugh heartily during conversations with my Mom, which was previously the fuel stoking my imaginative fires, but this was different! Even in my fantasies, I could not have imagined the sounds that emanated from her smooth, long throat. Such melody; the depth and intonation of her laughter was a rich mixture concocted from deep within her abdomen and thrust forward with such force, that the sound felt as though it reverberated within my body cavity! I saw my mother abandon the spot where she was holding Aunt Sarah and go down to her feet. Aunt Sarah released an ear-splitting scream when she felt mom remove her left shoe. Aunt Sarah shrieked with pitiful cries, begging my mother to stop as she removed her right shoe. To watch my own mother do what she did next, was the breaking point for me. Aunt Sarah's attention had shifted completely to what my mother was about to do next. She squealed and struggled with renewed strength as my mother used her long fingernails to gently tickle from the heels to toes of Aunt Sarah's stocking feet. The barrage of laughter that would result from that attack was deafening! Aunt Sarah went into a panic and struggled with great force. She threatened to leap off of the floor. It would be necessary for another person to aid in holding her down for this excruciating tickling assault. Aunt Sarah screamed with renewed laughter and her body flailed wildly while my mother prolonged her attack on this woman's poor, helpless feet.

My ears began to heat up and ring with excitement and I felt my stomach drop through the floor. This was the most exciting thing I had ever seen. The way Sarah begged so pitifully made me insane with excitement! As I sat out of sight on the stairway, I continued to stare at the fantastic spectacle. What a delightful laugh she had. It was turning high-pitched and her screams would linger long and loud before melting into a crescendo of staccato giggling. The sound went through my loins like a hot knife through butter. When they finally let her up, I ran back upstairs and played with myself again and again, until I was washed over with that familiar shivering sensation that made me feel so good. I couldn't believe my brother slept through the whole thing.

Mom & Dad Take a Trip

Now, this would be the weekend that Aunt Sarah would baby-sit us. I couldn't wait to see her. I had been replaying her ordeal in my mind over and over, all week just thinking about that night I had seen her being tickled to such a crazy state. I just knew I wouldn't be able to look at her without getting weak-kneed!Pete, my brother, and I decided we were going to get one really good shot at Aunt Sarah. She was baby-sitting for us on a Friday night and Mom and Dad wouldn't be home until Sunday. Quite frankly, we felt we were both way too old for a babysitter, but we didn’t complain. Oh, what a delicious plan we had. We were going to play "Spy" and we would get Aunt Sarah to be the "Spy!"

It had gotten pretty late, by our normal standards, and Aunt Sarah was hinting that it was almost time for bed. We whined and complained about how we weren't done playing our game yet. I told Aunt Sarah that we were playing spy, but we didn't have anyone to be the spy. I asked her if she would volunteer, but she said "No." A bit more persisting and she finally agreed to play the spy if we promised to go to bed afterward. We readily agreed and the plan was off to a great start! Pete and I convinced Aunt Sarah that we were going to have to tie her up to a wooden chair like in the James Bond movies and question her about the secret formula. She agreed and we sat her comfortably in a heavy wooden chair that we planned to use for just this occasion. We wrapped rope around her upper arms, her wrists and ankles. Pete had the idea to tie her knees together. He said that she would not be able to go anywhere.

Aunt Sarah giggled at the handiwork we were spinning with the rope. She said she couldn't believe how involved we got with this game. When she was secured, the fun would be about to begin! Pete and I scurried around to the back of the chair and pulled it backward. Aunt Sarah shrieked and scolded us to put her down, which we promptly did...on her back! Aunt Sarah was completely vulnerable and helpless. She seemed a bit uneasy about her inescapable position, and said "Okay guys, you've had your fun, now, let me up." Pete, realizing that we had better make our move now if we were going to make it at all, began the interrogation.


"Okay spy!" he said with child-like mischief. "Where is the formula?"

"I don't know." she said coyly.

Pete asked again, this time with more deliberation in his voice.

"We know you are hiding the secret formula. Now tell us where it is!"

Aunt Sarah began to go along with the game, realizing the futility of her escape and started struggling and pouting like the helpless farm girl in a scene from "Scaramouche."

"I'll never tell you where the formula is!"

Pete and I looked at each other with the most evil grin. It must have been somewhat apparent to Aunt Sarah, because she wanted to call an end to this little game of ours.

"Okay, guys. We've played long enough. It's time for bed. Now untie me, okay?"

Each of us sat down at one of Aunt Sarah's feet. Aunt Sarah struggled hard at this point and strained to keep us in her sight. I guess the psychological teasing of not being able to see what we were doing was starting to get to her, because she made a second attempt to disrupt our game.

"I'm not kidding guys. You untie me right now. It's past your bed time!"

Ignoring her warnings, Pete continued with his ultimatum to our "spy."

"If you do not tell us where the formula is right now, we will have no choice but to torture you until you do, you evil spy!"

Aunt Sarah stiffened momentarily and then began to struggle mightily at the sound of such a threat. She wasn't sure what we had up our sleeves, but she was sure she didn't want to find out. We had obviously done an excellent job in binding her, because she could not get away, no matter how hard she tugged and pulled at the ropes.

"N-Now boys...that's enough! Do you hear me?"

We said nothing.

"What are you doing down there? Let's untie Aunt Sarah, O- okay?"

Pete and I nodded to each other as we sat comfortably on the floor at Aunt Sarah's trapped feet. We each pulled off a shoe, slowly and deliberately. Aunt Sarah clenched her toes tightly in an attempt to keep the shoes on her pretty feet, but a little more tugging and we achieved our goal, exposing her wiggling, stocking feet. Aunt Sarah renewed her struggling attempts at freedom. Pete and I placed the shoes on either side of Aunt Sarah. She could see each of our hands reach out to place a shoe on either side of her, but she still could not see what we were doing down there. Each of us tugged gently at the toes of her stocking material. Her burst of thrashing and pulling told us she had a very good idea what type of torture we were about to administer, but she dare not utter the words, for fear of placing herself in an even more "ticklish" position.

Our fingers were poised for the attack. Aunt Sarah's feet wriggled and twitched involuntarily. Perhaps some deep seeded fear of having her feet bared caused this uncontrollable action. She curled her toes time and time again as she attempted to reason with us, but it would be too late!

"I-I don't know what you're planning guys, b-but you had better not do anything. I-I'm warning you. Wait until your parents get ho-ho-ho-HEE HEE HA HA HA HAAA AAAIIIEEE YAAAHA HA HA HA HA HA HAAA NO! NOOOOOO! AAAAIIIEEE AHA HA HA HA HAHA!"

The tickling had caught her so by surprise that she flinched violently against the ropes with panic, before letting out a piercing scream, laced with maniacal laughter. We continued the foot tickling, scratching up and down her silken soles, making her literally rigid with wrenching laughter.

"AAAAAA HA HA HA HA AHWWWAAHAHA HA HA HA HAAAAIIIIEEEE! NO! NO! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA HAHA HA AHPPLLEASE PLEASE! NO! DON'T TICKLE ME! DON'T TICKLE MEEEE HE HEEEHE HE HA HA HA HA HAHA!"

I asked her again -

"Where is the formula you bad spy?"

She just continued screaming with laughter because Pete had pulled the toe of her stocking back to make her sole taut, so his fingers would glide over the hyper ticklish foot. I asked again. My tormenting question was repeated by Pete who would stop tickling momentarily to ask. She would take that time to beg for mercy. All she got was a renewal of her tickling torture. As we continued tickling Aunt Sarah with abandon, flashes of that night on the stairway ran through my mind. My goal would be to emulate those very same shrieks of insanity that had so excited me on that fateful evening. Not even Pete, who was obviously enjoying himself, could know just how obsessed I had become. Pete and I giggled mischievously as our fingers scampered aimlessly about Aunt Sarah's violently cringing soles. Her laughter had reached a new plateau and she would become nearly hysterical before we gave her a rest!

"Y-Y-Y-YOU'VE G-GOTTA STO-HOP! I CAN'T STAND IT! LET ME GO NOW! LET ME GO (gasp)! YOU WIN! I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FORMULA IS! YOU WIN! OKAY? OKAY? OK-A-AAAIIIIEEEEEE NOOOOOO! NOT THERE! AHA HAHA HA HA HA HAHAAAAIIIIIIEEEEE YYYYAAAHHH WWAH SHS HA HA HA HAH AH A HA HA HA HA HA HAH AH A HA HA HA HAAAA AAAAA! PLEEEEZZZZEEEE!"

We began again with the tickling and the interrogation. Aunt Sarah pleaded with forceful desperation. We had gotten her to the point of hysteria that I wanted; now, I wanted to take her beyond! I wanted this to be the memory that forever stayed branded in her mind as the worst/best tickling she has ever received! I wanted it to be me she remembered! It had to be me! I searched for spots on her feet that would elicit excited, desperate cries of laughter. Again, we began the interrogation, asking the same question time and time again.

"Where is the formula? We will tickle you until you tell us!"

Aunt Sarah could no longer protest. She had become feeble from the continued tickling and her voice was becoming steadily hoarse. Her laughter had elevated to near silence, occasionally interrupted a force of air that resembled a silent scream. We began again!

"I-I-I CA-CA-CA-CAN'T STA-A-A-A-A-AAAAAAIIIIII AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAA AAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEEE YAAAAA HAAA HAAA!"

Pete and I had determined that if we tickled Aunt Sarah's toes and heels at the same time, she would laugh more uncontrollably than ever. We used this technique to psychologically torture her into madness, threatening to implement this horrible weapon each and every time she gave us the wrong answer. Aunt Sarah had become so frantic by this time, that she was naming anything she could think of as the hiding place for the formula. Unfortunately for her, it didn't work. We simply renewed the tickling of her heels and toes! Her laughter had transformed into what sounded like some kind of demonic possession. She was uncontrolled and grunting and squealing. That beautiful laughter had turned to witch-like cackling! Her body was thrusting and heaving and straining against the ropes. Pete and I immediately stopped for fear that we were hurting Aunt Sarah. She screamed.

"D-DON'T S-S-STOP HA AHA HA HA HA HA! DON'T S- STOP! I'LL NEVER TALK! NEVER! NEVER! NE- NOOOO! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAH A HAHAAA!"

Hearing that was like music to our ears. We re-administered the tickling with even more evil intent. Aunt Sarah was bucking wildly against the ropes. I had never seen anything like that before. we didn't know what to make of it, so we kept tickling! In about 1 minute, Aunt Sarah stiffened all at once and let out a howling cry. Her body broke into what looked like seizures. Tiny little seizures that made her twitch rapidly and uncontrollably. When we finally stopped and untied her, we had to put ourselves to bed, because she was just lying there moaning and sighing. Her hair was frazzled and disheveled. Pete and I knew we were in trouble now. We had gone too far! Wait until my parents get home, I thought!

The next day was a very rainy Saturday. There wasn't much to do around the house and we didn't see much of Aunt Sarah. She must have really been mad at us. Suddenly, about noon, she emerged from my parent's bedroom wearing shorts and a tube top (they were "in" then). She was wearing "flip flop" slippers and her toenails were painted a bright red. Her feet looked delicious! She walked away from us toward our bedroom. We followed. She sat on the bed and, next to her was some more rope! She looked at us sternly. We knew we were going to get it now! She said

"I just want you boys to know that what you did last night was terrible!" Her voice softened. "I can't believe what you did!"

Her eyes stared right through us. I was afraid to even look at her from embarrassment, but something...made me.

"You allowed a spy to go free with valuable information. How do you know I wouldn't just go to the other side and give the formula to them?"

Our eyes sprang wide opened. What was I hearing? She was reprimanding us for not completing the job?! This was insane. Aunt Sarah picked up the rope and handed it to us.

"Lucky for you, that I was re-captured by the guards as I tried to escape. Without the secret formula, you guys can't save the world! So, how are you going to get it?"

Nothing else needed to be said! We jumped at the opportunity and immediately started what would be the second edition of Aunt Sarah's ticklish ordeal. Aunt Sarah would spend the rest of that rainy afternoon tied to the frame of our bed, laughing and screaming and pleading for mercy as we tickled her bare feet with a vengeance. Her bare feet were even more ticklish than her stocking feet. She would not be so lucky this time around. It was a weekend we would never forget!

THE END.

Wow.....just awesome. Kudos, ShadowTickler; I never get tired of reading this!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

I rewrote this from Aunt Sarah's perspective and had an voice actress act it out... Amazing!

This is 1 of my favorite if not my favorite story. Please post the rewrite and the clip.

More amazing stuff Mr Smash....thank you..!!!

foot fun said:

I rewrote this from Aunt Sarah's perspective and had an voice actress act it out... Amazing!

Click to expand...

If you've got either of those available, my friend, it'd be very well received here I'm sure! Here's a few more teacher stories, with an aunt one for good measure later!

Again, another story about not measuring a teacher; this one happened one evening at a school PTA event. My mother was on the PTA, and got on well with one or two of the teachers also on the board. As a result, she'd often go to such events with my dad, but this year I went with them. It was a disco with food thrown in, and I remember being very bored and finding it strange to see teachers out of their normal environment. There weren't many other pupils there, and so most of my night was spent sitting down with my parents wishing I'd not gone!

The disco eventually picked up, and for some reason the hall lights were on instead of the disco lights. A few people were dancing in groups, when I saw two teachers stand up to dance. It was the previously mentioned Mrs A and Mrs D, a short, curvy, funny and feisty teacher. They were on the other side of the hall, and from their table had to walk past quite a gang of people. Just before they reached the dancefloor, I saw Mrs A lean back and whisper something to Mrs D. It looked very much like 'I'm going to take my shoes off'....surely not? She gesticulated toward the floor, and Mrs D nodded in agreement. Tables full of other people obscured what I thought was happening, what I hoped was happening, but when they hit the dancefloor both ladies had kicked off their shoes, and danced the night away in stocking feet.

Mrs A was wearing a grey trouser suit with white tights while Mrs D wore a lime green dress and black tights, with a slight zigzag pattern up the side of the leg. My attention remained firmly on them for the rest of the night, seeing their tights get dirty, the odd view of sole and heel as they spun on the floor. With hindsight, I should have danced with them, or at least near them. As it was, I was just an observer happy to see feet! It lasted a good hour or so before their shoes went back on, so it was an hour well spent!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV