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The Mousy Chick and Her Moment of Weakness.

Captain Satan

TMF Regular
Joined
Mar 24, 2011
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This is going to be a short one because it was only a few moments worth of tickle. Bummer.

I'm mainly posting it for the same reasons people keep medals on their mantelpieces.

I'd been friends with this shy, timid little creature for about two years. You could use her as a measuring tape for all nerd girls. She was the quintessential library geek, complete with glasses, thin brown hair, a conservative dress sense, and a snorting laugh.

She was a tiny 5'1 (if even that) and she was quite well toned for someone who probably hasn't seen a GYM in ever. She had big eyes and a tiny nose that seemed to struggle under her glasses.

We're gonna call her Jill.

A few of us had been out on the town when she joined us in the pub (she wasn't all nerd, after all), and after an arseload of pints, we all decided to go back to my friend's apartment for something a bit stronger.

Cocaine makes fools of us all, and in a few hours we were all crashing in my friends bedroom, adopting bizarre yoga positions on his floor and rolling the last of our tobacco. No cans of beer left. No cocaine. It was time to make my own fun.

As soon as she arrived, Jill pulled off her brown converse to let her size fives breathe a little. The blue/red socks clung to her curvy feet so tightly that the toes and soles were outlined nicely. Almost like a little map.

Jill was right in front of me, bending herself in something like the Bālāsana position, her back arched so her head is resting in her arms on the floor and her feet were poking out from under her peachy ass. I was into it for so many reasons that I shouldn't have to list here for you.

"Get up, Jill. You're fucked up!" roared one of the dudes, who was ten times more fucked up than she was.

"G'wan, Jill, get up." I took my turn encouraging her to leave her strange foetal position. She ignored me and sighed loudly.

I'm so glad she ignored me.

I didn't have to reach far to get her feet. Her right foot lay still for a few moments as two of my fingers spidered from the tips of her toes to her heel, but as I began my downward crawl back to her toes, it began to wiggle. She let out a cute "URRRGH!" No dice, sister.

I delegated a set of fingers to each foot and began scratching and picking bits of lint off her socks, which, after a few seconds of muffled protests and more weak bum wriggling, eventually made her explode with three violent laughs.

"HAH! HAH! HAAAAAAAAH!"

I stopped.

"OH my god, thank you" she squeaked. But I was just planning my final strike, and need to get it done as efficiently as possible. I considered for a moment, and then just went for it.

I pinched the end of the sock on her right foot and began to slowly part it from her. A high-pitched "nooooooooo" came from the helpless
and huddled little mass in front of me, but she didn't even try to get out. I'm pretty sure she liked me, so maybe she dug the attention.

Her foot had to be lifted off the ground slightly to pull the rest of her sock off as the ground created some resistance, but all she did was wiggle her toes and squeal into her arms. This whole operation was easy pickings. Almost too easy.

I wasted no time in using three fingers as a kind of combine harvester from her tanned heel, down her milky-white sole (I spent a second poking a freckle she had), and went hell-for-leather on her pink toes.

She screeched loudly and shot up from her pose, twisting her foot out of my grip, and she gave me the most narrow eyes I've ever seen her give anyone.

"Don't. Tickle. My. Feet." she said, frowning cutely at me and reaching to grab her crumpled, stolen sock.

We'll see.
 
Fabulous story. I've seen some very interesting tickles in dublin. The Irish ladies seem to be a very sensitive bunch all together
 
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