Captain Satan
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Mar 24, 2011
- Messages
- 195
- Points
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Leanne
2009 - the goth years
'I'll stay with him' Leanne told the rest of our gang, while I was sliding down a short wall to sit on my ass. A mixture of booze, fatigue, and a rare Irish heatwave had contributed to my sorry state, and while our gang of teenage goths moved onward to our next drinking spot - Leanne decided to stay with me when I told them I'd have to chill out for a while.
Leanne was 18, and she was what so many teenage girls looked like in the post-American Idiot Green Day haze. Pink hair, light German army jacket, ripped jeans, and of course, a pair of converse that had been scribbled on countless times in pen. She was also the shortest girl in our group, she had to be under 5'0.
We had a fleeting attraction to each other which was moreso about the brain chemicals telling us to fuck in the streets rather than any real connection, but we were friends (and are friends to this day).
I'd tickled Leanne before, and she knew I liked it because she teased me with it on a number of occasions. Years later we had a conversation that went like this - 'you sure tickled my feet a lot' - 'yeah, it was hilarious watching your reaction' - 'really?' - 'yeah' - 'uh, well my feet are right here.'
But this teasy occasion would prove to be one she'd regret.
We were playing around in the grass when I grabbed her right leg and began to pull the converse shoe off her foot. She began her impression of a damsel in distress, screaming and kicking her legs out, but in her comedic timing she made the fatal mistake of kicking the converse shoe off her foot, effectively doing my job for me.
We were falling around in the grass together when I grabbed her shoe and threw it to my side, then she went for it. Big fucking mistake.
Leanne flung herself over me to grab her shoe, but her foot ended up anding in my lap like a little, socked gif. The Pagan Goddess of Tickles was smiling on me today.
I grabbed her ankle between the crook of my arm and my free hand tickled the sole and toes of her foot through a pink sock that couldn't have been any less useful to her.
We both laughed until a friend called us.
Amy
2010 - 2011
Our relationship was strained but we kept finding each other over and over again. Amy had cheated on me, lied to me, and used me so many times that I have absolutely no sane reason for bouncing back to her every few months in my early adulthood.
I was 21 and she was 18, and my thirst for sex didn't even come close to her thirst. She couldn't be satisfied, and there was something in that alone that kept me coming back and trying again tomorrow. Amy and I spent most of our time in her bedroom while her parents were either out of the house. Being a voracious lover of touch and skin, Amy was also one of the most ticklish girls I'd ever met, and she delighted when I tickled her - everywhere but her dancer's feet.
On one occasion I had her completely naked and wrists tied with scarves to her bedpost. I licked and kissed her slender, snow white skin from neck traversing to her erect and sensitive nipples, then down to her navel. I kissed down her leg and she giggled when my lips touched her ankle, 'that just tickles ' she said.
I took that opportunity to kiss the soles of her feet, which had her erupting in fits of laughter that nobody within earshot could hear.
We liked to make bets and trades all the time, favour for favour. It was 2011 and one of the last Twilight films had dropped. I couldn't stand the series, but Amy wanted to go see it. I would've taken her to see it anyway, but I thought I'd make it a bit more interesting.
The deal was simple - 'I'll take you to see Twilight tomorrow night, but if I'm going to be tortured, then you have to submit to some torture too.' I told her.
She blinked at me and narrowed her eyes, but then smiled, 'okay, fine.'
A part of her knew what my terms would be, but she still cringed in mock horror when I told her she'd have to endure two minutes of tickling on each foot. She sighed, defeated, and told me to 'do your worst...'
I knew her body like nobody else did, and I had her tickling down to a science. Upper thighs, under arms, raspberries for her stomach, and, due to her dancing, her feet and toes required some tactical attention.
I pulled her sock off and she began with the usual complaints, 'please, not the socks'. Eh, no, duh. I then went about tickling my girlfriend's small feet like it was my fucking job.
She threw herself onto her back and laughed helplessly while I worked her left foot, which was trapped between my legs. The trick was to tickle right in the centre of the sole of her foot, the part of her foot she didn't dance on. Just flutter your finger on the centre of her foot and watch her go into hysterics over a very short period of time.
I can't explain to you how hard it made me to have her in such a ticklish predicament. Her feet weren't particularly soft (except for the middle), but she had such a cute, helpless laugh, like she was struggling against it and swallowing her giggles.
So, after about five or six minutes (let's be honest, I wasn't keeping time) of making Amy sing like a bird, I gave up, put her socks back on, and we went about our weird, loveless business once again.
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2009 - the goth years
'I'll stay with him' Leanne told the rest of our gang, while I was sliding down a short wall to sit on my ass. A mixture of booze, fatigue, and a rare Irish heatwave had contributed to my sorry state, and while our gang of teenage goths moved onward to our next drinking spot - Leanne decided to stay with me when I told them I'd have to chill out for a while.
Leanne was 18, and she was what so many teenage girls looked like in the post-American Idiot Green Day haze. Pink hair, light German army jacket, ripped jeans, and of course, a pair of converse that had been scribbled on countless times in pen. She was also the shortest girl in our group, she had to be under 5'0.
We had a fleeting attraction to each other which was moreso about the brain chemicals telling us to fuck in the streets rather than any real connection, but we were friends (and are friends to this day).
I'd tickled Leanne before, and she knew I liked it because she teased me with it on a number of occasions. Years later we had a conversation that went like this - 'you sure tickled my feet a lot' - 'yeah, it was hilarious watching your reaction' - 'really?' - 'yeah' - 'uh, well my feet are right here.'
But this teasy occasion would prove to be one she'd regret.
We were playing around in the grass when I grabbed her right leg and began to pull the converse shoe off her foot. She began her impression of a damsel in distress, screaming and kicking her legs out, but in her comedic timing she made the fatal mistake of kicking the converse shoe off her foot, effectively doing my job for me.
We were falling around in the grass together when I grabbed her shoe and threw it to my side, then she went for it. Big fucking mistake.
Leanne flung herself over me to grab her shoe, but her foot ended up anding in my lap like a little, socked gif. The Pagan Goddess of Tickles was smiling on me today.
I grabbed her ankle between the crook of my arm and my free hand tickled the sole and toes of her foot through a pink sock that couldn't have been any less useful to her.
We both laughed until a friend called us.
Amy
2010 - 2011
Our relationship was strained but we kept finding each other over and over again. Amy had cheated on me, lied to me, and used me so many times that I have absolutely no sane reason for bouncing back to her every few months in my early adulthood.
I was 21 and she was 18, and my thirst for sex didn't even come close to her thirst. She couldn't be satisfied, and there was something in that alone that kept me coming back and trying again tomorrow. Amy and I spent most of our time in her bedroom while her parents were either out of the house. Being a voracious lover of touch and skin, Amy was also one of the most ticklish girls I'd ever met, and she delighted when I tickled her - everywhere but her dancer's feet.
On one occasion I had her completely naked and wrists tied with scarves to her bedpost. I licked and kissed her slender, snow white skin from neck traversing to her erect and sensitive nipples, then down to her navel. I kissed down her leg and she giggled when my lips touched her ankle, 'that just tickles ' she said.
I took that opportunity to kiss the soles of her feet, which had her erupting in fits of laughter that nobody within earshot could hear.
We liked to make bets and trades all the time, favour for favour. It was 2011 and one of the last Twilight films had dropped. I couldn't stand the series, but Amy wanted to go see it. I would've taken her to see it anyway, but I thought I'd make it a bit more interesting.
The deal was simple - 'I'll take you to see Twilight tomorrow night, but if I'm going to be tortured, then you have to submit to some torture too.' I told her.
She blinked at me and narrowed her eyes, but then smiled, 'okay, fine.'
A part of her knew what my terms would be, but she still cringed in mock horror when I told her she'd have to endure two minutes of tickling on each foot. She sighed, defeated, and told me to 'do your worst...'
I knew her body like nobody else did, and I had her tickling down to a science. Upper thighs, under arms, raspberries for her stomach, and, due to her dancing, her feet and toes required some tactical attention.
I pulled her sock off and she began with the usual complaints, 'please, not the socks'. Eh, no, duh. I then went about tickling my girlfriend's small feet like it was my fucking job.
She threw herself onto her back and laughed helplessly while I worked her left foot, which was trapped between my legs. The trick was to tickle right in the centre of the sole of her foot, the part of her foot she didn't dance on. Just flutter your finger on the centre of her foot and watch her go into hysterics over a very short period of time.
I can't explain to you how hard it made me to have her in such a ticklish predicament. Her feet weren't particularly soft (except for the middle), but she had such a cute, helpless laugh, like she was struggling against it and swallowing her giggles.
So, after about five or six minutes (let's be honest, I wasn't keeping time) of making Amy sing like a bird, I gave up, put her socks back on, and we went about our weird, loveless business once again.
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