I'd been tickled before, but those stories are for another time.
It was my sophomore year in college. I'd transferred to WIU in Macomb, Illinois after spending an uneventful year at a small, Catholic college close to home.
I was living in the dorm with my buddy who had also transferred schools. Looking back, I think he knew that I had a thing for tickling and a thing for feet too. Our freshman year together we were like frisky puppies, always wrestling and rough housing with each other. He was an experienced wrestler and I was not. But I had a secret weapon!
He was very ticklish, and if I was losing the wrestling match I was not above tickling him to gain an advantage. Problem was that he absolutely hated being tickled. Out of respect and love for him, I never pushed my fantasy and fetish on him. But he could tell. He knew I was in to feet and tickling. I tickled his socked and bare feet every chance I got. He did the same to me, but only when he had a few beers and bongs in him - which was pretty often, as this was in the late 70's.
One night the two of us went out to the bars with another guy from our dorm floor. This guy, to this very day, is one of my very best friends, like a brother to me. I was just getting to know this other guy. His name was (is? - I still know and see him!) the same as mine - Tom.
I had a crush on him then, and still do. Then as now I knew he was straight, and so I had no illusions about a romantic relationship with him, but damn, was he attractive!
A little shorter than me at about 5-10. In shape, a weight lifter and all around athlete. Dark hair and eyes, an infectious smile, twinkling Irish eyes, beautiful smooth and pale complexion. A seventies style porn mustache. A man's man, the kind of guy that everyone wanted to be friends with. Handsome and a sparkling personality.
I'll cut to the chase...
I was a funnyman, a smartass in college, always trying to make people laugh. We got drunk at the bars and then headed back to the dorm. I was a wise guy all the way back to the dorm.
When we got back to our floor, Tom came to our room. I was still cracking wise. Tom and my roommate (Dan) were sitting in chairs at the foot of my bed. I lay down on my bed, my feet towards them, and continued to make smart ass comments.
Tom, I guess, got sick of listening to my bull and at one point grabbed my foot, my shoe clad right foot, and tried to pull my shoe off. I resisted, even though I secretly wanted him to pull off my shoes, and at that point he said to Dan, " You hold him down and I'll get his shoes off." Dan held my legs down.
With that Tom pulled off my right shoe. He had to untie it first, which for some reason really turned me on. He had tried just pulling it off, but it was too snug and tied too tightly. When he didn't give up, but instead took the time to undo the tight knot, I knew that he wanted to have at my feet. This was a dream, a fantasy finally come true for me. Oh my God, I remember thinking, will he really tickle my feet too? Should I resist? Encourage him? Is that too weird? Will he take off my sock too?
They both sat at the foot of the bed, holding my legs down by my ankles. Tom said "cootchie cootchi coo! " and started tickling the socked sole of my right foot. I resisted, sitting up and grabbing my own feet, covering my soles so he couldn't get at them.
"You hold him down and I'll get his shoes off." said Tom.
With that, Dan jumped on top of me. He pinned my arms down. He was stronger than I and he kept control of me by switching off between holding down my wrists with both his hands and then only one hand, his free hand he used to probe my sides and tummy . He knew exactly where I was most sensitive from our prior wrestling matches. He knew that I was just as ticklish as he was and knew I'd experience that helpless, almost paralyzed feeling if he tickled me just right.
While I struggled with Dan ( I will admit, I did not much resist) I felt Tom working to get my other shoe off. Dan saw that my legs were still somewhat free, as I was offering resistance. He then used his body weight and positioning of his own feet to pin me more effectively to the bed.
Tom tickled both my socked feet now.
I saw the look on his face. The same mischievous look of delight I get when I'm the tickler.
"Should I take your socks off?!"
"No!" I protested.
"Why not?" Tom asked.
"Uh... my feet are really stinky." I lied.
"They are not!" said Dan, incredulous that I would try to escape with such a lie. He knew that I practiced good hygiene and that my size 15 feet never stank.
To this day, decades later, I recall with delight and excitement the look on both their faces. Broad grins and delight in their eyes at my predicament.
I remember well the feeling of Tom's fingers, his rough and strong farm boy hands as they reached up past the top of my black nylon sock, up above my ankle. He grabbed the top of my sock and before he pulled it off I said, "No! Don't take off my socks!"
He stopped, but his hands stayed in place.
"Why not?"
"So you can tickle my bare feet!? That will tickle even more" I cried.
"Should I do it?" he asked Dan, his accomplice in my torture.
"Yes" said Dan. "Take his socks off!"
With that Tom peeled off my socks.
He said coochie coo again. Slowly. He held up and wiggled his fingers, his eyes gleaming as he said it again.
"COOCHI COOCHI COO! IS TOMMY TICKLISH!?"
There's more to this story. But it's late and I'm tired. If anyone enjoyed this and wants to hear the rest, let me know and I'll finish telling it. For now, I'm off to watch the eclipse!
It was my sophomore year in college. I'd transferred to WIU in Macomb, Illinois after spending an uneventful year at a small, Catholic college close to home.
I was living in the dorm with my buddy who had also transferred schools. Looking back, I think he knew that I had a thing for tickling and a thing for feet too. Our freshman year together we were like frisky puppies, always wrestling and rough housing with each other. He was an experienced wrestler and I was not. But I had a secret weapon!
He was very ticklish, and if I was losing the wrestling match I was not above tickling him to gain an advantage. Problem was that he absolutely hated being tickled. Out of respect and love for him, I never pushed my fantasy and fetish on him. But he could tell. He knew I was in to feet and tickling. I tickled his socked and bare feet every chance I got. He did the same to me, but only when he had a few beers and bongs in him - which was pretty often, as this was in the late 70's.
One night the two of us went out to the bars with another guy from our dorm floor. This guy, to this very day, is one of my very best friends, like a brother to me. I was just getting to know this other guy. His name was (is? - I still know and see him!) the same as mine - Tom.
I had a crush on him then, and still do. Then as now I knew he was straight, and so I had no illusions about a romantic relationship with him, but damn, was he attractive!
A little shorter than me at about 5-10. In shape, a weight lifter and all around athlete. Dark hair and eyes, an infectious smile, twinkling Irish eyes, beautiful smooth and pale complexion. A seventies style porn mustache. A man's man, the kind of guy that everyone wanted to be friends with. Handsome and a sparkling personality.
I'll cut to the chase...
I was a funnyman, a smartass in college, always trying to make people laugh. We got drunk at the bars and then headed back to the dorm. I was a wise guy all the way back to the dorm.
When we got back to our floor, Tom came to our room. I was still cracking wise. Tom and my roommate (Dan) were sitting in chairs at the foot of my bed. I lay down on my bed, my feet towards them, and continued to make smart ass comments.
Tom, I guess, got sick of listening to my bull and at one point grabbed my foot, my shoe clad right foot, and tried to pull my shoe off. I resisted, even though I secretly wanted him to pull off my shoes, and at that point he said to Dan, " You hold him down and I'll get his shoes off." Dan held my legs down.
With that Tom pulled off my right shoe. He had to untie it first, which for some reason really turned me on. He had tried just pulling it off, but it was too snug and tied too tightly. When he didn't give up, but instead took the time to undo the tight knot, I knew that he wanted to have at my feet. This was a dream, a fantasy finally come true for me. Oh my God, I remember thinking, will he really tickle my feet too? Should I resist? Encourage him? Is that too weird? Will he take off my sock too?
They both sat at the foot of the bed, holding my legs down by my ankles. Tom said "cootchie cootchi coo! " and started tickling the socked sole of my right foot. I resisted, sitting up and grabbing my own feet, covering my soles so he couldn't get at them.
"You hold him down and I'll get his shoes off." said Tom.
With that, Dan jumped on top of me. He pinned my arms down. He was stronger than I and he kept control of me by switching off between holding down my wrists with both his hands and then only one hand, his free hand he used to probe my sides and tummy . He knew exactly where I was most sensitive from our prior wrestling matches. He knew that I was just as ticklish as he was and knew I'd experience that helpless, almost paralyzed feeling if he tickled me just right.
While I struggled with Dan ( I will admit, I did not much resist) I felt Tom working to get my other shoe off. Dan saw that my legs were still somewhat free, as I was offering resistance. He then used his body weight and positioning of his own feet to pin me more effectively to the bed.
Tom tickled both my socked feet now.
I saw the look on his face. The same mischievous look of delight I get when I'm the tickler.
"Should I take your socks off?!"
"No!" I protested.
"Why not?" Tom asked.
"Uh... my feet are really stinky." I lied.
"They are not!" said Dan, incredulous that I would try to escape with such a lie. He knew that I practiced good hygiene and that my size 15 feet never stank.
To this day, decades later, I recall with delight and excitement the look on both their faces. Broad grins and delight in their eyes at my predicament.
I remember well the feeling of Tom's fingers, his rough and strong farm boy hands as they reached up past the top of my black nylon sock, up above my ankle. He grabbed the top of my sock and before he pulled it off I said, "No! Don't take off my socks!"
He stopped, but his hands stayed in place.
"Why not?"
"So you can tickle my bare feet!? That will tickle even more" I cried.
"Should I do it?" he asked Dan, his accomplice in my torture.
"Yes" said Dan. "Take his socks off!"
With that Tom peeled off my socks.
He said coochie coo again. Slowly. He held up and wiggled his fingers, his eyes gleaming as he said it again.
"COOCHI COOCHI COO! IS TOMMY TICKLISH!?"
There's more to this story. But it's late and I'm tired. If anyone enjoyed this and wants to hear the rest, let me know and I'll finish telling it. For now, I'm off to watch the eclipse!
