*pre-story rant*
So here I sit, embolden by drink, to relay another story from my past. I do enjoy posting here, as my friends do not get it, my fetish is an object to be the subject of jokes and the idea of liking feet only to be met with quizzical stares. How truly great this community is to provide a lurker like me the ability to unburden myself. This site has always been more than “tickle-porn” to me. Here I find solidarity with people who just want to be themselves. Here are the people who when they see a girl would much rather comment on her feet then breasts, her armpits then ass. I really cannot express how grateful I am to have this outlet. Still many of us are in silence; I speak of the lurkers of which I can be proudly counted. I understand the unwillingness to post, not only here but at Tickle Theater as well (I do not post there as my account is not activated, I used a phony email to register and can no longer remember its password or name) but I hope this post can bring at least one lurker’s response. I have no pretensions of greatness the story to be told here is utterly unremarkable save for its truth. So I end this rant by challenging a lurker, please respond, if not to me than to another story or post that is more captivating. A single post is all it takes to give back to a community that asks for nothing.
*end rant*
The story begins in my place of employ, a local retail store. As the day was slow my co-workers and I were prone to slacking and what better way to slack off than to idly spend the day in the stock room without care for customers and away from the prying eyes of management. This day I happened to be working with a lovely woman she was but only a few years my senior, twenty seven or less by my estimation. She was an average height red head with a bit of a wild strike that was a reflection of her youth. She had tattoos and piercings (none of which I would say were inappropriate) and a care free demeanor that suited the lackadaisical nature of the day. I had worked with her for years and while not finding her to be my type when it came to physical attractiveness I could not help but wonder what her feet looked like. I have said in earlier posts the hardest part of this job was seeing my female co-workers bare feet, but I made it my personal mission.
So we ducked into a stock room and began talking about various points of interest while my mind fought desperately for a reason to get her shoes off (oh dear, I’m not a pervert but well forget it, you judge me) and in God’s infinite mercy or at least to the extent he tolerates “freaks” like us the out was provided. We were discussing various “tricks” we could do, I mentioned I could touch my nose with my tongue, but she could do a trick with her toes! “Really!?” I said, my pulse already quickening. I gestured for her to proceed. She sit on the floor, I followed, and propped out her right foot. She took off the slip on shoe to reveal an ankle sock that soon followed the shoe. To be honest I had no great expectations for her feet but dear lord her foot was amazing. The toes were in order; the shape was uniform and the arch high. I could barley contain my self and reached over for the tickle. Her sole was soft and my fingers glided over it with seemingly no inertia. I racked my middle, ring and index fingers at least three times and tickled around her toes only to realize something.
No laughter.
I looked at her and she looked at me and inquired what I was doing. I was of course a blushing mess, my hand tipped, the game lost I lamented the possible outcomes of my foolish and purely primal endeavor. She informed me that she was not ticklish on her feet (to be fair she was on her sides, after several goosing throughout the years I felt confident in her ticklishness but alas here we are). I stopped but she put her foot in my lap and instructed me to go ahead and try. I used every tickle technique short of a feather (granted these in my experience do not work as well, but I am a sucker for the fantasy) but she was not ticklish at all. She even offered her other foot as proof but I respectfully declined, less she see me as some sort of weirdo. She proceeded to tell me of her sister’s ticklish feet but I was already too embarrassed to press the issue. She put her shoe and sock back on and left shortly after. I was left alone thinking: I should be so lucky all the time.
So here I sit, embolden by drink, to relay another story from my past. I do enjoy posting here, as my friends do not get it, my fetish is an object to be the subject of jokes and the idea of liking feet only to be met with quizzical stares. How truly great this community is to provide a lurker like me the ability to unburden myself. This site has always been more than “tickle-porn” to me. Here I find solidarity with people who just want to be themselves. Here are the people who when they see a girl would much rather comment on her feet then breasts, her armpits then ass. I really cannot express how grateful I am to have this outlet. Still many of us are in silence; I speak of the lurkers of which I can be proudly counted. I understand the unwillingness to post, not only here but at Tickle Theater as well (I do not post there as my account is not activated, I used a phony email to register and can no longer remember its password or name) but I hope this post can bring at least one lurker’s response. I have no pretensions of greatness the story to be told here is utterly unremarkable save for its truth. So I end this rant by challenging a lurker, please respond, if not to me than to another story or post that is more captivating. A single post is all it takes to give back to a community that asks for nothing.
*end rant*
The story begins in my place of employ, a local retail store. As the day was slow my co-workers and I were prone to slacking and what better way to slack off than to idly spend the day in the stock room without care for customers and away from the prying eyes of management. This day I happened to be working with a lovely woman she was but only a few years my senior, twenty seven or less by my estimation. She was an average height red head with a bit of a wild strike that was a reflection of her youth. She had tattoos and piercings (none of which I would say were inappropriate) and a care free demeanor that suited the lackadaisical nature of the day. I had worked with her for years and while not finding her to be my type when it came to physical attractiveness I could not help but wonder what her feet looked like. I have said in earlier posts the hardest part of this job was seeing my female co-workers bare feet, but I made it my personal mission.
So we ducked into a stock room and began talking about various points of interest while my mind fought desperately for a reason to get her shoes off (oh dear, I’m not a pervert but well forget it, you judge me) and in God’s infinite mercy or at least to the extent he tolerates “freaks” like us the out was provided. We were discussing various “tricks” we could do, I mentioned I could touch my nose with my tongue, but she could do a trick with her toes! “Really!?” I said, my pulse already quickening. I gestured for her to proceed. She sit on the floor, I followed, and propped out her right foot. She took off the slip on shoe to reveal an ankle sock that soon followed the shoe. To be honest I had no great expectations for her feet but dear lord her foot was amazing. The toes were in order; the shape was uniform and the arch high. I could barley contain my self and reached over for the tickle. Her sole was soft and my fingers glided over it with seemingly no inertia. I racked my middle, ring and index fingers at least three times and tickled around her toes only to realize something.
No laughter.
I looked at her and she looked at me and inquired what I was doing. I was of course a blushing mess, my hand tipped, the game lost I lamented the possible outcomes of my foolish and purely primal endeavor. She informed me that she was not ticklish on her feet (to be fair she was on her sides, after several goosing throughout the years I felt confident in her ticklishness but alas here we are). I stopped but she put her foot in my lap and instructed me to go ahead and try. I used every tickle technique short of a feather (granted these in my experience do not work as well, but I am a sucker for the fantasy) but she was not ticklish at all. She even offered her other foot as proof but I respectfully declined, less she see me as some sort of weirdo. She proceeded to tell me of her sister’s ticklish feet but I was already too embarrassed to press the issue. She put her shoe and sock back on and left shortly after. I was left alone thinking: I should be so lucky all the time.
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lol..
