This story took place around 5 years ago whilst I was playing football (or soccer) at quite a high level. It was one of my favourite and most frustrating experiences.
The football club owners had recently acquired a women’s football team in the same area. We went from having separate training sessions on different days from the women’s team to having training twice a week at the same time (to save money, I presume).
Due to a long term, repeat injury, I was always in the physio room for treatment after each training session and match. As the women’s team was now training at the same time as the men, we had a shared physio room with 2 trained physiotherapists. I would occasionally be in the room, awaiting my turn whilst some of the female players were being treated first. The normal clothing attire for the players in the treatment room was training top, shorts and white trainer socks or long football socks (depending on what you were more comfortable to train in) but occasionally, some of the players were barefoot if they had an issue with their foot or ankle or if they were half way through getting changed and just popped in wearing their sliders.
I always had to hide my excitement when waiting for my treatment whilst staring up at the physio tables, staring at the bare feet hanging over the edge. Most of the female players were in their mid to late twenties and looked after their feet quite well, due to them being cramped up in football boots.
I never plucked up the courage to tickle any of the feet that were dangling over the edge of the table but one day I experienced one of the best and most frustrating experiences I have ever seen.
I entered the physio room straight after training to try and beat the queue, my normal physio was free so I hoped on the table to have the treatment done on my back. A couple of minutes later, the door opened and one of the female players came in, I couldn’t tell who it was at the time as I was face down but heard her conversation with the other physio complaining of a sharp pain in the arch of one of her feet. I turned my head to see one of the younger players climb onto the table next to me, it was Amy (false name). Amy was around 22/23 years old, blonde hair tied in a ponytail and only around 5 foot 2. We exchanged smiles before I put my head back into the hole in the table to continue my treatment.
The physio went through some standard questions with her whilst she gasped and moaned slightly, I presume he was moving her foot around before he asked her to take her socks off, this got my attention, even though I couldn’t see her feet.
I remember her moaning about how she hated her feet and was embarrassed by them as she leant down to take her socks off.
I moved my head to the side to face her as she lay back on the table, I can clearly remember a nervous look on her face as she gripped the leather on the sides of the table. She fidgeted and flinched a couple of times as the physio moved her foot, it was not a flinch of pain but more of a flinch of ticklishness.
I tried to look down to her feet but my physio was blocking my view as he worked on my side. I looked back at her face, which was now a bright shade of pink as she tried to hold in her giggling, now covering her mouth with her hands.
The physio made a joke about her being ticklish before she gripped the leather on the table firmly and clenched her mouth shut. A few minutes of her wriggling around on the table followed with squeaks and squeals coming from her mouth before he stopped the treatment on her. The next conversation stayed planted in my mind.
“Oh my god, my feet are so ticklish but my toes are like the most ticklish part of me” she said.
“You did well to stay that still” the physio joked. “It only feels like light muscle damage, I will give you a rub then I will have to tape it for training and matches for a while”.
“Just be gentle” she smiled.
The next 5 minutes or so produced some of the loudest shrieks and constant giggling from her mouth as he massaged her foot and toes.
My physio finished my treatment at the same time as her treatment finished but due to my loose fitting shorts and clear arousal, I asked him to rub down my shoulder whilst she climbed off the table and disappeared.
Once my arousal had disappeared, I climbed off the table and put my shirt back on.
I went back virtually every session in a hope to witness Amy’s ticklish feet get worked on but never managed to coordinate our timings together. A few times, I had just missed her and the physio’s were joking about her ticklish feet but I never plucked up the courage to ask them.
The football club owners had recently acquired a women’s football team in the same area. We went from having separate training sessions on different days from the women’s team to having training twice a week at the same time (to save money, I presume).
Due to a long term, repeat injury, I was always in the physio room for treatment after each training session and match. As the women’s team was now training at the same time as the men, we had a shared physio room with 2 trained physiotherapists. I would occasionally be in the room, awaiting my turn whilst some of the female players were being treated first. The normal clothing attire for the players in the treatment room was training top, shorts and white trainer socks or long football socks (depending on what you were more comfortable to train in) but occasionally, some of the players were barefoot if they had an issue with their foot or ankle or if they were half way through getting changed and just popped in wearing their sliders.
I always had to hide my excitement when waiting for my treatment whilst staring up at the physio tables, staring at the bare feet hanging over the edge. Most of the female players were in their mid to late twenties and looked after their feet quite well, due to them being cramped up in football boots.
I never plucked up the courage to tickle any of the feet that were dangling over the edge of the table but one day I experienced one of the best and most frustrating experiences I have ever seen.
I entered the physio room straight after training to try and beat the queue, my normal physio was free so I hoped on the table to have the treatment done on my back. A couple of minutes later, the door opened and one of the female players came in, I couldn’t tell who it was at the time as I was face down but heard her conversation with the other physio complaining of a sharp pain in the arch of one of her feet. I turned my head to see one of the younger players climb onto the table next to me, it was Amy (false name). Amy was around 22/23 years old, blonde hair tied in a ponytail and only around 5 foot 2. We exchanged smiles before I put my head back into the hole in the table to continue my treatment.
The physio went through some standard questions with her whilst she gasped and moaned slightly, I presume he was moving her foot around before he asked her to take her socks off, this got my attention, even though I couldn’t see her feet.
I remember her moaning about how she hated her feet and was embarrassed by them as she leant down to take her socks off.
I moved my head to the side to face her as she lay back on the table, I can clearly remember a nervous look on her face as she gripped the leather on the sides of the table. She fidgeted and flinched a couple of times as the physio moved her foot, it was not a flinch of pain but more of a flinch of ticklishness.
I tried to look down to her feet but my physio was blocking my view as he worked on my side. I looked back at her face, which was now a bright shade of pink as she tried to hold in her giggling, now covering her mouth with her hands.
The physio made a joke about her being ticklish before she gripped the leather on the table firmly and clenched her mouth shut. A few minutes of her wriggling around on the table followed with squeaks and squeals coming from her mouth before he stopped the treatment on her. The next conversation stayed planted in my mind.
“Oh my god, my feet are so ticklish but my toes are like the most ticklish part of me” she said.
“You did well to stay that still” the physio joked. “It only feels like light muscle damage, I will give you a rub then I will have to tape it for training and matches for a while”.
“Just be gentle” she smiled.
The next 5 minutes or so produced some of the loudest shrieks and constant giggling from her mouth as he massaged her foot and toes.
My physio finished my treatment at the same time as her treatment finished but due to my loose fitting shorts and clear arousal, I asked him to rub down my shoulder whilst she climbed off the table and disappeared.
Once my arousal had disappeared, I climbed off the table and put my shirt back on.
I went back virtually every session in a hope to witness Amy’s ticklish feet get worked on but never managed to coordinate our timings together. A few times, I had just missed her and the physio’s were joking about her ticklish feet but I never plucked up the courage to ask them.
Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
