MORE stories of Moms and Aunts...a new thread for 2022.

Thanks gents. I miss her regardless of the foot fun we had, as she was warm and entertaining company. She played a huge part in my life, as evidenced by the stories on here, and I’ll always be grateful to her for helping me understand, accept and yes, indulge in my love of tickling. Sleep well, Auntie Sue. Thank you.

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

I will toast to Auntie Sue tonight. Prayers to you, our good friend SmashTV.

It was a few years ago now, but I appreciate the well wishes. In my head, I always imagined my aunt and I having one final extended encounter. We’d be alone, no fear of interruption, and I’d be able to explain and thank her for the impact she had on me. Sadly, it wasn’t to be.

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

SmashTV said:

It was a few years ago now, but I appreciate the well wishes. In my head, I always imagined my aunt and I having one final extended encounter. We’d be alone, no fear of interruption, and I’d beable to explain and thank her for the impact she had on me. Sadly, it wasn’t to be.

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Click to expand...

Hey my friend…. Thank you for commenting on my aunt’s passing and I hope you are able to connect with your aunt at some point in some way…

I was thinking about this “mom and aunt” thread, and although I tickled my aunt, I never had the urge to (and was repelled by) tickling any members of my immediate family. Mother, sister, etc.

But, this thread reminded me…

A family friend had a cute daughter who was a crazed feet tickling maniac! She tickled my mom, my sister, hell, she even tickled me. If you were barefoot around her she would pounce. Also, she would challenge you to make her laugh by tickling her feet. She’d look you straight in the eyes so you’d see you weren’t making a dent. We all tried to break her… my sister, my female cousin, etc. No luck.

I remember we were all chilling and watching TV and she looked at me and said, “your feet are ticklish”. I asked her why she’d thought that. She said, “Everyone here has their shoes off but you.” And she was right.

She was such a feet tickler that I can’t imagine that she didn’t carry some of that through her adult life. I lost touch with her many years ago.

Toesheldback said:

A family friend had a cute daughter who was a crazed feet tickling maniac! She tickled my mom, my sister, hell, she even tickled me. If you were barefoot around her she would pounce. Also, she would challenge you to make her laugh by tickling her feet. She’d look you straight in the eyes so you’d see you weren’t making a dent. We all tried to break her… my sister, my female cousin, etc. No luck.

Click to expand...

Oh, how I wish that I had known her when I was in high school.

Okay, so here’s where it all started for me. Settle in, all - it’s a long one! As a heads up, it’s coming more from a nylon foot kink as opposed to an actual tickling one, though our favourite subject is featured throughout.

From the age of about five, I knew that I liked female stocking feet. I didn’t know why but whenever I saw them, whether in real life, on TV or in magazines, I’d always get a funny but delightful feeling in my 'tummy’. As a child, looking at stocking feet and savouring that inevitable tingle afterward was all I knew, but that all changed in the summer of 1986 when I was 11 years old. My family and I were visiting my aunt in Scotland, and to be honest I wasn't bothered about going. All it meant to me was just a long drive and time away from my friends and computer. However, shortly before the holiday my grandmother - visiting from Scotland - mentioned to my mother that my aunt loved having her feet tickled and massaged.

I’d paid no attention to the conversation beforehand, and it almost instantly moved onto a different topic. However, those words hit me like a lightning bolt and echoed around inside my head. Feet could be tickled, feet could be touched. Some women liked having their feet tickled and touched. My aunt liked having her feet tickled and touched. Suddenly, the holiday sounded a lot more interesting! As it drew closer I often imagined tickling my aunt’s positive responses and encouragement as I tickled her stocking feet, the colour of her tights changing with each daydream! Now, at the time she was a bit of a stranger to me, as I'd not seen her in several years. However, it turned out that she was an absolute joy to be around. A blonde, slim, attractive woman in her late 30s/early 40s at the time, she looked a bit like the English actress Hermione Norris and was blessed with a kind and endearing personality. She’d wear dresses or skirts with greyish white or tan tights, accompanied by flat open toe slippers. My aunt would unwittingly fuel my desires by dangling her slippers from her stocking feet before often discarding them altogether. I noticed her doing this quite early on in the holiday, and quickly grew used to it. When she began dangling her slippers I’d discreetly sneak glances, eagerly anticipating the moment they’d fall to the floor!

Enjoyable as this was, eventually I had the chance to see my aunt’s stocking soles. We’d headed out for the day, but returned to the house after forgetting something. We walked in to find my aunt knelt on the floor to retrieve something from a cupboard. I immediately noticed her white stocking feet tucked beneath her, and as my parents explained why we’d returned I casually walked behind my aunt, pretending to look at something on the table while actually taking in the view of her white stocking soles. They looked every bit as soft and appealing as I imagined, but - despite the tingle now reaching epic proportions - I tried not to stare too much in case I was found out. Much to my pleasure, however, my aunt remained on the floor while talking to my parents, prolonging my enjoyment of her stocking feet.

This was all too good to be true for an 11 year old with a stocking foot fetish, but the tantalising prospect of playing with my aunt’s stocking feet - and how to go about it - constantly occupied my thoughts. My chances were limited as the house would be full or we’d be out during the day, so stealing glances and using my imagination was as good as it got. However, one day my luck changed, and in doing so created a pivotal moment in my life! My sister and I were sat on the floor watching TV while the adults all sat talking on the sofas. My aunt was behind me, shoeless and in greyish white tights, but I focused on the TV and not her stocking feet for fear of being found out. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye I saw my sister reach behind her slightly. Distracted by this I looked to see what she was doing - and my heart nearly stopped!

To my utter disbelief she was tickling the top and instep of my aunt's right stocking foot! My aunt offered no resistance and so my sister continued. Did she know of my aunt's love of foot tickling or was it just coincidence? I didn't know but knew that this was the opportunity I’d been waiting for! I immediately joined my sister and slowly began to tickle my aunt's stocking feet. I was absolutely elated, and couldn’t quite believe what was happening; I was touching stocking feet, and it felt INCREDIBLE! My thoughts were totally absorbed on tickling my aunt’s stocking feet as I sat there transfixed. I loved the softness of her tights as my fingers glided over her stocking soles. The adults thought nothing of it and carried on talking, but I was overjoyed! Despite the intense excitement I felt, I acted as natural and calm as I could in order to appear ‘normal’. My aunt isn't ticklish as such, but enjoys having her feet tickled as it relaxes her. I wanted this to continue for as long as possible, and switched to massaging her feet instead. My fingers explored all areas from her toes to her heels, until my aunt thanked us both for tickling her feet and said how nice it felt. I carried on tickling her feet for a couple of minutes more, all the time with my heart racing like crazy. I couldn't quite believe I was tickling stocking feet, let alone that my aunt was enjoying it! It was every good a bit as I'd imagined, but it would get even better.

Towards the end of the holiday, my parents would go out for some time alone. My uncle would be working late and my cousin was in his bedroom with teenage angst; as such, it was just my aunt, my sister and myself. We both had lots of energy as you do when you're a kid, and so my aunt would often let us run around to wear ourselves out. She had a long bannister that sloped around the staircase, which was also perfect for sliding down. I'd done this a few times when nobody was looking, but asked my aunt if it was okay to do so under the pretence of not having done so before. She was fine with this, but said we could only do it if she went first as she'd never done it herself! She went up a few stairs and swung her right leg over the bannister. Her slippers dangled from her stocking feet as she slid down, but sadly didn’t fall off as she gathered speed! I caught my aunt as she reached the end, my hands on her waist which made me feel a bit tingly in itself! After my sister and I had each slid down the bannister my aunt ushered us back into the front room. However, when she followed us in I noticed that her slippers were missing!

For whatever reason she’d kicked them off and, very conscious that my aunt’s stocking feet were now exposed, I was hit with the sudden realisation that this could be my best chance to tickle them! It was just the three of us (my elder cousin had no interest in playing with two kids), my aunt was happy to keep us entertained and, best of all, there were no other adults present to stop our fun! As I wondered how I'd instigate such tickles, however, in an interesting twist my aunt suddenly began tickling my sister's side! My sister giggled and squirmed as my aunt continued tickling, kneeling over her as she did so. She kept saying that she'd 'found a tickle spot', and so under the circumstances it suddenly seemed natural - and appropriate - to tickle my aunt's feet. I scurried around behind her and rapidly tickled her white stocking soles, saying I'd found my aunt's tickle spot. Like I said, she's not ticklish but I think she was shocked at the sudden tickling sensation! I tickled just under her toes and along her soles, her white tights crinkling, creasing and wrinkling under my fingers. I didn't tickle my aunt for long as I didn't want to get into trouble, but thankfully she took it in good fun, laughing and smiling as she tried to escape.

I remember feeling quite 'drunk' with excitement at all of this, and it seemed to be contagious. My sister told my aunt, who was now standing, that she'd seen her knickers whilst she’d been on the floor. Instead of feeling embarrassed or scolding my sister, my aunt hoisted her skirt and quickly flashed us! Although it was only a brief glimpse I noticed she was wearing red underwear beneath her white tights! I was taken aback at seeing a woman's waist and thighs encased in tights for the first time - not to mention slightly aroused! Despite it being over in seconds I was still able to register what I’d seen, and was fascinated with how her tights seemed to practically wrap around her waist and legs.

My aunt then said she needed to sit down as we'd worn her out, and settled back into the sofa. Not wanting the fun to end I said that, although she was sat down we could still play a game. I quickly lifted her legs out in front of her and said 'Once upon a time there was an aunty who liked having her feet tickled!’. I tickled and massaged her outstretched white stockinged soles as my aunt laughed and smiled, when suddenly she told me to turn around. I did as instructed and suddenly felt the weight of my aunt’s stocking feet on my shoulders, her insteps directly next to my face! My aunt had no idea of the impact this was having on me, but I couldn't believe what was happening! I could just make out the blur of her insteps in my peripheral vision but detected no smell or odour, despite her feet being warm from the tickles they'd had! I realised that I could reach behind me and tickle my aunt’s stocking soles again, and felt her relax and smile as I did so. I tickled her for a few minutes more, but then suddenly had an even better idea....

I asked my aunt to lift her feet off and she initially refused, joking that I was her foot stool and she was comfy. I said I had an idea that she’d like and eventually she relented, lifting her feet from my shoulders. I said that my sister and I were opening a beauty parlour, and that she could be our first customer. My aunt agreed, and I said that my sister would brush her hair (something she'd taken to doing during the holiday), and I would tickle her feet. Happy to entertain us my aunt went along with this, but before we began I said she should put her slippers back on, as if she was coming in from the street. She did just this, and also took her handbag with her too for good measure. While my aunt waited outside I told my sister to get lots of cushions so my aunt was comfy. Once they were all piled up on the floor, we announced to my aunt that we were ready. She knocked on the door and greeted us, saying that she was here for her appointment. We welcomed her and ushered her in, sitting her down against the cushions. I had got into the role of the spokesman, and referred to her as 'madam' and myself as 'sir' throughout the whole event.

‘Good evening, Madam! Which appointments have you come in for today?’ I asked my aunt in a sing-song voice.

‘I’ve come to have my hair brushed and my feet massaged!’ my aunt replied.

‘Very good! My assistant will brush Madam’s hair, while sir will tend to Madam’s feet! Will Madam be having her feet massaged, stroked, rubbed or tickled?'

‘Oooh, tickling! It’s MUCH more relaxing!’

‘Then tickling it is, Madam! Now, if Madam is comfortable then sir will remove her slippers and start tickling Madam’s feet!’

To be honest, my aunt could have chosen any option and I’d have been happy! However, hearing her say that tickling was more relaxing showed me just how much she enjoyed it. I slid my aunt’s slippers from her feet and began tickling her soft stocking soles. Because tickling was my aunt’s preferred option I paid extra attention to my technique, exploring different parts of her feet instead of remaining in one spot. This new dedication and attention to detail obviously made a difference as my aunt commented on my handiwork, saying my touch was 'just right'. Buoyed by this, I had an idea that would potentially take things to another level for me. During the holiday my aunt had worn either tan or greyish white tights, and my preference - then as now - is for black tights. Feeling bold for an 11 year old, but maintaining the 'Sir' character as a defence mechanism to mask my desire, I decided to chance my luck!

'Sir has noticed that Madam has been wearing same coloured tights every day, and thinks that Madam should wear black tights instead!'

I was a bit worried I’d said too much, but my aunt thankfully saw the funny side of this and laughed. However, she sadly - though understandably! - didn't follow up on my suggestion! Relieved, I continued to slowly stroke and tickle her stocking feet for about ten minutes more, savouring each touch before my aunt suggested that my sister and I swap places. I went along with this and brushed her hair so as to not look suspicious, but needless to say I didn't enjoy this as much! As a sidenote, my aunt mentioned the 'black tights instead' comment to my mother a few days later. Although she recalled it with a smile and a laugh, I certainly felt awkward when she said it!

It was soon time for bed, and I lay awake for ages thinking about everything that had just happened. I knew it was something hugely significant, even if my 11 year old mind couldn’t truly appreciate the scale of it. However, despite my youth I instinctively knew that it would be better staying my little secret, as I didn’t want everybody knowing how excited I got over stocking feet. These thoughts were broken when my aunt gently opened the door to check if my sister and were asleep. I noticed that she was still in her stocking feet, and wondered if she'd not bothered putting her slippers back on from before. After my aunt said goodnight, I suddenly thought about things from her perspective; did she know exactly how much I’d enjoyed tickling her stocking feet? My gut instinct was that she'd seen it as nothing more than youthful exuberance, but if she did know....would she have been so happy to let me continue tickling her feet? Furthermore, if she did know my secret, would she let me tickle her again or would this be a one off? I reassured myself that she'd just seen it as harmless childhood fun and nothing out of the ordinary, and eventually drifted off to sleep. However, it turned out that she may have had an inkling....

The following night we were looking at holiday slides on a projector (no Internet in the mid 80s!). My aunt and I sat together on the sofa where it was just the two of us. I'd noticed that she'd kicked off her slippers, and would sneak discreet glances at her stocking feet under the cover of darkness. I then realised that the darkness could help me; I slowly slid my right socked foot over to her left until they were faintly touching. I reckoned that if my aunt said something then I could say that I'd not seen her foot in the dark. My foot remained next to hers for a few minutes, until my aunt stood up and put her slippers back on to get a drink. I was slightly disappointed her slippers had gone back on, and worried that she'd done so after feeling my foot against hers. However, when she returned her slippers were instantly kicked off again, pleasing me immensely. As the lights were still turned off I felt confident enough to slide my foot back over. To my total delight and surprise, my aunt reciprocated and grazed my right foot with her left. I froze with excitement but slowly moved my foot back over, and in response my aunt shuffled slightly in her seat and pressed her left stocking foot against my right! Our feet remained in contact for the rest of the night, sometimes pressing against each other but mainly just faintly touching. Again, I'm sure that my aunt put this down to horseplay and childishness on my part. Regardless, she'll always remain my first indulgence in stocking feet and, as a result, this remains one of my favourite experiences.

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

You are so lucky to have had an aunt like her! Thanks for sharing your experience here.

Toesheldback said:

I was thinking about this “mom and aunt” thread, and although I tickled my aunt, I never had the urge to (and was repelled by) tickling any members of my immediate family. Mother, sister, etc.

But, this thread reminded me…

A family friend had a cute daughter who was a crazed feet tickling maniac! She tickled my mom, my sister, hell, she even tickled me. If you were barefoot around her she would pounce. Also, she would challenge you to make her laugh by tickling her feet. She’d look you straight in the eyes so you’d see you weren’t making a dent. We all tried to break her… my sister, my female cousin, etc. No luck.

I remember we were all chilling and watching TV and she looked at me and said, “your feet are ticklish”. I asked her why she’d thought that. She said, “Everyone here has their shoes off but you.” And she was right.

She was such a feet tickler that I can’t imagine that she didn’t carry some of that through her adult life. I lost touch with her many years ago.

Click to expand...

Interesting experience, i have a cousine that was feet tickler maniac as a child, especially with our aunt's feet, she was so perfidious with her feet lol. A shame we not met since a long time

Over the years, I’ve taken notice that a LOT of little kids seem to be attracted to feet tickling. At Family gatherings, social functions, etc, where little kids are around adult females…if one of the adult women should happen to take off her shoes, it’s a safe bet that before long, one or two of the littler kids will be attracted to her feet, and usually, but not always, it ends up with them tickling her feet.

Following on from my story of my first experience with my aunt (see previous page), I thought it would be interesting to detail my aunt/friend’s mum youthful experiences in chronological order.

When I was aged 12, and every Saturday night I'd visit a friend's house to watch 80s WWF wrestling. His mum Tina was also a fan and would watch it with us. She was about 32, slim with spiky brown hair and brown eyes. She usually wore open toe shoes with tan or white tights which, curiously, she’d refer to as 'stockings' - so maybe that’s actually what they were! She was rarely shoeless in the house, but as she was showing off a lot of foot anyway it didn't matter! One night my friend and I decided to play 'blind man's bluff', with my friend being blindfolded and trying to find us. As a joke I'd decided to put loads of obstacles in his way, such as cushions, chairs etc. I asked Tina if she had any ideas for obstacles, and amongst other things she came up with shoes...

Hmmm. Interesting...

I knew that this was a perfect chance to see her stocking feet, but didn't want to blow my cover. Keeping my voice as calm as possible, I wholeheartily agreed!

'Great idea, Tina! Here, may I...?'

I sat down in front of her, gently touched her calf muscle and lifted her right leg toward me. She seemed fine with this despite wearing a skirt, and once I had her leg straight I grasped her heel in an attempt to get some 'leverage' - not that any was necessary! I slowly pulled off her shoe whilst keeping a grip on her stocking heel, savouring the soft fabric of her tan tights on my hand. I then repeated the same motion with her left leg and slipped her other sandal off, and there she sat - my friend's cool Mum shoeless and in stocking feet! I made sure to put her shoes on the other side of the room so that there was no way she could get them back on. My heart was pounding at the sight of her tan stocking feet, not quite believing Tina had let me take her shoes off. However, to keep thing natural I continued to get on with the game of blind man's bluff, all the while stealing sneaky glances at Tina's stocking feet. They were quite big, I'd estimate about size 5 or 6, and I noticed that there was no toe wiggling or flexing while we played the game. I couldn't complain, though - I was just happy to have her shoes off!

The game was eventually over, and myself and my friend set about putting the place back to normal. I made a beeline for Tina's shoes, but my friend grabbed one before me. Both armed with one shoe we went to put them back on Tina's feet. She accommodatingly stretched her legs out and we placed her shoes back on her feet...albeit left on right, right on left! Tina let out a semi-frustrated sigh and shook them off, insisting that we to do it properly. As we put them on she asked us to be careful of her feet. I fully intended to do it as slowly as possible, maybe 'accidentally' touching sole or instep as I returned her shoe, but the fact she asked us to be careful raised my interest.

'Be careful? Why, are your feet ticklish?' I asked innocently, feeling excited with anticipation at her answer.

'Erm...yes...', she said sheepishly, maybe knowing what was coming next.

'Like this?', I asked, and quickly ran my fingers the length of her tan stocking soles!

She flinched and shot me a dirty look but had a small smile on her face, so I knew she wasn't that mad. I also knew that I'd found out her ticklish spot and, as it turned out, I'd find it again several times over the next few years. After watching the wrestling, her son and I would emulate what we’d seen and wrestle each other. Somehow, this eventually morphed into me having wrestling matches with Tina! I think I suggested it one day, and she was surprisingly quite willing. Whether or not she thought it odd for a grown woman to be wrestling an adolescent I don't know, but if she did she didn't say anything. I remember that she was doing a crossword when I asked, and while she agreed to the match she asked if I'd mind waiting while she finished it. I had no problem with that, but offered to help her 'get ready', insisting that her shoes came off. As ever, she was in her sandal type shoes but was wearing white tights and jeans on this occasion. I slowly slid her sandals from her feet, and waited while she finished her crossword. To be honest, I was hoping she'd take her time as it meant that I could stare at her feet for longer! She had her right leg crossed over her left at the knee but again, there was no toe wriggling or foot flexing to speak of. After about ten minutes - during which time I'd snuck many a peek at Tina's white stocking feet! - we began to wrestle.

Of course, I'd often go for leglocks and things to be near her feet! These matches became a regular thing for us over the years from when I was about 12 to 15 years old, and would follow a set pattern. I'd always say something along the lines of 'Tina, can I take your shoes off and wrestle you?' She'd often say something like 'Well...if you must...', and so I'd take slowly ease her shoes off and wait until she was ready. I never forced it if she said no, but when she agreed she'd never complain about me taking her shoes off. I remember once that she was on her knees, holding my legs while I was wrapped around her. I was up close to her white stocking soles, and so I stared at them while pretending to try and escape. I didn't try too hard, of course, but eventually I could take it no more. I dug in and started tickling her stocking soles, with Tina unable to escape due to my body laying across her knees. I relentlessly tickled her for about thirty seconds - though it felt much longer - my fingers racing up and down her stocking soles until she gave in.

'WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! SubmitsubmitsubmitsubmitSUBMIT! SUBMHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIT! He'sticklingmyfeHEHEHEHEEHEHEHEEHeeet!He'stickling myFEEEEEEEEEEET! STOP! NononnoHOOHHIIAAHAHASTOOOOOPIT!'

So I'd stop, as she'd submitted. Then I'd tickle her feet some more....!

I remember that at times she'd complain that she was slipping around in her tights, and despite my protests - I said that as I was in socks it was equal! - she did it barefoot... and in a leotard! I think it may have been just us alone in the house, as I know my friend wasn't nearby. We ended up in some sort of leglock or another, and her bare foot was near my hand. I reached out to tickle it, and got no response. She said that she could sometimes turn her ticklishness on and off, so did it again and got no reaction, other than an awkward silence! Another time, when I was wrestling my friend I was on the floor directly underneath her stocking foot (she was shoeless, so I'd maybe taken them off earlier). My friend had me in a hold of some sort, but I was happy lying there, gazing up at her tan stocking sole, pretending to try and escape but not putting up any resistence. I'd use her foot to try and escape the hold, using it for 'leverage' to pull myself up, and she never complained once as my hands clasped her feet and toes.

In fact, I remember one time I was in the house alone with her (I was about 14) after my friend had gone out. It just the two of us watching TV, with me sitting next to her. It felt odd being there without my friend, but I went with it. It was during the summer and instead of jeans I was in shorts. As we watched TV she curled her tan stocking feet onto the sofa and in doing so, her toes gently settled against my bare thigh! It was no doubt inadvertent but I didn't say anything because at that moment I was in wonderland! She stayed like that for about 15 minutes, not that there was any movement from her toes, before getting up to get a drink. When she returned she swung her legs up onto the sofa again...but this time on the other side! My friend and I split up when I was about 15 or so, which was a shame as there was no doubt more foot play available. However, I don't think I can complain about my experiences with Tina!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Such a wonderful written story and unforgettable experience

Great story! Thanks for sharing your experience here.

Brilliant smash

This story is about my second experience playing with my aunt’s stocking feet, from when I was 13. She'd unknowingly been the first indulgence of my stocking foot fetish, and I hoped that visiting her again meant another chance to tickle her. As mentioned, she's not ticklish but enjoys having her feet tickled as it relaxes her. As a 13 year old with a stocking foot fetish, this was all I needed! It was late evening time, and I was in the front room of my grandparent’s house with my aunt, sister and great uncle. My aunt was still in her work attire of blue skirt, purple blouse, purple tights and black heels. Soon after arriving, however, she changed her heels for some backless and flat pink open toe slippers. I didn’t see her put them on, let alone knew she’d brought them with her, and thought I’d missed the chance of seeing her stocking feet. Her purple tights were a huge contrast to the white tights of my previous experience, and I hoped she’d eventually kick off her slippers as she’d often done previously. Sadly, however, other than slipping her right foot out to adjust the toe band on her tights, it wasn’t to be.

My aunt had been sitting in an armchair for most of the night, but joined my sister and I on the sofa. She squeezed between us and pulled my sister in for a hug, tucking her legs up behind onto the sofa. I couldn’t believe her stocking feet were within touching distance - albeit whilst still in slippers! However, their flat design revealed a good view of them, allowing me to sneak discreet peeks! Being an attentive sort, my aunt then also pulled me in for a hug, and as such I found myself leaning across her legs with her feet tucked next to my ribs. My aunt continued hugging me, but was now also lightly stroking my shoulder. It occurred to me that if she was stroking my shoulder then I could tickle her feet! It was a similar gesture, and my instinct was that she wouldn’t mind as I knew she loved having her feet tickled and massaged. I placed my fingers near her left stocking foot and slowly began tickling. My tickling fetish hadn’t kicked in fully yet, so just feeling stocking feet was enough to make me happy! The sensation of her tights and soft flesh at my fingertips felt just as good as it had two years prior! As I continued I wondered if my aunt would tell me to stop or comment on me tickling her. She didn't say anything but instead cuddled me tighter, which I took as a sign that she was enjoying it! Encouraged by this, my slow and tentative tickles soon became long sweeping arcs!

I switched from foot to foot, and must have tickled her for about an hour or so, never once looking at what I was doing so as not to appear weird. However, when I finally plucked up the courage to examine my handiwork I realised that I'd been tickling her insteps and not her soles! This disappointed me as I felt that it somehow lessened the impact, but it turned out that I needn’t have worried. My parents had just come into the room so I abruptly stopped tickling my aunt’s feet, but she continued stroking my shoulder. My mother noticed this and asked if I was enjoying it. Before I could answer my aunt said with a big smile 'I hope so; I've been tickling his arm while he's been tickling my feet!'.

The adults all laughed but I felt a bit embarrassed, as if I'd had my secret exposed. During the laughter I covered my embarrassment by saying to my aunt ‘So you still enjoy having your feet tickled, then?’, to which she nodded and laughed. A short while later we headed back to the caravan we were staying in, and I replayed the incident over and over in my head. While I was pleased to have tickled my aunt’s feet, I was hopeful that neither she nor my parents would think it was weird. However, something about the way she’d mentioned me tickling her feet made me think she was okay with it. Nothing else was said about it though, and any embarrassment was soon forgotten about. The tickling, however, stayed with me for the rest of the holiday! If only she hadn’t kept her slippers on...

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

I got a lot of catching up to do here! Haha!

I also hope this thread extends beyond 2023!

I am going back to the very early seventies; I can’t remember my age exactly, but I was at primary school, and was maturing, and well into to puberty. The very feelings I had were still there, but now even stronger than ever. I was a very typical boy just turning into my teenage years. Without going into too much detail, you know what I mean! Women in tights and nylons were every where in those days, in films, and on the street. It would drive me crazy!

So, my Aunty must have been in her early 30s, as she was slightly older than her sister, and yet to have her first child. She was a career woman working for an Oil company. She moved to Canada sometime in her mid-thirties, so the picture in my head of her looks were easy to retain.

She had shoulder length jet back hair, and she wore glasses with sort of secretary shaped rims. She was slim, and I can vividly remember her gorgeous legs. She was married to Uncle Ron, and they lived in Nottingham. I didn’t see her very often, but when I did, she was the loveliest fun generous lady I have ever known. I was very fond of her.

My father walked out on me, and my Mum when I was about two, so she had a soft spot for me. We lived on the West coast and my grandparents owned a pub. So when the split happened, we moved in with my landlord grandparents. The pub was small, a proper old country pub, and there was a small sitting room for us at the rear of the pub. I remember things were a bit tight, but we all managed.

It must have been a Friday lunch time, and traveling to The Central Train station to meet Uncle Ron and Aunty Ann.
I felt an air of excitement as my gran, and of course Mum were eager to see them, as it had been a while since we last visited. I remember there had been plans for a knee’s up in the pub, and granddad had asked the local band to play in the pub that Friday night for a sort of home coming party. Aunt's old friends would be invited, so it was a great atmosphere.

My Mum drove us back to the pub where Gran and grandad were waiting. It was an afternoon of chat and catching up. I remember looking in the mirror and seeing a big blob of bright red lipstick where Aunt had planted a big kiss on my forehead when she got off the train.

Going back to the two ladies’ attire, both had dresses on that day with their customary tan tights as they normally always did then.

I sat back on my own as the adult relations got together over tea and conversation. My thoughts went into overdrive as my aunt looked so delicious. I wondered if she was as ticklish as her sister was. I had seen Aunt barefoot before, and her feet looked gorgeous.

I know she was the same shoe size as my Mum, size 6, and her toes were perfectly shaped with a deep arch. I remember once while visiting my uncle and aunts, I was playing with model cars on the floor, and staring at theirs, and her feet while dreaming about running my fingertips under her soles. I never did get the chance until later.

There was unpacking up in the spare room, and lots of washing of hair, and dressing up that early Friday evening. I could smell the odour of perfume, and my granddad was in the bar getting things ready. I didn’t see my grandparents much as my bed time was before the pub's closing time. I could always hear chatter and laughter when I retired to bed. It was nice to hear, and I was used to it.

The adults all came down from dressing up, and there in front of my eyes was aunty Ann looking sensational. She had on a blouse and tight black slacks, and semi high heels, but what caught my attention was the colour of the tights that she wore underneath, a dark brown, almost a deep nut colour.

It was about 7pm and my Mum said, “Okay love, you can stay up a while until 9, but then I want you off to bed.” She instructed, “I will sit with you until then, but I want to spend time with your aunt and uncle, so no staying up after that.”

Then aunt Ann butted in to say, “I'll sit with him since we haven’t spent any time together.”

She came across, and gave me a hug. That was music to my ears. If there was anyone I would rather be looking after me, it was her.

The rest of them went of to the bar, and my Mum returned a few minutes later with a gin and tonic for my aunt.

“Have fun you two.”

Mum left us alone in the small lounge. Aunt sat on the sofa, and crossed her legs. I could see her arch just showing above her shoe line. The colour of the nylon was mesmerizing. There was idle chit chat about me enjoying school, but all I could think about was her feet. and how could I get her to take off her shoes. That would be enough for me just to see her barefooted.

We had about an hour to kill when my aunt said, “Would you like to play a game before bedtime, love?”

“Oh yes. Please,” I replied.

“What do you want to play?” She asked.

Then my mind went into over drive.

“Can we play snap with forfeits?” I replied.

We had played it before at school, but instead of having to say, run around the playground, my plan for my aunt's feet came to mind. Also coming into effect was the gin and tonic, which made my aunt more lovely, and friendly.

“How do you play that, love?” She asked.

“Easy. We each write a forfeit down on three pieces of paper, fold the paper, and lay them down. The loser picks one, and has to stick to the forfeit. Okay" Are you up for that?”

“Yep, of course, love.”

“Wait here aunt.”

I ran upstairs, grabbed my pack of cards, and a piece of A4, and then I returned down to the sitting room. I tore off 6 pieces of paper, and handed my aunt a pen. I went to the table, and wrote on one piece. "You must drink your drink from the other side of the glass." The other piece, "You must do a twirl 6 times without stopping." Then, the last one, my stomach was churning, "You must allow me to tickle your feet." That was the one. That was it. Would it work? My plan was set.

We started.

“SNAP” was the shout as a heart on heart was laid. I let my aunt win.

“Ok aunt, what do I have to do?”

I chose one of the three pieces of paper. I opened it, and showed her. I had to get her to read it, as I couldn’t read her handwriting.

“You have to rub your tummy, and pat your head 20 time with out stopping.” She instructed me. I did it, not very well, but I did it.

“Snap!” A spade went down on a spade.

She won again. I picked up paper two. I showed it to her.

“You have to go to the back of the bar, ask your Mum for another drink, and bring it back to me.”

I ran off and did exactly as she had asked.

This time I would have to win. The clock was ticking, and it was getting on, so I knew I would be running out of time.

“Snap!” Two aces, but I was quicker. I looked at the pieces of paper and I knew which was which. I was so excited. She picked one. It was the one. I couldn’t believe it. She opened it, and I looked at her.

Her eyes grew large behind her glasses, and exclaimed, “What? No way! I'm very ticklish, so I couldn’t stand it!”

She grabbed another piece of paper.

“Sorry. I picked the wrong one. I want this one.”

She looked a bit nervous.

“No aunty. You picked that one. I did my forfeits,” I pointed out.

“But that’s just not fair!”

She sounded convincing.

“I won’t be able to let you.”

I looked at her.

“Honestly, love. I can’t.”

“Try aunty. Let’s try.”

I took the initiative, and sat at her feet. She put her head in her hands.

“This is not fair,” she said.

“I won though, aunty!”

I looked down to the shoe on her right foot. I picked up her foot up in my hand, and took a hold of the heel of her shoe. I gave it a tug, but she cliched her toes inside to stop me removing her shoe. I tried harder, and then with a swish of nylon, it came off. There was the beautiful thing, a lovely dark brown, and the reinforcing toe was even more of a deeper brown. Her arch looked sensational! I was in nirvana, and if nothing else happened that night, then I would have gone to bed very happy.

She still had her head in her hands, and she opened her fingers to peep through them.

“Here is your forfeit aunty.”

I ran my finger over her sole. She let out a very quick little scream, and before I knew it, she had pulled back her foot away, and back into her shoe.

“Aunty, well that wasn’t really fair of you. That was hardly a tickle.”

“You’re all done. You're off to bed anyway. I won’t be playing that game with you again,” she laughed.
Just then, Uncle Ron walked in.

Sensing something was going on, she asked, “What are you two up to then?”

“Nothing. He's off to bed, and I'm taking him up.”

I led them up the stairs. My stomach was still in turmoil. I would dream about that moment all night. My aunt instructed me to put on my pajamas, and I went off to the loo for a wee. I was startled to find Uncle Ron behind me.

“What were you two playing then?” He asked in a whisper.

“We were playing forfeit snap, and I won, but aunty cheated. She didn’t do her forfeit.”

I sounded disappointed.

“What was the forfeit?”

“I had to tickle her feet, but she wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh, I see,” said uncle Ron.

How I wasn’t completely embarrassed, I don’t know? I think I could smell the alcohol, and took advantage of the friendly approach of my uncle. We both walked back to the bedroom where my aunt was puffing up the pillows.

“Climb in then, love.”

My aunt pushed me to the sheets.

“Pisst!” My uncle waved me towards him, and cupped his hands around my ear. Then what he said would forever be engraved in my memory. He whispered in my ear, “Let's make her do her forfeit.”

He turned on my aunt, grabbed her, and threw her down face first onto my bed. He straddled her calves, and put his arms down on her back. Her legs were sticking out form underneath my uncle.

“Ron! What are you doing? Let me up!” She shouted at him.“Ron! What the hell!”

My aunt was trapped.

“This poor lad said you didn’t let him act out your forfeit. In my book, you cheated.”

“Go on son. Tickle her feet.”

I was sweating. I couldn't believe what I had heard, and his invitation was beyond all expectations that evening.

“Ron, no! You better not! Let me up. Let me up! Please! Please!” She was pleading.

My member grew rock hard under my pjs. I stepped to the end of the bed. Her shoes were on.

“You better take off her shoes,” my uncle giggled. This was my favourite aunt, completely trapped, and her feet were at my mercy.

I removed her left shoe, and then her right shoe. This time she was begging with my uncle. Her nylon clad feet were pointing to the floor, and her toes were curled up for some sort of uncontrolled guard position that gave me access to her soles and arches.

I was dizzy. I could hardly breath I was in a trance. It then started.

“AHHHHHHHOHHHHHHOOOOOONOOOO!!!”

THE SCREAM VIBRATED AROUND THE BEDROOM. I felt the softness of the nylon as I danced my fingers over the deep brown arch of her right foot. I could barely keep control of what was going on in my groin. When I stopped tickling, I could hear my aunt breathing quickly.

“Ron! Let me go! Please! Please let me go!”

There were a few swear words, which was not very appropriate in front of a youngster. But she was desperate.

Ron looked around with a huge smile on his face. He nodded towards her other foot.

“Let her have the little piggies,” he laughed. “That will teach her to cheat.”

I think he was enjoying this. I was now trembling all over. I don’t think my uncle noticed as he was tiddly with beer.

Again, she pleaded, “Get off of me now!”

She shouted my name!

“Please don’t. Please don’t. I'll buy you that toy you wanted.”

I wasn’t interested in any toy. I knelt at her foot, which was just at face level.

I took my thumb, and forefinger, and squeezed her big toe.

“This little piggy went to market.” Then her next toe. “This little piggy went home.”

All the time my aunt was wailing, and pleading with my uncle.

The next toe, “This little piggy had roast beef, and this little piggy had none.”

I squeezed her second to last toe.

“OOOOOHOOOOOHOOOH! NOOOOOOO!”

She was laughing so hard.

I got to her last toe, and squeezed it. “And this little piggy went WEWEWEWEWEWEWE!”

My fingers went into overdrive, up and down her sole to the tops of her toes, to her heel, and back to her arch. I took full advantage. My aunt was thrashing around on the bed. She was in complete hysterics.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANONONONONONO!” RANG ROUND THE ROOM!

She choked, and uncle said, “Okay, that will do now. I think she's been taught a lesson, don’t you?”

He was still in such a good mood. He climbed off my aunt, and she was a complete wreck on my bed.

I ran to the toilet and locked to door where I exploded in ecstasy over the most amazing experience. I cleaned myself, and went back to the bedroom. My aunt and uncle were arguing, but he still had a grin of a Cheshire cat. My aunt’s hair was all over the place, and her makeup had run.

“You two are just totally out of order!”

She didn’t look very happy. Unfortunately, as I would never want to upset my aunty, I think on that particular night I just may have. Defiantly, my uncle crossed the line, and I bet they argued for weeks afterward.

I went off to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. The bar downstairs was loud, but all I could think about was my lovely aunt trashing around on my bed while I tickled her soft gorgeous arches. That was the only time I ever got near her feet again until she emigrated.

She does, however, have another sister!

Great story Purbeck, thanks for sharing.

I recently posted the below in another thread, and realised I could technically share it here as well. It’s not about an aunt or mother, but is about my Godmother. She’s a family friend of decades gone by, although I’ve never been too close to her. She’s a curvy lady, brunette with brown eyes, looks a bit like Sigourney Weaver and would often take her shoes off when visiting, revealing some shapely stocking feet. Those same stocking feet were possibly tickled by her new - and relatively short lived! - partner many years ago in the mid 90s, when shrieks of laughter and protesting erupted from the front room one night.

I was in my room playing on my computer with her son, who matter of factly said ‘He’s probably tickling her feet’, which made me think it wasn’t the first time that this had happened. I was naturally intrigued and curious as to whether or not this was true, but didn’t want to ask too many questions in case it looked weird!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Not all attempts to tickle a Mom turn out great...

I was perusing some of JohnJo's pictures, wishing I had a woman like that in my life...when I remembered that I did, sort of. A lonnnnng time ago.

Brenda. We were both in our early twenties. Brenda was about 5'8, and very cute. A bit heavy, but carried it well (she loved tight tops and jeans). She also loved sex, and it didn't take her long to figure out that in our relationship, there was a direct correlation between tickling and great sex. I remember her stating, early on, that "if I only have to put up with some tickling for that, I'll take it!" (She loved sex in a certain position, and, um...let's just say she got a lot out of it.) As for being ticklish, her feet were maybe only a 6, while her upper body was a 10. Make that 11.

Brenda loved to play it up...she would come into my apartment in jeans, heels, and tan nylons...kick off her shoes, and stradle me while I sat on the couch. We'd start to make out, and she would whisper something like "Now don't you DARE tickle my feet" while my hands were already touching her stockinged soles.
Of course, I started stroking her feet, she started giggling and protesting, and I soon had her nylon feet trapped in some position on the couch. Then...we soon had all of our clothes off...

This went on for a good 9 months, but I knew it would end sooner or later. Brenda was a smart girl, but she had no drive or ambition. Her personal life, especially her finances, was a mess. I tried to help her, but she wasn't interested in changing her outlook/attitude on life. She lived week-to-week, paycheck-to-paycheck, taking more than she gave. She had her car repossessed while we were dating.

She lived with just her mom, who was barely in her 40's and was just as hot as her daughter. I didn't see too much of her, as Brenda almost always came to my place. Our relationship ended at her cousin's wedding. At one point her hot, shoeless mom came off the dance floor and propped one pantyhosed foot up on an empty chair at our table. I made some mention to Brenda that we/I should tickle her mom....and Brenda lost her shit. Freud would have a field day with that reaction. She accused me of ("I KNOW you want to FUCK my MOM!), etc...and that was that. But it was fun while it lasted, although I never got to tickle her mom...

Jeez! I’m no psychiatrist, but I think Brenda had some unresolved issues...!

This is my next story of tickling my aunt’s feet. It’s about a year on from the last story, and took place when I was 14. At the time, my aunt was in charge of an old people's residential home, and lived onsite in a flat. My grandmother was a resident there as she was getting frail, and it made sense for her to be near my aunt. During our stay my family and I would always pop down the hall to visit her before and after we went out. This particular day we'd gone to an outdoor market with my aunt in tow, and due to the nice weather had lunch outside. We sat at a picnic table, me diagonally opposite to my aunt, and as we ate I noticed she kept dipping her white stocking feet in and out of her shoes. I'd not seen her feet during the holiday, but tickling them had been on my fourteen year old mind constantly! The dipping display only increased my desire, but I had absolutely no idea how I'd achieve it with my family around. This thought stayed with me all the way home, as did the image of my aunt's dancing stocking feet.

However, my dilemma was solved for me upon arriving back at my aunt’s house. My parents announced that they were going to visit my nan, and my sister agreed to go with them. My aunt said that she was returning to her flat, and with my uncle out elsewhere I knew that this could be my only chance to tickle her! I said I’d go back to the flat with my aunt, who was happy for me to do so. She was wearing a white blouse, bottle green trousers and white tights, but had changed from her heels into a pair of emerald green slippers. I sat in a big rocking chair while my aunt sat across the room on a sofa. As I wondered how to change the conversation onto feet, my aunt asked if I was comfortable enough in the rocking chair. I said yes and, more to keep the conversation flowing than anything else, asked if she was comfortable on the sofa. She said yes, but complained that whenever she sat on the rocking chair her feet always got stuck underneath...

YES! She’d just given me an opening, and I decided to seize the opportunity.

'Oh, speaking of feet, that reminds me; do you still like to have your feet tickled?'

There. I'd said it. I'd blurted it out very fast, but I'd said it! My heart raced as I waited for my aunt's response.

'Oh, yes, very much so!' replied my aunt, a big smile on now her face.

Confident and nervous in equal measure, I took the plunge and asked the question I’d wanted to ask all holiday.

'Would you like me to tickle your feet for you now?" I asked, trying to keep my voice natural.

She readily agreed to this, laughing and smiling as she shuffled her feet from her slippers. I slid the rocking chair closer and she stretched her legs out, placing her feet on the edge of my knee. I happily began tickling the soles of her stocking feet, that wonderful material at my fingertips once more! I tickled my aunt’s feet slowly in order to savour the feeling, and after a few minutes asked if she was enjoying it. My aunt replied that it felt lovely - although to be fair, the dreamy smile on her face told me all that I needed to know! However, she warned me that she had a verruca on her right foot and asked that I be careful of it.

Perfect. You see, this gave me the excuse to sit directly opposite her under the pretence of seeing whereabouts the verruca was. If I was tickling my aunt's feet, then I'd need to see them to avoid her verruca, right? I told my aunt that I’d need to see what I was doing, and swung the rocking chair around so that I directly faced my aunt. I lifted her white stocking feet onto my lap and continued lightly tickling. I tickled from her toes to heels, insteps, ankles, the balls of her feet...no spot left untouched. I savoured the whole moment; this woman, who three years prior had been my first proper indulgence in my stocking foot fetish, was lying there in a trance like state as my fingers slid over her stocking soles.

It was incredible. I looked at her while I tickled and saw a huge smile on my aunt's face as she reached an almost dreamlike quality! I had a big smile on my face as well, as I was living one of my dreams! It was wonderful, I went up her soles, traced her insteps, stroked her heels; incredible, as I say. At one point, my aunt slumped even further back in her chair, saying it was 'Bliss'! Indeed it was; for us both! Sadly, all good things had to come to an end, and all too soon my family came back from my grandmother's. I honestly can't remember if they saw me tickling my aunt's feet, or if I'd quit while I was ahead. However, the fact that I'd had another taste of her stocking feet only made me hungry for more! Thankfully, I wouldn't have to wait for long....

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Great stories guys, thanks for sharing.

I have an "Aunt" well, she not blood related, but she has been a family friend for such a long time that we call her our "Aunt." And for years growing up I wanted to and actually got to tickle her feet. I don't have a lot of time to write, but this is story has been on my mind for as long as I can remember and I keep getting reminded to write it every time I see this post.

Her name was Kelly and she came over for dinner one night bearing pizza and cheese sticks. It was June 12, I'll never forget that date because It was explosive. I was young but, I just remember that I was scouting out ways to to tickling Kelly's feet. It was all I had my mind set on to do that night. I had long dreamed to tickle Kelly's feet but it wasn't until just recently that I that I made up my mind to do it.

After we sat around and had diner just talked about random stuff. I think it had to do with school. I remember looking down and seeing Kelly's bare feet under the table. I needed an I an excuse to get under the table to try and tickle her feet. So I dropped my napkin, but instead of just bending down to pick it up, I went all the way under the table.

Her feet were crossed at the ankles and with a gigantic surge of adrenaline I tickled one of her arches.

"Ahhhhh." She responded.
"Are you t-t-ticklish?" I stammered out as I tickled her some more.
"Yes!" Was all she said. But I didn't let up tickling her feet. I was tickling both arches until she said.'
"So your goal is to tickle me huh?" With that she pulled her feet back and stood up. When she came back we resumed talking and then out of somewhere in my crazy hormone raging state I asked
"Aunt Kelly?"
"Yes?"
"Can I tickle you on your feet?
"Why?" She asked. I got real sheepish at this point.
"I donna know."
"You want to see if I'm ticklish? You want to play with my feet and see if you can make me laugh? Is that it you little critter. (citer was my nickname)." She answered!!!!
I started to go under the table again and she stopped me.
"Here." She pulled a chair up between us propped her feet up on it.
I started tickling her soles up and down with my fingers, giving her spider tickles and tickling her toes. I guess Iwas looking serious because I remember Kelly saying something like
"You are really serious about getting me to laugh."
She cracked a smile and cocked her head sideways and watched me tickle and play with her feet.
She suddenly said, "Let's stop for a minute." I need a break and I'm not even laughing yet. Let's do this, let set a timer for one minute. If you can break me and get me to laugh in one minute you get two scopes of ice cream for desert. If you don't, just one. Deal?"
I'm think I nodded. She grabbed an egg timer off of the stove and set it.
"OK....go!"I have an "Aunt" well, she not blood related, but she has been a family friend for such a long time that we call her our "Aunt." And for years growing up I wanted to and actually got to tickle her feet. I don't have a lot of time to write, but this is story has been on my mind for as long as I can remember and I keep getting reminded to write it every time I see this post.

Her name was Kelly and she came over for dinner one night bearing pizza and cheese sticks. It was June 12, I'll never forget that date because It was explosive. I was young but, I just remember that I was scouting out ways to to tickling Kelly's feet. It was all I had my mind set on to do that night. I had long dreamed to tickle Kelly's feet but it wasn't until just recently that I that I made up my mind to do it.

After we sat around and had diner just talked about random stuff. I think it had to do with school. I remember looking down and seeing Kelly's bare feet under the table. I needed an I an excuse to get under the table to try and tickle her feet. So I dropped my napkin, but instead of just bending down to pick it up, I went all the way under the table.

Her feet were crossed at the ankles and with a gigantic surge of adrenaline I tickled one of her arches.

"Ahhhhh." She responded.
"Are you t-t-ticklish?" I stammered out as I tickled her some more.
"Yes!" Was all she said. But I didn't let up tickling her feet. I was tickling both arches until she said.'
"So your goal is to tickle me huh?" With that she pulled her feet back and stood up. When she came back we resumed talking and then out of somewhere in my crazy hormone raging state I asked
"Aunt Kelly?"
"Yes?"
"Can I tickle you on your feet?
"Why?" She asked. I got real sheepish at this point.
"I donna know."
"You want to see if I'm ticklish? You want to play with my feet and see if you can make me laugh? Is that it you little critter. (citer was my nickname)." She answered!!!!
I started to go under the table again and she stopped me.
"Here." She pulled a chair up between us propped her feet up on it.
I started tickling her soles up and down with my fingers, giving her spider tickles and tickling her toes. I guess Iwas looking serious because I remember Kelly saying something like
"You are really serious about getting me to laugh."
She cracked a smile and cocked her head sideways and watched me tickle and play with her feet.
She suddenly said, "Let's stop for a minute." I need a break and I'm not even laughing yet. Let's do this, let set a timer for one minute. If you can break me and get me to laugh in one minute you get two scopes of ice cream for desert. If you don't, just one. Deal?"
I'm think I nodded. She grabbed an egg timer off of the stove and set it.
"OK....go!"
Okay, here is the screwed up part about my memory at that minute. I have no idea if she laughed. I don't really remember much except the feelings that it brought me to just tickle her feet. I remember how incredibly disappointed I was when she finally left. I remember trying to get more tickling but it just never worked out again that night. I tried to get her on the couch, but the second I touched her feet, she would pull away. But that was the very first time I tickled her feet.I have an "Aunt" well, she not blood related, but she has been a family friend for such a long time that we call her our "Aunt." And for years growing up I wanted to and actually got to tickle her feet. I don't have a lot of time to write, but this is story has been on my mind for as long as I can remember and I keep getting reminded to write it every time I see this post.

Her name was Kelly and she came over for dinner one night bearing pizza and cheese sticks. It was June 12, I'll never forget that date because It was explosive. I was young but, I just remember that I was scouting out ways to to tickling Kelly's feet. It was all I had my mind set on to do that night. I had long dreamed to tickle Kelly's feet but it wasn't until just recently that I that I made up my mind to do it.

After we sat around and had diner just talked about random stuff. I think it had to do with school. I remember looking down and seeing Kelly's bare feet under the table. I needed an I an excuse to get under the table to try and tickle her feet. So I dropped my napkin, but instead of just bending down to pick it up, I went all the way under the table.

Her feet were crossed at the ankles and with a gigantic surge of adrenaline I tickled one of her arches.

"Ahhhhh." She responded.
"Are you t-t-ticklish?" I stammered out as I tickled her some more.
"Yes!" Was all she said. But I didn't let up tickling her feet. I was tickling both arches until she said.'
"So your goal is to tickle me huh?" With that she pulled her feet back and stood up. When she came back we resumed talking and then out of somewhere in my crazy hormone raging state I asked
"Aunt Kelly?"
"Yes?"
"Can I tickle you on your feet?
"Why?" She asked. I got real sheepish at this point.
"I donna know."
"You want to see if I'm ticklish? You want to play with my feet and see if you can make me laugh? Is that it you little critter. (citer was my nickname)." She answered!!!!
I started to go under the table again and she stopped me.
"Here." She pulled a chair up between us propped her feet up on it.
I started tickling her soles up and down with my fingers, giving her spider tickles and tickling her toes. I guess Iwas looking serious because I remember Kelly saying something like
"You are really serious about getting me to laugh."
She cracked a smile and cocked her head sideways and watched me tickle and play with her feet.
She suddenly said, "Let's stop for a minute." I need a break and I'm not even laughing yet. Let's do this, let set a timer for one minute. If you can break me and get me to laugh in one minute you get two scopes of ice cream for desert. If you don't, just one. Deal?"
I'm think I nodded. She grabbed an egg timer off of the stove and set it.
"OK....go!"
Okay, here is the screwed up part about my memory at that minute. I have no idea if she laughed. I don't really remember much except the feelings that it brought me to just tickle her feet. I remember how incredibly disappointed I was when she finally left. I remember trying to get more tickling but it just never worked out again that night. I tried to get her on the couch, but the second I touched her feet, she would pull away. But that was the very first time I tickled her feet.
Okay, here is the screwed up part about my memory at that minute. I have no idea if she laughed. I don't really remember much except the feelings that it brought me to just tickle her feet. I remember how incredibly disappointed I was when she finally left. I remember trying to get more tickling but it just never worked out again that night. I tried to get her on the couch, but the second I touched her feet, she would pull away. But that was the very first time I tickled her feet.

This story take place a few days after the previous experience. Tickling my aunt's stocking feet as they lay in my lap had been incredible, and I was keen to repeat the experience. However, as the holiday was nearing its end I knew that my chances were limited. My family were out for the day, and more out of teenage laziness than anything else I'd stayed indoors. Consequently, it was a pleasant surprise when my aunt came back for lunch! She was wearing a black cardigan over a yellow top with a black and white check skirt, greyish white tights and black heels. As I said, she lived and worked on the site of the care home, so it made sense for her to eat in her flat. After she’d greeted me and offered to make me some lunch, I had the sudden realisation that we were alone. With luck, maybe I could tickle her feet again!

Whilst she was in the kitchen making lunch, I played out several potential scenarios in my mind. Maybe she'd take her shoes off and I could offer to massage and tickle her feet? She’d happily accepted the other day, so surely she'd not think it was weird? Or maybe she'd even ask me to tickle her feet for her, as she liked it when I did it? I snapped out of these thoughts as my aunt returned with the sandwiches and settled on the armchair opposite. Her shoes remained on her feet as we sat there eating and talking, when suddenly it came to me; just confront the problem head on! I waited for a break in the conversation, took a deep breath and went for it.

'Would you like to have your feet tickled?'

I was nervous asking, as I was worried that my aunt would find it weird. However, she instead replied with a curious smile and a cooing noise of approval; my gamble had paid off! She shuffled her feet from her shoes and wriggled them in mid air. My heart was beating fast as I grabbed a chair from the dining table and placed it in front of my aunt. I couldn’t believe my luck; my aunt and I were alone with no chance of interruption, and she was willingly letting me tickle her feet! Trying to remain calm I sat on the chair and patted my lap, which was exactly where my aunt happily placed her white stocking feet! However, so I could also admire her stocking soles whilst tickling them I moved her feet further down onto my thighs. Without any further hesitation I began tickling my aunt’s feet, gently tracing doodles on her soft stocking soles. I tried not to stare too much as I tickled, but it wasn’t easy! However, I saw my aunt visibly relax as I tickled her feet, which reassured me that she was happy for me to continue. I explored the length of her delightful feet, switching from her toes to heels to insteps to soles to ankles.

I made small talk with my aunt as I tickled her, with the aim of hopefully masking my excitement. However, I realised that her responses were getting shorter and quieter before often leading to long silences. I looked up from her white stocking feet and saw that her eyes were shut and she had a dreamy smile on her face! She occasionally murmured how good it felt to have her feet tickled and how she could easily fall asleep. I used this to my advantage, and asked her which was the favourite part of her feet to be tickled. I was enjoying myself immensely, but wanted to hear from my aunt the things she enjoyed about having her feet tickled. My aunt pondered my question briefly, before replying that it was her insteps. To indicate this, she helpfully ran her toes the length of both insteps, causing a delightful swishing sound! I took the lead and proceeded to slowly tickle her insteps simultaneously, prompting a soft moan of approval from my aunt! As I continued, my aunt stirred slightly and commented on my handiwork.

‘Oh, this is so nice, your touch is just right! You’re very good at tickling, but I hope that there’s not a bad smell coming from my feet!’

I assured her that there was no odour coming from her feet, and to prove it I lifted them to my nose and sniffed just under her toes! I was caught up in the moment, but thought it would be okay to do this as I’d been tickling my aunt’s feet for some time now. My aunt laughed at this, thankfully, seeing the funny side of what I’d just done.

‘Eeeeewwww! I can’t believe you just did that!’ she said with a smile.

‘Oh thats okay, I don’t mind feet, actually I quite like them!’

I couldn’t believe I’d just said it, and a sudden silence filled the air. As panic set in all I could do was smile awkwardly as I feared the worst. Instead, my said nothing aunt but smiled what I now know was a knowing smile. I took her silent smile as a sign that I could continue, and so proceeded to carry on slowly tickling her white stocking feet. I realised that I’d inadvertently blurted out my secret...and yet, my aunt seemed fine with it! I was a bit worried that she’d later tell my parents, but figured I’d keep tickling my aunt’s feet while I had the chance.

I continued tickling my aunt’s feet for another five minutes more, before I heard her mumble something incoherent. I’d been so focused on tickling her feet that I hadn’t noticed she’d fallen asleep! She said it could happen, and it had; she must have really enjoyed the tickling! Instead of waking her straight away I studied her feet through her tights - the way they looked so smooth and how her toes were quite small and dainty. I didn’t look for too long though, as I knew my aunt had to go back to work. I slowly woke her up by squeezing her toes, bringing my aunt back to the land of the living! She thanked me for tickling her feet, and lifted them from my lap. I looked at the time and saw that I’d been tickling her for some 45 minutes, though it felt like a lifetime! Surprisingly, instead of putting her shoes back on my aunt curled her feet up onto the chair. I noticed this and sensed another opportunity in the making.

‘Are you not putting your shoes back on?’ I asked my aunt, already suspecting what her answer was.

‘Not yet, I’ve got a few minutes left before I have to go back.’

‘In that case I’ll carry on tickling you!’ I laughed, and snaked a hand quickly along my aunt’s stocking soles. I just did it briefly though - after all, I could hardly say I’d been shortchanged! Soon afterward my aunt returned to her office, and I spent the rest of the day coming back down to Earth at what had just happened. As an aside, although later that night she mentioned to everybody that I’d been tickling her feet, it was only said in passing, and done so with a smile. There was no mention of my divulgence or of any discomfort on my aunt’s part, which of course I was very relieved about! I’d revealed my foot fetish to my aunt, and she seemed okay with it. Was she? Or did she just put it down to the folly of youth? I wasn’t too sure but realised that, under the right circumstances, I might be able to regularly tickle my aunt’s feet until she told me otherwise. Little did I know that I’d have to wait another seven years before such an opportunity presented itself to me...

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV

Excellent stories, all. Smash, you continue to be the King. We stand in the shadow of your greatness

To underthetable and SmashTV: Great stories! Thanks for sharing your amazing experiences here.