Toesheldback
TMF Master
- Joined
- Sep 24, 2014
- Messages
- 997
- Points
- 18
This is actually a true story. I put it here instead of the “true story” section because I did take some artistic license describing it, but I really didn’t embellish.
It’s kind of a long story about a quick tickle, but as you might be able to glean from reading it, I’m kind of fond of Patty. I think the feeling might be mutual, but nothing would EVER happen. Her husband and my wife joke that if they both got hit by a bus, that Patty and I would get married. No way would that happen - we’d kill each other for certain…..
“I don’t understand how someone can be so unbelievably ticklish on her ribs and armpits, but not ticklish at all on her feet! Either you are a ticklish person, or you’re not. It’s impossible to be a 10 out of 10 on your ribs and a 1 out of 10 on your feet!”, I told Patty.
“I don’t know, my feet just aren’t ticklish”, Patty shrugged.
We’d had this conversation in the past. I had jokingly swiped my finger down Patty’s socked arch about a year ago, and she’d given me a defiant look and said, “my feet aren’t ticklish”. At the time, I’d left it at that.
My wife was running a couple errands, and Patty and I were chatting as I sat in a recliner and she sat on the couch.
“I just have a hard time buying the disparity”, I told her. “Your feet have to be at least half as ticklish as your ribs, if not more.”
Patty gave me a patronizing smile. “Do you want to tickle my feet, Jack?” She wasn’t saying it in a flirting way; I could tell she just wanted to shut me up.
My heart skipped a beat. I knew Patty knew about how I like tickling. Whether my wife had told her to what extent, I wasn’t sure.
“I just think you either don’t know how ticklish your feet are, or you do, but you tell people you aren’t so they don’t try it”, I reasoned.
Now Patty is always up for a challenge. She’s run many marathons, hiked some of the tallest mountains in the world. So it wasn’t surprising that she said, “Come here” and shifted her position on the couch. She lay back with her back against the arm of the couch and put her socked feet up on the couch.
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I got up and sat on the couch at her feet. “Tickle away”, Patty said.
In my experience, most women don’t like their feet, and hide them in socks deliberately. So I was taking a risk here, but I have known Patty for many years and I thought it would be OK. I just didn’t want her to bail entirely and pull her feet away. I pressed, “Uh uh. No socks.”
Patty looked at me blinking, obviously considering whether she wanted to lose the socks. After a couple seconds, she sighed. “Fine.” But I could tell she wasn’t too happy about it.
She was wearing ankle socks, so I quickly snatched them off. As I mentioned, I’ve known her for many years, so I already knew what her feet looked like. She’s a small but broadly-built girl. Workout warrior. Her wrists and ankles are very petite though, and her feet are small - probably like a US 6. I’ve never seen her toes unpolished. They were light pink.
Not wanting her to change her mind, I quickly scooted over and put her bare feet on my thighs. I didn’t want to go crazy on her feet right away and have her yank them away immediately, So I started with just a few finger swipes from her heel to her toe on each foot with the pad of my index finger.
After about 20 seconds of that, I looked up at Patty. She had been alternating looking at me and looking down at her feet. “Shit..”, I said feigning frustration. Patty smiled at that. I sighed deeply, and slid a little closer to her, and picked up a foot by her slender ankle, and held it up to face height so I could get a nice view of her sole. Then, starting at her toes, I gently scampered my fingernails down to her heel.
I felt Patty flinch and her foot reflexively pull away, but I held tight. I looked at Patty with my mouth agape, wide-eyed. “Whaaaaaaaat?, I said mockingly.
Patty shook her head. “It just surprised me. Go ahead”.
Now is when the fun begins, I thought! I tickled from her heels to her toes, drummed my nails on her arch, held her toes back and tickled underneath them. Her toes were twitching wildly; I could tell it was taking every bit of her willpower to keep her foot in my hand as I could feel her reflexively trying to pull away. I put that foot down before she tapped out, wanting a chance with her other foot. I picked it up and went after it the same way.
Patty gasped, and tried to yank her foot away. “OK! OK! OK!”, she said as I tickled away, and then “Okayyy….Hahahaha!” as she dissolved into sweet laughter. Her laugh is normally kind of deep and husky, but it was high-pitched now. I loved it.
Patty leaned forward and smacked me on the arm 2-3 times to get me to let go. I wasn’t having ANY of that. I heard that laugh, and as a junkie, I wanted more.
I scooped up her other ankle, threw both feet under my arm, and turned my back to her. Her feet are so tiny I was able to grab one Achilles’ tendon between my thumb and forefinger and the other between my forefinger and middle finger, and locked her in tight. My left hand flew to her soles. She is a strong chick; I knew this would be a battle.
“Jack!!!!”, Patty wailed as I attacked her soles. Once, at a party, my wife and another mutual female friend of theirs had a couple drinks and went after Patty’s ribs, and Patty quickly squealed and dropped to the ground as the two girls poked her ribs. I hoped she’d quit fighting and go limp on me too, so I wouldn’t get beat up, but it was wishful thinking.
“Jack! Jack!!!”, Patty screamed as she laughed, kicked, and punched. I was taking all sorts of punishment, but held on for dear life and never stopped tickling Patty’s soles. Finally after around thirty wonderful seconds, I let her go before she beat me black and blue.
Patty glared at me and I couldn’t tell if she was really angry. She quickly pulled her feet away and sat on them. “Ribs 10, feet 10”, I said giving her my best smile.
She chuckled, “Asshole! Nobody’s ever tickled my feet like that. I had no idea. I hope I bruised you!”
We laughed, and I must say she very quickly put her socks back on.
It’s kind of a long story about a quick tickle, but as you might be able to glean from reading it, I’m kind of fond of Patty. I think the feeling might be mutual, but nothing would EVER happen. Her husband and my wife joke that if they both got hit by a bus, that Patty and I would get married. No way would that happen - we’d kill each other for certain…..
“I don’t understand how someone can be so unbelievably ticklish on her ribs and armpits, but not ticklish at all on her feet! Either you are a ticklish person, or you’re not. It’s impossible to be a 10 out of 10 on your ribs and a 1 out of 10 on your feet!”, I told Patty.
“I don’t know, my feet just aren’t ticklish”, Patty shrugged.
We’d had this conversation in the past. I had jokingly swiped my finger down Patty’s socked arch about a year ago, and she’d given me a defiant look and said, “my feet aren’t ticklish”. At the time, I’d left it at that.
My wife was running a couple errands, and Patty and I were chatting as I sat in a recliner and she sat on the couch.
“I just have a hard time buying the disparity”, I told her. “Your feet have to be at least half as ticklish as your ribs, if not more.”
Patty gave me a patronizing smile. “Do you want to tickle my feet, Jack?” She wasn’t saying it in a flirting way; I could tell she just wanted to shut me up.
My heart skipped a beat. I knew Patty knew about how I like tickling. Whether my wife had told her to what extent, I wasn’t sure.
“I just think you either don’t know how ticklish your feet are, or you do, but you tell people you aren’t so they don’t try it”, I reasoned.
Now Patty is always up for a challenge. She’s run many marathons, hiked some of the tallest mountains in the world. So it wasn’t surprising that she said, “Come here” and shifted her position on the couch. She lay back with her back against the arm of the couch and put her socked feet up on the couch.
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I got up and sat on the couch at her feet. “Tickle away”, Patty said.
In my experience, most women don’t like their feet, and hide them in socks deliberately. So I was taking a risk here, but I have known Patty for many years and I thought it would be OK. I just didn’t want her to bail entirely and pull her feet away. I pressed, “Uh uh. No socks.”
Patty looked at me blinking, obviously considering whether she wanted to lose the socks. After a couple seconds, she sighed. “Fine.” But I could tell she wasn’t too happy about it.
She was wearing ankle socks, so I quickly snatched them off. As I mentioned, I’ve known her for many years, so I already knew what her feet looked like. She’s a small but broadly-built girl. Workout warrior. Her wrists and ankles are very petite though, and her feet are small - probably like a US 6. I’ve never seen her toes unpolished. They were light pink.
Not wanting her to change her mind, I quickly scooted over and put her bare feet on my thighs. I didn’t want to go crazy on her feet right away and have her yank them away immediately, So I started with just a few finger swipes from her heel to her toe on each foot with the pad of my index finger.
After about 20 seconds of that, I looked up at Patty. She had been alternating looking at me and looking down at her feet. “Shit..”, I said feigning frustration. Patty smiled at that. I sighed deeply, and slid a little closer to her, and picked up a foot by her slender ankle, and held it up to face height so I could get a nice view of her sole. Then, starting at her toes, I gently scampered my fingernails down to her heel.
I felt Patty flinch and her foot reflexively pull away, but I held tight. I looked at Patty with my mouth agape, wide-eyed. “Whaaaaaaaat?, I said mockingly.
Patty shook her head. “It just surprised me. Go ahead”.
Now is when the fun begins, I thought! I tickled from her heels to her toes, drummed my nails on her arch, held her toes back and tickled underneath them. Her toes were twitching wildly; I could tell it was taking every bit of her willpower to keep her foot in my hand as I could feel her reflexively trying to pull away. I put that foot down before she tapped out, wanting a chance with her other foot. I picked it up and went after it the same way.
Patty gasped, and tried to yank her foot away. “OK! OK! OK!”, she said as I tickled away, and then “Okayyy….Hahahaha!” as she dissolved into sweet laughter. Her laugh is normally kind of deep and husky, but it was high-pitched now. I loved it.
Patty leaned forward and smacked me on the arm 2-3 times to get me to let go. I wasn’t having ANY of that. I heard that laugh, and as a junkie, I wanted more.
I scooped up her other ankle, threw both feet under my arm, and turned my back to her. Her feet are so tiny I was able to grab one Achilles’ tendon between my thumb and forefinger and the other between my forefinger and middle finger, and locked her in tight. My left hand flew to her soles. She is a strong chick; I knew this would be a battle.
“Jack!!!!”, Patty wailed as I attacked her soles. Once, at a party, my wife and another mutual female friend of theirs had a couple drinks and went after Patty’s ribs, and Patty quickly squealed and dropped to the ground as the two girls poked her ribs. I hoped she’d quit fighting and go limp on me too, so I wouldn’t get beat up, but it was wishful thinking.
“Jack! Jack!!!”, Patty screamed as she laughed, kicked, and punched. I was taking all sorts of punishment, but held on for dear life and never stopped tickling Patty’s soles. Finally after around thirty wonderful seconds, I let her go before she beat me black and blue.
Patty glared at me and I couldn’t tell if she was really angry. She quickly pulled her feet away and sat on them. “Ribs 10, feet 10”, I said giving her my best smile.
She chuckled, “Asshole! Nobody’s ever tickled my feet like that. I had no idea. I hope I bruised you!”
We laughed, and I must say she very quickly put her socks back on.
Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
