Here's a few more stories, hope you like. I should point out that while there's tickling, it's more from a stocking foot fetish point of view, and were originally posted on the Mousepad foot fetish site.
This is my next story about friend's mothers, and is about a woman called Irene. Irene was the complete opposite of Tina - short, squat, frumpy, slightly pug-faced...not a looker, by any means! However, a childhood lust for feet, and my confidence having been bolstered by my experiences with Tina, made me want to play with Irene's feet as well.
Now, as I've said, she wasn't much of a looker, but was always quite easy (eventually!) to dupe into taking her shoes off. She'd normally wear American tan tights, sometimes white tights, and on the odd occassion, sometimes sheer black tights. I'd been visiting this friend since I was about 13, and it took about two or three years to see her feet as she was always in shoes or slippers. One day, she came in from working a late shift, and I was at her front room table doing an essay. My friend was two years older than me, and had helped me out a bit. He was in his bedroom on his computer, and so I was alone in the front room with Irene. She walked in and said hello, and I explained why I was there. She was fine with this, and flopped down onto the setee. I wondered if I'd get to see her feet, and kept looking from the corner of my eye to see any activity. She was in open toe sandals and tan tights, and I eventually saw her slowly begin to loosen the strap on her shoes. Maybe she saw me looking, but she stopped halfway, and just had her feet resting outside her shoes, part in and out. I was desperate for her to get them off, which after about ten minutes, she did. After my success with Tina, I realised I had the chance to do the same thing with Irene, and set about thinking of ways to do so.
At the time, I was just coming off a successful spree of asking teachers at school to remove their heels and 'measure' them for a 'science experiment' (yeah right!). I planned on doing the same thing with Irene, and so if my friend wasn't around I'd ask her how tall she was, and get her to take her shoes off to show me. She'd always oblige, no questions asked! Once her slippers came off, I'd bend down and pretend to be measuring her, accidentally touching the tops or outline of her stocking feet! Other times I'd insist she put her feet up, as she was always doing housework of some sort and never relaxed. I'd get her to sit down, pull her feet up onto the sofa and then take off her slippers to get her comfy.
I eventually mustered up the courage to go from looking at her feet to playing with her feet. The feet up and slippers off had become a bit of a regular thing if my friend wasn't there (he'd be having driving lessons, maybe), but on this particular occassion he was in the room too. He knew I'd get her to sit down and relax, but maybe not about the shoe removal (I don't know if she told him or not, but he never mentioned it). Anyway, I had her sat down, and plonked her feet up on the coffee table, pulling both slippers from her feet simultaneously.
Out of nowhere, boosted by teenage hormones and curiosity, I asked her if she wanted her feet massaged. I regretted saying it slightly, as it was an odd thing to ask out the blue, and wondered what her response would be. She looked a bit bemused, laughed a bit, and said 'Yeah, if you like', but didn't seem bothered one way or the other. I asked my mate if it was alright, he was fine with it and so off I went, trying to remain as calm and natural voiced as possible. I pulled a chair up to sit opposite her, pulled her feet onto my lap and began gently massaging her tan stocking soles, tweaking her toes caressing her insteps, asking her how it felt. I didn't see a change in her mood i.e. more relaxed, but she seemed quite taken by it, and went a bit quiet as I continued. I only did it for about ten minutes or so, and stopped before I pushed my luck too far. Even though she wasn't a looker, my 15 year old heart was beating away, as to be massaging the feet of a friend's mother seemed so....exciting, somehow wrong, but that was what made it so cool. I was lost in the moment, and thought about it all the way home. I wondered if I'd get another chance, and thankfully I did a few months later.
My friend recently passed his driving test, and invited me over one Sunday. I went there, only to find that he really wanted me there to help wash his new car, which I was less then impressed about. He lived in a small block of flats, which meant we had to keep going upstairs to get refills of water. We took it in turns, and while I was getting the bucket filled up I began talking to his mother, who was sitting on her bed reading a book. Her bedroom was down the hall, but was directly opposite the front door. I went into talk to her while the bucket filled up, and noticed that for the first time since I'd known her she was wearing black tights. Now, this was too good an opportunity to resist. I began talking to her, and as we talked, I slowly began changing the topic to her shoes, which were laid out neatly around her bedroom.
As we were talking, I said she had lots of shoes, but no trainers, and so asked if she'd like to try on mine. She agreed, slipped off her slippers (they almost just dropped off her feet) and put them on. We had a bit of a chat, I went to stop the bucket from overflowing and then went to get my trainers back from her. Irene placed her feet in my lap, and I slowly unlaced each trainer, and slid them off her feet, savouring the moment. As each foot became exposed I gave each one a a little tickle from toe to heel, but she didn't flinch, smile or laugh as she wasn't ticklish. I expressed disappointment with this, but wasn't to be deterred.
'You're not ticklish?!?! Oh, that's not fair....! At least you don't mind having your feet massaged, eh? Shall I give you a foot massage instead, seeing as how you're not ticklish?'
She laughed, and happily placed her black stocking feet in my lap. I gently tickled and massaged her feet for about ten minutes, which Irene willingly let me do. I'd play with her toes, move down to her heels and insteps, thumbs and fingers rubbing against the soft material of her tights. Irene made no effort to stop me or get away, so I like to think she was enjoying it, probably not as much as me, but enjoying it nonetheless! As I massaged and caressed each foot, I was asking her if it tickled, asking her if she was enjoying it, to which the answers were 'no' and 'yes'. I then switched from massaging to a soft tickling, trying to get a reaction. There still wasn't so much as a squirm, so to try and tickle I started ticklng harder but to no avail. At that point, I was interrupted by the telephone ringing.
Here comes the best part!
Irene swung her legs from my lap to the floor, and padded out to the hall in stocking feet to answer the phone. I had expected her to put her slippers back on, so this was a pleasant turn of events! She was on the phone for about five minutes or so, then hung up. I was expecting her to shoo me out the room, but without saying anything else she came back into the bedroom, sat on the bed and placed her feet back on my lap! I didn't say anything, but returned to work, fingers working over each spot of her foot, looking for reactions of ticklishness or relaxation in her face. I continued switching between massaging and tickling her feet, sometimes massaging one and tickling the other! I eventually (by accident) found one little ticklish spot on her feet, just at the base of the ball and top of the instep! She flinched and laughed when I found it, and pulled away, saying it tickled!
'Are you okay, Irene?'
'Hehehe...yeah...it just tickled a bit...'
'I thought you weren't ticklish! Let's try again...'
'No...!! No, just rub them...'
This was fine with me, and so I promised not to do it again, and carried on massaging her feet. I then took a chance and sniffed her foot from toes to heel, and said that she had smelly feet, even though she didn't. She took offence to this, protesting that her feet didn't smell, that her tights were clean on and that she'd just had a bath ect etc. She said this quite loudly as well, and so as to not draw any attention to things it seemed like a good point to end on. I apologised and let her go, and realised that I must have played with her feet for about 25 minutes.
Amazingly, throughout all this time, my friend stayed downstairs washing the car.....!
Hope you enjoyed, guys.
Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
