LicksNTickles1
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- Nov 23, 2002
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As with most ticklers and foot fetishers, our tickling life started very early. For many, school was the primary source for seeing feet. I can recall several encounters in my early life that are probably similar to some that you may have experienced.
Welcome to Kindergarten--
I hadn't been going there long, but I had many friends. This was mostly due to the fact that my mom was a volunteer at what was called the "child parent center" prior to my enrollment. My mom made friends with several other parents. I, in turn, made friends with those parents' children. One child in particular, Tiesha, was a round little girl with a beautiful smile, and even prettier feet.
Sometimes we would fight, as most kindergarten children do, but for the most part we got along pretty well. One day, she asked me to tell a joke. I, in my opinion, told the BEST kindergarten joke that I could think of. She didn't laugh. I was offended! Thinking quickly, I decided to tell her that if she didn't laugh, I would tickle her. To which, she replied, "Go ahead! I'm still not gonna laugh." With a challenge like that, I immediately grabbed her foot from under the table. Now, at this age, I didn't know WHY I enjoyed tickling women's (well girls' in this case) feet, but I knew that I enjoyed doing it. She wore the typical white, open-toed sandals that most little girls wore in those days. I remember her feet were very clean, and soft. It didn't matter much to me anyway. I was going to tickle her no matter what!
I took her sandal off, and began to run my finger up and down her foot. She jumped and squirmed and began to chant, "That doesn't tickle. That doesn't tickle." I was furious! I wanted her to laugh. I wiggled all my fingers up and down her foot, tickling every inch of her sole. She squirmed, shook her head side-to-side, and repeated, "That doesn't tickle." After 10 minutes, or so, I gave up. She didn't laugh, but was sweating heavily on her forehead and nose. I couldn't comprehend then that I had done an excellent job, as evidenced by her physical reaction to me tickling her. I knew, however, that I felt good while I was doing it. It was as if a window had opened up and a fresh summer breeze blew into me. Tickling girls' feet had become the ultimate, personal fun for me--aside from the usual football, baseball, and other outdoor activities in which most other children participate. I was compelled to do it. I found myself looking at girls' and women's feet all the time. I especially liked curvy arches. MMMmmmm. I couldn't appreciate them as I do now, but even then I knew pretty feet when I saw them. This new insight, led to future adventures in tickling throughout my early school life, including my cousin (who, turns out, isn't REALLY related to me, which makes it even better, and makes me wish I knew where she is now), grammar school librarian, and other teachers.
You ever wish you could go back as an adult and tickle some (HELL! ALL!) of those teachers you dreamed about back then?
Welcome to Kindergarten--
I hadn't been going there long, but I had many friends. This was mostly due to the fact that my mom was a volunteer at what was called the "child parent center" prior to my enrollment. My mom made friends with several other parents. I, in turn, made friends with those parents' children. One child in particular, Tiesha, was a round little girl with a beautiful smile, and even prettier feet.
Sometimes we would fight, as most kindergarten children do, but for the most part we got along pretty well. One day, she asked me to tell a joke. I, in my opinion, told the BEST kindergarten joke that I could think of. She didn't laugh. I was offended! Thinking quickly, I decided to tell her that if she didn't laugh, I would tickle her. To which, she replied, "Go ahead! I'm still not gonna laugh." With a challenge like that, I immediately grabbed her foot from under the table. Now, at this age, I didn't know WHY I enjoyed tickling women's (well girls' in this case) feet, but I knew that I enjoyed doing it. She wore the typical white, open-toed sandals that most little girls wore in those days. I remember her feet were very clean, and soft. It didn't matter much to me anyway. I was going to tickle her no matter what!
I took her sandal off, and began to run my finger up and down her foot. She jumped and squirmed and began to chant, "That doesn't tickle. That doesn't tickle." I was furious! I wanted her to laugh. I wiggled all my fingers up and down her foot, tickling every inch of her sole. She squirmed, shook her head side-to-side, and repeated, "That doesn't tickle." After 10 minutes, or so, I gave up. She didn't laugh, but was sweating heavily on her forehead and nose. I couldn't comprehend then that I had done an excellent job, as evidenced by her physical reaction to me tickling her. I knew, however, that I felt good while I was doing it. It was as if a window had opened up and a fresh summer breeze blew into me. Tickling girls' feet had become the ultimate, personal fun for me--aside from the usual football, baseball, and other outdoor activities in which most other children participate. I was compelled to do it. I found myself looking at girls' and women's feet all the time. I especially liked curvy arches. MMMmmmm. I couldn't appreciate them as I do now, but even then I knew pretty feet when I saw them. This new insight, led to future adventures in tickling throughout my early school life, including my cousin (who, turns out, isn't REALLY related to me, which makes it even better, and makes me wish I knew where she is now), grammar school librarian, and other teachers.
You ever wish you could go back as an adult and tickle some (HELL! ALL!) of those teachers you dreamed about back then?
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