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

Now then, I stress first thing that this is NOT my story, but it’s apparently based on a true experience. It’s from blue a fellow TMFer called ShadowTickler, and can be found on the forum several times. However, the first time I read this story - over 20 years ago now - it stuck with me, and showed the power that a well written tickling story can have. It was a huge influence on my writing style, and every so often I revisit it just to remember that first time of reading it. With no further ado, I give you ‘Ticklish Aunt Sarah’. Enjoy!

Aunt Sarah was about the most ticklish person I ever knew. Also, at my age at the time, I didn't know too many other women, but today, as a grown man, I can honestly say that still. Aunt Sarah wasn't really my aunt; she was my mother's best friend and I only knew her as Aunt Sarah. She would often baby-sit my younger brother Pete and I. She was so pretty. She had long, brown hair and a slim, sleek body with curves in all the right places. I always found her feet particularly attractive. She liked to take her shoes off in the house and walk around in her stockings. Her feet looked so sheen, so deliciously smooth and soft in those black stockings she used to wear. Aunt Sarah always dressed well. She would wear skirts and heels and tight fitting shirts. My libido was intense back then, and as my sexuality was forming, my hormones raced like moray eels through my body, electrifying me with fervent desire. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that anything having to do with tickle torture seemed to ignite my loins with the most intense feelings. I often fantasized about rendering aunt Sarah helpless and then tickling her slowly. I imagined how she would react; begging me through a continuous stream of womanly laughter--that mature, deep and hearty laughter that only a full-grown woman could produce. Those thoughts filled many a night as I lay, nursing my raging, young erection, in my bed.

I had heard her laugh like that before at a party my parents had at the house. I was supposed to be asleep, but I snuck downstairs from my bedroom when the loud sounds of people talking and laughing, turned into a solo of laughing, screaming fits! I can spot the sound of beautiful, yet urgent laughter anywhere; even then! What I heard was sheer music. I got a hard-on so fierce from the sound that I had to scurry down the stairs to see what was happening. What I would see would change my life forever. There she was, this beautiful lady that had been the focus of so many late-night tickling fantasies, pinned down by my mother and some other friends, all obviously drunk beyond reasonable inhibitions, while two other women and a man tickled her on her sides and stomach. She was frantic! She was laughing like crazy and begging them to stop the tickling. My mind was racing at the sight of this ticklish, beautiful woman being subjected to such horrific, yet delightful torture. It was obvious that she couldn't stand to be tickled. She thrashed and screamed. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut one moment and sprang wide the next, followed by a flood of perpetual giggling and breathless pleading! Despite her incredible desperation, the group would not stop tickling her.

I had heard aunt Sarah laugh heartily during conversations with my Mom, which was previously the fuel stoking my imaginative fires, but this was different! Even in my fantasies, I could not have imagined the sounds that emanated from her smooth, long throat. Such melody; the depth and intonation of her laughter was a rich mixture concocted from deep within her abdomen and thrust forward with such force, that the sound felt as though it reverberated within my body cavity! I saw my mother abandon the spot where she was holding Aunt Sarah and go down to her feet. Aunt Sarah released an ear-splitting scream when she felt mom remove her left shoe. Aunt Sarah shrieked with pitiful cries, begging my mother to stop as she removed her right shoe. To watch my own mother do what she did next, was the breaking point for me. Aunt Sarah's attention had shifted completely to what my mother was about to do next. She squealed and struggled with renewed strength as my mother used her long fingernails to gently tickle from the heels to toes of Aunt Sarah's stocking feet. The barrage of laughter that would result from that attack was deafening! Aunt Sarah went into a panic and struggled with great force. She threatened to leap off of the floor. It would be necessary for another person to aid in holding her down for this excruciating tickling assault. Aunt Sarah screamed with renewed laughter and her body flailed wildly while my mother prolonged her attack on this woman's poor, helpless feet.

My ears began to heat up and ring with excitement and I felt my stomach drop through the floor. This was the most exciting thing I had ever seen. The way Sarah begged so pitifully made me insane with excitement! As I sat out of sight on the stairway, I continued to stare at the fantastic spectacle. What a delightful laugh she had. It was turning high-pitched and her screams would linger long and loud before melting into a crescendo of staccato giggling. The sound went through my loins like a hot knife through butter. When they finally let her up, I ran back upstairs and played with myself again and again, until I was washed over with that familiar shivering sensation that made me feel so good. I couldn't believe my brother slept through the whole thing.

Mom & Dad Take a Trip

Now, this would be the weekend that Aunt Sarah would baby-sit us. I couldn't wait to see her. I had been replaying her ordeal in my mind over and over, all week just thinking about that night I had seen her being tickled to such a crazy state. I just knew I wouldn't be able to look at her without getting weak-kneed!Pete, my brother, and I decided we were going to get one really good shot at Aunt Sarah. She was baby-sitting for us on a Friday night and Mom and Dad wouldn't be home until Sunday. Quite frankly, we felt we were both way too old for a babysitter, but we didn’t complain. Oh, what a delicious plan we had. We were going to play "Spy" and we would get Aunt Sarah to be the "Spy!"

It had gotten pretty late, by our normal standards, and Aunt Sarah was hinting that it was almost time for bed. We whined and complained about how we weren't done playing our game yet. I told Aunt Sarah that we were playing spy, but we didn't have anyone to be the spy. I asked her if she would volunteer, but she said "No." A bit more persisting and she finally agreed to play the spy if we promised to go to bed afterward. We readily agreed and the plan was off to a great start! Pete and I convinced Aunt Sarah that we were going to have to tie her up to a wooden chair like in the James Bond movies and question her about the secret formula. She agreed and we sat her comfortably in a heavy wooden chair that we planned to use for just this occasion. We wrapped rope around her upper arms, her wrists and ankles. Pete had the idea to tie her knees together. He said that she would not be able to go anywhere.

Aunt Sarah giggled at the handiwork we were spinning with the rope. She said she couldn't believe how involved we got with this game. When she was secured, the fun would be about to begin! Pete and I scurried around to the back of the chair and pulled it backward. Aunt Sarah shrieked and scolded us to put her down, which we promptly did...on her back! Aunt Sarah was completely vulnerable and helpless. She seemed a bit uneasy about her inescapable position, and said "Okay guys, you've had your fun, now, let me up." Pete, realizing that we had better make our move now if we were going to make it at all, began the interrogation.


"Okay spy!" he said with child-like mischief. "Where is the formula?"

"I don't know." she said coyly.

Pete asked again, this time with more deliberation in his voice.

"We know you are hiding the secret formula. Now tell us where it is!"

Aunt Sarah began to go along with the game, realizing the futility of her escape and started struggling and pouting like the helpless farm girl in a scene from "Scaramouche."

"I'll never tell you where the formula is!"

Pete and I looked at each other with the most evil grin. It must have been somewhat apparent to Aunt Sarah, because she wanted to call an end to this little game of ours.

"Okay, guys. We've played long enough. It's time for bed. Now untie me, okay?"

Each of us sat down at one of Aunt Sarah's feet. Aunt Sarah struggled hard at this point and strained to keep us in her sight. I guess the psychological teasing of not being able to see what we were doing was starting to get to her, because she made a second attempt to disrupt our game.

"I'm not kidding guys. You untie me right now. It's past your bed time!"

Ignoring her warnings, Pete continued with his ultimatum to our "spy."

"If you do not tell us where the formula is right now, we will have no choice but to torture you until you do, you evil spy!"

Aunt Sarah stiffened momentarily and then began to struggle mightily at the sound of such a threat. She wasn't sure what we had up our sleeves, but she was sure she didn't want to find out. We had obviously done an excellent job in binding her, because she could not get away, no matter how hard she tugged and pulled at the ropes.

"N-Now boys...that's enough! Do you hear me?"

We said nothing.

"What are you doing down there? Let's untie Aunt Sarah, O- okay?"

Pete and I nodded to each other as we sat comfortably on the floor at Aunt Sarah's trapped feet. We each pulled off a shoe, slowly and deliberately. Aunt Sarah clenched her toes tightly in an attempt to keep the shoes on her pretty feet, but a little more tugging and we achieved our goal, exposing her wiggling, stocking feet. Aunt Sarah renewed her struggling attempts at freedom. Pete and I placed the shoes on either side of Aunt Sarah. She could see each of our hands reach out to place a shoe on either side of her, but she still could not see what we were doing down there. Each of us tugged gently at the toes of her stocking material. Her burst of thrashing and pulling told us she had a very good idea what type of torture we were about to administer, but she dare not utter the words, for fear of placing herself in an even more "ticklish" position.

Our fingers were poised for the attack. Aunt Sarah's feet wriggled and twitched involuntarily. Perhaps some deep seeded fear of having her feet bared caused this uncontrollable action. She curled her toes time and time again as she attempted to reason with us, but it would be too late!

"I-I don't know what you're planning guys, b-but you had better not do anything. I-I'm warning you. Wait until your parents get ho-ho-ho-HEE HEE HA HA HA HAAA AAAIIIEEE YAAAHA HA HA HA HA HA HAAA NO! NOOOOOO! AAAAIIIEEE AHA HA HA HA HAHA!"

The tickling had caught her so by surprise that she flinched violently against the ropes with panic, before letting out a piercing scream, laced with maniacal laughter. We continued the foot tickling, scratching up and down her silken soles, making her literally rigid with wrenching laughter.

"AAAAAA HA HA HA HA AHWWWAAHAHA HA HA HA HAAAAIIIIEEEE! NO! NO! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA HAHA HA AHPPLLEASE PLEASE! NO! DON'T TICKLE ME! DON'T TICKLE MEEEE HE HEEEHE HE HA HA HA HA HAHA!"

I asked her again -

"Where is the formula you bad spy?"

She just continued screaming with laughter because Pete had pulled the toe of her stocking back to make her sole taut, so his fingers would glide over the hyper ticklish foot. I asked again. My tormenting question was repeated by Pete who would stop tickling momentarily to ask. She would take that time to beg for mercy. All she got was a renewal of her tickling torture. As we continued tickling Aunt Sarah with abandon, flashes of that night on the stairway ran through my mind. My goal would be to emulate those very same shrieks of insanity that had so excited me on that fateful evening. Not even Pete, who was obviously enjoying himself, could know just how obsessed I had become. Pete and I giggled mischievously as our fingers scampered aimlessly about Aunt Sarah's violently cringing soles. Her laughter had reached a new plateau and she would become nearly hysterical before we gave her a rest!

"Y-Y-Y-YOU'VE G-GOTTA STO-HOP! I CAN'T STAND IT! LET ME GO NOW! LET ME GO (gasp)! YOU WIN! I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FORMULA IS! YOU WIN! OKAY? OKAY? OK-A-AAAIIIIEEEEEE NOOOOOO! NOT THERE! AHA HAHA HA HA HA HAHAAAAIIIIIIEEEEE YYYYAAAHHH WWAH SHS HA HA HA HAH AH A HA HA HA HA HA HAH AH A HA HA HA HAAAA AAAAA! PLEEEEZZZZEEEE!"

We began again with the tickling and the interrogation. Aunt Sarah pleaded with forceful desperation. We had gotten her to the point of hysteria that I wanted; now, I wanted to take her beyond! I wanted this to be the memory that forever stayed branded in her mind as the worst/best tickling she has ever received! I wanted it to be me she remembered! It had to be me! I searched for spots on her feet that would elicit excited, desperate cries of laughter. Again, we began the interrogation, asking the same question time and time again.

"Where is the formula? We will tickle you until you tell us!"

Aunt Sarah could no longer protest. She had become feeble from the continued tickling and her voice was becoming steadily hoarse. Her laughter had elevated to near silence, occasionally interrupted a force of air that resembled a silent scream. We began again!

"I-I-I CA-CA-CA-CAN'T STA-A-A-A-A-AAAAAAIIIIII AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAA AAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEEE YAAAAA HAAA HAAA!"

Pete and I had determined that if we tickled Aunt Sarah's toes and heels at the same time, she would laugh more uncontrollably than ever. We used this technique to psychologically torture her into madness, threatening to implement this horrible weapon each and every time she gave us the wrong answer. Aunt Sarah had become so frantic by this time, that she was naming anything she could think of as the hiding place for the formula. Unfortunately for her, it didn't work. We simply renewed the tickling of her heels and toes! Her laughter had transformed into what sounded like some kind of demonic possession. She was uncontrolled and grunting and squealing. That beautiful laughter had turned to witch-like cackling! Her body was thrusting and heaving and straining against the ropes. Pete and I immediately stopped for fear that we were hurting Aunt Sarah. She screamed.

"D-DON'T S-S-STOP HA AHA HA HA HA HA! DON'T S- STOP! I'LL NEVER TALK! NEVER! NEVER! NE- NOOOO! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAH A HAHAAA!"

Hearing that was like music to our ears. We re-administered the tickling with even more evil intent. Aunt Sarah was bucking wildly against the ropes. I had never seen anything like that before. we didn't know what to make of it, so we kept tickling! In about 1 minute, Aunt Sarah stiffened all at once and let out a howling cry. Her body broke into what looked like seizures. Tiny little seizures that made her twitch rapidly and uncontrollably. When we finally stopped and untied her, we had to put ourselves to bed, because she was just lying there moaning and sighing. Her hair was frazzled and disheveled. Pete and I knew we were in trouble now. We had gone too far! Wait until my parents get home, I thought!

The next day was a very rainy Saturday. There wasn't much to do around the house and we didn't see much of Aunt Sarah. She must have really been mad at us. Suddenly, about noon, she emerged from my parent's bedroom wearing shorts and a tube top (they were "in" then). She was wearing "flip flop" slippers and her toenails were painted a bright red. Her feet looked delicious! She walked away from us toward our bedroom. We followed. She sat on the bed and, next to her was some more rope! She looked at us sternly. We knew we were going to get it now! She said

"I just want you boys to know that what you did last night was terrible!" Her voice softened. "I can't believe what you did!"

Her eyes stared right through us. I was afraid to even look at her from embarrassment, but something...made me.

"You allowed a spy to go free with valuable information. How do you know I wouldn't just go to the other side and give the formula to them?"

Our eyes sprang wide opened. What was I hearing? She was reprimanding us for not completing the job?! This was insane. Aunt Sarah picked up the rope and handed it to us.

"Lucky for you, that I was re-captured by the guards as I tried to escape. Without the secret formula, you guys can't save the world! So, how are you going to get it?"

Nothing else needed to be said! We jumped at the opportunity and immediately started what would be the second edition of Aunt Sarah's ticklish ordeal. Aunt Sarah would spend the rest of that rainy afternoon tied to the frame of our bed, laughing and screaming and pleading for mercy as we tickled her bare feet with a vengeance. Her bare feet were even more ticklish than her stocking feet. She would not be so lucky this time around. It was a weekend we would never forget!

Still a classic now...!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
 
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That is one of my all time favorite stories too! It made me envious of those two boys, wishing that I were in their place! :p
 
Smash! Thanks for posting this here. Some (me! :)) consider "Aunt Sarah" to be the GOLD STANDARD of Nylon Tickling Stories. As always, well done sir!
 
Wow, what a great story!
Reminds me of my mom and how she was tickled at parties my parents used to have.
 
This has always been a favorite story of mine because it rings so close to home for me since my fetishes for tickling, feet and nylons go back to my very early years.
 
SmashTV I was the same way from a very early age. The allure of a woman’s feet in hosiery, regardless of who she was, her looks, age, race or nationality, a relative, friend of the family, mother, aunt or sister of a friend was something that always not only caught my eye but conjured up thoughts like yours that also included me wondering if they were ticklish and what it would feel like running my fingers over the soft, silky, sheer taut nylon material and how they would respond to my tickling.
.

Agreed. Certainly when I was growing up in the 1980s, tights were more commonplace than they are now, and as such there was far more exposure to them. As it was mainly mature women who wore them, this lead to my fascination with mature female nylon feet at a very young age. As puberty and hormones set it began to translate to girls my own age too, but if their mothers also happened to be in stocking feet then I’d be just as interested in their feet as I was the daughter’s!

As for the barefoot part of the Aunt Sarah story, as far as I know there was never a follow up written. If so, I’ve never seen it in over twenty years of reading tickling stories online. Sorry!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
 
I have an "Aunt Story" that just popped up, but it is so hard to follow "Aunt Sarah"....but here's a true little tale.

When I was about 11-years-old (and already knew that stockinged female feet were a huge influence on me), I had my best, most memorable "sleepy tickle" experience. The adults on my mom's side of the family gathered one evening to pose for a family portrait. They all met at our house, and off they went to the photo studio. I was left home alone with my babysitter for the night, Jan. "Aunt Jan" was dating my uncle at the time, and later became his wife.

Aunt Jan had an admin job of some kind, and was dressed in a business top/skirt/heels outfit. And pantyhose. Nude pantyhose. She was about 5'6", slender build, Italian black hair. She resembled the actress Illeana Douglas (I put that in because someone always asks ;))

I took my customary seat on the floor, my back leaning against the sofa. Aunt Jan sat on the sofa. Before long she had kicked off her heels, curled up on the sofa with an afgan...turning her back to me...and went right to sleep. When I turned to the left, her nyloned size 7 soles were staring right at me, uncovered by the afgan. She was softly snoring, so I knew she was asleep.

Her feet consumed my focus. It took me a lonnng while to work up the balls, but I decided I could get away with a slight tickle, and pretend I was trying to cover her feet with the blanket. I ran my finger right up the center of her right arch. She quickly kicked her foot away, flexed her toes, and then put her feet back right where they were. The rest of her did not stir. Bingo. I waited a bit, and did it again. And again. One foot, and then the other, always taking my time in between in the hope of not waking her. After 7-8 times, she rolled over, her feet now back against the sofa....but she never woke. I knew that for a fact as when the family came back, they woke her up, and she jokingly admitted that she was asleep the whole time. When my mom asked her if I was "good" for her, she turned to me and asked "were you?".

I just smiled...
 
Another great story Nick; your extended family is a blessing!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
 
great story Nick, i was blessed with a cool aunt and as a kid took me a long time to get up the nerve to tickle my aunts feet , she wasnt a stocking wearer she was a barefooter kind of like a country lady and always in barefeet or flip flops
 
Thanks for the kind words, boys. A little about me...my father left my mother when I was a toddler. My mother raised me by herself, but with a ton of help from her parents, three sisters, and three brothers. My mom and her sisters were off the charts ticklish. This is back in the day when women wore nylons almost all the time.

My aunts and uncles all had girlfriends coming in and out of my life...stockinged girlfriends. So, yes, that's my extended family.

Also...I dated a girl in my early-mid 20s who had extremely ticklish feet, as did her mom, her sister, her aunt, and her cousin. I sometimes wonder why I didn't marry into that wonderful family.

Jack...you are so greedy for info. I love it! I dug deep to come up with an actress that my Aunt Jan looked like...but you want more. I'm thinking she was early 30's at the time. And it happened at the turn of the century. Not this century...the last one!!! Haha. I'm old.

And to JohnJ, Smash, Milagros, and the rest of you who have contributed such great stuff on here: you inspire me to dig deep into my memory banks and find a story that you might want to hear put into words. Keep up the great job, all of you!
 
with me , i was an only child raised by a single mom who worked at the time so quite often i was babysat by a relative either they would come over our house or i would go over theirs. Most of the time it was my aunt who was divorced but with no kids so she kind of treated me like her own and she was cool ( same lady i mentioned above ) She kind of looked like that fitness instructor that used to be on tv austin something except she had shorter hair and was just a bit heavier
 
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She sounds like fun, MrHyde. Did you tickle her often?

I think I know the answer to this, but can we share stories of women who were mothers/aunts in general and not necessarily connected to us? I can add several more stories - albeit some very brief ones! - if so!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
 
smash ,yes , but first time it took so long to wait for the right time and i didnt even know if she was even ticklish , they were mostly sneak tickles every once in a while, then eventually when when she caught on i gave a bs line either i like to make you laugh or your laugh cheers me up . I would only do these either when she babysat me or on outing careful not to let anyone see me do it never in public or family gatherings , of course back then i never knew it was a fetish lol and the tickling was always the feet . There were a few times she would actually let me her attitude was it was harmless and i was just being a silly kid
 
I guess I have a short story that sort here. When I was young, maybe around 10 or 12, I was over at my uncles house watching football next to my aunt. Now technically this was a step aunt and not even that. More like girlfriend. Well anyway. As we were watching, I noticed there was a pillow leaned against the couch between us. And behind that pillow just so happened to be my step aunts feet. Maybe she'd been warming them. But bold as I was at that age, I reached under the pillow and just, gently started stroking her soles. I must've been super confident that day. Because the strokes were consistent. I felt as much of her soles as I could. I don't think she was too ticklish though. Although her toes were wiggling I wasn't getting much of a reaction elsewhere. Maybe she was just really focused. At least I thought. She quickly cocked her head over to me with a big ol silly grin on her face. Thinking I was fast enough, I pulled my hand back. And then she playfully asked me "Are you ticklin' mah feet?". She said this loudly and I embarrassedly shook head. Of course i was though, she saw me pull my hand away. Honestly, I bet my face was BRIGHT red. Because she said it in the sweetest southern drawl. Good memory.
 
Smolly_Smoltz, that is a great story! :feets: Thanks for sharing your experience here. :D
 
Thanks for sharing, Smolly.

I was doing some digging on here for another ticklish mother story, and found one of my aunt stories that I have no recollection of at all!

It’s from 2006, when my aunt was visiting my parents. I went to see them while she was down and, after waiting for some time alone, made a move. My parents were both out of the room, so I got on my knees, smiled at her, and began tickling the balls of her socked feet. She smiled her knowing smile, and flexed her feet back to allow me access to her soles. I then said to her that every time we were alone, I was going to tickle her....which I did!

A few days later I crept up behind her in the kitchen and tickled her sides, but to no avail. However, I then moved up to her armpits and really dug in, making her giggle and squirm hysterically! I had no idea she was ticklish there, as she's always denied it!

On another occasion I got her socked feet once again, but as I went moved up to tickle her armpits she said 'No, no armpits, I'll turn hysterical!’.

With hindsight, I realise now I missed out a lot of UB opportunities tickling my aunt. I certainly can’t complain about my encounters with her, but maybe I could have had more!

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
 
... I got on my knees, smiled at her, and began tickling the balls of her socked feet. She smiled her knowing smile, and flexed her feet back to allow me access to her soles.
What a wonderful aunt! :feets:
 
This is a story about a family friend called Chris, who has a son a mother so I hope it counts! It was the early 2000s, and she’d come on holiday to Spain with myself, my mum, aunt, uncle and cousin. Although the aunt is the aunt of previous stories she’s not really involved much here!

Chris would have been late forties to early fifties at the time, and looked a bit like a British actress called Belinda Lang. She was good company and had a playful, flirty personality. My mum had known Chris a few years at this point, and she’d often come over for parties or drinks. I’d seen her tickle the odd person here and there, and with hindsight I wonder if she was into tickling at all.

One day during the holiday, the three women began talking about foot care. I certainly wasn’t interested in hearing my mother talk about it, and hoped my aunt wouldn’t make a scene of the times I’d tickled her feet. However, she did just that, saying how I was ‘a very good foot rubber, much to my awkwardness! This prompted Chris to say that her son always used to tickle her feet, thinking he was annoying her, but how she actually always used to enjoy it! After hearing that made up my mind to tickle her if I got the chance, just to see if it was true!

Later that night after coming back from dinner So, later that night my mum and aunt went into the kitchen, leaving myself and Chris alone. She sat down next to me, and, very unexpectedly, placed her bare foot on my knee! Surely she didn’t know I liked tickling, or did she just remember what my aunt had said? Oh, what to do…?

There was of course only one thing to do. I reached out and tickled her bare sole, causing her to shriek softly and giggle, pulling her foot back. Even before she’d finished laughing she placed it back again, so this time I tickled longer and harder, enjoying her happy laughter and foot wriggling as I tickled up and down her sole. It was only briefly in case I got caught, but the her giddy laughter and lack of protest made me think she didn’t mind the tickling too much. Later that night it was just the two of us, and she put her foot up again….surely she was doing it on purpose now? I didn’t even hesitate and tickled her sole once more, with even more intent this time! I held onto her ankle tightly so she couldn’t escape, and carried on running my fingers along her bare sole as she fell back into the chair laughing, but I stopped in case I woke everyone up.

Oddly, despite her and my mum being friends for years after this I never tickled her again. I was in the beginnings of exploring the online world of my tickle fetish at this point (I was mid 20s but had only just got online regularly!), and knowing what I know about the fetish now she may have also had an appreciation for it. Not sexually, necessarily, but just in terms of an uplifting and positive experience. A missed opportunity? Quite possibly.

Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
 
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