Hi everyone. Thanks for all the kind words about my first story post. Special props to pinkgirl23 and peachp for their especially nice encouragement!
This second story also involves "Sarina", although it may not be as in depth as the first. For those who don't like build up, skip to the *****.
I was visiting Sarina's place, and her family was there. We were in the upstairs living room while everyone was either downstairs or out, so we decided to take advantage of a little quasi-alone time. She was wearing this long sleeved pullover shirt (again, a touch of the hippy), jeans, and her feet were bare. Actually, they were bare a lot, so I didn't think they were that sensitive, and besides, my favourite target is usually the underarm, so I didn't have any high hopes for tickling here feet. Anyways, I digress...
We were on a sofa, and she decided to sit on my lap with her back against me. I would whisper things and play with her hair, and she would answer back and so forth. After a while, I kissed her ear, and it made her giggle a bit, so she turned around to face me to give me a kiss.
We kept talking until she started to tease me a bit. Now, her butt was between my knees, which in turn was at the edge of the sofa, so in retaliation to her teasing, I slowly spread my knees, and she slowly started to drop to the floor. She giggled and squealed, but not too loudly, since she didn't want her family to hear her from downstairs. I held on to her hands as her butt slipped to the floor, and then I gently held on until her back was on the floor also. Somehow, her feet wound up trapped between my knees.
*****
Now, up until this moment, the thought of tickling her feet didn't enter my mind, but there they were, both of her soles. Being the hippy, she didn't (and couldn't afford to) go for pedicures, but her feet were clean and nice. She later told me that she expected me to join her on the floor, and she looked up at me waiting. Instead, I took a hold of her feet in a tighter grip and wrapped one of my legs over the other. I then took my index fingers and traced a line from the base of her toes all the way down to the heels of both feet. Her eyes got wide open and she grabbed my pant legs and mouthed the word "No!" She couldn't shout it like the way she wanted to because she didn't want to attract attention of her family. So I did it again, and her grip on my pant legs tightened. Well, of course at this point, I had to finish the job.
Now in my other story, I said that Sarina didn't have a lot of upper body strenght; apparently, she didn't have a lot of strenght in her legs either. I thought I had to hold her feet with one hand, but apparently my knees were sufficient. I never had a pair of feet in this position, so I decided to go at it. I went from tracing a line with my index fingers to scribbling around her arch. She started to alternately grab my pant legs and then slap my shins. Since her feet surprisingly didn't move, I decided to keep going. I went from spidering her arches to lightly scratching the base of her toes. It was all equal torture for her, as she continued her grabbing my pant legs and slapping my shins, while she started to shake her head violently on the floor while mouthing the words "No! No! No!" Unlike in the other story, I didn't tease her verbally, since I didn't want her family to hear either, so I kept at the tickling. I even tried her heel, which at least seemed to be the driest part of her foot, but it didn't make it any less sensitive. As I scratched the bases of her heels, I looked down to see her thin brown hair flying from side to side. "Wow, this works too!" I thought. The funny thing was that even though her feet weren't soft like some of the idealized stories portray them, they were still smooth. It was as if she had oiled them a while before, and it was still a bit slick, but dry. You guys know what I mean?
Anyways, I kept alternating from the base of her toes, to the arch, on to the heel, and up the opposite side. She still went crazy. So then I decided to do a full assault, where my fingers did a mad scramble everywhere. Well, that did the trick, as her hair flailed while she shook her head, and all her hands could go was slap the carpet, since she went flat on her back (the effort or doing that pseudo-push up to grab my pant legs was too much).
It was at this point that I noticed her laughter was silent. Her mouth was wide open in a tortured laugh, and her eyes were squeezed shut, but no laughter was bubbling out. I remembered that she didn't want her family to hear her, and I realized that I was tickling her for a good five minutes. I didn't want to press my luck with that, and besides, her face was getting a little red, so I stopped. The second I did, she let out a huge sigh of relief. I bent over to help her up, and then I hoisted her onto the sofa, and she put head on my shoulder.
"That was terrible," she breathed out, exhausted.
"I'm sorry, but when I saw your feet, I had to do it."
"Ugh, my feet are my most ticklish spot. [I didn't know that]. When you let me sink to the floor, I thought you were coming to join me. Then all of a sudden my feet were trapped. I still didn't know what you were up to until you started tickling me."
"Was it that bad?"
"Yes! And do you know how hard it is to try and laugh without making a sound?"
Believe it or not, she actually made the effort of giving off silent laughter. It helped that she wasn't pinned down, and that she could give off energy by flailing her hair and slapping either me or the floor or moving her bum up and off the floor now and then. So I held her for a bit, and I actually resisted the temptation to tickle her side, which was a good thing because her family was coming upstairs at that time. So we both got off the sofa and went towards the kitchen to meet them.
The next month, she told me an anecdote of what happened a week later. She and her brother were visiting their grandmother, and her brother was holding her in the kitchen from behind. She reached up to grab his ears when he goosed her in the upper ribs. She made a grunt as her hands flew down to her side and as she sank to the ground. Her grandmother told her "You'd better not let your b/f know about that." She told me that she answered ruefully that I already did.
There you are. I hope you liked it.
This second story also involves "Sarina", although it may not be as in depth as the first. For those who don't like build up, skip to the *****.
I was visiting Sarina's place, and her family was there. We were in the upstairs living room while everyone was either downstairs or out, so we decided to take advantage of a little quasi-alone time. She was wearing this long sleeved pullover shirt (again, a touch of the hippy), jeans, and her feet were bare. Actually, they were bare a lot, so I didn't think they were that sensitive, and besides, my favourite target is usually the underarm, so I didn't have any high hopes for tickling here feet. Anyways, I digress...
We were on a sofa, and she decided to sit on my lap with her back against me. I would whisper things and play with her hair, and she would answer back and so forth. After a while, I kissed her ear, and it made her giggle a bit, so she turned around to face me to give me a kiss.
We kept talking until she started to tease me a bit. Now, her butt was between my knees, which in turn was at the edge of the sofa, so in retaliation to her teasing, I slowly spread my knees, and she slowly started to drop to the floor. She giggled and squealed, but not too loudly, since she didn't want her family to hear her from downstairs. I held on to her hands as her butt slipped to the floor, and then I gently held on until her back was on the floor also. Somehow, her feet wound up trapped between my knees.
*****
Now, up until this moment, the thought of tickling her feet didn't enter my mind, but there they were, both of her soles. Being the hippy, she didn't (and couldn't afford to) go for pedicures, but her feet were clean and nice. She later told me that she expected me to join her on the floor, and she looked up at me waiting. Instead, I took a hold of her feet in a tighter grip and wrapped one of my legs over the other. I then took my index fingers and traced a line from the base of her toes all the way down to the heels of both feet. Her eyes got wide open and she grabbed my pant legs and mouthed the word "No!" She couldn't shout it like the way she wanted to because she didn't want to attract attention of her family. So I did it again, and her grip on my pant legs tightened. Well, of course at this point, I had to finish the job.
Now in my other story, I said that Sarina didn't have a lot of upper body strenght; apparently, she didn't have a lot of strenght in her legs either. I thought I had to hold her feet with one hand, but apparently my knees were sufficient. I never had a pair of feet in this position, so I decided to go at it. I went from tracing a line with my index fingers to scribbling around her arch. She started to alternately grab my pant legs and then slap my shins. Since her feet surprisingly didn't move, I decided to keep going. I went from spidering her arches to lightly scratching the base of her toes. It was all equal torture for her, as she continued her grabbing my pant legs and slapping my shins, while she started to shake her head violently on the floor while mouthing the words "No! No! No!" Unlike in the other story, I didn't tease her verbally, since I didn't want her family to hear either, so I kept at the tickling. I even tried her heel, which at least seemed to be the driest part of her foot, but it didn't make it any less sensitive. As I scratched the bases of her heels, I looked down to see her thin brown hair flying from side to side. "Wow, this works too!" I thought. The funny thing was that even though her feet weren't soft like some of the idealized stories portray them, they were still smooth. It was as if she had oiled them a while before, and it was still a bit slick, but dry. You guys know what I mean?
Anyways, I kept alternating from the base of her toes, to the arch, on to the heel, and up the opposite side. She still went crazy. So then I decided to do a full assault, where my fingers did a mad scramble everywhere. Well, that did the trick, as her hair flailed while she shook her head, and all her hands could go was slap the carpet, since she went flat on her back (the effort or doing that pseudo-push up to grab my pant legs was too much).
It was at this point that I noticed her laughter was silent. Her mouth was wide open in a tortured laugh, and her eyes were squeezed shut, but no laughter was bubbling out. I remembered that she didn't want her family to hear her, and I realized that I was tickling her for a good five minutes. I didn't want to press my luck with that, and besides, her face was getting a little red, so I stopped. The second I did, she let out a huge sigh of relief. I bent over to help her up, and then I hoisted her onto the sofa, and she put head on my shoulder.
"That was terrible," she breathed out, exhausted.
"I'm sorry, but when I saw your feet, I had to do it."
"Ugh, my feet are my most ticklish spot. [I didn't know that]. When you let me sink to the floor, I thought you were coming to join me. Then all of a sudden my feet were trapped. I still didn't know what you were up to until you started tickling me."
"Was it that bad?"
"Yes! And do you know how hard it is to try and laugh without making a sound?"
Believe it or not, she actually made the effort of giving off silent laughter. It helped that she wasn't pinned down, and that she could give off energy by flailing her hair and slapping either me or the floor or moving her bum up and off the floor now and then. So I held her for a bit, and I actually resisted the temptation to tickle her side, which was a good thing because her family was coming upstairs at that time. So we both got off the sofa and went towards the kitchen to meet them.
The next month, she told me an anecdote of what happened a week later. She and her brother were visiting their grandmother, and her brother was holding her in the kitchen from behind. She reached up to grab his ears when he goosed her in the upper ribs. She made a grunt as her hands flew down to her side and as she sank to the ground. Her grandmother told her "You'd better not let your b/f know about that." She told me that she answered ruefully that I already did.
There you are. I hope you liked it.
