meridian111
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- Oct 6, 2003
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Setting the stage – my wife is an attractive, blond hair, blue-eyed, trim mother of two with nicely shaped (if not a little chubby) feet. Prior to this year’s beach vacation, she got a pedicure and instead of going with a more conventional color, she chose a ‘wild’ color … blue. She was actually very proud of the fact that she 'dared' to get blue polish. Anyhow, along with being conventional and conservative, my wife also has very ticklish and sensitive feet and the longest I’ve ever tickled her continuously was for probably 30-45 seconds.
Now the great thing about our beach hotel was that it was right on the beach. The con, however, was that each room was right next to the other, as were the decks that looked out on the sand. As a consequence, we became well acquainted with some of the occupants of the hotel. One such occupant was a nice enough guy, a little loud, kind of obnoxious, always cracking jokes (which weren’t funny) and he had a thing for my wife. This didn’t bother me because my wife and I have a tight relationship. We referred to him as Harmless Guy. In fact, by the end of our trip we had nicknames for almost everyone in our small hotel.
On our last day, I was down the beach talking with a couple who had some kids that were the same age as ours while my wife was being cajoled into doing something she swore she would never do (for fear of getting sand everywhere). My son and daughter buried her in a trench they dug, then they proceeded to build a huge mound of dirt on her, leaving just her head sticking out. I didn’t pay much attention to this, until Harmless Guy and his friend stopped by. I was down the beach, probably 30-40 feet, but I could overhear parts of the conversation. Suddenly I heard HG say loudly, “well, with you buried like that on the beach you have to expect that sooner or later someone’s gonna come along and tickle your pretty feet.” Wow! How brazen. I pretended to keep looking at and talking with the couple, but was now intently watching this new situation. <-- Mirrored sunglasses.
My son and daughter both laughed at HG, and my wife let out a stern, “Ha ha, No, No, Noooo, you don’t understand”, she warned-pleaded. But HG and his friend bent down, getting their considerable girth into it, and started digging around in the sand. I was still kind of floored by the whole situation, and my impulse at this point was to go over and break it up. However, I AM a member of this group – enough said -- so I let it continue to play out.
Suddenly, my wife shrieked and HG and his friend started whooping and hollering. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Stop, stop, stop, hahhahhhahhaa,” my wife’s head shook violently back and forth as her little blue painted toenails, barely visible, wiggled in the sand. Then the silent laughter started, punctuated every few seconds by a breathy “nooooo … please”, then more laughter. HG started in “gitchy gitchy goo, let me tickle these pretty little toes, gitchy gitchy” he laughed. “Man you’ve got to tickle her WHOLE foot,” the friend demanded. So they proceeded to dig furiously, exposing my wife’s calves, ankles, and bare feet to their 20 tickling fingers. They tickled viciously, all over to tops, pads, arches and especially just beneath her toes.
By this time, most people within a few hundred yards were watching the display. After a few minutes, I went over and broke it up. As HG and his friend moved on down the beach, HG said, “Man, she has some ticklish feet. You must tickle her every day!” I nodded yes, which was a lie, then I dug my wife out of her tickle trap.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe they did that. It tickled so much. You’re my hero,” she kissed me. I said, “well, you can’t just lay around seducing people with your wild blue toenail polish.” She hit me and we walked down the beach.
P.S. Several days ago, she went for a pedicure (which she says she hates) and opted for blue toenail polish. Hmmmmm….
Now the great thing about our beach hotel was that it was right on the beach. The con, however, was that each room was right next to the other, as were the decks that looked out on the sand. As a consequence, we became well acquainted with some of the occupants of the hotel. One such occupant was a nice enough guy, a little loud, kind of obnoxious, always cracking jokes (which weren’t funny) and he had a thing for my wife. This didn’t bother me because my wife and I have a tight relationship. We referred to him as Harmless Guy. In fact, by the end of our trip we had nicknames for almost everyone in our small hotel.
On our last day, I was down the beach talking with a couple who had some kids that were the same age as ours while my wife was being cajoled into doing something she swore she would never do (for fear of getting sand everywhere). My son and daughter buried her in a trench they dug, then they proceeded to build a huge mound of dirt on her, leaving just her head sticking out. I didn’t pay much attention to this, until Harmless Guy and his friend stopped by. I was down the beach, probably 30-40 feet, but I could overhear parts of the conversation. Suddenly I heard HG say loudly, “well, with you buried like that on the beach you have to expect that sooner or later someone’s gonna come along and tickle your pretty feet.” Wow! How brazen. I pretended to keep looking at and talking with the couple, but was now intently watching this new situation. <-- Mirrored sunglasses.
My son and daughter both laughed at HG, and my wife let out a stern, “Ha ha, No, No, Noooo, you don’t understand”, she warned-pleaded. But HG and his friend bent down, getting their considerable girth into it, and started digging around in the sand. I was still kind of floored by the whole situation, and my impulse at this point was to go over and break it up. However, I AM a member of this group – enough said -- so I let it continue to play out.
Suddenly, my wife shrieked and HG and his friend started whooping and hollering. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Stop, stop, stop, hahhahhhahhaa,” my wife’s head shook violently back and forth as her little blue painted toenails, barely visible, wiggled in the sand. Then the silent laughter started, punctuated every few seconds by a breathy “nooooo … please”, then more laughter. HG started in “gitchy gitchy goo, let me tickle these pretty little toes, gitchy gitchy” he laughed. “Man you’ve got to tickle her WHOLE foot,” the friend demanded. So they proceeded to dig furiously, exposing my wife’s calves, ankles, and bare feet to their 20 tickling fingers. They tickled viciously, all over to tops, pads, arches and especially just beneath her toes.
By this time, most people within a few hundred yards were watching the display. After a few minutes, I went over and broke it up. As HG and his friend moved on down the beach, HG said, “Man, she has some ticklish feet. You must tickle her every day!” I nodded yes, which was a lie, then I dug my wife out of her tickle trap.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe they did that. It tickled so much. You’re my hero,” she kissed me. I said, “well, you can’t just lay around seducing people with your wild blue toenail polish.” She hit me and we walked down the beach.
P.S. Several days ago, she went for a pedicure (which she says she hates) and opted for blue toenail polish. Hmmmmm….
Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
