Something happens when you meet a new kink-minded individual. You might play, you might have coffee…hell, you might not do anything because y’all just didn’t feel right about any moment beyond “Hello.” If you’re lucky, you hit it off as just plain boring people outside of the kink in common….like the rest of regular life. You really hope that they turn out to be kind and respectful individuals in the least, and some hope to find a life partner as the most. You just never know. But then there are those people that for whatever reason “stick” to ya. I met one of those once….I’ll just call him Boss. Now, Boss and I met about 15 years ago online. It was a fluke…he messaged me with a brave comment…and it was kismet. We talked for…oh… FORRREEVVVVEERRRRRRRR….before getting up the nerve to meet. Then we hung out, we talked…we sort of lost our out-of-the-closet-kink-virginity to each other. Not that there wasn’t anyone in our exclusive pasts, but this was a first on a lot of levels…mainly that we were meeting for the sole purpose of a particular style of play that didn’t happen in our vanilla lives. And when we did, it was fun. It was a few hours together…a giant blur of nerves, feet, proper politeness, laughs and more nerves. But most importantly, was the fun. Then life happened, and we didn’t see each other again.
Fast forward a decade and a half, and a few emails exchanged over the years. We had both moved to different towns and homes, grown up, raised children, etc. Boss and I are the same age, so we had a lot of parallels in life. Then for some reason, I decided to check an old email account that was strictly for kink related things. What did I see? That screen name. That screen name that made me feel young and naive and giddy inside. And it wasn’t that old…this email. So, those parallels had begun to surface again. A few “OH MY GOSH IT IS YOU” and we decided it was time to visit and catch up. No play was going to happen. It was more about reuniting with an old friend that had helped to permanently brand a part of our personality a bit deeper into our skin.
My kitchen doorway would be the place I saw that smile for the first time in so long. He’d parked in the drive then braved my cluttered garage to knock on the door and I don’t think there were two larger smiles in the world at that moment. The first thing I noticed was that he was much taller than I remembered. Several inches in fact. It was a nice surprise. In our absence of one another, a few other things had become obvious. Boss became very much the personality that fits his name. Confident, hardworking, controlling and he began sporting the hottest silver hairs a man could have. I had seen those in his fb pictures. Comfortable in his jeans and fashionable outfit and baseball cap, he strode in like he’d been there before, more than once. Last time, we were in his home….this time it was mine. Over these years, I too had changed. Life’s darker moments had caused me to become much less submissive and have generally enjoyed life as a no non-sense kind of woman rather than a ticklee who wanted a happy tickler. I typically do the tickling now and I cannot remember the last time I submitted to bottoming for anything. Hence…not so much talk about play prior to our reunion. So he came in and we made small talk in the kitchen. Boss is artist when it comes to beverage flavors and one quick request had him rifling through my liquor cabinet and quickly presenting me with a glass of something wonderful that I didn’t think could be created with the ingredients he had at hand. Impressive. Who knew? Not surprised, just impressed. We really fell into a neat rhythm of chat and worked out way to the living room where he sat in one chair while I sat on the couch and we sipped as we sat and talked about the years between us. An hour went by without even mentioning our last encounter except that I kept saying out of the blue, “This is so cool. I cannot believe we’re sitting here” to which he’d say over and over, “I know!”
Then as it does, the subject, THE subject….tickling….floated to the surface like bubbles in our drinks. Easily moving into the chat about what we’d done since. I took a more public route meeting people and hosting gatherings while he became more private. Both had benefits and trials. It would have bored anyone else, but it was very important to talk about it. We started to venture into chat about other types of things….that word “other”…should be read in italics. Yes, darker playtime with those same feet and hands from a decade and half ago. But the drinks dictated a cigarette break on my back porch.... where I watched his hands move the cigarette back and forth to his mouth. I didn’t say anything. My dogs barked from their yard farther away on the property. I sipped my drink. I looked at my laptop that had come out with us. I just watched it all. I watched him gesture with those hands as he smoked and talked about his job, and his home and his hobby of carpentry. Thinking about those hands gripping a hammer, or the delicate tips of his long fingers running over a piece of wood to be sure it was smooth, made me take a few deep breaths. I didn’t even connect my thoughts to anything other than randomly formed images in my head in that moment. Over the years, I had developed a habit of looking at hands. I was always fascinate by them even stating in forum once how much I enjoy the fluid motions of someone who uses their hands for work and play. I never got I over it I supposed. I love hands the way some people love feet, but these hands were some of the first I noticed and I suppose they caught my attention without even realizing until about an hour later.
Back inside on the same couch this time, we actually talked about deeper things in foot play -like harsh treatments and waxes and leather straps and bondage. It was so freeing. Just to sit there as if we were talking about the weather with someone who had once been key to the whole thing was surreal! And we talked details and looked at pictures and compared thoughts. I told him stories of things I had experienced and he told me things he’d hoped to. And we went to the back porch again under the little light where the mosquitos were gathering. And I watched his hands and we joked about tickling more. Then we were headed back into the house. But…I stopped at the door with my hand on the knob and said, “So, before I let you back inside, I have to know what we’re thinking. Do you want to play again?” And he smiled that deceptively innocent little boy grin and said, “Yes!” Back into the house where I made the comment that while I am usually barefoot in my house at all times, I had purposely kept on socks because I knew of his affinity for feet and it felt wrong to talk about these subjects while flashing freshly pedicured toes with the prettiest teal polish. Well into hour two of conversation and coming in from the porch, I told him the socks were coming off because they were wet from the ground. We sat on opposite ends of my couch and I posed my feet a bit and ask him what he thought. “I told you I’ve always thought your feet were some of the prettiest I’ve ever seen.” With a very polite thank you, I now felt comfortable. I didn’t need to compliment as nice as it was. The moment was more the humor of hiding them for a while and this was ice breaking.
That’s when I noticed something had changed. This otherwise very strong dom of a man seemed a bit breathy. His cheeks a bit red. Not from the drink he’d had. Finding myself in that moment where my pushy female dominance usually takes over situations, I slid my right foot over and rubbed his knee through his jeans with the arch. And he flustered. His expression was priceless1 So I brought them both up and began a cat-like pawing of his legs with my toes and feet….purposely trying to make him uncomfortable. My son had been in the other wing of the house occupied with videos games and his current love interest via Skype so I knew there was no possible interruption, but Boss is a gentleman and felt uncomfortable. I thought it was cute. My pushy inner bitch was having fun though. So we talked about the awkward nature of the moment and I told him I didn’t care and told him to put his hand on my right foot. He tried really hard not to, but when I said, “please,” I think his truer self heard be somewhat begging and he did it and smiled at the same time. I don’t think he knew he smiled so big. He was smiling like a teenage boy who just touched a girl’s bottom during a dance for the first time! Such a fun expression! Knowing he might get in trouble but doing it because it was fun! There…we were back to what made that first memory linger so long. We were having FUN! I thought I’d die from his polite sweetness. He actually said, “I am out of my element. This is not my personality. I like to be charge.” And he looked at me with a bit of surprise that I was so different than maybe he expected in practice though he knew my styles had evolved over time. He didn’t realize that part of the thrill for me was putting him there out of his element….knowing he wanted to play but he wanted to be the one in charge but was fighting his inner propriety and gentleman status and shying away from it. So he rubbed my foot gently. He stroked around my toes and under my heel. It was divine. No one touches a foot like a footman. Others can try, but for a woman like me, who loves her feet adored, there is a night and day difference. He didn’t tickle them. He just….touched them. Those few short minutes…had me breathing hard this time!
We talked about the time …it was after 1:30 in the morning by now…and we had discussed where we might actually make a plan to play one day soon. A pause in the chat made a good break and he excused himself to the bathroom before hitting the road home. I decided we might enjoy the last of our chat under the oaks on my front porch where my dogs would not be barking for our attentions in the distance. As he walked through the foyer, he asked why we were going out front instead of where we had been before. I simply said, “Because it’s dark.”
I needed another cigarette by this time too even though I had stopped smoking years go! So he lit them and realized I pointed him to a seat next to me. We chitchatted about when he was next off from work and when we might start indulging a bit in play. Having realized Boss and I were both comfortable with each other and wanted to have a local “friend” without the pressure of emotional confusion, it seemed the future would be fun. That’s when I simply slid my foot into his lap in the pitch blackness. He laughed. “I didn’t think we’d be doing anything like this tonight. We just talked yesterday. We were just catching up.” I told him life was short…and he had my permission. He laughed again….obviously not used to needing permission to do what he wanted.
So I just said, “You know you want to tickle my feet.” He laughed again. I think part of it was that he found my pushy dominant attitude to be amusing. He’s not one to be pushed and I’m pretty lucky he was being sweet or I have a feeling he could have been very nasty. I was having too much fun to be offended. To the tickling comment…. “Yes, I do,” was his reply. I asked him to brush the dust and dirt from the porch off of my left foot and he obliged….telling me I got them dirty on purpose! How dare he!?
Obviously I HAD done that on purpose as a point of conversation. I had dragged my sole across a sandy section of the walk so he would have to spend more time getting each tiny grain from between my toes. I thought we did so well with the ealier ice-breaker so playfully that it seemed a natural next step to see if we were really going to be able to pull off this higher level play we both wanted. What better way than to have little tickle fun and see if the comfort was there when the propriety issue was safely ensconced in the darkness of my porch so far away from others’ ears. The next few minutes were spent with him clearing my hard earned dirt from my foot and along the way, he knew very well what he was doing….pretending not to tickle. After the sand has been brushed, he just lingered a bit….touching. Like he does. Then in response to the exhales he was hearing after I held my breath repeatedly, he began tickling lightly right in the arch of my foot interplaying with a nail dragging upward. I tried hard not to laugh….I’m accustomed to not giving in plus it was the middle of the night and I do have neighbors. So he applied more pressure and nails and scrabbled from heel to toe. And I choked back an intense laugh that would have been a scream! He was actually enjoying this more than I think I wanted him to. This was my idea after all and he was the one who was reluctant! And as he continued, I found myself sitting up higher in my chair not realizing that I was trying to pull away until he mentioned it. I tried telling him I wasn’t really that ticklish. He didn’t listen. He just kept up and down and up and down with that damn fingernail! I had started to laugh against my will for the first time and it was delicious! ….and thoroughly in that initial few minutes…I realized this was going to work. He was discovering the "spots" that made me gasp and it had ony been a few minutes' time. We were in sync.
After a bit of tickling, I decided to take it a bit farther and told Boss to slap my sole, something we’d talked at length about earlier in the night….to heat it and make it more ticklish. I pushed the idea. He had wanted to do this ….but the actual act was a bit daunting. We’ve all had those moments when confronted with something we really want…and yet can’t bring ourselves to do it. He held back..not willing to indulge just yet. So against what is normally my natural tendency, I asked him to do it. I said PLEASE….not my style! The roles were suddenly reversing. I was finding that for the first time in years, I felt the need to beg for something. And surprisingly, he just did it. HARD! And it stung! And I couldn’t think. The sensation and the headspace…it was destroying whatever remnant of control and self-indulgence I thought I had. Boss was toying with me. He was winning and he knew it.
The next hour…the next delicious hour was spent sitting in the dark of a humid southern night with Boss tickling my feet and finding all of the tiniest little wrinkles and nooks and secrets. He knew just what to say….how to tease and how to question me. He trapped my foot in his crossed legs and I struggled to cover my soles with my hands. He commented more than once that I needed to be retrained…which made the tickles even WORSE! And the longer we went, the more sensitive I got. AND the more submissive…which was a shock. I could have staye don that porch for hours longer!
So it looks like we’ve found playmates. We’re not people interested in having anything more between us than the friendship…so there’s no weird pressure to be something more. Just the idea that within a few minutes’ drive, we have someone who likes to play….totally diggin’ that. And I have to admit that in the grand scheme of things, Boss is just a decent person in a world where those are hard to find.
So if you have a chance…to meet a new friend. Why not give a chance? Boss would be a good friend even without this kink in common. It’s just a glorious plus to be honest. It will be interesting to learn a few things together…and to embrace a side of myself that I thought was long gone. I found out last night, that I like to submit to a serious foot tickler. I didn’t know. Already, this is a very cool friendship again.
So Boss, thanks for the fun…and looking forward to seeing your new belt.
Fast forward a decade and a half, and a few emails exchanged over the years. We had both moved to different towns and homes, grown up, raised children, etc. Boss and I are the same age, so we had a lot of parallels in life. Then for some reason, I decided to check an old email account that was strictly for kink related things. What did I see? That screen name. That screen name that made me feel young and naive and giddy inside. And it wasn’t that old…this email. So, those parallels had begun to surface again. A few “OH MY GOSH IT IS YOU” and we decided it was time to visit and catch up. No play was going to happen. It was more about reuniting with an old friend that had helped to permanently brand a part of our personality a bit deeper into our skin.
My kitchen doorway would be the place I saw that smile for the first time in so long. He’d parked in the drive then braved my cluttered garage to knock on the door and I don’t think there were two larger smiles in the world at that moment. The first thing I noticed was that he was much taller than I remembered. Several inches in fact. It was a nice surprise. In our absence of one another, a few other things had become obvious. Boss became very much the personality that fits his name. Confident, hardworking, controlling and he began sporting the hottest silver hairs a man could have. I had seen those in his fb pictures. Comfortable in his jeans and fashionable outfit and baseball cap, he strode in like he’d been there before, more than once. Last time, we were in his home….this time it was mine. Over these years, I too had changed. Life’s darker moments had caused me to become much less submissive and have generally enjoyed life as a no non-sense kind of woman rather than a ticklee who wanted a happy tickler. I typically do the tickling now and I cannot remember the last time I submitted to bottoming for anything. Hence…not so much talk about play prior to our reunion. So he came in and we made small talk in the kitchen. Boss is artist when it comes to beverage flavors and one quick request had him rifling through my liquor cabinet and quickly presenting me with a glass of something wonderful that I didn’t think could be created with the ingredients he had at hand. Impressive. Who knew? Not surprised, just impressed. We really fell into a neat rhythm of chat and worked out way to the living room where he sat in one chair while I sat on the couch and we sipped as we sat and talked about the years between us. An hour went by without even mentioning our last encounter except that I kept saying out of the blue, “This is so cool. I cannot believe we’re sitting here” to which he’d say over and over, “I know!”
Then as it does, the subject, THE subject….tickling….floated to the surface like bubbles in our drinks. Easily moving into the chat about what we’d done since. I took a more public route meeting people and hosting gatherings while he became more private. Both had benefits and trials. It would have bored anyone else, but it was very important to talk about it. We started to venture into chat about other types of things….that word “other”…should be read in italics. Yes, darker playtime with those same feet and hands from a decade and half ago. But the drinks dictated a cigarette break on my back porch.... where I watched his hands move the cigarette back and forth to his mouth. I didn’t say anything. My dogs barked from their yard farther away on the property. I sipped my drink. I looked at my laptop that had come out with us. I just watched it all. I watched him gesture with those hands as he smoked and talked about his job, and his home and his hobby of carpentry. Thinking about those hands gripping a hammer, or the delicate tips of his long fingers running over a piece of wood to be sure it was smooth, made me take a few deep breaths. I didn’t even connect my thoughts to anything other than randomly formed images in my head in that moment. Over the years, I had developed a habit of looking at hands. I was always fascinate by them even stating in forum once how much I enjoy the fluid motions of someone who uses their hands for work and play. I never got I over it I supposed. I love hands the way some people love feet, but these hands were some of the first I noticed and I suppose they caught my attention without even realizing until about an hour later.
Back inside on the same couch this time, we actually talked about deeper things in foot play -like harsh treatments and waxes and leather straps and bondage. It was so freeing. Just to sit there as if we were talking about the weather with someone who had once been key to the whole thing was surreal! And we talked details and looked at pictures and compared thoughts. I told him stories of things I had experienced and he told me things he’d hoped to. And we went to the back porch again under the little light where the mosquitos were gathering. And I watched his hands and we joked about tickling more. Then we were headed back into the house. But…I stopped at the door with my hand on the knob and said, “So, before I let you back inside, I have to know what we’re thinking. Do you want to play again?” And he smiled that deceptively innocent little boy grin and said, “Yes!” Back into the house where I made the comment that while I am usually barefoot in my house at all times, I had purposely kept on socks because I knew of his affinity for feet and it felt wrong to talk about these subjects while flashing freshly pedicured toes with the prettiest teal polish. Well into hour two of conversation and coming in from the porch, I told him the socks were coming off because they were wet from the ground. We sat on opposite ends of my couch and I posed my feet a bit and ask him what he thought. “I told you I’ve always thought your feet were some of the prettiest I’ve ever seen.” With a very polite thank you, I now felt comfortable. I didn’t need to compliment as nice as it was. The moment was more the humor of hiding them for a while and this was ice breaking.
That’s when I noticed something had changed. This otherwise very strong dom of a man seemed a bit breathy. His cheeks a bit red. Not from the drink he’d had. Finding myself in that moment where my pushy female dominance usually takes over situations, I slid my right foot over and rubbed his knee through his jeans with the arch. And he flustered. His expression was priceless1 So I brought them both up and began a cat-like pawing of his legs with my toes and feet….purposely trying to make him uncomfortable. My son had been in the other wing of the house occupied with videos games and his current love interest via Skype so I knew there was no possible interruption, but Boss is a gentleman and felt uncomfortable. I thought it was cute. My pushy inner bitch was having fun though. So we talked about the awkward nature of the moment and I told him I didn’t care and told him to put his hand on my right foot. He tried really hard not to, but when I said, “please,” I think his truer self heard be somewhat begging and he did it and smiled at the same time. I don’t think he knew he smiled so big. He was smiling like a teenage boy who just touched a girl’s bottom during a dance for the first time! Such a fun expression! Knowing he might get in trouble but doing it because it was fun! There…we were back to what made that first memory linger so long. We were having FUN! I thought I’d die from his polite sweetness. He actually said, “I am out of my element. This is not my personality. I like to be charge.” And he looked at me with a bit of surprise that I was so different than maybe he expected in practice though he knew my styles had evolved over time. He didn’t realize that part of the thrill for me was putting him there out of his element….knowing he wanted to play but he wanted to be the one in charge but was fighting his inner propriety and gentleman status and shying away from it. So he rubbed my foot gently. He stroked around my toes and under my heel. It was divine. No one touches a foot like a footman. Others can try, but for a woman like me, who loves her feet adored, there is a night and day difference. He didn’t tickle them. He just….touched them. Those few short minutes…had me breathing hard this time!
We talked about the time …it was after 1:30 in the morning by now…and we had discussed where we might actually make a plan to play one day soon. A pause in the chat made a good break and he excused himself to the bathroom before hitting the road home. I decided we might enjoy the last of our chat under the oaks on my front porch where my dogs would not be barking for our attentions in the distance. As he walked through the foyer, he asked why we were going out front instead of where we had been before. I simply said, “Because it’s dark.”
I needed another cigarette by this time too even though I had stopped smoking years go! So he lit them and realized I pointed him to a seat next to me. We chitchatted about when he was next off from work and when we might start indulging a bit in play. Having realized Boss and I were both comfortable with each other and wanted to have a local “friend” without the pressure of emotional confusion, it seemed the future would be fun. That’s when I simply slid my foot into his lap in the pitch blackness. He laughed. “I didn’t think we’d be doing anything like this tonight. We just talked yesterday. We were just catching up.” I told him life was short…and he had my permission. He laughed again….obviously not used to needing permission to do what he wanted.
So I just said, “You know you want to tickle my feet.” He laughed again. I think part of it was that he found my pushy dominant attitude to be amusing. He’s not one to be pushed and I’m pretty lucky he was being sweet or I have a feeling he could have been very nasty. I was having too much fun to be offended. To the tickling comment…. “Yes, I do,” was his reply. I asked him to brush the dust and dirt from the porch off of my left foot and he obliged….telling me I got them dirty on purpose! How dare he!?
Obviously I HAD done that on purpose as a point of conversation. I had dragged my sole across a sandy section of the walk so he would have to spend more time getting each tiny grain from between my toes. I thought we did so well with the ealier ice-breaker so playfully that it seemed a natural next step to see if we were really going to be able to pull off this higher level play we both wanted. What better way than to have little tickle fun and see if the comfort was there when the propriety issue was safely ensconced in the darkness of my porch so far away from others’ ears. The next few minutes were spent with him clearing my hard earned dirt from my foot and along the way, he knew very well what he was doing….pretending not to tickle. After the sand has been brushed, he just lingered a bit….touching. Like he does. Then in response to the exhales he was hearing after I held my breath repeatedly, he began tickling lightly right in the arch of my foot interplaying with a nail dragging upward. I tried hard not to laugh….I’m accustomed to not giving in plus it was the middle of the night and I do have neighbors. So he applied more pressure and nails and scrabbled from heel to toe. And I choked back an intense laugh that would have been a scream! He was actually enjoying this more than I think I wanted him to. This was my idea after all and he was the one who was reluctant! And as he continued, I found myself sitting up higher in my chair not realizing that I was trying to pull away until he mentioned it. I tried telling him I wasn’t really that ticklish. He didn’t listen. He just kept up and down and up and down with that damn fingernail! I had started to laugh against my will for the first time and it was delicious! ….and thoroughly in that initial few minutes…I realized this was going to work. He was discovering the "spots" that made me gasp and it had ony been a few minutes' time. We were in sync.
After a bit of tickling, I decided to take it a bit farther and told Boss to slap my sole, something we’d talked at length about earlier in the night….to heat it and make it more ticklish. I pushed the idea. He had wanted to do this ….but the actual act was a bit daunting. We’ve all had those moments when confronted with something we really want…and yet can’t bring ourselves to do it. He held back..not willing to indulge just yet. So against what is normally my natural tendency, I asked him to do it. I said PLEASE….not my style! The roles were suddenly reversing. I was finding that for the first time in years, I felt the need to beg for something. And surprisingly, he just did it. HARD! And it stung! And I couldn’t think. The sensation and the headspace…it was destroying whatever remnant of control and self-indulgence I thought I had. Boss was toying with me. He was winning and he knew it.
The next hour…the next delicious hour was spent sitting in the dark of a humid southern night with Boss tickling my feet and finding all of the tiniest little wrinkles and nooks and secrets. He knew just what to say….how to tease and how to question me. He trapped my foot in his crossed legs and I struggled to cover my soles with my hands. He commented more than once that I needed to be retrained…which made the tickles even WORSE! And the longer we went, the more sensitive I got. AND the more submissive…which was a shock. I could have staye don that porch for hours longer!
So it looks like we’ve found playmates. We’re not people interested in having anything more between us than the friendship…so there’s no weird pressure to be something more. Just the idea that within a few minutes’ drive, we have someone who likes to play….totally diggin’ that. And I have to admit that in the grand scheme of things, Boss is just a decent person in a world where those are hard to find.
So if you have a chance…to meet a new friend. Why not give a chance? Boss would be a good friend even without this kink in common. It’s just a glorious plus to be honest. It will be interesting to learn a few things together…and to embrace a side of myself that I thought was long gone. I found out last night, that I like to submit to a serious foot tickler. I didn’t know. Already, this is a very cool friendship again.
So Boss, thanks for the fun…and looking forward to seeing your new belt.
