--- As I've already posted in here, Peggy was for several years my "Mrs. Robinson" foot fetish and tickling "confidante." Back in the eighties. I was 30,.. she was mid-40's and smoking hot. Well over six feet tall,... raven black hair,.. Greta Garbo lips,... and exquisite size-ten feet that VERY seldom had shoes on them,.. a personal quirk of hers which I happened to love. Peggy and I had a "deal."
--- She had a sex drive like a locomotive, a rich old man who was understandably well past his "prime" ... and I had a secretive fetish which was awkward in routine dating,... but which needed "outlets," eh? When I told Peggy about my "thing" for women's feet,... tickling, etc,.. she certainly took me at my word,.. and that is what I'd like to mention about her in this little tale,..... for Peggy was somewhat unique among all the women I've known when it came to foot-tickling, fetish, etc.
--- Peggy was a woman on a mission,..... she wanted to get laid every week or so,.... and laid bigtime. She was voracious. And in case there's any doubt, let me tell you,... a six-foot-tall sex-crazy Louisianan woman is capable of orgasms which would nearly jolt me clean off the bed,... assuming we were on a bed to begin with, of course. Sometimes we missed that little luxury.
--- But I now sort of think that a light bulb went off in Peggy's head when she heard my foot fetish confession and saw me lovingly kissing her toes,... She must have thought, "Aha! I've got him now." More than any woman I've ever known, Peggy used her knowledge of my fetish to obtain what SHE wanted,... which was sex. Straight trade,..... completely fair. "If my feet turn him on," she apparently reasoned, "...then my feet he shall have."
--- Peggy's particular style of foot-ticklishness was unique, too. The first few times I tickled her feet, she would be sitting back in a chair, or on the sofa,... her legs extended across coffee table, ottoman, etc... and I'd just be sitting on the floor. (Nice, eh?) She would roll around violently when I hit just the right spot on those big, gorgeous soles,... but she didn't really "resist." Her laughter was almost like the laughter that attends a good joke. And midst her gales of Louisiana cackling, she didn't say "that tickles" ........ she'd phrase it, "That's so ticklish," ... another little quirk I enjoyed.
--- Peggy was SO non-resistent to foot-tickling - (though with highly-gratifying results) that it was actually difficult to contrive a bondage scenario,.... which I wanted badly to do. Turned out it came about like this: I had Peggy squirming pretty good on the sofa,... kicking her feet wildly in "escape & avoidance reaction," ... Her response generally sounded like, "I'm sorry I can't hold still when you tickle my feet." Rapture. So I said, "Maybe I could tie you up."
--- Peggy just said, "Oooh." Actually, she said the longest, lowest "ooh" I'd ever heard. She said, "Oooooooooooooooooooohh." We went back and forth. She said, "Like in the movies." I said, "You think you want to?" She said, "Ohhh,... you could tickle me to death." I said,.."Nah,... I wouldn't do any worse than you'd like."
--- Peggy backed off,... but only slightly. "I don't KNOW," she seemed to cajole me further. She had a Sinatra album on (I've always hated Sinatra) I said,... I've got an idea. Would you like to dance?" Peggy did the requisite quizzical double-take,.. but allowed me to take her hand and assist her into slow-dance position. We kissed,... and I edged around behind her,...and took her wrists with me. Peggy stood completely still while I tied her hands behind her,... With her hands secured behind her, I figured out some way to put my arms around her, and we slow-danced to Sinatra that way. Peggy made an awkward move to compensate for her height in order to lay her head against my chest,.... perfect chance to go for the neck and the ear ---- Truth be told, Peggy's ears were more ticklish than her feet. When I closed my lips around a helpless ear, she went completely limp in my arms,... silent scream,.. and now apparently enjoying that rope around her wrists. I didn't sense a lot of distress, eh?
--- We danced a couple more Sinatra tunes. The TMF ticklling "purists" will have to accept the fact that, for myself, tickling is a sub-component of foot fetishism,.. (I scarcely think I'm alone in this) Peggy flopped down on the sofa, hands still bound,... her legs automatically extending to get her bare feet onboard,.. where I feasted on them.. Not a few tickles and kisses, mind you.. feasted. Peggy watched,... fascinated,... and then put it all to work.
--- Thereafter, Peggy was an avid "foot seductress." (Like I needed any extra fuel for my urges,.... but come to think of it,.. it was fun.) I've certainly had a few experiences with the silken sole insinuated into my crotch underneath a table. Requests for foot massages and nail-polishing were frequent. Peggy would stop by to have me inspect the new shoes she'd just bought,.... and she once even left a shopping bag in my truck,... containing a pair of her tall, elegant leather sandals,.... she told me later she wanted me to have them to remind me of her when I was home alone. Ok. And she once visited me at a job,... informed me that husband Ed would be away for the evening,.. wanted to ensure that I would "stop by" after work, so she wanted me to take a "foot fetish break." Kicked off her shoes and virtually force-fed me those size-tens. I stopped by that evening. I'm thinking that my "revenge" entailed some tickling, eh?
--- Two theories. Peggy was taking the ball straight to the hoop,... doing exactly what she knew would keep me primed for my "Benjamin-to-her-Mrs. Robinson" role,.... that sure worked. And then she just may have had a special appreciation going for all that attention and sensation on her feet. I think she expecially was into the "symbolic" angle." A man at her feet?
--- Here's why I told this story. All my life, I've been fully accustomed to generating my own experiences, fetish-wise. Anticipating,... engineering situations,... taking horrific emotional leaps of faith,... and always,.. being the initiator. Peggy required none of that,... she did it all. She kept those big soft soles in my face as often as was proprietarily possible,.. laughed until she cried as I tickled them,.... then dipped her toes in my cream sherry nightcap. It was wonderful.
--- I've always been a pushover for the "older woman" angle. Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.
--- She had a sex drive like a locomotive, a rich old man who was understandably well past his "prime" ... and I had a secretive fetish which was awkward in routine dating,... but which needed "outlets," eh? When I told Peggy about my "thing" for women's feet,... tickling, etc,.. she certainly took me at my word,.. and that is what I'd like to mention about her in this little tale,..... for Peggy was somewhat unique among all the women I've known when it came to foot-tickling, fetish, etc.
--- Peggy was a woman on a mission,..... she wanted to get laid every week or so,.... and laid bigtime. She was voracious. And in case there's any doubt, let me tell you,... a six-foot-tall sex-crazy Louisianan woman is capable of orgasms which would nearly jolt me clean off the bed,... assuming we were on a bed to begin with, of course. Sometimes we missed that little luxury.
--- But I now sort of think that a light bulb went off in Peggy's head when she heard my foot fetish confession and saw me lovingly kissing her toes,... She must have thought, "Aha! I've got him now." More than any woman I've ever known, Peggy used her knowledge of my fetish to obtain what SHE wanted,... which was sex. Straight trade,..... completely fair. "If my feet turn him on," she apparently reasoned, "...then my feet he shall have."
--- Peggy's particular style of foot-ticklishness was unique, too. The first few times I tickled her feet, she would be sitting back in a chair, or on the sofa,... her legs extended across coffee table, ottoman, etc... and I'd just be sitting on the floor. (Nice, eh?) She would roll around violently when I hit just the right spot on those big, gorgeous soles,... but she didn't really "resist." Her laughter was almost like the laughter that attends a good joke. And midst her gales of Louisiana cackling, she didn't say "that tickles" ........ she'd phrase it, "That's so ticklish," ... another little quirk I enjoyed.
--- Peggy was SO non-resistent to foot-tickling - (though with highly-gratifying results) that it was actually difficult to contrive a bondage scenario,.... which I wanted badly to do. Turned out it came about like this: I had Peggy squirming pretty good on the sofa,... kicking her feet wildly in "escape & avoidance reaction," ... Her response generally sounded like, "I'm sorry I can't hold still when you tickle my feet." Rapture. So I said, "Maybe I could tie you up."
--- Peggy just said, "Oooh." Actually, she said the longest, lowest "ooh" I'd ever heard. She said, "Oooooooooooooooooooohh." We went back and forth. She said, "Like in the movies." I said, "You think you want to?" She said, "Ohhh,... you could tickle me to death." I said,.."Nah,... I wouldn't do any worse than you'd like."
--- Peggy backed off,... but only slightly. "I don't KNOW," she seemed to cajole me further. She had a Sinatra album on (I've always hated Sinatra) I said,... I've got an idea. Would you like to dance?" Peggy did the requisite quizzical double-take,.. but allowed me to take her hand and assist her into slow-dance position. We kissed,... and I edged around behind her,...and took her wrists with me. Peggy stood completely still while I tied her hands behind her,... With her hands secured behind her, I figured out some way to put my arms around her, and we slow-danced to Sinatra that way. Peggy made an awkward move to compensate for her height in order to lay her head against my chest,.... perfect chance to go for the neck and the ear ---- Truth be told, Peggy's ears were more ticklish than her feet. When I closed my lips around a helpless ear, she went completely limp in my arms,... silent scream,.. and now apparently enjoying that rope around her wrists. I didn't sense a lot of distress, eh?
--- We danced a couple more Sinatra tunes. The TMF ticklling "purists" will have to accept the fact that, for myself, tickling is a sub-component of foot fetishism,.. (I scarcely think I'm alone in this) Peggy flopped down on the sofa, hands still bound,... her legs automatically extending to get her bare feet onboard,.. where I feasted on them.. Not a few tickles and kisses, mind you.. feasted. Peggy watched,... fascinated,... and then put it all to work.
--- Thereafter, Peggy was an avid "foot seductress." (Like I needed any extra fuel for my urges,.... but come to think of it,.. it was fun.) I've certainly had a few experiences with the silken sole insinuated into my crotch underneath a table. Requests for foot massages and nail-polishing were frequent. Peggy would stop by to have me inspect the new shoes she'd just bought,.... and she once even left a shopping bag in my truck,... containing a pair of her tall, elegant leather sandals,.... she told me later she wanted me to have them to remind me of her when I was home alone. Ok. And she once visited me at a job,... informed me that husband Ed would be away for the evening,.. wanted to ensure that I would "stop by" after work, so she wanted me to take a "foot fetish break." Kicked off her shoes and virtually force-fed me those size-tens. I stopped by that evening. I'm thinking that my "revenge" entailed some tickling, eh?
--- Two theories. Peggy was taking the ball straight to the hoop,... doing exactly what she knew would keep me primed for my "Benjamin-to-her-Mrs. Robinson" role,.... that sure worked. And then she just may have had a special appreciation going for all that attention and sensation on her feet. I think she expecially was into the "symbolic" angle." A man at her feet?
--- Here's why I told this story. All my life, I've been fully accustomed to generating my own experiences, fetish-wise. Anticipating,... engineering situations,... taking horrific emotional leaps of faith,... and always,.. being the initiator. Peggy required none of that,... she did it all. She kept those big soft soles in my face as often as was proprietarily possible,.. laughed until she cried as I tickled them,.... then dipped her toes in my cream sherry nightcap. It was wonderful.
--- I've always been a pushover for the "older woman" angle. Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.