I’ve been reading a lot of good tickling stories on this website so I thought I’d share one of my own from an experience in the summer before I left for college. This happened several years ago and I wanted to put it down in writing before I had lost any more of the memory. Though I’m writing this in detail, the names of the people are all changed for privacy reasons.
I was great friends with this girl named Jennifer, who I met in an English class during my first year of middle school. We became fast friends and hung out together all the time at school and on the weekend. We never dated, though my parents constantly teased me about it, but we did date each other’s friends, more or less merging our friend groups in to one big circle. She was, and still is, a gorgeous brunette with slightly tanned skin. Her hair was chestnut colored with some darker brown highlights. Even though she was about 5’7” at the time, but seemed to have an innate Napoleon complex, despite her being taller than the majority of girls I knew. Anyone taller than her (myself included) seemed to always be targeted by her challenges and contests. She was super competitive, running for the cross country team in the fall and playing for the soccer team in the spring during her high school years. She was going to be playing club soccer in college, so she was currently in a summer camp. She was known amongst out friends for having a slightly uneven smile, much less so than Natalie Dormer, and a pair of brown doe eyes. Of course, being the focus of this story, her favorite feature of mine was her shapely and pair of size 6 & ½ feet. Her toes were slightly long for her size and her nails were always painted red, blue, green, or any other color that stood out. Her toes descended perfectly and her arches weren’t too high or too low. Whenever she could, she would opt to wear sandals or flip flops and dreaded having to wear close-toed shoes. Whenever she was forced to put on her more confining footwear, she would take them off the first chance she would get. Thus, I was often able to ogle her feet without pesky shoes or boots getting in the way.
Prior to the events in this story, I had never really tickled her feet for more than a few seconds. I did massage them a couple times before, which I found out she loved.
One Saturday evening in early July before we both went off to college, Jennifer came over to my parents’ house for dinner after her day shift at one of the local Applebee’s. Due to her employee discount, she ate at the restaurant often enough that she relished the chance to actually have a home cooked meal after work. There were relatives she wanted to avoid who were spending the weekend at her parents’ house, so she basically invited herself over. Thankfully, my mom was too happy to prepare more food. At about 7 o’clock, the doorbell rang signaling Jen’s arrival. I opened the door slack jawed as I saw her wearing a cute red top, perfectly fitting jeans, and an adorable pair of black flats. She mumbled, “Hey,” pushed by me, and kicked off her flats before cheerfully greeting my parents. Her tan socks (those ones they have for flats and Sperrys) were the only things left covering up her feet. She had hung out at my place often enough that it was probably a second home to her.
As we all chatted and ate, my sister (I’m the oldest of three) Annabelle got a buzz on her IPhone. She exclaimed, “Crap, they’re here already,” and wolfed down the rest of her dinner before grabbing a bag and dashing out the front door without saying anything else. Puzzled, Jen and I looked at each other and simultaneously turned our gaze towards my parents. My mom laughed and replied, “Sorry, I forgot to mention that she was going to her friend Claire’s for a sleepover. By the way, Mike, you know what tonight is right?” I had no clue and managed to get out a quizzical, “hmm?” through my mouthful of pork roast. My dad’s expression grew impatient and he said,
“We told you last week; we’re going to a party at Kim and Jaime’s which is about an hour north of here tonight. You would’ve only had to babysit your sister since your brother is at a sleepover, but it looks like she won’t be here after all. We likely won’t be back until after 2 AM. You’re on your own until late tonight so make sure to fully lock up the house before you go to bed, which better be at a decent hour.”
I couldn’t have been happier with the news. Normally, we would have to worry about bothering my family when loudly listening to music (we had a great audio setup in the basement) or playing Xbox. Thus, Jen and I would be able to have fun until late without worrying about it. I agreed to all my dad had to say, and the previous dinner conversation resumed. After it was over, my parents went upstairs to change while Jen and I cleaned up the table and loaded the dishwasher.
As my parents left shortly afterward, Jen told me to wait in the kitchen while she would go bring a surprise. She went to the front hall and rummaged through her purse, returning with a Redbox DVD of the new Fast and Furious movie (I don’t remember whether it was 4 or 5 though, but she loved cars). Neither of us had gotten to see it so I was thrilled. I cheered and popped some popcorn while she set up the movie.
I brought down the bowl of popcorn and plopped down on one side of the couch. Once she was satisfied everything was good to go, she sat down leaning against the armrest on the opposite side of the couch. The basement in my parent’s house is always five to ten degrees colder than the rest of the house.
It didn’t take long for Jen to say, “Jeez, I forgot that it’s a walk-in freezer down here, or is it just your cold heart that makes this room so penguin friendly?” smirking promptly afterward, she jammed her toes underneath my right leg to keep them warm (she does that a lot so I paid it no special mind).
I reported, “Look, it’s obvious that Vin Diesel thinks you’re a comedic genius, so you might as well skip going to college and perform stand-up.” As I said this, I pointed to his emotionless stare on the TV. She poked my in the ribs in response a few times making me jerk to the side.
“Look at you,” she exclaimed, “you can barely sit still because I’m so funny!”
I laughed her remark off and suggested we back to watching the movie. However, after a long day of work, Jen was insistent on messing with me. She began wiggling her toes underneath my thigh and went back to trying to tickle my ribs. I hit pause on the remote next to me and turned my head slowly toward her like the terminator.
I moved the popcorn to the ottoman before ominously stating in the most menacing voice I could muster, “You have woken the Tickle Monster from his slumber. It’s all over for you now.” Unfortunately, her fingers against my ribs reduced my prophecy to a giggle filled, seemingly idle threat. Pulling her feet out from under me, I corralled her legs with my right arm and held my left hand up making a tickling motion in the air.
Jen’s eyes widened as she had just enough time to blurt out, “Don’t you dare tick-,” before I wildly scribbled my fingernails across both of her socked soles. She let out a shriek before bursting into laughter.
“HAHAHAHAHA! Okay okay, HAHAHAHAHA,” Jen squealed as I ran my fingers up and down her arches. “How about HAHA you rub my fe-EET instead? Ple-EEEK-ease, I’ve been at work HAHAHAHA all day. HAHAHAHA they’re sore,” she pleaded through her giggles.
I stopped tickling for a moment and replied, “Well, maybe.” I was considering her offer and unconsciously loosened my grip a bit. I’m guessing she felt it because she tried to kick her way free which in turn sent a foot flying into my chin. It didn’t really phase me (I played football for years and took countless worse hits), but it did catch me off guard. I squinted my eyes back at her and a sort of “Oh shit” look fell across her face.
I smiled deviously and retightened my grip on her legs. I could see her beginning to brace herself as I retracted my previous statement by saying, “I guess that option just went out the window.” I resumed my tickle assault on her feet by jamming my fingers in between her socked toes and swirled them around like pipe cleaners.
“NONONONO HAAAHAHAHAHA,” Jen squealed in response, “I’m sor-HAHAHA-sorry!”
I feverishly tickled her toes for another couple minutes amidst a chorus of laughter. Getting tired of putting so much effort in keeping her ankles still, I had an idea. I stopped tickling her and started undoing my belt.
She struggled to regain her composure, but managed to ask, “Uhhh, what are you doing?”
I looked back at her face and saw a stare of complete concern spread across it. I realized what my action must’ve looked like to her so I reassured her playfully. “You’re squirming almost took an eye out, so now I’m tying your ankles together for my safety,” I said beaming at her. Jen’s expression softened up considerably as she let out a laugh.
“Help! Some idiot is trying to kidnap me,” she jokingly called upstairs. She looked back at me as I began to loop my belt around her right ankle. “Okay but seriously, you can stop now. I promise I won’t kick you anymore,” she added.
“I don’t believe you. For all I know, you could be planning to kick me right now,” I retorted while closing the second loop around her left ankle and fitting it through the belt clasp. Jen tried to pull away, but at that point I had fully tightened the ankle tie.
“Holy crap, I can’t move my feet apart at all,” she said as she continued to try and slip out of the belt.
“That’s the point,” I replied, “Now hold still.” I took the remaining belt slack as I stood up (there was a good bit still left) and grabbed the second ottoman that was sitting in front of the armchair. I pulled it to the arm of the couch opposite where Jen was sitting and positioned myself on it. I put a pillow on top of the arm of the couch and tugged hard on the belt. Jen squeaked as her feet were pulled to the edge of the couch while she was still struggling to undo the belt. Luckily, the tension in it was keeping her from doing so. With the belt pulled tight, I managed to tie a knot with it around my leg near my knee.
There I was sitting on one side of the couch arm with Jen’s socked feet a few inches away from my face. On the other side, she was struggling to undo the belt tie, but to no avail since I was able to keep it taut by bracing my foot against the underside of the couch.
Once I was satisfied with the situation, I began speaking, “Alright Jen, you have an important decision to make. I’m getting you back for kicking me in the face (I really just wanted to tickle her feet), so it’s time to pick your poison.”
“Oh come on,” she retorted, “the only reason you got kicked is because you were tickling me!” She continued trying to loosen the belt.
“Fine then, I will give you a better choice (the one I was planning to give her anyway). You can keep trying to untie yourself, and I will tickle your feet mercilessly for one hour. Or, you could cooperate and we’ll play a few tickle games. I’ll give you a foot massage during the movie, and its length will be determined by how you perform in the games. Which do you choose?”
Jen just stared at me with a disbelieving look. “You can’t be serious, can you?” she implored.
I started scribbling my fingernails up and down her arches in response.
“HAHAHAAA HEEEHEE HAHAHAAAAA!” she laughed, “WAAAIIIT!!!”
I changed the tickling to just one finger lightly stroking up and down her soles. I answered her question, “So which option do you wanna go with Jen? I could tickle you for another six hours if I really wanted to. No one’s coming back here until after 2 and it’s only 8:15.”
Regaining her composure but still giggling slightly, she replied, “I can’t believe this is happening. Fine, I will play three of your games, AT MAX. And Mike, you’d better make it the best foot massage you’ve ever given. Now what am I being forced to play first?”
(Being the foot tickle perv I am, I had devised all of these games before this event in case I should ever be in a situation to do something like this)
“It’s called the Toe Guessing Game,” I replied all too happy with her answer to my question, “and here’s how you play: There are 11 rounds. Each round you will guess either your left foot or right foot,” I pointed to each as I went through the rules, “If you guess the wrong one, I will tickle your feet for one minute and we go to the next round. If you guess correctly, you then guess one of your toes on that foot. If you guess wrongly, I will tickle your feet for 30 seconds and I will add one minute to the amount of time I will spend on the foot massage. If you guess the correct toe, I’ll add two minutes to the foot massage time and we move on to the next round. I will only do each toe once, so that should make things more fair. When we get to the bonus round, you can wager any number of minutes and then you guess either your left or right foot. If you guess the correct one, I will add five times the amount you wagered to the massage time. If you guess incorrectly, you get tickled for the amount of time you wagered. For the last round, you have to bet a minimum of one minute. Now hold on while I write a note to put down all of the answers beforehand so you can’t accuse me of cheating. After I put the answers down, I won’t touch my phone and we can use yours for the timer.”
Jen looked at me as if I was from outer space. “That’s a pretty in-depth game Mike, how the hell did you come up with that on the fly?”
Lying through my teeth I said, “It just kind of came to me while I was trying to get your ankles secured.”
“Jeez,” Jen joked, “I’m not sure which creepy game show studio hired you, but you need a bonus.”
I laughed and took a few minutes to put down all of the correct answers in a note on my phone and then rested it on the floor. I could see Jen leaned back on the couch with her hands over her face, preparing for the game. I called out; “Are you ready?” and then I rested my hands on the arm of the couch. Jen winced and curled her toes. She handed me her phone for the timer and then put on a determined-looking face.
I said, “Alright, make your first guess.”
“Ummm... left foot,” she firmly stated.
I looked down at my phone. The first answer read: R middle toe. “Sorry Jen,” I told her, “But the correct answer was your middle toe on your right foot.” I hooked my fingers on the heels of her socks and yanked them off. Her soles were a nice creamy color and looked extremely soft. Her toes were painted a light blue which I could see clearly as she scrunched them in surprise.
“Hey,” she exclaimed, “you never said you could take my socks off!!!”
“I never said I couldn’t,” I retorted grinning, “I’m starting the timer... NOW!!!”
As I hit start, I watched as Jen jerked her feet back as if they had anywhere to escape to. I pointed both of my index fingers at her soles as she closed her eyes and scrunched her toes up tightly. I drove my fingers into the center of her soles and she let out a shriek, and spread her toes out wide. I then started lightly tickling the soles of her feet, tracing the various wrinkles. Jen shriek was followed by bubbly laughter as I did this.
“I’m not going to completely torture you,” I said, “you don’t have to freak out.”
“Hee-hee I thought you-hooo were mad-eeek at me.” Jen replied through her giggles
“I can’t be mad when we’re having so much fun!” I jokingly retorted. I kept gently tickling her soft feet until the timer went down to ten seconds. For the remaining time, I amped up the severity all while counting down. Jen bucked and writhed all over the couch.
“HAAHAAAAAHAAA! MIIIKE, WHAT THE HE-ELLL!!! IT TICKLESSS!!!” she exclaimed.
After the countdown ended, I transitioned to gently caressing her soles with my thumbs while her breathing went back to normal. It seemed to calm her down enough.
Jennifer relaxed and spoke, “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but I thought you said you wouldn’t torture me!”
“I said I wouldn’t completely torture you, and besides, it was only ten seconds.” I decided to keep massaging her feet for a little while longer. Jen leant back against the couch and sighed.
“See, if you can just do that the rest of the night I’d never kick you again,” Jen professed.
I knew that, by the end, I would have her feet all to myself for a good long while of massaging, so I was eager to continue the rest of the game. I rested my palms on the soles of her feet and asserted, “Nope, you have to complete the game first, now guess again.”
She guessed wrongly twice more in a row after which she accused me of cheating and I had to show her the first three pre-written answers in Notepad. She gave me a disbelieving look, but continued on. As the rounds progressed, she started getting more foot and then toe guesses correct. She finished the tenth round with nine minutes of massage time accrued. Completely unexpectedly, she decided to bet five minutes in the bonus round.
“Okay here goes,” she said wincing, “Right foot!”
I looked down at my phone and then back at Jen’s nervous face. “Awww Jen,” I started, “you’ve come so far this game,” as I started grinning and wiggling my fingers teasingly, “and...”
I brought my fingers down on her soles, which made her scream, “NOOOOOO!!!” and try to get her feet away. As my fingers touched her silky, creamy skin, I began rubbing her feet saying, “You got it right! Your massage timer is up to 34 minutes now.”
Jen threw her arms up in the air in celebration yelling, “Haha, YESSS. In your face, Mike! I knew I would guess the right one and there is nothing you can do about it.”
I started spidering my nails in the center of her arches. I stopped shortly afterward though, but not before she started flailing around on the couch. “You seem to forget that I’ve still got you tied up,” I reminded her, “maybe I should start adding penalty tickle time for poor sportsmanship.”
Jen protested with, “Hey now, don’t be a sore loser. Besides,” she added, “That took a long time to finish. If the other games are going to take that long, I’m going to make you develop carpel tunnel with the quantity of foot massages I’m gonna demand later.”
I looked at my phone clock, and it had been about 20 minutes between guessing, tickling and some relaxing foot rubbing in between. I pretended like her words weren’t music to my ears and then retorted, “The next two games won’t be as long, but they will require more skill. Speaking of which, why don’t I describe the next game?” Jen leaned forward and rolled her eyes.
I took her sassiness as a sign of compliance and began, “So, this game is called the Reading Challenge. I’m going to find a news article, that’s relatively short in length. Your job is to read through the whole thing slowly and professionally as if you’re giving a newscast (If any of you recognize this game, I basically ripped the idea from the ticklingparadise interview videos, the ones with Amalee and Sierra to be more specific). While you’re reading, I’m going to tickle your feet at varying intensities. If you stop speaking for more than two seconds straight due to laughter, I will add one to a counter. You should be able to finish reading the article in about two to three minutes as long as you are able to keep going through it. I will add 15 minus the counter number to your massage timer with a bonus of 20 minutes if you actually finish the article. If 15 minus the counter is a negative number, I will tickle you for that many minutes. If the counter gets to 20 it’s game over, meaning you get tickled for five minutes straight and don’t get any extra foot massage time. I have to find an article and send you the link so you can just wait there a minute or two.”
“Mike, I have no clue what is up with you, but you laid out those rules really specifically,” Jen responded. “I’m pretty sure I would mess up reading all that out of a rulebook, let alone recite it off the top of my head.”
“Well if you can hardly read even when you’re not being tickled, this game’s gonna be really tough for you,” I said with a smirk.
Jen just huffed at me in response, “Hurry it up already, I wanna watch the movie.”
I pretended to search for news articles saying, “Too long... nope this one’s too short... maybe this one... hmmmm...” Meanwhile I already had the article I wanted up on my phone since. (If you google “A radical cleric gets religion”, you can find the Newsweek article I used that was featured in the ticklingparadise video with Amalee) I sent it to her and it opened up fine on her phone.
“Okay, this doesn’t look to long,” Jen said relaxing her feet, “I’ve got this no problem.”
“I like the confidence,” I responded, “Alright, we’re starting in 5...4...3...2...1”
With the last second being counted down, I rested my palms on the soles of her feet, waiting for her to start reading the article.
Jen began, “A Radical Cleric Gets Religion,” and started off with the first few sentences as I lightly traced my fingernails along the wrinkles on her soles.
“Since dec-LAA-HAAHAAAAA-HEEE-HEEEE!!!!” Jen squealed as I lightly scratched the center of her arch, one of her most sensitive spots that I’d found during the previous game.
“One,” I called out.
Jen glared at me, but continued reading, “declaring a ceasefire...” only breaking up slightly as she made it through more sentences. For fun, I inserted my fingers between her toes and probed their undersides as well. This was probably my favorite method of tickling her. Her toes were spreading and scrunching, trying to escape from my wicked fingers. Her reactions were much more pronounced than the light tickling I administered earlier.
“BoyLAAA-AAAAN HAHAHAHAH-STAHAHAAP!!! HEEEE-HEEEE AAALSO SAID!”
“HAAAAHAAAHAHAAHA, OH CO-OOME ONNNN!!!” Jen kept trying to read and wiggle her feet away, but I kept on exploring her toes and the spaces between them.
“Two...Three...Four,” I called out at her longer breakpoints of laughter within the first paragraph.
I eased up a little as she read through the second paragraph, but then she started getting more defiant. She clenched her toes so tightly that I couldn’t wedge my fingers in between them at all. Her reading really started to improve.
“...rogue Mahdi-ii Army units hahahaa, known as hee-hee special gr-Ouups...” She managed to get through a good bit of the second paragraph without much hassle even as I increased the viciousness of my tickle techniques. Then I found another ticklish area, the tops of her feet. I scribbled my nails across the tops of her feet from her ankles to her toes. Her partially tanned skin was most ticklish up around her toes.
“Those elem-EEEEK OH MY GAWSH STAHAHAAP!!!” Jen squealed as my tickling of the tops of her toes finally made her unclench. This happened to be just the opportunity I needed to dig my fingers in between her toes again.
Jen tried to scrunch them up again, but was having difficulty with my writhing fingers exploring the spaces between her toes, “HAAAAHAA HEEE-HEEE MIIIIIIKE!!! COOO-OOMEE ONNNNN! HAHAHAHAAAA!!!”
“Six...Seven...Eight...Nine” I was able to announce more numbers much to her chagrin. Unfortunately, we were down to the last paragraph. I lightened up the tickling for a little while, to allow her to make some forward progress. When I realized she was nearing the end, I intensified my tickling tenfold.
“The clerical EEEELITE that s-HAAAAHAAAA OHHH COMME ONNN!!! PLEE-EEEZE LET ME FINI-ISH!!! HAAHAAAHAAA!!!” Jen became engulfed in fanatic laughter as I raked my nails across her soles like a cat. I began spidering my fingers along her insteps and the rest of her arches. It produced some more profound laughter.
“Ten...Eleven...Twelve...” I was able to say as she had more large breaks in her speech. She mounted a glorious defense by, once again, scrunching up her toes so hard that her tanned knuckles almost turned white. She was able to get out a couple more sentences before my response tickling the tops of her feet made her release her clenched toes. Then I skittered my fingernails up from her heels to the balls of her feet as she squealed out some more words broken up with fits of laughter.
“Thirteen...Fourteen...Fifteen...Sixteen”which I finally was able to get to before she read the last word and let out an exasperated sigh.
As she was catching her breath I responded, “We’re not done yet!” as I set my phone timer for one minute and went back to my more intense tickling techniques.
Jen’s eyes widened as she shrieked, “NOOOOO!!!! MIIIIIKKEE!!! HAAHAAAA-HEEE! PLEEEE-EEEEEZE, THIS TII-IIIICKLESS TOO MUCH!!!!”
I had her practically in hysterics as the minute buzzer finally went off. I stopped tickling her abruptly and immediately began rubbing her feet tenderly. It took about five minutes of panting and giggling for her to finally calm down. She didn’t say anything for another few minutes or so as I continued to massage her feet.
She finally managed to speak between heavy breaths, “See...that was...easy...Whooo!” She pumped her fists upward into the air as she leaned back against the headrest she had made out of the other pillows.
I was genuinely surprised; I was completely sure she was going to try and punch me in the face or throw blunt objects at me. To this day, I think the only reason that didn’t happen was because she was so focused on being able to order me to give her spa level foot massages later.
After spending a few minutes lying there enjoying the miniature foot rub I was giving her, Jen sat back up with a stern look on her face. She started, “There’s only one more game left, what’re the rules?”
At this point, I was completely dumbfounded. It was as if she actually enjoyed being tickled so mercilessly. I looked down at my phone, and only about 15 minutes had passed of me explaining the previous game, finding the article, tickling her silly, and rubbing her feet afterward. I guess since it was shorter than the previous one, she was pleased I kept to my word on that matter (Although I did inflict a decent amount of tickle torture in that second game).
Not wanting to wait until her mood shifted, I began explaining what I had planned for the last game, “Ok so the last game is called the Break Game, and it’s the simplest one. For starters I will automatically add 20 minutes to the massage timer and the-”
Jen interrupted me saying, “I don’t like that. I get automatic minutes added? What’s the catch?”
I responded, “The catch is, I get to tickle you for five minutes straight. But, you do get one five minute break anytime during which I can massage your feet if you want. If you don’t use the break, I’ll add another ten minutes to the massage timer which will put the total time to one hour and 24 minutes. Simple enough?”
Jen nodded in agreement replying, “If I survive this, I’m going to make you give me sooo many foot massages, you’ll have to do all of your homework writing with your mouth!”
I laughed a minute, seeing what a good sport she was being, and began setting the timer.
“Why don’t we start with one foot massage when this is over, huh?” (Again, I would rub her gorgeous feet all day if I could, but I wanted to pretend that I didn’t like it so that she would exact payback in a massage tax)
I asked for her phone so I could set the 5 minute break timer if she wanted to use her break. She gave it to me and I prepared it.
“Ok,” I stated, “Starting in 5...4...3...2...1” I pushed the timer to start.
As expected, Jen clenched her toes really tightly so I couldn’t get at them. I started lightly tracing out the wrinkles on her soles.
Jen giggled a little bit, “Hee-hee this round will be eee-eeasy haaahaa.”
I think her toes were starting to get tired because it looked like her scrunching of them was easing up. I kept lightly stroking her silky soft skin from her heels up to the balls of her feet and back. Less than a minute after we began, she completely relaxed her toes. Big Mistake. I wildly dug my fingers in between her toes and underneath them. She let out a shriek and tried to curl them, but my fingers were in the way, tickling her mad.
“WHOOOOAAAA HAAAHAAAA MIIIIIKKEEE!!!!!! PLEEEE-EEEEEZEE STAHAHAHP DO-OOOING THAAAAT!!!!” Jen screamed through her laughter.
“Tickle tickle tickle, I’m gonna get those cute little toes!” I teased back at her.
“OO-OOHHHHH MY GAHHAAHAHAAAD!!! BRE-BREE-EEAAAAAAK!!!” Jen squealed through her bouts of laughter. I looked at the timer and stopped it; 3 minutes and 42 seconds were left on it. I started the other timer on Jen’s phone to begin the break.
“Whooo-oooo oh my god, tha-aat was bad... You are soo mean!” Jen blurted out in a frustrated tone.
“Well, you said the round would be easy,” I retorted teasingly, “I didn’t want you to have unreal expectations.” I made a pathetic attempt at winking (I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I have no clue how to make myself wink) which made Jen lean forward burst into laughter as I was gently caressing her soles.
“Hahaaha, I love how dorky you are Mike,” Jen said while messing up my hair, “It’s why I’m putting up with all this nonsense.” I was pretty touched by her statement. Jen normally was more of a jokester than she was endearing, so it felt wonderful to hear her say something so caring. “Just make sure you massage them nice and good for me,” she chided, “it will take months for you to pay me back for all this.”
“Only if you promise to keep your Jackie Chan kicks to yourself,” I joked.
Jen laughed and lay back down across the couch saying, “If you promise to give me foot massages until I feel fully paid back, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I grabbed her right foot with my right hand and made a handshaking motion. “It’s a deal,” I said, “but you’ve still got almost four minutes of tickling left and your break is down to less than two. You’d better gear up for a crazy finale!”
Jen realized what she was in for and began negotiations, “You know, we could just skip the rest of this round. I’ll significantly reduce the number of massages I’ll force you to give me. Whaddaya say?”
Taking that option would be a complete lose-lose situation on my part so I refused. “Don’t think I’m gonna let you back out of the game when you’ve come this far,” I said, “Think of this like sprints at the end of soccer practice.”
“Oh god this is worse than sprints,” she said, “How about I bake you cookies too?”
“Haha, tickling you is more fun than eating cookies, sorry,” I retorted.
“Fine then, you can look forward to massaging my stinky sweaty feet after every soccer practice this entire summer!” she huffed. (I always adored the way her feet smelled, so I was absolutely loving all of this)
“I’ll put a clothes pin on my nose and use rubber gloves. It should be no big deal,” I joked back at her. She just stuck her nose up in the air and huffed at me again. I peered at the break timer which had just over a minute left on it. Looking back over past her feet, I saw Jen’s big brown purse on the ottoman. It was sitting next to the popcorn bowl I had moved and I could definitely reach it from where I was sitting.
I decided to make a seemingly kind gesture to Jen, “How about I add another few minutes to the break timer since it’s almost up?” Jen emphatically agreed. I added five more minutes to the timer and then grabbed her purse while I was massaging a foot with the other hand. I began rummaging through it behind the arm of the couch.
“Hey, what are you looking for in there? You can’t just go through my things,” she barked.
I responded, “I’m just looking for some good lotion to use for the massage after the game is over.”
Jen’s eyes lit up a little and she chimed in, “Oooh, I have a bottle of coconut body lotion in that front inner pocket. It’s kinda thick compared to what I usually use at home, but it should work fine. Though the bottle’s a little small, there should be plenty in there for the massage!”
I smiled and said, “Perfect,” but I wasn’t referring to the lotion as Jen thought. I grabbed the bottle out of her purse and held it up. “Is this it?” I asked.
“Yep,” she responded cheerily, “That’s the one.”
I put the lotion on the ottoman and returned her purse, but not before I took the big hairbrush I found in there and hid it behind the couch. I went back to deeply massaging her arches. Jen sighed and seemed to relax significantly. After a minute or two, she asked if I could switch to her toes. Being as sensitive as they were, I could understand her wanting me to focus on them. As I caressed and curled her toes, I felt sort of entranced with her feet. I was really looking forward to all of the foot massages I would be giving her in the future. I must’ve gotten a bit dazed because the sound of the alarm jolted me like I had stuck my finger in a light socket. Jen tried to pull her feet away as a last ditch effort, but the belt tie still held firm. (The belt was one of those threaded, ropey kinds. I don’t really know what they’re called, but a leather belt would’ve been completely ruined at this point from all the tugging and stretching.)
“Ok,” I said, “time for the finale!” I hit the button on the timer and started skittering my fingers up and down Jen’s already scrunched up soles.
“NOOOOO PLEEE-EEEEZE STAHHAAAP!!! HAHAHAAHAAAA!!!” Jen wailed as she tried to escape my tickling fingers.
In all of her bucking and writhing, she knocked both of our phones off the arm of the couch and onto the floor. My parents’ basement is carpeted so no damage was done, and my phone luckily landed face up. I saw the time had ticked down to just over three minutes so I went back to focusing on tickling her gorgeous soles. Looking at her pretty feet squirming had finally become too much for me. I grabbed her right foot and began licking it from her heel to her toes.
“OOHHHH MYYY GAAHAAAAHAHAAD MIII-IIIKE!!!” Jen squealed in laughter, “WHA-HAAHAAAT THE HELLL AAA-AARE YOO-OOOU DOO-OOOOOIING!!!”
“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” I teased back before locking her big toes with my left hand. With the toe-hold I was able to keep her feet steady enough to go back to licking both of them. Her other toes curled and then splayed in an attempt to get away from my tongue. Seeing her them like that made me decide to catch a few in my mouth and start sucking on them and licking between them.
“MIIIIIKE, THAA-HAAHAAAA-THAATS SO-OOOOO... GROSSSS!!!” Jen shrieked at me through peals of laughter. “STAAAHAAAP DO-HOOOING THAAAT!!! EEEE-HEEEEEW!!!”
I gazed down at the timer while sucking on her right pinky toe. There was only about a minute and a half left. I managed to hit pause on the timer with my socked foot and continued to lick up and down her feet while sucking on her toes (Who wouldn’t cheat a little bit in my place?). After what was probably another couple minutes of tongue tickling (I made sure to get her feet nice and wet), I started the timer back up again.
I looked at Jen and said, “Only just over a minute left, time for the grand finale!”
She managed to glimpse the hairbrush as I brought it up near her feet. Her expression immediately changed to a mix of confusion, horror and apprehension. As the brushes many tickling heads met her wet soles, Jen wailed, “AAAAHHHHAAAAHAAAAHAAAAA!!! MIII-HIIIIIKE!!! OHHH NOOOOOO HAAAAHAAAAHAAAAAA!!!! TOO-HOOOO MUUUCH!!! HAAAA HAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
The tickling probably wouldn’t have been as bad had I not so voraciously licked her feet, and I could tell this was the hardest Jen had ever been tickled in her entire life.
“Only 45 seconds left, Jen,” I called out to her, “You’re so close!” I then focused the brush on her right foot as I went back to licking between her toes on her left.
Jen shrieked some more, “HAAHAAAAHAAA!!! GRO-OOSSSS!!!! PLEE-HEEEEZE!!!”
I decided to alternate. On her right foot, I was able to catch her big, second, and middle toe in my mouth. I went to tickling them with my tongue while simultaneously sucking on them. I raked the hairbrush up and down her left foot.
“NOOO MOOOOREE!!! STAAAHAAAHAAP!!!” Jen let out a final wail as her laughter echoed throughout the basement.
Seconds later, her saving grace rang. The alarm sound signaled me to drop my brush and release her toes from my mouth. I did so reluctantly. Jen sank back into the couch and wiped some laughter tears from her eyes. She was panting heavily. While that was going on, I sat there admiring her wet feet in the light.
Jen turned a curious gaze towards me and said, “Where the hell did you learn to do all that? That whole experience was some of the weirdest shit that has ever happened to me. I knew you were a dork, but I had no clue you were such an oddball. Look at my feet, they are soaking wet with your saliva! That’s so gross!”
I was completely understanding of her reaction, but I was also pretty peeved by the name calling. Seeing as her feet were still tied to my leg, I decided she needed to rescind her previous accusation.
“Well if I’m such a gross oddball,” I replied, “I might as well act like it!” With that, I quickly grabbed her toes and proceeded to simultaneously lick her feet and tickle them with my free hand.
“HEEE-EEEEYYYY!!! WHAAAHAAAHAAT THE HEEELLLLL!!!” Jen shrieked as I continued to flick my tongue and fingers across her silky soles.
I captured her pinky and ring toe in my mouth and began swirling my tongue around and in between them. I dragged my nails along her arches, focusing on her insteps. After what was probably two minutes of tickling, I stopped and turned my gaze back towards Jen’s face. She had a fierce scowl on as she tried to regain her breath. She had been trying to curse me out while emitting gales of laughter, so I very much expected that face.
“The game is over,” she said angrily, “why are you still tickling me, especially like that you weirdo!”
“I’m a what?” I asked with an innocent tone.
“You’re a big, fat weirdo, and a complete gross FREAK!” She sharply answered.
“Well, if you say so,” I replied with a smile, and resumed my lickle-tickle attack. This time, I focused on getting her soles even more wet. I tried to produce as much saliva as possible as I dragged my tongue from heel to toe in front of me. Afterwards, I dragged and skittered my fingernails across her newly lubricated soles. Her response indicated that she finally got the message.
“NONONONOOOOO AAAUUGHHHH STAAAHAAAHAAP!!! OOOKAAAY II-HIII’M SORRY FOR CAAA-HAAAALLING YOUUU GROOSSSS!!! HAAAAHAAAHAAA! COOOOME ON-HEEHEEE MII-HIIIKE STAAAHAAAP!!!”
“You sure?” I replied before stuffing a couple of her toes in my mouth one last time.
“YES, YESS, YEEEESSS!!! JUST PLEEHEEEZE STAAHAAP TII-HIICKLING!!!” She squealed.
I pulled Jen’s toes out of my mouth with one final slurp. I could tell it thoroughly grossed her out, but she made sure not to say anything about it. She just looked at me with pleading eyes and begged, “Can you please just untie me? Come on, I played your game and now it’s time for you to hold up your end of the bargain.”
I agreed that it was probably time to untie her and undid the knot around my leg and the belt tied and clasped around her ankles.
While I was doing so Jen began an interrogation of sorts, “So again, what was the deal with you licking my feet? That felt sooo weird and it tickled a ton.”
I managed to come up with a boldfaced lie on the spot. “Remember Andrew’s birthday last month? After just getting out of the pool, Mary got tickle attacked by a bunch of her friends on her lounge chair. I remember her saying that she normally isn’t very ticklish, but her feet became super sensitive with the pool water on them. Since I didn’t have a glass of water on hand, I had to improvise.”
“Yeah, I remember hearing her shrieks from across the pool,” Jen added, “whatever, I’m going to go wash my feet off upstairs and go pee. I nearly ruined the couch! And when I come back, you better be ready for my marathon massage. I’m adding an extra hour on because you kept tickling me.”
“It was totally worth it seeing you squirm like that,” I said, absolutely amazed that she decided to either believe me, or just deal with my foot fetish and not press me with any further questions. After she went upstairs, I sat there for a moment coming to terms with the fact that I got to tickle her senseless and worship her feet for close to an hour. In addition, she would expect me to give her foot massages all summer. I was ecstatic. I grabbed a towel from the laundry room and set it up on top of a pillow. When Jen came back down, I massaged her feet for over two hours while we watched the movie. Afterwards, I kept up the footrub as we talked about theme park and beach plans for later in the summer.
I did in fact end up giving her 15 or so foot massages over the course of the rest of the summer. We still hung out together, from time to time, when we were both home for breaks in college. That night was one of my favorite memories with her, and is probably in my top 5 tickle sessions I’ve ever had.
I was great friends with this girl named Jennifer, who I met in an English class during my first year of middle school. We became fast friends and hung out together all the time at school and on the weekend. We never dated, though my parents constantly teased me about it, but we did date each other’s friends, more or less merging our friend groups in to one big circle. She was, and still is, a gorgeous brunette with slightly tanned skin. Her hair was chestnut colored with some darker brown highlights. Even though she was about 5’7” at the time, but seemed to have an innate Napoleon complex, despite her being taller than the majority of girls I knew. Anyone taller than her (myself included) seemed to always be targeted by her challenges and contests. She was super competitive, running for the cross country team in the fall and playing for the soccer team in the spring during her high school years. She was going to be playing club soccer in college, so she was currently in a summer camp. She was known amongst out friends for having a slightly uneven smile, much less so than Natalie Dormer, and a pair of brown doe eyes. Of course, being the focus of this story, her favorite feature of mine was her shapely and pair of size 6 & ½ feet. Her toes were slightly long for her size and her nails were always painted red, blue, green, or any other color that stood out. Her toes descended perfectly and her arches weren’t too high or too low. Whenever she could, she would opt to wear sandals or flip flops and dreaded having to wear close-toed shoes. Whenever she was forced to put on her more confining footwear, she would take them off the first chance she would get. Thus, I was often able to ogle her feet without pesky shoes or boots getting in the way.
Prior to the events in this story, I had never really tickled her feet for more than a few seconds. I did massage them a couple times before, which I found out she loved.
One Saturday evening in early July before we both went off to college, Jennifer came over to my parents’ house for dinner after her day shift at one of the local Applebee’s. Due to her employee discount, she ate at the restaurant often enough that she relished the chance to actually have a home cooked meal after work. There were relatives she wanted to avoid who were spending the weekend at her parents’ house, so she basically invited herself over. Thankfully, my mom was too happy to prepare more food. At about 7 o’clock, the doorbell rang signaling Jen’s arrival. I opened the door slack jawed as I saw her wearing a cute red top, perfectly fitting jeans, and an adorable pair of black flats. She mumbled, “Hey,” pushed by me, and kicked off her flats before cheerfully greeting my parents. Her tan socks (those ones they have for flats and Sperrys) were the only things left covering up her feet. She had hung out at my place often enough that it was probably a second home to her.
As we all chatted and ate, my sister (I’m the oldest of three) Annabelle got a buzz on her IPhone. She exclaimed, “Crap, they’re here already,” and wolfed down the rest of her dinner before grabbing a bag and dashing out the front door without saying anything else. Puzzled, Jen and I looked at each other and simultaneously turned our gaze towards my parents. My mom laughed and replied, “Sorry, I forgot to mention that she was going to her friend Claire’s for a sleepover. By the way, Mike, you know what tonight is right?” I had no clue and managed to get out a quizzical, “hmm?” through my mouthful of pork roast. My dad’s expression grew impatient and he said,
“We told you last week; we’re going to a party at Kim and Jaime’s which is about an hour north of here tonight. You would’ve only had to babysit your sister since your brother is at a sleepover, but it looks like she won’t be here after all. We likely won’t be back until after 2 AM. You’re on your own until late tonight so make sure to fully lock up the house before you go to bed, which better be at a decent hour.”
I couldn’t have been happier with the news. Normally, we would have to worry about bothering my family when loudly listening to music (we had a great audio setup in the basement) or playing Xbox. Thus, Jen and I would be able to have fun until late without worrying about it. I agreed to all my dad had to say, and the previous dinner conversation resumed. After it was over, my parents went upstairs to change while Jen and I cleaned up the table and loaded the dishwasher.
As my parents left shortly afterward, Jen told me to wait in the kitchen while she would go bring a surprise. She went to the front hall and rummaged through her purse, returning with a Redbox DVD of the new Fast and Furious movie (I don’t remember whether it was 4 or 5 though, but she loved cars). Neither of us had gotten to see it so I was thrilled. I cheered and popped some popcorn while she set up the movie.
I brought down the bowl of popcorn and plopped down on one side of the couch. Once she was satisfied everything was good to go, she sat down leaning against the armrest on the opposite side of the couch. The basement in my parent’s house is always five to ten degrees colder than the rest of the house.
It didn’t take long for Jen to say, “Jeez, I forgot that it’s a walk-in freezer down here, or is it just your cold heart that makes this room so penguin friendly?” smirking promptly afterward, she jammed her toes underneath my right leg to keep them warm (she does that a lot so I paid it no special mind).
I reported, “Look, it’s obvious that Vin Diesel thinks you’re a comedic genius, so you might as well skip going to college and perform stand-up.” As I said this, I pointed to his emotionless stare on the TV. She poked my in the ribs in response a few times making me jerk to the side.
“Look at you,” she exclaimed, “you can barely sit still because I’m so funny!”
I laughed her remark off and suggested we back to watching the movie. However, after a long day of work, Jen was insistent on messing with me. She began wiggling her toes underneath my thigh and went back to trying to tickle my ribs. I hit pause on the remote next to me and turned my head slowly toward her like the terminator.
I moved the popcorn to the ottoman before ominously stating in the most menacing voice I could muster, “You have woken the Tickle Monster from his slumber. It’s all over for you now.” Unfortunately, her fingers against my ribs reduced my prophecy to a giggle filled, seemingly idle threat. Pulling her feet out from under me, I corralled her legs with my right arm and held my left hand up making a tickling motion in the air.
Jen’s eyes widened as she had just enough time to blurt out, “Don’t you dare tick-,” before I wildly scribbled my fingernails across both of her socked soles. She let out a shriek before bursting into laughter.
“HAHAHAHAHA! Okay okay, HAHAHAHAHA,” Jen squealed as I ran my fingers up and down her arches. “How about HAHA you rub my fe-EET instead? Ple-EEEK-ease, I’ve been at work HAHAHAHA all day. HAHAHAHA they’re sore,” she pleaded through her giggles.
I stopped tickling for a moment and replied, “Well, maybe.” I was considering her offer and unconsciously loosened my grip a bit. I’m guessing she felt it because she tried to kick her way free which in turn sent a foot flying into my chin. It didn’t really phase me (I played football for years and took countless worse hits), but it did catch me off guard. I squinted my eyes back at her and a sort of “Oh shit” look fell across her face.
I smiled deviously and retightened my grip on her legs. I could see her beginning to brace herself as I retracted my previous statement by saying, “I guess that option just went out the window.” I resumed my tickle assault on her feet by jamming my fingers in between her socked toes and swirled them around like pipe cleaners.
“NONONONO HAAAHAHAHAHA,” Jen squealed in response, “I’m sor-HAHAHA-sorry!”
I feverishly tickled her toes for another couple minutes amidst a chorus of laughter. Getting tired of putting so much effort in keeping her ankles still, I had an idea. I stopped tickling her and started undoing my belt.
She struggled to regain her composure, but managed to ask, “Uhhh, what are you doing?”
I looked back at her face and saw a stare of complete concern spread across it. I realized what my action must’ve looked like to her so I reassured her playfully. “You’re squirming almost took an eye out, so now I’m tying your ankles together for my safety,” I said beaming at her. Jen’s expression softened up considerably as she let out a laugh.
“Help! Some idiot is trying to kidnap me,” she jokingly called upstairs. She looked back at me as I began to loop my belt around her right ankle. “Okay but seriously, you can stop now. I promise I won’t kick you anymore,” she added.
“I don’t believe you. For all I know, you could be planning to kick me right now,” I retorted while closing the second loop around her left ankle and fitting it through the belt clasp. Jen tried to pull away, but at that point I had fully tightened the ankle tie.
“Holy crap, I can’t move my feet apart at all,” she said as she continued to try and slip out of the belt.
“That’s the point,” I replied, “Now hold still.” I took the remaining belt slack as I stood up (there was a good bit still left) and grabbed the second ottoman that was sitting in front of the armchair. I pulled it to the arm of the couch opposite where Jen was sitting and positioned myself on it. I put a pillow on top of the arm of the couch and tugged hard on the belt. Jen squeaked as her feet were pulled to the edge of the couch while she was still struggling to undo the belt. Luckily, the tension in it was keeping her from doing so. With the belt pulled tight, I managed to tie a knot with it around my leg near my knee.
There I was sitting on one side of the couch arm with Jen’s socked feet a few inches away from my face. On the other side, she was struggling to undo the belt tie, but to no avail since I was able to keep it taut by bracing my foot against the underside of the couch.
Once I was satisfied with the situation, I began speaking, “Alright Jen, you have an important decision to make. I’m getting you back for kicking me in the face (I really just wanted to tickle her feet), so it’s time to pick your poison.”
“Oh come on,” she retorted, “the only reason you got kicked is because you were tickling me!” She continued trying to loosen the belt.
“Fine then, I will give you a better choice (the one I was planning to give her anyway). You can keep trying to untie yourself, and I will tickle your feet mercilessly for one hour. Or, you could cooperate and we’ll play a few tickle games. I’ll give you a foot massage during the movie, and its length will be determined by how you perform in the games. Which do you choose?”
Jen just stared at me with a disbelieving look. “You can’t be serious, can you?” she implored.
I started scribbling my fingernails up and down her arches in response.
“HAHAHAAA HEEEHEE HAHAHAAAAA!” she laughed, “WAAAIIIT!!!”
I changed the tickling to just one finger lightly stroking up and down her soles. I answered her question, “So which option do you wanna go with Jen? I could tickle you for another six hours if I really wanted to. No one’s coming back here until after 2 and it’s only 8:15.”
Regaining her composure but still giggling slightly, she replied, “I can’t believe this is happening. Fine, I will play three of your games, AT MAX. And Mike, you’d better make it the best foot massage you’ve ever given. Now what am I being forced to play first?”
(Being the foot tickle perv I am, I had devised all of these games before this event in case I should ever be in a situation to do something like this)
“It’s called the Toe Guessing Game,” I replied all too happy with her answer to my question, “and here’s how you play: There are 11 rounds. Each round you will guess either your left foot or right foot,” I pointed to each as I went through the rules, “If you guess the wrong one, I will tickle your feet for one minute and we go to the next round. If you guess correctly, you then guess one of your toes on that foot. If you guess wrongly, I will tickle your feet for 30 seconds and I will add one minute to the amount of time I will spend on the foot massage. If you guess the correct toe, I’ll add two minutes to the foot massage time and we move on to the next round. I will only do each toe once, so that should make things more fair. When we get to the bonus round, you can wager any number of minutes and then you guess either your left or right foot. If you guess the correct one, I will add five times the amount you wagered to the massage time. If you guess incorrectly, you get tickled for the amount of time you wagered. For the last round, you have to bet a minimum of one minute. Now hold on while I write a note to put down all of the answers beforehand so you can’t accuse me of cheating. After I put the answers down, I won’t touch my phone and we can use yours for the timer.”
Jen looked at me as if I was from outer space. “That’s a pretty in-depth game Mike, how the hell did you come up with that on the fly?”
Lying through my teeth I said, “It just kind of came to me while I was trying to get your ankles secured.”
“Jeez,” Jen joked, “I’m not sure which creepy game show studio hired you, but you need a bonus.”
I laughed and took a few minutes to put down all of the correct answers in a note on my phone and then rested it on the floor. I could see Jen leaned back on the couch with her hands over her face, preparing for the game. I called out; “Are you ready?” and then I rested my hands on the arm of the couch. Jen winced and curled her toes. She handed me her phone for the timer and then put on a determined-looking face.
I said, “Alright, make your first guess.”
“Ummm... left foot,” she firmly stated.
I looked down at my phone. The first answer read: R middle toe. “Sorry Jen,” I told her, “But the correct answer was your middle toe on your right foot.” I hooked my fingers on the heels of her socks and yanked them off. Her soles were a nice creamy color and looked extremely soft. Her toes were painted a light blue which I could see clearly as she scrunched them in surprise.
“Hey,” she exclaimed, “you never said you could take my socks off!!!”
“I never said I couldn’t,” I retorted grinning, “I’m starting the timer... NOW!!!”
As I hit start, I watched as Jen jerked her feet back as if they had anywhere to escape to. I pointed both of my index fingers at her soles as she closed her eyes and scrunched her toes up tightly. I drove my fingers into the center of her soles and she let out a shriek, and spread her toes out wide. I then started lightly tickling the soles of her feet, tracing the various wrinkles. Jen shriek was followed by bubbly laughter as I did this.
“I’m not going to completely torture you,” I said, “you don’t have to freak out.”
“Hee-hee I thought you-hooo were mad-eeek at me.” Jen replied through her giggles
“I can’t be mad when we’re having so much fun!” I jokingly retorted. I kept gently tickling her soft feet until the timer went down to ten seconds. For the remaining time, I amped up the severity all while counting down. Jen bucked and writhed all over the couch.
“HAAHAAAAAHAAA! MIIIKE, WHAT THE HE-ELLL!!! IT TICKLESSS!!!” she exclaimed.
After the countdown ended, I transitioned to gently caressing her soles with my thumbs while her breathing went back to normal. It seemed to calm her down enough.
Jennifer relaxed and spoke, “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but I thought you said you wouldn’t torture me!”
“I said I wouldn’t completely torture you, and besides, it was only ten seconds.” I decided to keep massaging her feet for a little while longer. Jen leant back against the couch and sighed.
“See, if you can just do that the rest of the night I’d never kick you again,” Jen professed.
I knew that, by the end, I would have her feet all to myself for a good long while of massaging, so I was eager to continue the rest of the game. I rested my palms on the soles of her feet and asserted, “Nope, you have to complete the game first, now guess again.”
She guessed wrongly twice more in a row after which she accused me of cheating and I had to show her the first three pre-written answers in Notepad. She gave me a disbelieving look, but continued on. As the rounds progressed, she started getting more foot and then toe guesses correct. She finished the tenth round with nine minutes of massage time accrued. Completely unexpectedly, she decided to bet five minutes in the bonus round.
“Okay here goes,” she said wincing, “Right foot!”
I looked down at my phone and then back at Jen’s nervous face. “Awww Jen,” I started, “you’ve come so far this game,” as I started grinning and wiggling my fingers teasingly, “and...”
I brought my fingers down on her soles, which made her scream, “NOOOOOO!!!” and try to get her feet away. As my fingers touched her silky, creamy skin, I began rubbing her feet saying, “You got it right! Your massage timer is up to 34 minutes now.”
Jen threw her arms up in the air in celebration yelling, “Haha, YESSS. In your face, Mike! I knew I would guess the right one and there is nothing you can do about it.”
I started spidering my nails in the center of her arches. I stopped shortly afterward though, but not before she started flailing around on the couch. “You seem to forget that I’ve still got you tied up,” I reminded her, “maybe I should start adding penalty tickle time for poor sportsmanship.”
Jen protested with, “Hey now, don’t be a sore loser. Besides,” she added, “That took a long time to finish. If the other games are going to take that long, I’m going to make you develop carpel tunnel with the quantity of foot massages I’m gonna demand later.”
I looked at my phone clock, and it had been about 20 minutes between guessing, tickling and some relaxing foot rubbing in between. I pretended like her words weren’t music to my ears and then retorted, “The next two games won’t be as long, but they will require more skill. Speaking of which, why don’t I describe the next game?” Jen leaned forward and rolled her eyes.
I took her sassiness as a sign of compliance and began, “So, this game is called the Reading Challenge. I’m going to find a news article, that’s relatively short in length. Your job is to read through the whole thing slowly and professionally as if you’re giving a newscast (If any of you recognize this game, I basically ripped the idea from the ticklingparadise interview videos, the ones with Amalee and Sierra to be more specific). While you’re reading, I’m going to tickle your feet at varying intensities. If you stop speaking for more than two seconds straight due to laughter, I will add one to a counter. You should be able to finish reading the article in about two to three minutes as long as you are able to keep going through it. I will add 15 minus the counter number to your massage timer with a bonus of 20 minutes if you actually finish the article. If 15 minus the counter is a negative number, I will tickle you for that many minutes. If the counter gets to 20 it’s game over, meaning you get tickled for five minutes straight and don’t get any extra foot massage time. I have to find an article and send you the link so you can just wait there a minute or two.”
“Mike, I have no clue what is up with you, but you laid out those rules really specifically,” Jen responded. “I’m pretty sure I would mess up reading all that out of a rulebook, let alone recite it off the top of my head.”
“Well if you can hardly read even when you’re not being tickled, this game’s gonna be really tough for you,” I said with a smirk.
Jen just huffed at me in response, “Hurry it up already, I wanna watch the movie.”
I pretended to search for news articles saying, “Too long... nope this one’s too short... maybe this one... hmmmm...” Meanwhile I already had the article I wanted up on my phone since. (If you google “A radical cleric gets religion”, you can find the Newsweek article I used that was featured in the ticklingparadise video with Amalee) I sent it to her and it opened up fine on her phone.
“Okay, this doesn’t look to long,” Jen said relaxing her feet, “I’ve got this no problem.”
“I like the confidence,” I responded, “Alright, we’re starting in 5...4...3...2...1”
With the last second being counted down, I rested my palms on the soles of her feet, waiting for her to start reading the article.
Jen began, “A Radical Cleric Gets Religion,” and started off with the first few sentences as I lightly traced my fingernails along the wrinkles on her soles.
“Since dec-LAA-HAAHAAAAA-HEEE-HEEEE!!!!” Jen squealed as I lightly scratched the center of her arch, one of her most sensitive spots that I’d found during the previous game.
“One,” I called out.
Jen glared at me, but continued reading, “declaring a ceasefire...” only breaking up slightly as she made it through more sentences. For fun, I inserted my fingers between her toes and probed their undersides as well. This was probably my favorite method of tickling her. Her toes were spreading and scrunching, trying to escape from my wicked fingers. Her reactions were much more pronounced than the light tickling I administered earlier.
“BoyLAAA-AAAAN HAHAHAHAH-STAHAHAAP!!! HEEEE-HEEEE AAALSO SAID!”
“HAAAAHAAAHAHAAHA, OH CO-OOME ONNNN!!!” Jen kept trying to read and wiggle her feet away, but I kept on exploring her toes and the spaces between them.
“Two...Three...Four,” I called out at her longer breakpoints of laughter within the first paragraph.
I eased up a little as she read through the second paragraph, but then she started getting more defiant. She clenched her toes so tightly that I couldn’t wedge my fingers in between them at all. Her reading really started to improve.
“...rogue Mahdi-ii Army units hahahaa, known as hee-hee special gr-Ouups...” She managed to get through a good bit of the second paragraph without much hassle even as I increased the viciousness of my tickle techniques. Then I found another ticklish area, the tops of her feet. I scribbled my nails across the tops of her feet from her ankles to her toes. Her partially tanned skin was most ticklish up around her toes.
“Those elem-EEEEK OH MY GAWSH STAHAHAAP!!!” Jen squealed as my tickling of the tops of her toes finally made her unclench. This happened to be just the opportunity I needed to dig my fingers in between her toes again.
Jen tried to scrunch them up again, but was having difficulty with my writhing fingers exploring the spaces between her toes, “HAAAAHAA HEEE-HEEE MIIIIIIKE!!! COOO-OOMEE ONNNNN! HAHAHAHAAAA!!!”
“Six...Seven...Eight...Nine” I was able to announce more numbers much to her chagrin. Unfortunately, we were down to the last paragraph. I lightened up the tickling for a little while, to allow her to make some forward progress. When I realized she was nearing the end, I intensified my tickling tenfold.
“The clerical EEEELITE that s-HAAAAHAAAA OHHH COMME ONNN!!! PLEE-EEEZE LET ME FINI-ISH!!! HAAHAAAHAAA!!!” Jen became engulfed in fanatic laughter as I raked my nails across her soles like a cat. I began spidering my fingers along her insteps and the rest of her arches. It produced some more profound laughter.
“Ten...Eleven...Twelve...” I was able to say as she had more large breaks in her speech. She mounted a glorious defense by, once again, scrunching up her toes so hard that her tanned knuckles almost turned white. She was able to get out a couple more sentences before my response tickling the tops of her feet made her release her clenched toes. Then I skittered my fingernails up from her heels to the balls of her feet as she squealed out some more words broken up with fits of laughter.
“Thirteen...Fourteen...Fifteen...Sixteen”which I finally was able to get to before she read the last word and let out an exasperated sigh.
As she was catching her breath I responded, “We’re not done yet!” as I set my phone timer for one minute and went back to my more intense tickling techniques.
Jen’s eyes widened as she shrieked, “NOOOOO!!!! MIIIIIKKEE!!! HAAHAAAA-HEEE! PLEEEE-EEEEEZE, THIS TII-IIIICKLESS TOO MUCH!!!!”
I had her practically in hysterics as the minute buzzer finally went off. I stopped tickling her abruptly and immediately began rubbing her feet tenderly. It took about five minutes of panting and giggling for her to finally calm down. She didn’t say anything for another few minutes or so as I continued to massage her feet.
She finally managed to speak between heavy breaths, “See...that was...easy...Whooo!” She pumped her fists upward into the air as she leaned back against the headrest she had made out of the other pillows.
I was genuinely surprised; I was completely sure she was going to try and punch me in the face or throw blunt objects at me. To this day, I think the only reason that didn’t happen was because she was so focused on being able to order me to give her spa level foot massages later.
After spending a few minutes lying there enjoying the miniature foot rub I was giving her, Jen sat back up with a stern look on her face. She started, “There’s only one more game left, what’re the rules?”
At this point, I was completely dumbfounded. It was as if she actually enjoyed being tickled so mercilessly. I looked down at my phone, and only about 15 minutes had passed of me explaining the previous game, finding the article, tickling her silly, and rubbing her feet afterward. I guess since it was shorter than the previous one, she was pleased I kept to my word on that matter (Although I did inflict a decent amount of tickle torture in that second game).
Not wanting to wait until her mood shifted, I began explaining what I had planned for the last game, “Ok so the last game is called the Break Game, and it’s the simplest one. For starters I will automatically add 20 minutes to the massage timer and the-”
Jen interrupted me saying, “I don’t like that. I get automatic minutes added? What’s the catch?”
I responded, “The catch is, I get to tickle you for five minutes straight. But, you do get one five minute break anytime during which I can massage your feet if you want. If you don’t use the break, I’ll add another ten minutes to the massage timer which will put the total time to one hour and 24 minutes. Simple enough?”
Jen nodded in agreement replying, “If I survive this, I’m going to make you give me sooo many foot massages, you’ll have to do all of your homework writing with your mouth!”
I laughed a minute, seeing what a good sport she was being, and began setting the timer.
“Why don’t we start with one foot massage when this is over, huh?” (Again, I would rub her gorgeous feet all day if I could, but I wanted to pretend that I didn’t like it so that she would exact payback in a massage tax)
I asked for her phone so I could set the 5 minute break timer if she wanted to use her break. She gave it to me and I prepared it.
“Ok,” I stated, “Starting in 5...4...3...2...1” I pushed the timer to start.
As expected, Jen clenched her toes really tightly so I couldn’t get at them. I started lightly tracing out the wrinkles on her soles.
Jen giggled a little bit, “Hee-hee this round will be eee-eeasy haaahaa.”
I think her toes were starting to get tired because it looked like her scrunching of them was easing up. I kept lightly stroking her silky soft skin from her heels up to the balls of her feet and back. Less than a minute after we began, she completely relaxed her toes. Big Mistake. I wildly dug my fingers in between her toes and underneath them. She let out a shriek and tried to curl them, but my fingers were in the way, tickling her mad.
“WHOOOOAAAA HAAAHAAAA MIIIIIKKEEE!!!!!! PLEEEE-EEEEEZEE STAHAHAHP DO-OOOING THAAAAT!!!!” Jen screamed through her laughter.
“Tickle tickle tickle, I’m gonna get those cute little toes!” I teased back at her.
“OO-OOHHHHH MY GAHHAAHAHAAAD!!! BRE-BREE-EEAAAAAAK!!!” Jen squealed through her bouts of laughter. I looked at the timer and stopped it; 3 minutes and 42 seconds were left on it. I started the other timer on Jen’s phone to begin the break.
“Whooo-oooo oh my god, tha-aat was bad... You are soo mean!” Jen blurted out in a frustrated tone.
“Well, you said the round would be easy,” I retorted teasingly, “I didn’t want you to have unreal expectations.” I made a pathetic attempt at winking (I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I have no clue how to make myself wink) which made Jen lean forward burst into laughter as I was gently caressing her soles.
“Hahaaha, I love how dorky you are Mike,” Jen said while messing up my hair, “It’s why I’m putting up with all this nonsense.” I was pretty touched by her statement. Jen normally was more of a jokester than she was endearing, so it felt wonderful to hear her say something so caring. “Just make sure you massage them nice and good for me,” she chided, “it will take months for you to pay me back for all this.”
“Only if you promise to keep your Jackie Chan kicks to yourself,” I joked.
Jen laughed and lay back down across the couch saying, “If you promise to give me foot massages until I feel fully paid back, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
I grabbed her right foot with my right hand and made a handshaking motion. “It’s a deal,” I said, “but you’ve still got almost four minutes of tickling left and your break is down to less than two. You’d better gear up for a crazy finale!”
Jen realized what she was in for and began negotiations, “You know, we could just skip the rest of this round. I’ll significantly reduce the number of massages I’ll force you to give me. Whaddaya say?”
Taking that option would be a complete lose-lose situation on my part so I refused. “Don’t think I’m gonna let you back out of the game when you’ve come this far,” I said, “Think of this like sprints at the end of soccer practice.”
“Oh god this is worse than sprints,” she said, “How about I bake you cookies too?”
“Haha, tickling you is more fun than eating cookies, sorry,” I retorted.
“Fine then, you can look forward to massaging my stinky sweaty feet after every soccer practice this entire summer!” she huffed. (I always adored the way her feet smelled, so I was absolutely loving all of this)
“I’ll put a clothes pin on my nose and use rubber gloves. It should be no big deal,” I joked back at her. She just stuck her nose up in the air and huffed at me again. I peered at the break timer which had just over a minute left on it. Looking back over past her feet, I saw Jen’s big brown purse on the ottoman. It was sitting next to the popcorn bowl I had moved and I could definitely reach it from where I was sitting.
I decided to make a seemingly kind gesture to Jen, “How about I add another few minutes to the break timer since it’s almost up?” Jen emphatically agreed. I added five more minutes to the timer and then grabbed her purse while I was massaging a foot with the other hand. I began rummaging through it behind the arm of the couch.
“Hey, what are you looking for in there? You can’t just go through my things,” she barked.
I responded, “I’m just looking for some good lotion to use for the massage after the game is over.”
Jen’s eyes lit up a little and she chimed in, “Oooh, I have a bottle of coconut body lotion in that front inner pocket. It’s kinda thick compared to what I usually use at home, but it should work fine. Though the bottle’s a little small, there should be plenty in there for the massage!”
I smiled and said, “Perfect,” but I wasn’t referring to the lotion as Jen thought. I grabbed the bottle out of her purse and held it up. “Is this it?” I asked.
“Yep,” she responded cheerily, “That’s the one.”
I put the lotion on the ottoman and returned her purse, but not before I took the big hairbrush I found in there and hid it behind the couch. I went back to deeply massaging her arches. Jen sighed and seemed to relax significantly. After a minute or two, she asked if I could switch to her toes. Being as sensitive as they were, I could understand her wanting me to focus on them. As I caressed and curled her toes, I felt sort of entranced with her feet. I was really looking forward to all of the foot massages I would be giving her in the future. I must’ve gotten a bit dazed because the sound of the alarm jolted me like I had stuck my finger in a light socket. Jen tried to pull her feet away as a last ditch effort, but the belt tie still held firm. (The belt was one of those threaded, ropey kinds. I don’t really know what they’re called, but a leather belt would’ve been completely ruined at this point from all the tugging and stretching.)
“Ok,” I said, “time for the finale!” I hit the button on the timer and started skittering my fingers up and down Jen’s already scrunched up soles.
“NOOOOO PLEEE-EEEEZE STAHHAAAP!!! HAHAHAAHAAAA!!!” Jen wailed as she tried to escape my tickling fingers.
In all of her bucking and writhing, she knocked both of our phones off the arm of the couch and onto the floor. My parents’ basement is carpeted so no damage was done, and my phone luckily landed face up. I saw the time had ticked down to just over three minutes so I went back to focusing on tickling her gorgeous soles. Looking at her pretty feet squirming had finally become too much for me. I grabbed her right foot and began licking it from her heel to her toes.
“OOHHHH MYYY GAAHAAAAHAHAAD MIII-IIIKE!!!” Jen squealed in laughter, “WHA-HAAHAAAT THE HELLL AAA-AARE YOO-OOOU DOO-OOOOOIING!!!”
“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” I teased back before locking her big toes with my left hand. With the toe-hold I was able to keep her feet steady enough to go back to licking both of them. Her other toes curled and then splayed in an attempt to get away from my tongue. Seeing her them like that made me decide to catch a few in my mouth and start sucking on them and licking between them.
“MIIIIIKE, THAA-HAAHAAAA-THAATS SO-OOOOO... GROSSSS!!!” Jen shrieked at me through peals of laughter. “STAAAHAAAP DO-HOOOING THAAAT!!! EEEE-HEEEEEW!!!”
I gazed down at the timer while sucking on her right pinky toe. There was only about a minute and a half left. I managed to hit pause on the timer with my socked foot and continued to lick up and down her feet while sucking on her toes (Who wouldn’t cheat a little bit in my place?). After what was probably another couple minutes of tongue tickling (I made sure to get her feet nice and wet), I started the timer back up again.
I looked at Jen and said, “Only just over a minute left, time for the grand finale!”
She managed to glimpse the hairbrush as I brought it up near her feet. Her expression immediately changed to a mix of confusion, horror and apprehension. As the brushes many tickling heads met her wet soles, Jen wailed, “AAAAHHHHAAAAHAAAAHAAAAA!!! MIII-HIIIIIKE!!! OHHH NOOOOOO HAAAAHAAAAHAAAAAA!!!! TOO-HOOOO MUUUCH!!! HAAAA HAAAAAAAAAA!!!”
The tickling probably wouldn’t have been as bad had I not so voraciously licked her feet, and I could tell this was the hardest Jen had ever been tickled in her entire life.
“Only 45 seconds left, Jen,” I called out to her, “You’re so close!” I then focused the brush on her right foot as I went back to licking between her toes on her left.
Jen shrieked some more, “HAAHAAAAHAAA!!! GRO-OOSSSS!!!! PLEE-HEEEEZE!!!”
I decided to alternate. On her right foot, I was able to catch her big, second, and middle toe in my mouth. I went to tickling them with my tongue while simultaneously sucking on them. I raked the hairbrush up and down her left foot.
“NOOO MOOOOREE!!! STAAAHAAAHAAP!!!” Jen let out a final wail as her laughter echoed throughout the basement.
Seconds later, her saving grace rang. The alarm sound signaled me to drop my brush and release her toes from my mouth. I did so reluctantly. Jen sank back into the couch and wiped some laughter tears from her eyes. She was panting heavily. While that was going on, I sat there admiring her wet feet in the light.
Jen turned a curious gaze towards me and said, “Where the hell did you learn to do all that? That whole experience was some of the weirdest shit that has ever happened to me. I knew you were a dork, but I had no clue you were such an oddball. Look at my feet, they are soaking wet with your saliva! That’s so gross!”
I was completely understanding of her reaction, but I was also pretty peeved by the name calling. Seeing as her feet were still tied to my leg, I decided she needed to rescind her previous accusation.
“Well if I’m such a gross oddball,” I replied, “I might as well act like it!” With that, I quickly grabbed her toes and proceeded to simultaneously lick her feet and tickle them with my free hand.
“HEEE-EEEEYYYY!!! WHAAAHAAAHAAT THE HEEELLLLL!!!” Jen shrieked as I continued to flick my tongue and fingers across her silky soles.
I captured her pinky and ring toe in my mouth and began swirling my tongue around and in between them. I dragged my nails along her arches, focusing on her insteps. After what was probably two minutes of tickling, I stopped and turned my gaze back towards Jen’s face. She had a fierce scowl on as she tried to regain her breath. She had been trying to curse me out while emitting gales of laughter, so I very much expected that face.
“The game is over,” she said angrily, “why are you still tickling me, especially like that you weirdo!”
“I’m a what?” I asked with an innocent tone.
“You’re a big, fat weirdo, and a complete gross FREAK!” She sharply answered.
“Well, if you say so,” I replied with a smile, and resumed my lickle-tickle attack. This time, I focused on getting her soles even more wet. I tried to produce as much saliva as possible as I dragged my tongue from heel to toe in front of me. Afterwards, I dragged and skittered my fingernails across her newly lubricated soles. Her response indicated that she finally got the message.
“NONONONOOOOO AAAUUGHHHH STAAAHAAAHAAP!!! OOOKAAAY II-HIII’M SORRY FOR CAAA-HAAAALLING YOUUU GROOSSSS!!! HAAAAHAAAHAAA! COOOOME ON-HEEHEEE MII-HIIIKE STAAAHAAAP!!!”
“You sure?” I replied before stuffing a couple of her toes in my mouth one last time.
“YES, YESS, YEEEESSS!!! JUST PLEEHEEEZE STAAHAAP TII-HIICKLING!!!” She squealed.
I pulled Jen’s toes out of my mouth with one final slurp. I could tell it thoroughly grossed her out, but she made sure not to say anything about it. She just looked at me with pleading eyes and begged, “Can you please just untie me? Come on, I played your game and now it’s time for you to hold up your end of the bargain.”
I agreed that it was probably time to untie her and undid the knot around my leg and the belt tied and clasped around her ankles.
While I was doing so Jen began an interrogation of sorts, “So again, what was the deal with you licking my feet? That felt sooo weird and it tickled a ton.”
I managed to come up with a boldfaced lie on the spot. “Remember Andrew’s birthday last month? After just getting out of the pool, Mary got tickle attacked by a bunch of her friends on her lounge chair. I remember her saying that she normally isn’t very ticklish, but her feet became super sensitive with the pool water on them. Since I didn’t have a glass of water on hand, I had to improvise.”
“Yeah, I remember hearing her shrieks from across the pool,” Jen added, “whatever, I’m going to go wash my feet off upstairs and go pee. I nearly ruined the couch! And when I come back, you better be ready for my marathon massage. I’m adding an extra hour on because you kept tickling me.”
“It was totally worth it seeing you squirm like that,” I said, absolutely amazed that she decided to either believe me, or just deal with my foot fetish and not press me with any further questions. After she went upstairs, I sat there for a moment coming to terms with the fact that I got to tickle her senseless and worship her feet for close to an hour. In addition, she would expect me to give her foot massages all summer. I was ecstatic. I grabbed a towel from the laundry room and set it up on top of a pillow. When Jen came back down, I massaged her feet for over two hours while we watched the movie. Afterwards, I kept up the footrub as we talked about theme park and beach plans for later in the summer.
I did in fact end up giving her 15 or so foot massages over the course of the rest of the summer. We still hung out together, from time to time, when we were both home for breaks in college. That night was one of my favorite memories with her, and is probably in my top 5 tickle sessions I’ve ever had.
