smokinj
1st Level Yellow Feather
- Joined
- Jan 9, 2005
- Messages
- 3,108
- Points
- 48
Hey y’all, this is not my story. I found it on an old newsgroup from back in the day by an author named Pete St. Joe.
Although it’s most definitely fiction, it’s a good enough story to share here. Enjoy!
As an avid tickler of pretty female feet, I am always primed and ready to
take advantage of opportunities presented to me. Especially with a wife who has
no interest in having her feet tickled. You take it where you can get it, ya
know?
I didn't think too much of it when the new insurance lady called one night
to introduce herself. She sounded nice over the phone, and hopefully nicer to
look at than the bald-headed 50-some guy who had been our agent for a few
years. She wanted to come over some evening to review our policies, and I said
"okay." No tickling with the wife around, but maybe I could get a peek at her
feet. We set it up for Tuesday and I promptly forgot it.
Come Tuesday, she didn't show. Oh, well. Then came Wednesday night, and the
wife and kids left for church. (No, I didn't go. Yes, I'm a heathen.). They had
barely cleared our street when Insurance Lady called, apologizing profusely and
telling me about her out-of-town fender bender on Tuesday. I graciously forgave
her and tsk-tsk'ed and all that shit, wanting to get back to Entertainment
Tonight. Then she says, "I can come over right now- would that be okay?" I
assured her it would, and she promised to be there in ten minutes.
I never picked up the living room so fast.
Good to her word, the door bell rang ten minutes later and I opened the
door to a pretty, 5'-4", raven-haired lady of 30, or so, with a big smile and
laughing green eyes. I immediately wanted to make them laugh even more. I
showed her to the couch and we sat. I won't bore you with all the insurance
shit, so let's cut to the chase...
She sat on my right, with her right leg crossed over her left knee, her
simple flat shoe nearly brushing my shin. We had talked enough insurance and I
was trying to keep her there for a while longer. I asked about her accident,
and she told me she blew a tire on I-77 in Charlotte, banged her fender on the
divider and then discovered that her cell phone battery was dead, and the DC
adapter was in her office back in Spartanburg. "I had to walk over a mile to
the next exit and call a tow truck."
"Poor baby!"
She ran her lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Yeah. I got a blister on my
toe!" As my heart lept to my throat, she leaned down and slid the little tassle
flat off her right foot and lifted it closer to my face.
Her foot was a lovely thing- dainty and delicate with slender,
medium-length toes. Her nails had a coat of glossy pale pink, almost the color
of a natural toenail. And her big toe did indeed have a little blister on the
inside edge. "See?" she whined like a little girl.
"Oooh, that looks painful," I said sympathetically, taking her foot in my
hands. I rubbed a finger over the whitened bubble of fluid. Her toe twitched.
"It's still tender. And my feet still hurt from walking in heels."
Without a word, I began to rub her foot gently, and she leaned back against
the arm of the sofa with a moan. "Ooooh, that is heaven!" She closed her eyes
and worked her toes. "I could go to sleep while you do that...."
I don't think so. Casually, I reached for her other foot. She kicked off
the flat and let me prop it on my knee next to the right one. "Are you that
tired?" I asked her.
"I am worn out. And that feels so good. I just might drift off here on your
couch."
"Oh, I won't let that happen," I said carefully. And with my right hand
clamped over her ankles, I began to tickle her arches through the sheer nylon.
Her eyes popped open and her knees jerked.
"Uh-oh.... ooooh, that tickles!" she said, rising up on her elbows.
"Hehehehehehe...."
Her toes wiggled and curled, her feet jerking back and forth across each
other. I have tickled too many feet to be inconvenienced by such tactics,
however, and simply danced my fingers over her silky soles, matching her every
move.
"Oh, shit! That tickles.... hehehehehehehe!" Her knees bounced up and down,
but she couldn't pull them free. Giggling, she leaned forward and reached a
hand out toward her twitching feet. I leaned over her legs, blocking her, and
she sagged back against the sofa cushion, giggling like a little girl. She
wasn't struggling too much and hadn't begun to curse or swing at me, yet, so I
kept it up.
Her pretty little toes curled and arched rapidly, her feet flopping and
jerking like a spastic goldfish. "That tickles! My feet are too ticklish, I
can't stand that! Hehehe... HEHEHEHEHEHE!" She slapped the sofa cushions
beneath her and rolled her head back and forth. "HAHAHAHAHAHA...... Oh, God,
please stop!"
I scrabbled lightly up and down the arches and across the tender balls of
her feet, underneath the toes where every woman on Earth is ticklish. Her toes
flexed and spread and I tickled faster. I love a woman who can spread her toes.
"Hehehehehehe... don't, please!...hehehehe... my feet are so ticklish.....
please!"
I knew I had to let her go. I had managed to get about two minutes of
continuous tickling on her gorgeous feet, and, as every tickler knows, that is
simply forever when you have the feet of a strange woman in your hands. So, for
one last intense pass, I lay my arm across her ankles and grasped her toes with
my right hand, pulling them back a bit, holding them to keep them from curling.
The fingers of my left hand scratched across her nyloned arches in a blur.
"Shit!" she yelped. "That's not fair! HeheheheheHEHEHEHEHEHEHE..... okay,
okay,okay, now STOP, please!.... hehehehehehehe!"
I stopped tickling and gave each foot a little more massage. She sat up on
the couch, her toes chasing the little flats around on the floor before
slipping back inside them. She caught her breath and giggled. "God, I haven't
had my feet tickled like that since I was a teenager. Your wife must be an
angel."
I didn't dispute that, and we finished our review of my insurance without
further incident. She dangled a shoe briefly, once or twice, but it seemed to
be unconscious and not deliberate teasing. She left a while later, promising
to come back and meet my wife. If she comes back on a Wednesday night again,
she's gonna get it.
Although it’s most definitely fiction, it’s a good enough story to share here. Enjoy!
As an avid tickler of pretty female feet, I am always primed and ready to
take advantage of opportunities presented to me. Especially with a wife who has
no interest in having her feet tickled. You take it where you can get it, ya
know?
I didn't think too much of it when the new insurance lady called one night
to introduce herself. She sounded nice over the phone, and hopefully nicer to
look at than the bald-headed 50-some guy who had been our agent for a few
years. She wanted to come over some evening to review our policies, and I said
"okay." No tickling with the wife around, but maybe I could get a peek at her
feet. We set it up for Tuesday and I promptly forgot it.
Come Tuesday, she didn't show. Oh, well. Then came Wednesday night, and the
wife and kids left for church. (No, I didn't go. Yes, I'm a heathen.). They had
barely cleared our street when Insurance Lady called, apologizing profusely and
telling me about her out-of-town fender bender on Tuesday. I graciously forgave
her and tsk-tsk'ed and all that shit, wanting to get back to Entertainment
Tonight. Then she says, "I can come over right now- would that be okay?" I
assured her it would, and she promised to be there in ten minutes.
I never picked up the living room so fast.
Good to her word, the door bell rang ten minutes later and I opened the
door to a pretty, 5'-4", raven-haired lady of 30, or so, with a big smile and
laughing green eyes. I immediately wanted to make them laugh even more. I
showed her to the couch and we sat. I won't bore you with all the insurance
shit, so let's cut to the chase...
She sat on my right, with her right leg crossed over her left knee, her
simple flat shoe nearly brushing my shin. We had talked enough insurance and I
was trying to keep her there for a while longer. I asked about her accident,
and she told me she blew a tire on I-77 in Charlotte, banged her fender on the
divider and then discovered that her cell phone battery was dead, and the DC
adapter was in her office back in Spartanburg. "I had to walk over a mile to
the next exit and call a tow truck."
"Poor baby!"
She ran her lip out in an exaggerated pout. "Yeah. I got a blister on my
toe!" As my heart lept to my throat, she leaned down and slid the little tassle
flat off her right foot and lifted it closer to my face.
Her foot was a lovely thing- dainty and delicate with slender,
medium-length toes. Her nails had a coat of glossy pale pink, almost the color
of a natural toenail. And her big toe did indeed have a little blister on the
inside edge. "See?" she whined like a little girl.
"Oooh, that looks painful," I said sympathetically, taking her foot in my
hands. I rubbed a finger over the whitened bubble of fluid. Her toe twitched.
"It's still tender. And my feet still hurt from walking in heels."
Without a word, I began to rub her foot gently, and she leaned back against
the arm of the sofa with a moan. "Ooooh, that is heaven!" She closed her eyes
and worked her toes. "I could go to sleep while you do that...."
I don't think so. Casually, I reached for her other foot. She kicked off
the flat and let me prop it on my knee next to the right one. "Are you that
tired?" I asked her.
"I am worn out. And that feels so good. I just might drift off here on your
couch."
"Oh, I won't let that happen," I said carefully. And with my right hand
clamped over her ankles, I began to tickle her arches through the sheer nylon.
Her eyes popped open and her knees jerked.
"Uh-oh.... ooooh, that tickles!" she said, rising up on her elbows.
"Hehehehehehe...."
Her toes wiggled and curled, her feet jerking back and forth across each
other. I have tickled too many feet to be inconvenienced by such tactics,
however, and simply danced my fingers over her silky soles, matching her every
move.
"Oh, shit! That tickles.... hehehehehehehe!" Her knees bounced up and down,
but she couldn't pull them free. Giggling, she leaned forward and reached a
hand out toward her twitching feet. I leaned over her legs, blocking her, and
she sagged back against the sofa cushion, giggling like a little girl. She
wasn't struggling too much and hadn't begun to curse or swing at me, yet, so I
kept it up.
Her pretty little toes curled and arched rapidly, her feet flopping and
jerking like a spastic goldfish. "That tickles! My feet are too ticklish, I
can't stand that! Hehehe... HEHEHEHEHEHE!" She slapped the sofa cushions
beneath her and rolled her head back and forth. "HAHAHAHAHAHA...... Oh, God,
please stop!"
I scrabbled lightly up and down the arches and across the tender balls of
her feet, underneath the toes where every woman on Earth is ticklish. Her toes
flexed and spread and I tickled faster. I love a woman who can spread her toes.
"Hehehehehehe... don't, please!...hehehehe... my feet are so ticklish.....
please!"
I knew I had to let her go. I had managed to get about two minutes of
continuous tickling on her gorgeous feet, and, as every tickler knows, that is
simply forever when you have the feet of a strange woman in your hands. So, for
one last intense pass, I lay my arm across her ankles and grasped her toes with
my right hand, pulling them back a bit, holding them to keep them from curling.
The fingers of my left hand scratched across her nyloned arches in a blur.
"Shit!" she yelped. "That's not fair! HeheheheheHEHEHEHEHEHEHE..... okay,
okay,okay, now STOP, please!.... hehehehehehehe!"
I stopped tickling and gave each foot a little more massage. She sat up on
the couch, her toes chasing the little flats around on the floor before
slipping back inside them. She caught her breath and giggled. "God, I haven't
had my feet tickled like that since I was a teenager. Your wife must be an
angel."
I didn't dispute that, and we finished our review of my insurance without
further incident. She dangled a shoe briefly, once or twice, but it seemed to
be unconscious and not deliberate teasing. She left a while later, promising
to come back and meet my wife. If she comes back on a Wednesday night again,
she's gonna get it.
