Hey there all, I'm new to the forum, and thought I'd begin with a contribution.
The local high school was a girls-only school, so, of course, being my single and horny self, I often would hang out nearby, gawking at all the incredibly hot seniors. And they all were dressed the exact same way. A white undershirt was covered by the maroon uniform blouse, a greyish plaid short skirt, maroon knee high stockings and Mary Janes. To my surprise, on this one day after the final bell rang, one particular girl I had my eyes on walked across the street to me, half skipping in her usualy cheery way. I almost took off, thinking she'd approach and ask why i was stalking them. But, steeled against my own will almost, I stood where I was, across the street from the school, leaning against a bus stop pole.
"Hi!" she said, quite cheerily.
"Hey there. What's up?" I asked, afraid to try anythign too fancy for fear of screwing it up.
"Eh, not alot. Are you doing anything today, Split?"
This took me back a bit. "Split" was my nickname from my freshman year of high schoool. I was out of HS by this time; now I was living alone in a little studio a few block down. i didn't recognize her at all, medium length brown hair, rather shiny; deep, brown eyes, light complezion. Overall, on of the hotter ones I'd seen.
"Split?" I said.
"Yeah, Jenny told me to call you that."
That was it-Jenny was my first girlfriend in High school. I had almost forgotten that she went to the school. She waved from across the street. She also knew about my tickling fetish. Made me a little apprehensive, but was she setting me up witht his girl?
"What's your name?" I asked her.
"Amanda. Nice to meet you!" she giggled softly, a sound that made my ears perk a bit.
"Well, what's up? Why'd you come skipping over here?" I asked, with an amused tone, so she didn't think I was mocking her.
"Um...i was wondering if you could walk me home. I usually walk with a friend, but she's not here today. I need someone to talk to all the time, hehe, and I was wondeirng if you'd be able to.."
"Sure!" I cut her off, a little too eagerly.
"Great! Thanks so much." she said, a bit of a glimmer in her eye.
And so, I walked her home, chatting the whole way. I half expected her to talk my year-older-than-her head off on the way, but she really managed to catch my interest. We chatted about all kinds of things, as it was a heck of a walk. Took a half hour to get to her place.
When we arrived, she asked if I'd like to go in and have something to drink. I gave a bit of resistance, expecting her to fight back and insist. She did, and I went in. She said that her parents both worked, so the house was empty, aside from the cat, which was asleep on the windowsill.
"Take off your shoes, if you don't mind," she said as we went through the doorway.
I grinned. She kicked off her Mary Janes and walked across the living room in her knee highs. I kicked off my sneakers, too, keeping an eye on her rather cute feet. About size 6, from what I could tell.
She dissapeared into the kitchen, calling back, "Make yourself comfortable! You like tea?"
"Yes, thank you." I called back. I heard her begin tinkering in the kitchen.
I took a gander around the living room. It was pretty much square, and well organized. I sat on the overstuffed blue sofa, which sat with it's back to one wall, the 25" television across from it, against the wall that came down off of the staircase that lead to the upper floor. The living room was to my left, through an open door way that was almost the width of the room. The coffee table in front of me wasn't quite as wide as wide as the sofa, which was to be expected. On it was a cell phone, a candy dish, and other assorted knick knacks. To the right was a window, which showed the front yard, and the path that lead to the door, to the windows left.
Amanda came back into the room and set the pair of teacups on the coffee table. She handed one to me, then scooped up hers and stepped on the sofawith her left foot, curling it under her as she sat. Her Maroon-nyloned sole was facing me, and I glanced, not long enough to draw attention.
"So, Jenny tells me you're taking a break from school?" More of a question than a statement.
"Yeah," I responded, "too much stress. I'll get to college next year."
"Good idea. I'm considering the same thing." She smiled at me, a bright, cheery smile that made me feel rather warm. I wondered if that might actually have been the tea. I sipped.
The next part really shocked me. "So, Split," she said, with a bit of an accent on the 'Split', "I hear you like feet." She wiggled her nylon covered toes.
I could feel the blood rush to my face, and the heat rise off of it. I must have turned bright red. She giggled, and I simply answered, "Yep." Sip. The tea was now half gone.
"I do too. What started it for you?"
This put me quite at ease. I thought she might tease me about it, but here she was agreeing with my tastes. "I haven't the slightest clue, dear, I just like them. Not on guys, of course." I grinned at her. She returned it.
"Well, I can't say I like other people's feet, but I like having attention paid to my own."
If there's a way to catch my attention more effective than anything else, that was it. "And?" I provoked.
"Well..." she hesitated. She seemed to be thinking of how to put i what she was going to say next. "...I was wondering if I could have a foot massage." It was her turn to blush.
"Oh, of course!" I said, enthusiastically. Her face brightened and she put down her tea, slid halfway down the couch, and plopped her feet in my lap. I was a little surprised, and set my teacup next to hers.
I placed my hands on her feet, immediately beginning by pushing my thumbs into her arches. She said, "Ooooh that feels so good...I haven't had one of these for a LONG time."
She seemed to settle back into the couch. I massaged her feet for a bit, maybe ten minutes, before I finally gave in. I dragged a fingertip up her left sole, my other hand still massaging her right.
"Mmmmm....that's so EEP!" she squealed. "Hey!" and she giggled, tilting her head to look at me. Her eyes sparkled michevously.
"What?" I asked innocently.
"Be careful! They're really ticklish!" she exclaimed, more invitingly than warningly.
"Oh?" I asked. "You shouldn't have said that." I locked her ankle under my arm suddenly, and she gasped.
"Hey, no fair!" and she giggled again. She was still relaxed from the massage, and only wiggled a bit in my grasp.
I dragged a couple fingers up and down her soles, and she squealed. "Eeeeeeee!! That tickles!"
"No, really?" I asked.
I continued to lightly drag a couple fingers over her soles for a few minutes, and all she did was squeal, giggle, and squirm, making no move to stop me. He maroon nyloned feet wiggled.
"Tickle tickle!" I taunted. I began applying a little more pressure and moving a little faster every few seconds.
"Eeeheeheee hee hee hahahaha, oh please, mercy!!" she begged playfully. I could tell she was enjoying it.
"Why should I?" I asked. I then stopped, got off of the couch, flipped her onto her belly and sat on her thighs. She gasped in surprise, but agian, made no move to resist. I looped an arm under her shins and pulled her feet up. Her soles were now facing the ceiling, and she giggled again.
"What are you going to do, tickle torture me?" she asked.
I replied simply, "Yep."
Then I attacked. My fingertips flew over her cute little nyloned arches, wiggling over her heels and scratching lighty on the balls of her feet. She initially was giggling, but after a few seconds she was in full out laughter. She punded the sofa with her fists and thrashed her head back and forth, but still made no attempt the stop me. Her legs moved only a bit, quivering to my touch, and her feet wiggled madly in front of my face.
After several minutes, she began to lose her breath. I slowed the tickling, just barely dragging my fingertips up and down her soles, toes to heels and back. She kept giggling but was able to gasp in the much needed air.
"P-p-please, I don't hee hee think I caaaaaan take it anymore..." she managed to say.
I smiled and let her go. I stood up off the sofa. Her plaid uniform skirt had hiked up to her waist, and her bright pink panties showed. I took BIG risk here, and reached down, lightly letting my fingertips brush her butt through the panties. She squealed and bucked up off the sofa, turning around and looking me in the eye.
"Naughty boy!" she said playfully. Whew.
"You're not seeing anyone, are you?" she asked me.
"I wasn't earlier. The question now is, am I?" I responded.
She giggled and nodded.
To be continued.
The local high school was a girls-only school, so, of course, being my single and horny self, I often would hang out nearby, gawking at all the incredibly hot seniors. And they all were dressed the exact same way. A white undershirt was covered by the maroon uniform blouse, a greyish plaid short skirt, maroon knee high stockings and Mary Janes. To my surprise, on this one day after the final bell rang, one particular girl I had my eyes on walked across the street to me, half skipping in her usualy cheery way. I almost took off, thinking she'd approach and ask why i was stalking them. But, steeled against my own will almost, I stood where I was, across the street from the school, leaning against a bus stop pole.
"Hi!" she said, quite cheerily.
"Hey there. What's up?" I asked, afraid to try anythign too fancy for fear of screwing it up.
"Eh, not alot. Are you doing anything today, Split?"
This took me back a bit. "Split" was my nickname from my freshman year of high schoool. I was out of HS by this time; now I was living alone in a little studio a few block down. i didn't recognize her at all, medium length brown hair, rather shiny; deep, brown eyes, light complezion. Overall, on of the hotter ones I'd seen.
"Split?" I said.
"Yeah, Jenny told me to call you that."
That was it-Jenny was my first girlfriend in High school. I had almost forgotten that she went to the school. She waved from across the street. She also knew about my tickling fetish. Made me a little apprehensive, but was she setting me up witht his girl?
"What's your name?" I asked her.
"Amanda. Nice to meet you!" she giggled softly, a sound that made my ears perk a bit.
"Well, what's up? Why'd you come skipping over here?" I asked, with an amused tone, so she didn't think I was mocking her.
"Um...i was wondering if you could walk me home. I usually walk with a friend, but she's not here today. I need someone to talk to all the time, hehe, and I was wondeirng if you'd be able to.."
"Sure!" I cut her off, a little too eagerly.
"Great! Thanks so much." she said, a bit of a glimmer in her eye.
And so, I walked her home, chatting the whole way. I half expected her to talk my year-older-than-her head off on the way, but she really managed to catch my interest. We chatted about all kinds of things, as it was a heck of a walk. Took a half hour to get to her place.
When we arrived, she asked if I'd like to go in and have something to drink. I gave a bit of resistance, expecting her to fight back and insist. She did, and I went in. She said that her parents both worked, so the house was empty, aside from the cat, which was asleep on the windowsill.
"Take off your shoes, if you don't mind," she said as we went through the doorway.
I grinned. She kicked off her Mary Janes and walked across the living room in her knee highs. I kicked off my sneakers, too, keeping an eye on her rather cute feet. About size 6, from what I could tell.
She dissapeared into the kitchen, calling back, "Make yourself comfortable! You like tea?"
"Yes, thank you." I called back. I heard her begin tinkering in the kitchen.
I took a gander around the living room. It was pretty much square, and well organized. I sat on the overstuffed blue sofa, which sat with it's back to one wall, the 25" television across from it, against the wall that came down off of the staircase that lead to the upper floor. The living room was to my left, through an open door way that was almost the width of the room. The coffee table in front of me wasn't quite as wide as wide as the sofa, which was to be expected. On it was a cell phone, a candy dish, and other assorted knick knacks. To the right was a window, which showed the front yard, and the path that lead to the door, to the windows left.
Amanda came back into the room and set the pair of teacups on the coffee table. She handed one to me, then scooped up hers and stepped on the sofawith her left foot, curling it under her as she sat. Her Maroon-nyloned sole was facing me, and I glanced, not long enough to draw attention.
"So, Jenny tells me you're taking a break from school?" More of a question than a statement.
"Yeah," I responded, "too much stress. I'll get to college next year."
"Good idea. I'm considering the same thing." She smiled at me, a bright, cheery smile that made me feel rather warm. I wondered if that might actually have been the tea. I sipped.
The next part really shocked me. "So, Split," she said, with a bit of an accent on the 'Split', "I hear you like feet." She wiggled her nylon covered toes.
I could feel the blood rush to my face, and the heat rise off of it. I must have turned bright red. She giggled, and I simply answered, "Yep." Sip. The tea was now half gone.
"I do too. What started it for you?"
This put me quite at ease. I thought she might tease me about it, but here she was agreeing with my tastes. "I haven't the slightest clue, dear, I just like them. Not on guys, of course." I grinned at her. She returned it.
"Well, I can't say I like other people's feet, but I like having attention paid to my own."
If there's a way to catch my attention more effective than anything else, that was it. "And?" I provoked.
"Well..." she hesitated. She seemed to be thinking of how to put i what she was going to say next. "...I was wondering if I could have a foot massage." It was her turn to blush.
"Oh, of course!" I said, enthusiastically. Her face brightened and she put down her tea, slid halfway down the couch, and plopped her feet in my lap. I was a little surprised, and set my teacup next to hers.
I placed my hands on her feet, immediately beginning by pushing my thumbs into her arches. She said, "Ooooh that feels so good...I haven't had one of these for a LONG time."
She seemed to settle back into the couch. I massaged her feet for a bit, maybe ten minutes, before I finally gave in. I dragged a fingertip up her left sole, my other hand still massaging her right.
"Mmmmm....that's so EEP!" she squealed. "Hey!" and she giggled, tilting her head to look at me. Her eyes sparkled michevously.
"What?" I asked innocently.
"Be careful! They're really ticklish!" she exclaimed, more invitingly than warningly.
"Oh?" I asked. "You shouldn't have said that." I locked her ankle under my arm suddenly, and she gasped.
"Hey, no fair!" and she giggled again. She was still relaxed from the massage, and only wiggled a bit in my grasp.
I dragged a couple fingers up and down her soles, and she squealed. "Eeeeeeee!! That tickles!"
"No, really?" I asked.
I continued to lightly drag a couple fingers over her soles for a few minutes, and all she did was squeal, giggle, and squirm, making no move to stop me. He maroon nyloned feet wiggled.
"Tickle tickle!" I taunted. I began applying a little more pressure and moving a little faster every few seconds.
"Eeeheeheee hee hee hahahaha, oh please, mercy!!" she begged playfully. I could tell she was enjoying it.
"Why should I?" I asked. I then stopped, got off of the couch, flipped her onto her belly and sat on her thighs. She gasped in surprise, but agian, made no move to resist. I looped an arm under her shins and pulled her feet up. Her soles were now facing the ceiling, and she giggled again.
"What are you going to do, tickle torture me?" she asked.
I replied simply, "Yep."
Then I attacked. My fingertips flew over her cute little nyloned arches, wiggling over her heels and scratching lighty on the balls of her feet. She initially was giggling, but after a few seconds she was in full out laughter. She punded the sofa with her fists and thrashed her head back and forth, but still made no attempt the stop me. Her legs moved only a bit, quivering to my touch, and her feet wiggled madly in front of my face.
After several minutes, she began to lose her breath. I slowed the tickling, just barely dragging my fingertips up and down her soles, toes to heels and back. She kept giggling but was able to gasp in the much needed air.
"P-p-please, I don't hee hee think I caaaaaan take it anymore..." she managed to say.
I smiled and let her go. I stood up off the sofa. Her plaid uniform skirt had hiked up to her waist, and her bright pink panties showed. I took BIG risk here, and reached down, lightly letting my fingertips brush her butt through the panties. She squealed and bucked up off the sofa, turning around and looking me in the eye.
"Naughty boy!" she said playfully. Whew.
"You're not seeing anyone, are you?" she asked me.
"I wasn't earlier. The question now is, am I?" I responded.
She giggled and nodded.
To be continued.
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