Dani_Foot_Tickler
Registered User
- Joined
- Dec 7, 2006
- Messages
- 22
- Points
- 0
I recently met a fellow TMF member for coffee and conversation. I've done this a handful of times to various degrees of success in the past, but this time, we actually seemed to hit it off rather nicely. He was exactly as he had seemed online - the type of intelligent goofball I enjoy associating myself with. There was much mocking, both of each other and of the world around us, and a good time was had by all.
While it's not a concrete rule, I have never done any sort of tickle play during an initial meeting; in fact, it is rarely discussed at all, what with being out in public places and what not. However, in this instance, we had each driven about an hour to a mutual location, and we both felt comfortable with each other enough that the "t-word" was hinted at, then discussed, with relative ease.
Now, my friend here (who can out himself at his leisure if he so chooses) had mentioned during our online conversations that he had VERY ticklish feet. As you would expect given my user name, I get that a lot, so I was understandably a little dubious, but as our chats progressed, I began to realize how serious he was. He talked about his previous tickle experiences, and how the smallest movement of a finger or brush could leave him overcome with laughter. Plus, he mentioned how passing his bare soles lightly over a carpet would send shivers of ticklishness through his body. I have that same "trouble" myself, and being that my feet are quite ticklish as well, I gathered that this was a kindred spirit.
So, after a bit of hushed beating around the proverbial bush, I asked if I could experience those ticklish feet for myself. Thus, a few minutes later, the two of us are taking my car up to the deserted top floor of the university parking garage, both feeling like high schoolers on prom night.
We parked as inconspicuously as we could (if that's even possible), and he slipped into the back, sliding his sneakered feet in between the driver's and passenger's seats. Neither of us had intended for this to happen, so we hadn't brought any means of bondage or tools, but actually, that made it more enjoyable. I made him promise to stay as still as possible, stating the for each time he moved, it would be that many weeks longer before I found time to come visit again. (Before you ask, I couldn't threaten him with a longer duration tickle later, or his legs would have been Riverdancing the entire time)
I unlaced his sneakers and slid them off, revealing a pair of ordinary white gym socks underneath. Since time was a premium, I decided not to waste it on mind games, so the socks came off immediately as well. Now, I don't believe I have a foot fetish myself, but I will say that his feet were quite fetching. Large, meaty soles with just a hint of an arch and thick toes that were long enough to show the nice tender stems. I grinned in anticipation, which made him squirm with the same emotion.
Since he had assured me that small motions would still result in my desired reaction, I decided to put it to the test, taking a page from an Addie Juniper video I had seen some time ago.
I took a single finger and placed it in the center of his right sole. He flinched and grimaced, his foot twitching, which wound up moving it against my finger, which wound up increasing the sensation, therefore the reaction. The grimace turned to a smile that turned to a sputtering snort of laughter, and all I had to do was keep my finger still, looking at him with total innocence.
He finally was able to control himself enough to steady his foot, so naturally I had to place a finger on his other sole, repeating the process with that foot. Once he had recovered from that "attack", I began moving my pointer fingers, imperceptibly at first (well, I suppose, he perceived it very well, given the yelps and chuckles I heard), but then a little more, so that within a minute or two, I was slowly stroking up and down his soles, one finger on each foot.
Now, in the video, the ticklee had great reactions, if a bit overstated. My new best friend's were far better. The relatively tame touching of his soles allowed him to keep his feet "somewhat" still (jerking side to side, toes curling, kicking his feet up and down), while still being ticklish enough to send him into a fit of laughter, which raised and fell in pitch as I continued my two finger exploration.
Circling his heels resulted in the same sputters and gasps that came from my initial approach, though running my fingernails along the top, right along the sole did cause a bit of flailing. It amused me so much, I had to see it a couple more times just for fun.
His arches were delicate and delightful, as were his soles. I learned that he had failed to mention that the outside edge of his foot was a very good spot. Had we been in a different setting, I might have been tempted to give him a good nibbling for his mistake. Perhaps in the future.
Close readers will notice that I was taking the traditional approach of moving from heel to toes, and as you can likely guess, it was to save the best for last. He had told me online that the toes was his Kryptonite, the one spot that he had the hardest time handling, so of course, being the kind hearted gal that I am, I certainly didn't remind him of that fact at all as my two fingers got ever closer to those 10 wiggling digits. . .
OK, maybe I did. . . But only once or twice!
After testing out the tops of his feet (a very overlooked spot, in my opinion - Ticklers, next time you get the chance, take the toes of your lee's foot and press them down, then flutter your fingernails along the tops of the foot. You'll thank me later) and making him punch my backseat as I zig-zagged across the balls - of his feet, you perverts - It was time for the final countdown.
I mean that literally. Flexing one foot back with my hand, I began counting down from ten, making it very clear that at zero, his toes were mine. My strategy worked, as I got begging for the first time.
"God, Danielle, don't do it. Please, don't, don't!"
Needless to say, his pleas fell on deaf ears, and quite frankly, I think he'd have been disappointed if I had heeded his request. As soon as the word "zero" left my lips, I began wiggling a single finger under his toes, sliding back and forth along the ridge, then tickling each toe one at a time. He tossed his head back as if someone had popped him in the nose, letting out a roar of laughter that made me very glad we were 6 floors up.
My eyes lit up as I beamed with delight. Now THIS was what I was looking for - Yes, he had been ticklish up until now, but this was that sweet sound of suffering that a ler with any sort of sadistic streak dreams about. I drank in his reactions, my eyes moving from his foot, now restrained by my arm, fingers pulling his toes back, to his face. . . Or what I could see of it between his flailing arms and rapidly shaking head.
I wiggled my finger between his toes, seeking out the sensitive valley with my nail and fingertip, and got a full-body jerk that nearly moved me into the passengers seat. Wrapping his ankle in the traditional "headlock", I sought out that crevice all the way down his foot, ending with an extra fervent tickle in between his littlest toes.
When I was done, his cheeks were pink and his eyes were wild, as if deciding whether or not to run for the hills. Setting his foot down, I patted it fondly, then held out my hand expectantly. The look on his face was priceless...
Confusion, then the slow dawning of understanding. An anguished bit of internal strife and then, thanks to my winning smile, I'm sure, resigned acceptance as he lifted his other foot into my grasp, realizing that those toes had yet to be explored. As a reward for his acquiescence, I decided to shorten the countdown from ten to five. No sense fully torturing the poor boy until he was properly bound, after all.
I treated his toes to the same treatment the first five got - one finger dipping, dancing and darting under, betwixt and upon each digit - before finally announcing that after careful deliberation, I had determined that he had truly been honest when he told me that his feet were VERY ticklish.
We chatted a bit as he put his shoes back on and we drove back down to his car - A bit awkward at first, but thankfully the rapport I had enjoyed so much wasn't long in returning - and within 15 minutes of the tickling ending, I was back on the highway.
All in all, this ranks right up there with my favorite meetings of all time. We've yet to hammer down a time for our next session, but it goes without saying that I've already begun my preparations for the future. In fact, one could say that this post in and of itself is all part of a grand psychological mind-game designed to weaken his resolve and make him even more jittery next time we speak.
Or not. . .
While it's not a concrete rule, I have never done any sort of tickle play during an initial meeting; in fact, it is rarely discussed at all, what with being out in public places and what not. However, in this instance, we had each driven about an hour to a mutual location, and we both felt comfortable with each other enough that the "t-word" was hinted at, then discussed, with relative ease.
Now, my friend here (who can out himself at his leisure if he so chooses) had mentioned during our online conversations that he had VERY ticklish feet. As you would expect given my user name, I get that a lot, so I was understandably a little dubious, but as our chats progressed, I began to realize how serious he was. He talked about his previous tickle experiences, and how the smallest movement of a finger or brush could leave him overcome with laughter. Plus, he mentioned how passing his bare soles lightly over a carpet would send shivers of ticklishness through his body. I have that same "trouble" myself, and being that my feet are quite ticklish as well, I gathered that this was a kindred spirit.
So, after a bit of hushed beating around the proverbial bush, I asked if I could experience those ticklish feet for myself. Thus, a few minutes later, the two of us are taking my car up to the deserted top floor of the university parking garage, both feeling like high schoolers on prom night.
We parked as inconspicuously as we could (if that's even possible), and he slipped into the back, sliding his sneakered feet in between the driver's and passenger's seats. Neither of us had intended for this to happen, so we hadn't brought any means of bondage or tools, but actually, that made it more enjoyable. I made him promise to stay as still as possible, stating the for each time he moved, it would be that many weeks longer before I found time to come visit again. (Before you ask, I couldn't threaten him with a longer duration tickle later, or his legs would have been Riverdancing the entire time)
I unlaced his sneakers and slid them off, revealing a pair of ordinary white gym socks underneath. Since time was a premium, I decided not to waste it on mind games, so the socks came off immediately as well. Now, I don't believe I have a foot fetish myself, but I will say that his feet were quite fetching. Large, meaty soles with just a hint of an arch and thick toes that were long enough to show the nice tender stems. I grinned in anticipation, which made him squirm with the same emotion.
Since he had assured me that small motions would still result in my desired reaction, I decided to put it to the test, taking a page from an Addie Juniper video I had seen some time ago.
I took a single finger and placed it in the center of his right sole. He flinched and grimaced, his foot twitching, which wound up moving it against my finger, which wound up increasing the sensation, therefore the reaction. The grimace turned to a smile that turned to a sputtering snort of laughter, and all I had to do was keep my finger still, looking at him with total innocence.
He finally was able to control himself enough to steady his foot, so naturally I had to place a finger on his other sole, repeating the process with that foot. Once he had recovered from that "attack", I began moving my pointer fingers, imperceptibly at first (well, I suppose, he perceived it very well, given the yelps and chuckles I heard), but then a little more, so that within a minute or two, I was slowly stroking up and down his soles, one finger on each foot.
Now, in the video, the ticklee had great reactions, if a bit overstated. My new best friend's were far better. The relatively tame touching of his soles allowed him to keep his feet "somewhat" still (jerking side to side, toes curling, kicking his feet up and down), while still being ticklish enough to send him into a fit of laughter, which raised and fell in pitch as I continued my two finger exploration.
Circling his heels resulted in the same sputters and gasps that came from my initial approach, though running my fingernails along the top, right along the sole did cause a bit of flailing. It amused me so much, I had to see it a couple more times just for fun.
His arches were delicate and delightful, as were his soles. I learned that he had failed to mention that the outside edge of his foot was a very good spot. Had we been in a different setting, I might have been tempted to give him a good nibbling for his mistake. Perhaps in the future.
Close readers will notice that I was taking the traditional approach of moving from heel to toes, and as you can likely guess, it was to save the best for last. He had told me online that the toes was his Kryptonite, the one spot that he had the hardest time handling, so of course, being the kind hearted gal that I am, I certainly didn't remind him of that fact at all as my two fingers got ever closer to those 10 wiggling digits. . .
OK, maybe I did. . . But only once or twice!
After testing out the tops of his feet (a very overlooked spot, in my opinion - Ticklers, next time you get the chance, take the toes of your lee's foot and press them down, then flutter your fingernails along the tops of the foot. You'll thank me later) and making him punch my backseat as I zig-zagged across the balls - of his feet, you perverts - It was time for the final countdown.
I mean that literally. Flexing one foot back with my hand, I began counting down from ten, making it very clear that at zero, his toes were mine. My strategy worked, as I got begging for the first time.
"God, Danielle, don't do it. Please, don't, don't!"
Needless to say, his pleas fell on deaf ears, and quite frankly, I think he'd have been disappointed if I had heeded his request. As soon as the word "zero" left my lips, I began wiggling a single finger under his toes, sliding back and forth along the ridge, then tickling each toe one at a time. He tossed his head back as if someone had popped him in the nose, letting out a roar of laughter that made me very glad we were 6 floors up.
My eyes lit up as I beamed with delight. Now THIS was what I was looking for - Yes, he had been ticklish up until now, but this was that sweet sound of suffering that a ler with any sort of sadistic streak dreams about. I drank in his reactions, my eyes moving from his foot, now restrained by my arm, fingers pulling his toes back, to his face. . . Or what I could see of it between his flailing arms and rapidly shaking head.
I wiggled my finger between his toes, seeking out the sensitive valley with my nail and fingertip, and got a full-body jerk that nearly moved me into the passengers seat. Wrapping his ankle in the traditional "headlock", I sought out that crevice all the way down his foot, ending with an extra fervent tickle in between his littlest toes.
When I was done, his cheeks were pink and his eyes were wild, as if deciding whether or not to run for the hills. Setting his foot down, I patted it fondly, then held out my hand expectantly. The look on his face was priceless...
Confusion, then the slow dawning of understanding. An anguished bit of internal strife and then, thanks to my winning smile, I'm sure, resigned acceptance as he lifted his other foot into my grasp, realizing that those toes had yet to be explored. As a reward for his acquiescence, I decided to shorten the countdown from ten to five. No sense fully torturing the poor boy until he was properly bound, after all.
I treated his toes to the same treatment the first five got - one finger dipping, dancing and darting under, betwixt and upon each digit - before finally announcing that after careful deliberation, I had determined that he had truly been honest when he told me that his feet were VERY ticklish.
We chatted a bit as he put his shoes back on and we drove back down to his car - A bit awkward at first, but thankfully the rapport I had enjoyed so much wasn't long in returning - and within 15 minutes of the tickling ending, I was back on the highway.
All in all, this ranks right up there with my favorite meetings of all time. We've yet to hammer down a time for our next session, but it goes without saying that I've already begun my preparations for the future. In fact, one could say that this post in and of itself is all part of a grand psychological mind-game designed to weaken his resolve and make him even more jittery next time we speak.
Or not. . .