XAsMoXDeUsX
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Sep 30, 2006
- Messages
- 142
- Points
- 16
The second story in this post actually just took place a few hours ago. The first one happened months back. I remember thinking that I wanted to write about it right after, as it is basically my favorite recent tickling experience, but I got lazy. After today’s fun, though, I decided to just post both of them. Hope you all enjoy:
A)As I mentioned, it was a few months back. A friend of mine (we’ll call her Sarah; she doesn’t actually appear in the story) was having a party, and since the two of us were good friends, she invited me over. By the time I arrived, there was already a considerable number of people there, drinking, relaxing, and playing loud music. But the first sight that really caught my attention when I walked through the door was a pair of big, pale beautiful feet; a girl was sitting in a chair, but with the back of the chair facing the table. She had her arms wrapped around the back of the chair, and she was looking at someone who happened to be sitting across the table, telling a story. She was sitting on her legs, so that the soles of her feet peered out from under her, spilling over the seat of the chair. She curled her toes up a few times, and I noticed that her toenails were painted cherry red. This girl had long, dirty blond hair.
I actually didn’t expect anything tickling-related to happen that night. However, the opportunity soon presented itself. The girl—let’s call her Samantha--eventually got up and walked around the room. She was blue-eyed, tall, I would say just shy of six feet, and very thin. She wore a long, flowing jean skirt, and was walking around the house barefoot. I went and mingled with some friends, grabbed a few drinks, and then eventually wandered back over to the living room.
I caught another good glimpse of Samantha’s gorgeous feet, as she was sitting upside down in one of the chairs (it was a cloth wingback chair, so it wasn’t too uncomfortable). I eventually learned that she enjoyed engaging in somewhat silly/quirky antics. When she saw me come over to the chair next to her, she shot me a grin that I can only describe as satisfied (not because I was walking over; I mean more in a “look at me, I’m sitting upside down!” kind of way).
As soon as I sat down, she said, “I’m upside down,” and stuck out her tongue.
“I noticed,” I said.
She closed her eyes for a second, still smiling.
And because I’d had a few drinks, and because it was basically her feet I was sitting right next to (she was upside down, after all), I figured, Why not?, reached out and tickled her right sole.
She jerked, gasped, and opened her eyes again.
“Someone tickled my foot!” she said
She genuinely had had no idea it was me. I know it may seem strange to someone reading this, but the house was actually pretty packed, with people constantly standing around wherever you went, so it was perfectly feasible for her to think that someone had passed by and decided to shoot her a quick tickle.
“Oh, really?” I said, looking back at her.
And, still looking right in her eyes, I reached my hand over again, and tickled her once more—this time, I kept going.
She jerked, grunted, squirmed, bit her lip, all while her foot danced helplessly under my fingers, but for some reason, she absolutely REFUSED TO LET HERSELF LAUGH.
She finally freed her feet from my fingers, twisted herself back rightside up, and gently exhaled.
What happened next stunned me.
“Yeah, I’m pretty ticklish,” she said, “but you know what? So is SHE!”
And then she POUNCED ON ANOTHER GIRL IN THE ROOM!
She began tickling this girl mercilessly under the armpits, while the poor girl giggled, squeaked, and strained, in vain, to get away.
What made this all so sexy was the look in Samantha’s eyes; it was as though she was determined to break this other girl, to force her to endure the same humiliation she’d been helpless to escape herself. I know that all sounds a bit dramatic (and keep in mind I’d had a few drinks at this point), but this was honestly how it all seemed to me at the time.
Samantha didn’t stop until this girl was curled up into a fetal position on the floor, all red, with tears streaming down her face.
The girl got up and left without a word, and Samantha went back to sitting upside down.
And, as her feet were still right next to me, I reached out and tickled them once more, again kind of lingering—this time, I used both hands, danced across both soles and under her red-painted toes, watching her squirm, grunt, strain, twist, bite her lip, and her face get redder and redder. Come on, I thought as I tickled, just a little laugh.
Still, though she came pretty close to laughing this time, eventually she was able to get away and get rightside up again.
“What’s your weakness?” she asked me, her face flush.
“Why don’t you find out?” I teased.
She laughed, smacked me on the arm, and wandered off for a beer.
B) As I mentioned before, this story happened just a few hours ago. I have another good friend (let’s call her Maricela). She’s around five-five, thin, with lightly tan skin, brown eyes, and brown hair with red highlights that reaches just past her chin. Maricela usually wears flats, although I’ve seen her wear sandals before. Her feet are petite, and well cared for. She usually wears dark blue toenail polish.
Today she invited me over to her place for some coffee, and we chatted about grad school (we’re in the same program together). She was wearing flats today. I noticed that she had a very pronounced shoe-playing habit. Eventually, I found my eyes eager to sneak a peak at her freshly exposed soles under the table, my ears eager to hear that light, telling pop, indicating that she’d slipped her feet from out her flats once more.
Stealing a technique I got from a story on here (apologies to the author, as I don’t remember whose piece it was), I pulled my keys out of my pocket, and began (pretending) to fidget with them, twirling them lightly around my index finger. Soon, I threw them under the table.
“Oops,” I said, reaching down at just the right moment to catch her left sole almost completely exposed. I reached up and quickly scrabbled my fingers against her sole, enjoying, for those brief few seconds, how deliciously soft her feet felt.
“AAAAAAAAAH!” she screamed, pulling away.
I got my keys and sat back up.
“Sorry,” I said, smiling, “couldn’t resist.”
“You are BAD!” she laughed, and then we kept talking as though nothing had ever happened.
It was the first time I’d ever tickled her feet, although an ex boyfriend of hers who used to be a mutual friend of both of ours once told me that she was deathly ticklish.
A)As I mentioned, it was a few months back. A friend of mine (we’ll call her Sarah; she doesn’t actually appear in the story) was having a party, and since the two of us were good friends, she invited me over. By the time I arrived, there was already a considerable number of people there, drinking, relaxing, and playing loud music. But the first sight that really caught my attention when I walked through the door was a pair of big, pale beautiful feet; a girl was sitting in a chair, but with the back of the chair facing the table. She had her arms wrapped around the back of the chair, and she was looking at someone who happened to be sitting across the table, telling a story. She was sitting on her legs, so that the soles of her feet peered out from under her, spilling over the seat of the chair. She curled her toes up a few times, and I noticed that her toenails were painted cherry red. This girl had long, dirty blond hair.
I actually didn’t expect anything tickling-related to happen that night. However, the opportunity soon presented itself. The girl—let’s call her Samantha--eventually got up and walked around the room. She was blue-eyed, tall, I would say just shy of six feet, and very thin. She wore a long, flowing jean skirt, and was walking around the house barefoot. I went and mingled with some friends, grabbed a few drinks, and then eventually wandered back over to the living room.
I caught another good glimpse of Samantha’s gorgeous feet, as she was sitting upside down in one of the chairs (it was a cloth wingback chair, so it wasn’t too uncomfortable). I eventually learned that she enjoyed engaging in somewhat silly/quirky antics. When she saw me come over to the chair next to her, she shot me a grin that I can only describe as satisfied (not because I was walking over; I mean more in a “look at me, I’m sitting upside down!” kind of way).
As soon as I sat down, she said, “I’m upside down,” and stuck out her tongue.
“I noticed,” I said.
She closed her eyes for a second, still smiling.
And because I’d had a few drinks, and because it was basically her feet I was sitting right next to (she was upside down, after all), I figured, Why not?, reached out and tickled her right sole.
She jerked, gasped, and opened her eyes again.
“Someone tickled my foot!” she said
She genuinely had had no idea it was me. I know it may seem strange to someone reading this, but the house was actually pretty packed, with people constantly standing around wherever you went, so it was perfectly feasible for her to think that someone had passed by and decided to shoot her a quick tickle.
“Oh, really?” I said, looking back at her.
And, still looking right in her eyes, I reached my hand over again, and tickled her once more—this time, I kept going.
She jerked, grunted, squirmed, bit her lip, all while her foot danced helplessly under my fingers, but for some reason, she absolutely REFUSED TO LET HERSELF LAUGH.
She finally freed her feet from my fingers, twisted herself back rightside up, and gently exhaled.
What happened next stunned me.
“Yeah, I’m pretty ticklish,” she said, “but you know what? So is SHE!”
And then she POUNCED ON ANOTHER GIRL IN THE ROOM!
She began tickling this girl mercilessly under the armpits, while the poor girl giggled, squeaked, and strained, in vain, to get away.
What made this all so sexy was the look in Samantha’s eyes; it was as though she was determined to break this other girl, to force her to endure the same humiliation she’d been helpless to escape herself. I know that all sounds a bit dramatic (and keep in mind I’d had a few drinks at this point), but this was honestly how it all seemed to me at the time.
Samantha didn’t stop until this girl was curled up into a fetal position on the floor, all red, with tears streaming down her face.
The girl got up and left without a word, and Samantha went back to sitting upside down.
And, as her feet were still right next to me, I reached out and tickled them once more, again kind of lingering—this time, I used both hands, danced across both soles and under her red-painted toes, watching her squirm, grunt, strain, twist, bite her lip, and her face get redder and redder. Come on, I thought as I tickled, just a little laugh.
Still, though she came pretty close to laughing this time, eventually she was able to get away and get rightside up again.
“What’s your weakness?” she asked me, her face flush.
“Why don’t you find out?” I teased.
She laughed, smacked me on the arm, and wandered off for a beer.
B) As I mentioned before, this story happened just a few hours ago. I have another good friend (let’s call her Maricela). She’s around five-five, thin, with lightly tan skin, brown eyes, and brown hair with red highlights that reaches just past her chin. Maricela usually wears flats, although I’ve seen her wear sandals before. Her feet are petite, and well cared for. She usually wears dark blue toenail polish.
Today she invited me over to her place for some coffee, and we chatted about grad school (we’re in the same program together). She was wearing flats today. I noticed that she had a very pronounced shoe-playing habit. Eventually, I found my eyes eager to sneak a peak at her freshly exposed soles under the table, my ears eager to hear that light, telling pop, indicating that she’d slipped her feet from out her flats once more.
Stealing a technique I got from a story on here (apologies to the author, as I don’t remember whose piece it was), I pulled my keys out of my pocket, and began (pretending) to fidget with them, twirling them lightly around my index finger. Soon, I threw them under the table.
“Oops,” I said, reaching down at just the right moment to catch her left sole almost completely exposed. I reached up and quickly scrabbled my fingers against her sole, enjoying, for those brief few seconds, how deliciously soft her feet felt.
“AAAAAAAAAH!” she screamed, pulling away.
I got my keys and sat back up.
“Sorry,” I said, smiling, “couldn’t resist.”
“You are BAD!” she laughed, and then we kept talking as though nothing had ever happened.
It was the first time I’d ever tickled her feet, although an ex boyfriend of hers who used to be a mutual friend of both of ours once told me that she was deathly ticklish.
Thanks for sharing your experiences here. 
