I've enjoyed relating the various True Stories about Linda and Dory and Susan and, most recently Peggy,.. all wonderful accomplices in the foot- and tickling fetish arena,... and with a few odd-lot experiences thrown in. And I've enjoyed the nice comments made by a few readers,... but a recent remark by TMF'er FatJay really got me to thinking.
Jay commented that it seemed I'd had a knack for hooking up with some fun ladies,... and the ladies I've written about thusfar were certainly a lot of fun. But folks,... these stories have covered a span of,.. ohh,... umm,... thirty-seven years. I'm not sure that four or five "ideal" partners in that period of time qualifies as a "knack." Susan and I were together for eight years,... the longest duration of any of the relationships. That leaves a lot of time when cool experiences WEREN'T happening, Ok? Oh, I was still in there pitching, alright,... but I was getting shelled. Gotta take the bad with the good, eh?
I've only written about those idealized experiences that are still wonderfully gratifying to think back upon,.... but there were plenty of times that things just went,... well, horribly wrong. Jay, for all your kind words, I'm dedicating this to you,.... heh heh,... I hope you get a kick out of it.
Let's see, now,.....
---As a college senior, a friend set me up with a young lady undergrad,... In describing her as a potential date, he made certain references to rabbits and mink, eh? Typical guy stuff,.... but sure enough, the date was arranged. She came to my apartment, no less,... and true to my friend's description, she showed no interest in my wine, my dinner, my music, etc,... her trajectory was in the direction of the bedroom. She had kicked off her shoes at the door,... gorgeous feet,... and I HAD to give 'em a try. With my date seated (impatiently) in a wing chair, I nonchalantly settled on the floor at her feet and, after a few minutes... my fingers stole their way to her soles.
Ticklish? This woman was the Mount Everest of Ticklish. She HATED being tickled. And it turned out she was also a black belt in karate. The foot that I tickled very nearly broke my forearm. She said simply, "Don't do that again." Yes m'am.
---Hyper-ticklishness was a problem a few years later, too, after I'd moved down to the Bay. I had met this attractive nurse at a friend's party,... we had met for drinks a couple of times,.. there was no mistaking the "signals" ... and so our first date was arranged. She would come to my house for dinner. And a fine dinner it was (I love to cook) Good wine. Classical music. The slow romantic retreat to the bedroom,... She had beautiful feet,... and I had high hopes about tickling and foot stuff,... simply because she always wore really great shoes,.... I figured that must mean some sort of "awareness" going on, eh" We fell into bed.
Perhaps ten minutes into the "preliminaries," I had managed to rumage my way around under the sheets so as to locate her feet,.. or at least with my right hand. That was when things started downhill. Thank God she wasn't another black belt. What she WAS, was a human air raid siren,... The wild kicking was nothing compared to the nerve-shattering shriek,..... I took a knee to the chest,...bailed out immediately,... and was vaguely aware of hearing rapid footsteps,... of the four-footed variety.
My trusty, 100-pound retriever Boone had raced into the bedroom,... assuming that I was under attack,... leaped onto the bed over my shrieking date,.. baring his fangs and roaring like a bear. I had to drag him off. Five minutes later, it was just Boone and me.
---Okay, here's a weird one. Age forty. Fellow journalist, age thirty-two. Russian girl. We'd had several dates,... finally achieved some intimacy,.. and one evening sitting around her place,... lounging on the sofa, I made my first move on her absolutely mouthwatering feet. (Notice how I've become more patient as time goes by?) I drew her bare feet into my lap,... tickled them a little,... she smiled and bit her lip,... more tickling,... some easy and agreeable laughter,... okay,... kissed her toes,... soles,... more smiling and giggling. Good times, eh? We had a WONDERFUL evening.
Next date. Same sofa. I reached for her foot, but it was withdrawn.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.
"Uhh,... I was going to,.. you know,.... play with your feet again." She chuckled and smirked,.. though not in a mean way,... more like "uncomprehending."
"But you've already done that," she replied.
"Wha,...... what?"
"You've already DONE that." She shook her head quizzically. "I don't see the point of doing it again." And that, folks, was that.
BAD stories,...... we've all got 'em.
Jay commented that it seemed I'd had a knack for hooking up with some fun ladies,... and the ladies I've written about thusfar were certainly a lot of fun. But folks,... these stories have covered a span of,.. ohh,... umm,... thirty-seven years. I'm not sure that four or five "ideal" partners in that period of time qualifies as a "knack." Susan and I were together for eight years,... the longest duration of any of the relationships. That leaves a lot of time when cool experiences WEREN'T happening, Ok? Oh, I was still in there pitching, alright,... but I was getting shelled. Gotta take the bad with the good, eh?
I've only written about those idealized experiences that are still wonderfully gratifying to think back upon,.... but there were plenty of times that things just went,... well, horribly wrong. Jay, for all your kind words, I'm dedicating this to you,.... heh heh,... I hope you get a kick out of it.
Let's see, now,.....
---As a college senior, a friend set me up with a young lady undergrad,... In describing her as a potential date, he made certain references to rabbits and mink, eh? Typical guy stuff,.... but sure enough, the date was arranged. She came to my apartment, no less,... and true to my friend's description, she showed no interest in my wine, my dinner, my music, etc,... her trajectory was in the direction of the bedroom. She had kicked off her shoes at the door,... gorgeous feet,... and I HAD to give 'em a try. With my date seated (impatiently) in a wing chair, I nonchalantly settled on the floor at her feet and, after a few minutes... my fingers stole their way to her soles.
Ticklish? This woman was the Mount Everest of Ticklish. She HATED being tickled. And it turned out she was also a black belt in karate. The foot that I tickled very nearly broke my forearm. She said simply, "Don't do that again." Yes m'am.
---Hyper-ticklishness was a problem a few years later, too, after I'd moved down to the Bay. I had met this attractive nurse at a friend's party,... we had met for drinks a couple of times,.. there was no mistaking the "signals" ... and so our first date was arranged. She would come to my house for dinner. And a fine dinner it was (I love to cook) Good wine. Classical music. The slow romantic retreat to the bedroom,... She had beautiful feet,... and I had high hopes about tickling and foot stuff,... simply because she always wore really great shoes,.... I figured that must mean some sort of "awareness" going on, eh" We fell into bed.
Perhaps ten minutes into the "preliminaries," I had managed to rumage my way around under the sheets so as to locate her feet,.. or at least with my right hand. That was when things started downhill. Thank God she wasn't another black belt. What she WAS, was a human air raid siren,... The wild kicking was nothing compared to the nerve-shattering shriek,..... I took a knee to the chest,...bailed out immediately,... and was vaguely aware of hearing rapid footsteps,... of the four-footed variety.
My trusty, 100-pound retriever Boone had raced into the bedroom,... assuming that I was under attack,... leaped onto the bed over my shrieking date,.. baring his fangs and roaring like a bear. I had to drag him off. Five minutes later, it was just Boone and me.
---Okay, here's a weird one. Age forty. Fellow journalist, age thirty-two. Russian girl. We'd had several dates,... finally achieved some intimacy,.. and one evening sitting around her place,... lounging on the sofa, I made my first move on her absolutely mouthwatering feet. (Notice how I've become more patient as time goes by?) I drew her bare feet into my lap,... tickled them a little,... she smiled and bit her lip,... more tickling,... some easy and agreeable laughter,... okay,... kissed her toes,... soles,... more smiling and giggling. Good times, eh? We had a WONDERFUL evening.
Next date. Same sofa. I reached for her foot, but it was withdrawn.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.
"Uhh,... I was going to,.. you know,.... play with your feet again." She chuckled and smirked,.. though not in a mean way,... more like "uncomprehending."
"But you've already done that," she replied.
"Wha,...... what?"
"You've already DONE that." She shook her head quizzically. "I don't see the point of doing it again." And that, folks, was that.
BAD stories,...... we've all got 'em.
