You’re too kind, gents. As long as people enjoy the stories, I’ll keep posting. I’m starting to run out of them now, but here’s another one from my earlier years. I should point out that while there's tickling, it's more from a stocking foot fetish point of view, and were originally posted on the Mousepad foot fetish site.
This is another story about tickling a friend's mother, and features a woman called Irene. Irene was the complete opposite of Tina and Helen from my previous stories. She was short, squat, frumpy, slightly pug-faced...not a looker, by any means! However, due to my experiences tickling Tina in the couple of years before this, my confidence was bolstered and my curiosity was piqued about tickling Irene's feet - and if I'd get to find out! She'd normally wear American tan tights, sometimes white tights, and on the very odd occassion, sometimes sheer black tights. I'd been visiting this friend since I was 13, and it actually took as Irene always seemed to be in shoes or slippers it took about two or three years to even see her exposed feet! The first time came was when I was at her house a bit later than normal. I was at her dining table doing a maths project my friend was helping me with (he was two years older). Irene came home from working a late shift, said hello and flopped down onto the sofa. My friend was on his computer in his room, so I explained that I was there due to my maths project. As I explained this, I realised she’d just come in from work, and feverishly wondered if I'd get to see her feet. As she relaxed I kept looking from the corner of my eye to see if her shoes had come off. She was in open toe sandals and tan tights, and I eventually saw her slowly begin to loosen the strap on her shoes. Maybe she saw me looking, but she stopped halfway, and just had her feet resting part inside/part outside her shoes I was desperate for her to slip her feet out fully, which after about ten minutes she finally did! This was the first time I'd seen her feet, which in those days was enough for me; I didn't bother with how they looked in tights, I was just happy seeing female stocking feet! However, having now seen them, and after my success with tickling Tina's feet, I realised that I had the chance to do the same with Irene. But how to do it? Suddenly, it came to me!
A few years before, when I was about 14 or 15 years old, I'd had the idea to ask teachers at my school to be measured for a non-existent 'science experiment'. I’d pretend to need to measure them, and ask them to remove their shoes in order to see their stocking feet. This had worked quite successfully then, and I realised I could do the same with Irene! As a result, on future visits when my friend wasn't around I'd ask her about height and get her to take her shoes off to show me. She'd always oblige, no questions asked! Once her slippers came off I'd bend down and pretend to measure her, 'accidentally' touching the tops or outline of her tan stocking feet! Other times I'd insist she put her feet up, as she was always doing housework and never relaxed. I'd sit her down, pull her feet up onto the sofa or table and then take off her slippers to get her comfy. Eventually, I mustered up the courage to go from looking at her feet to playing with them. The 'feet up and slippers off' had become a slight routine if my friend wasn't there (he'd be having driving lessons, maybe), but on this occassion he was present. I knew he was aware that I'd get her to sit down and relax, but maybe not about the shoe removal. Regardless, I threw caution to the wind and, after pulling her slippers off simultaneously and bolstered by teenage hormones and curiosity, asked her if she wanted her feet massaged.
I slightly regretted blurting it out, as it was an odd thing to ask out of the blue. I was about three or four years into the thralls of my stocking feet fetish by now, having massaged and tickled my aunt's stocking feet several times over the last three years. However, as my experiences were few and far between, I eagerly wanted to massage more women's stocking feet! As I nervously awaited Irene's response, however, I noticed that she looked nonplussed and, much to my delight, was agreeable to my suggestion! I asked my mate if it was alright (he wasn't bothered either) and with his approval I pulled a chair up to sit opposite Irene, placed her feet in my lap and began gently massaging her tan stocking soles. After a couple of minutes any nerves I had were gone, as by now I was tweaking Irene's toes, caressing her insteps and asking her how it felt. I didn't see a visible change in her mood i.e. more relaxed, but she seemed quite taken by it and went a bit quiet as I continued. I proceeded to massage and stroke her feet for another ten minutes or so, stopping before I pushed my luck too far. Even though she wasn't a looker my adolescent heart was pounding hard! Giving a friend's mother a foot massage seemed so....exciting, somehow wrong, but that was exactly what made it so cool. I was lost in the moment, and thought about it all the way home. I wondered if I'd get another chance, and thankfully I did a few months later.
My friend had recently passed his driving test and invited me over one Sunday. However, this was only to get me to help wash his new car, which I was less then impressed about. He lived in a small block of flats, which meant we had to keep going upstairs to refill the bucket. We took it in turns, and whilst I filled the bucket I noticed Irene's bedroom door was open. Her room was down the hall directly opposite the front door, and I saw that she was sat reading on her bed. I went in to talk to her while the bucket filled up, and noticed that for the first time since I'd known her she was wearing black tights. She was still in her slippers, but still....seeing her in black tights for the first time was too good an opportunity to resist. As we talked I slowly began changing the topic to her shoes, which were laid out neatly around her bedroom. I casually mentioned that she had lots of shoes but no trainers, and asked if she'd like to try on mine. She agreed, practically dropped her slippers off her feet and put them on. We chatted about how comfy my trainers were, and I then went to stop the bucket from overflowing. I returned to the room to get my trainers back from Irene, indicating she gave me her feet so I could remove my trainers. She placed her feet in my lap and I slowly slipped each trainer off, savouring the moment. As both feet were exposed and still in my lap I gave each one a a little tickle from toe to heel, but she didn't flinch, smile or laugh as she wasn't ticklish. I expressed disappointment with this, but wasn't to be deterred.
'You're not ticklish? Oh, that's not fair! At least you don't mind having your feet massaged, eh? Shall I do that instead, seeing as how you're not ticklish?'
Irene laughed at this, and much to my surprise flexed her feet back, giving me access to her black stocking soles. I didn't need asking twice, and without hesitation began massaging them. Irene settled back with a slight smile on her face as she willingly and happily let me play with her stocking feet. I started by rubbing her toes and moved slowly down to her heels and insteps, as my thumbs and fingers rubbed and tickled against the soft material of her tights. Irene made no effort to stop me or get away, so I like to think she was enjoying it. Probably not as much as me, but enjoying it nonetheless! As I massaged and caressed each foot, I asked her if it tickled and asked if she was enjoying it, to which the answers were 'no' and 'yes'. I then switched from massaging to a soft tickling, trying to get a reaction. There still wasn't so much as a squirm, so I started ticklng harder but to no avail. At that point, I was interrupted by the telephone ringing.
Here comes the best part!
Irene wordlessly swung her legs to the floor, and padded out to the hall in her stocking feet. I thought that her slippers would go back on, so this was a pleasant turn of events! She answered the phone and returned a few minutes later, but instead of shooing me from the room she sat back on the bed and placed her stocking feet straight back in my lap! I returned to massaging her stocking soles as if it was the most natural thing in the world, my fingers gliding over each spot of her feet as I sought out ticklish/relaxed reactions in her face. I continued switching between massaging and tickling her feet, sometimes massaging one and tickling the other! I eventually (by accident) found one little ticklish spot on her feet, just at the base of the ball and top of the instep! She flinched and laughed when I found it and pulled away, saying it tickled!
'Are you okay, Irene?'
'Hehehe...yeah...it just tickled a bit...'
'I thought you weren't ticklish! Let's try again...'
'NO!’ No, just rub them...'
She was smiling in spite of herself, maybe embarrassed at how panicked she’d sounded at the prospect of another tickling! Still, she’d said I could rub her feet which was fine with me! I promised not to tickle her feet again and carried on massaging her stocking soles. I then took a chance and sniffed her foot from toes to heel and said that she had smelly feet, even though she didn't. She took offence to this, protesting that her feet didn't smell, and said she'd had a bath the night before and that her tights were clean on that day. She said this quite loudly as well, and so as to not draw any attention to things it seemed like a good point to end on. I reassured her that I was joking about her foot odour and let her get back to her book. As I left I saw the time on a bedside clock and realised that I’d been playing with her feet for about 25 minutes. Amazingly, throughout all this time, my friend stayed downstairs washing the car!
Hope you enjoyed, guys.
Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
This is another story about tickling a friend's mother, and features a woman called Irene. Irene was the complete opposite of Tina and Helen from my previous stories. She was short, squat, frumpy, slightly pug-faced...not a looker, by any means! However, due to my experiences tickling Tina in the couple of years before this, my confidence was bolstered and my curiosity was piqued about tickling Irene's feet - and if I'd get to find out! She'd normally wear American tan tights, sometimes white tights, and on the very odd occassion, sometimes sheer black tights. I'd been visiting this friend since I was 13, and it actually took as Irene always seemed to be in shoes or slippers it took about two or three years to even see her exposed feet! The first time came was when I was at her house a bit later than normal. I was at her dining table doing a maths project my friend was helping me with (he was two years older). Irene came home from working a late shift, said hello and flopped down onto the sofa. My friend was on his computer in his room, so I explained that I was there due to my maths project. As I explained this, I realised she’d just come in from work, and feverishly wondered if I'd get to see her feet. As she relaxed I kept looking from the corner of my eye to see if her shoes had come off. She was in open toe sandals and tan tights, and I eventually saw her slowly begin to loosen the strap on her shoes. Maybe she saw me looking, but she stopped halfway, and just had her feet resting part inside/part outside her shoes I was desperate for her to slip her feet out fully, which after about ten minutes she finally did! This was the first time I'd seen her feet, which in those days was enough for me; I didn't bother with how they looked in tights, I was just happy seeing female stocking feet! However, having now seen them, and after my success with tickling Tina's feet, I realised that I had the chance to do the same with Irene. But how to do it? Suddenly, it came to me!
A few years before, when I was about 14 or 15 years old, I'd had the idea to ask teachers at my school to be measured for a non-existent 'science experiment'. I’d pretend to need to measure them, and ask them to remove their shoes in order to see their stocking feet. This had worked quite successfully then, and I realised I could do the same with Irene! As a result, on future visits when my friend wasn't around I'd ask her about height and get her to take her shoes off to show me. She'd always oblige, no questions asked! Once her slippers came off I'd bend down and pretend to measure her, 'accidentally' touching the tops or outline of her tan stocking feet! Other times I'd insist she put her feet up, as she was always doing housework and never relaxed. I'd sit her down, pull her feet up onto the sofa or table and then take off her slippers to get her comfy. Eventually, I mustered up the courage to go from looking at her feet to playing with them. The 'feet up and slippers off' had become a slight routine if my friend wasn't there (he'd be having driving lessons, maybe), but on this occassion he was present. I knew he was aware that I'd get her to sit down and relax, but maybe not about the shoe removal. Regardless, I threw caution to the wind and, after pulling her slippers off simultaneously and bolstered by teenage hormones and curiosity, asked her if she wanted her feet massaged.
I slightly regretted blurting it out, as it was an odd thing to ask out of the blue. I was about three or four years into the thralls of my stocking feet fetish by now, having massaged and tickled my aunt's stocking feet several times over the last three years. However, as my experiences were few and far between, I eagerly wanted to massage more women's stocking feet! As I nervously awaited Irene's response, however, I noticed that she looked nonplussed and, much to my delight, was agreeable to my suggestion! I asked my mate if it was alright (he wasn't bothered either) and with his approval I pulled a chair up to sit opposite Irene, placed her feet in my lap and began gently massaging her tan stocking soles. After a couple of minutes any nerves I had were gone, as by now I was tweaking Irene's toes, caressing her insteps and asking her how it felt. I didn't see a visible change in her mood i.e. more relaxed, but she seemed quite taken by it and went a bit quiet as I continued. I proceeded to massage and stroke her feet for another ten minutes or so, stopping before I pushed my luck too far. Even though she wasn't a looker my adolescent heart was pounding hard! Giving a friend's mother a foot massage seemed so....exciting, somehow wrong, but that was exactly what made it so cool. I was lost in the moment, and thought about it all the way home. I wondered if I'd get another chance, and thankfully I did a few months later.
My friend had recently passed his driving test and invited me over one Sunday. However, this was only to get me to help wash his new car, which I was less then impressed about. He lived in a small block of flats, which meant we had to keep going upstairs to refill the bucket. We took it in turns, and whilst I filled the bucket I noticed Irene's bedroom door was open. Her room was down the hall directly opposite the front door, and I saw that she was sat reading on her bed. I went in to talk to her while the bucket filled up, and noticed that for the first time since I'd known her she was wearing black tights. She was still in her slippers, but still....seeing her in black tights for the first time was too good an opportunity to resist. As we talked I slowly began changing the topic to her shoes, which were laid out neatly around her bedroom. I casually mentioned that she had lots of shoes but no trainers, and asked if she'd like to try on mine. She agreed, practically dropped her slippers off her feet and put them on. We chatted about how comfy my trainers were, and I then went to stop the bucket from overflowing. I returned to the room to get my trainers back from Irene, indicating she gave me her feet so I could remove my trainers. She placed her feet in my lap and I slowly slipped each trainer off, savouring the moment. As both feet were exposed and still in my lap I gave each one a a little tickle from toe to heel, but she didn't flinch, smile or laugh as she wasn't ticklish. I expressed disappointment with this, but wasn't to be deterred.
'You're not ticklish? Oh, that's not fair! At least you don't mind having your feet massaged, eh? Shall I do that instead, seeing as how you're not ticklish?'
Irene laughed at this, and much to my surprise flexed her feet back, giving me access to her black stocking soles. I didn't need asking twice, and without hesitation began massaging them. Irene settled back with a slight smile on her face as she willingly and happily let me play with her stocking feet. I started by rubbing her toes and moved slowly down to her heels and insteps, as my thumbs and fingers rubbed and tickled against the soft material of her tights. Irene made no effort to stop me or get away, so I like to think she was enjoying it. Probably not as much as me, but enjoying it nonetheless! As I massaged and caressed each foot, I asked her if it tickled and asked if she was enjoying it, to which the answers were 'no' and 'yes'. I then switched from massaging to a soft tickling, trying to get a reaction. There still wasn't so much as a squirm, so I started ticklng harder but to no avail. At that point, I was interrupted by the telephone ringing.
Here comes the best part!
Irene wordlessly swung her legs to the floor, and padded out to the hall in her stocking feet. I thought that her slippers would go back on, so this was a pleasant turn of events! She answered the phone and returned a few minutes later, but instead of shooing me from the room she sat back on the bed and placed her stocking feet straight back in my lap! I returned to massaging her stocking soles as if it was the most natural thing in the world, my fingers gliding over each spot of her feet as I sought out ticklish/relaxed reactions in her face. I continued switching between massaging and tickling her feet, sometimes massaging one and tickling the other! I eventually (by accident) found one little ticklish spot on her feet, just at the base of the ball and top of the instep! She flinched and laughed when I found it and pulled away, saying it tickled!
'Are you okay, Irene?'
'Hehehe...yeah...it just tickled a bit...'
'I thought you weren't ticklish! Let's try again...'
'NO!’ No, just rub them...'
She was smiling in spite of herself, maybe embarrassed at how panicked she’d sounded at the prospect of another tickling! Still, she’d said I could rub her feet which was fine with me! I promised not to tickle her feet again and carried on massaging her stocking soles. I then took a chance and sniffed her foot from toes to heel and said that she had smelly feet, even though she didn't. She took offence to this, protesting that her feet didn't smell, and said she'd had a bath the night before and that her tights were clean on that day. She said this quite loudly as well, and so as to not draw any attention to things it seemed like a good point to end on. I reassured her that I was joking about her foot odour and let her get back to her book. As I left I saw the time on a bedside clock and realised that I’d been playing with her feet for about 25 minutes. Amazingly, throughout all this time, my friend stayed downstairs washing the car!
Hope you enjoyed, guys.
Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
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