Hi, um, this is something that I wrote for an online friend once, who recommended that I post it. So here you are. I hope it's ok, let me know if you like it. It's not a true story (I wish it were 😛) but, like the title says, is just something I thought up.
Sarah x
I'm having a shower, and enjoying it. I've been working hard, and have been looking forward to it. I get out, and as I'm about to dry myself realise that I've left my towel downstairs. I bite my lip, and debate with myself what to do. I know I am in the house alone, but I also know that some guests are arriving shortly, and they have a key to get in. Should I go down and get it, naked as I am, and risk being seen by them? Or should I wait until they are here and shout for them to bring me one? I can't just wait here to dry off.
I decide to risk going and getting it. I sneak downstairs, and seeing no one is here yet, I run into the kitchen to get the towel from the drying rail. Suddenly I hear a noise...the door! Someone is opening it. I can't reach the towel and cover myself in time; my only choice is to dive into the living room. In the nick of time, I'm standing in the room, dripping wet, completely naked, and I can hear the guests coming in. There must be at least four people, two of which are men! Oh my God, I hear that they are coming to the living room! I can't be seen like this by people I don't know!! My only option is to hide behind the sofa. I throw myself down and lie behind it, praying that they won't stay in the room for long.
The door opens, and in come the guests. I was right, there are four people, plus my housemate who invited them. There are two couples. My housemate sits on the chair next to the sofa, the guests on the sofa with one of the girlfriends at the end. As they begin to chat, I desperately wish that they would go into the garden. My eyes widen as I realise that, to my horror, my feet are sticking out of the end of the sofa! It isn't quite long enough to hide my entire body, and I hadn't realised. All the girl at the end of the sofa has to do is look down to her left and she'll see a pair of freshly wet pink soles looking back at her! There is no possibility of moving, as I will certainly be spotted. All I can do is hope.
All of a sudden, I feel a slight touch on my heels. She's touching my feet! I think, Oh my God, she's going to give me away! I twist my head slightly and I can see that her fingertips are just touching my heels, very lightly. But nothing happens. There is no shout, no cry of 'Who's back there?!?' It's almost as if she hasn't noticed. But she must have! There's no way she'd not look down after touching something wet.
I hear that the topic of conversation has changed, from gardening to hobbies. One of the girls is telling my housemate how she has just had a pedicure, and how much it tickled. The other girl giggles, and my housemate tells her how ticklish she is. She tells her that her and I have tickle fights all the time, and it usually ends in a draw because we are both so ticklish on our feet. The girl at the end of the sofa, with her fingertips on my heels, says, 'Oh really? I love ticklish feet!'
As she says this, her fingertips begin to glide slowly along my wrinkled left sole. My eyes widen, and I bite my lip hard to suppress a giggle. I could barely believe it. She was tickling me! She was tickling my feet! The conversation changed to what everyone was doing in the summer, but I am not really listening. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that my poor helpless feet are being lightly tickled and I cannot do a thing about it!!!
As she speaks, the girl drags her long fingernails up and down my soles, alternating between the two. I can barely stand it. I bite down hard on my lip and clench my fists tight. I scrunch up my feet as much as possible, but it makes little difference. She just keeps sliding her nails up and down, up and down, from my heels to my toes. I am going absolutely crazy! The rest of the people in the room are laughing at some joke that one of the men told. I let slip a single quiet yip of laughter under this cover. It's not enough, though, I am being tortured! I yearn to pull my feet away, but know that I can't risk movement or I will be noticed and humiliated! I am completely at the mercy of this cruel tickler who is torturing my feet!
All of a sudden, her fingernails start to wiggle. They scrabble along my soles, dancing on my heels, scratching at my arches lightning fast, wriggling on my toes. I begin to shudder uncontrollably. I can't take much more!! My feet are incredibly ticklish, and not being able to move or make a noise is unbelievably hard! I clamp my eyes shut and beath shallowly. I bite down on my finger to avoid laughter. No one else in the room knows I am here, naked, hiding, apart from the girl who's fingers are causing me to twitch and writhe behind the sofa, hiccuping down my laughter and desperate to escape the tickling of my feet!
I can't take it much longer, I think, as my eyes water and my fingers clutch the carpet. I'm completely at her merceeeeee....
Sarah x
I'm having a shower, and enjoying it. I've been working hard, and have been looking forward to it. I get out, and as I'm about to dry myself realise that I've left my towel downstairs. I bite my lip, and debate with myself what to do. I know I am in the house alone, but I also know that some guests are arriving shortly, and they have a key to get in. Should I go down and get it, naked as I am, and risk being seen by them? Or should I wait until they are here and shout for them to bring me one? I can't just wait here to dry off.
I decide to risk going and getting it. I sneak downstairs, and seeing no one is here yet, I run into the kitchen to get the towel from the drying rail. Suddenly I hear a noise...the door! Someone is opening it. I can't reach the towel and cover myself in time; my only choice is to dive into the living room. In the nick of time, I'm standing in the room, dripping wet, completely naked, and I can hear the guests coming in. There must be at least four people, two of which are men! Oh my God, I hear that they are coming to the living room! I can't be seen like this by people I don't know!! My only option is to hide behind the sofa. I throw myself down and lie behind it, praying that they won't stay in the room for long.
The door opens, and in come the guests. I was right, there are four people, plus my housemate who invited them. There are two couples. My housemate sits on the chair next to the sofa, the guests on the sofa with one of the girlfriends at the end. As they begin to chat, I desperately wish that they would go into the garden. My eyes widen as I realise that, to my horror, my feet are sticking out of the end of the sofa! It isn't quite long enough to hide my entire body, and I hadn't realised. All the girl at the end of the sofa has to do is look down to her left and she'll see a pair of freshly wet pink soles looking back at her! There is no possibility of moving, as I will certainly be spotted. All I can do is hope.
All of a sudden, I feel a slight touch on my heels. She's touching my feet! I think, Oh my God, she's going to give me away! I twist my head slightly and I can see that her fingertips are just touching my heels, very lightly. But nothing happens. There is no shout, no cry of 'Who's back there?!?' It's almost as if she hasn't noticed. But she must have! There's no way she'd not look down after touching something wet.
I hear that the topic of conversation has changed, from gardening to hobbies. One of the girls is telling my housemate how she has just had a pedicure, and how much it tickled. The other girl giggles, and my housemate tells her how ticklish she is. She tells her that her and I have tickle fights all the time, and it usually ends in a draw because we are both so ticklish on our feet. The girl at the end of the sofa, with her fingertips on my heels, says, 'Oh really? I love ticklish feet!'
As she says this, her fingertips begin to glide slowly along my wrinkled left sole. My eyes widen, and I bite my lip hard to suppress a giggle. I could barely believe it. She was tickling me! She was tickling my feet! The conversation changed to what everyone was doing in the summer, but I am not really listening. I am trying to come to terms with the fact that my poor helpless feet are being lightly tickled and I cannot do a thing about it!!!
As she speaks, the girl drags her long fingernails up and down my soles, alternating between the two. I can barely stand it. I bite down hard on my lip and clench my fists tight. I scrunch up my feet as much as possible, but it makes little difference. She just keeps sliding her nails up and down, up and down, from my heels to my toes. I am going absolutely crazy! The rest of the people in the room are laughing at some joke that one of the men told. I let slip a single quiet yip of laughter under this cover. It's not enough, though, I am being tortured! I yearn to pull my feet away, but know that I can't risk movement or I will be noticed and humiliated! I am completely at the mercy of this cruel tickler who is torturing my feet!
All of a sudden, her fingernails start to wiggle. They scrabble along my soles, dancing on my heels, scratching at my arches lightning fast, wriggling on my toes. I begin to shudder uncontrollably. I can't take much more!! My feet are incredibly ticklish, and not being able to move or make a noise is unbelievably hard! I clamp my eyes shut and beath shallowly. I bite down on my finger to avoid laughter. No one else in the room knows I am here, naked, hiding, apart from the girl who's fingers are causing me to twitch and writhe behind the sofa, hiccuping down my laughter and desperate to escape the tickling of my feet!
I can't take it much longer, I think, as my eyes water and my fingers clutch the carpet. I'm completely at her merceeeeee....
