Yycspagetti
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"Summer Reunion"
1998 was a wild ride of a year! The International Space Station took off, literally, as humanity reached for the stars. Google popped up to make searching the internet way less of a headache. "Titanic" had everyone crying, sweeping the Oscars and box office alike. Over in Europe, France partied hard after winning the FIFA World Cup on home turf, the U.S. was glued to the drama of President Bill Clinton’s impeachment saga. From space to sports to scandals, 1998 was a year that had it all! But for me, it was one of my top tickling experience's.
Mid August. The sun was a blazing orb in the sky, its heat pressing down on the city like a heavy blanket. It was one of those summer days where the air felt thick and suffocating, and even the breeze offered no relief. I had just finished my shift at the movie theater, my part-time job that barely paid the bills but kept me entertained with free popcorn and the occasional sneak peek at new releases. My bike was my only mode of transportation, and as I pedaled toward the 7-Eleven, I could feel the sweat trickling down my back.
The convenience store was a welcome oasis, its air conditioning blasting as I pushed open the glass door. The familiar chime greeted me, and I made a beeline for the Slurpee machine. As I filled my cup with a mix of cherry and coke, I heard a voice behind me—a voice I hadn’t heard in years but would recognize anywhere.
“Well, look who it is.”
I turned around, and there she was: Em. My ex-girlfriend from high school. The girl I used to spend hours with, laughing, talking, and yes, tickling. Time had changed her, but in the most subtle ways—she was still unmistakably Em, yet there was a new maturity to her features that made her even more striking. Her black hair, which used to fall just past her shoulders, now cascaded down her back in loose, effortless waves, catching the light with a soft sheen. A few strands framed her face, accentuating her high cheekbones and the faint dusting of freckles across her nose that I had always found endearing. Her dark eyes sparkled with the same playful mischief I remembered, and her lips curved into a smile that was both familiar and disarmingly new.
She was dressed for the summer heat in a simple outfit that somehow looked effortlessly perfect on her. A light blue tank top hugged her skinny frame, the thin fabric revealing just a hint of the tan lines on her shoulders. As usual, black thin sweat pants. Wore sweats all year.Her legs were long and still looked toned. But it was her feet that caught my attention most of all. She wore a pair of black sandals, the kind that had clearly seen many summers, and her bare toes peeked out from the front. Her feet were just as I remembered them—size 10, with long, slender toes and smooth soles that looked impossibly soft. Her nails were unpainted, natural and unadorned, and the faint pink hue of her skin made them look even more inviting. I couldn’t help but notice how her toes flexed slightly as she shifted her weight, a small, unconscious movement that brought back a flood of memories.
The sight of her feet in those flip-flops was almost hypnotic. The straps of the sandals hugged the tops of her feet, accentuating the delicate curves and the faint veins that ran just beneath the surface of her skin. Her arches were high, and the soles of her feet looked smooth and untouched, as if they’d never seen a day of hard wear. I could see the faint indentation where the sandles had pressed into her skin, a small detail that somehow made her seem even more real, more present. It was impossible not to remember how ticklish she was, how even the lightest touch would send her into fits of laughter. Standing there, with the sun streaming through the windows and the faint hum of the convenience store around us, it felt like no time had passed at all.
Back in high school, tickling Em’s bare feet became something of a ritual for me—a playful, almost instinctive way to connect with her. And of course, to feed my tickling hunger. Every chance I got, I’d seize the opportunity to make her laugh, and her feet were always my favorite target. Whether we were lounging on the couch after school, sitting under the shade of a tree during lunch, or just hanging out in her room, I’d find a way to sneak my hands toward her feet. She’d always see it coming, her eyes widening in mock panic as she tried to pull her legs away, but I was relentless. The moment my fingers brushed against the smooth, warm soles of her feet, she’d burst into uncontrollable laughter, her toes curling and flexing as she tried to escape. Her laughter was infectious, a melodic sound that filled the room and made it impossible not to join in. I’d alternate between light, teasing strokes and more deliberate movements, tracing circles along her arches or wiggling my fingers between her toes, each touch eliciting a new wave of giggles and protests. It was a game we both loved, a way to break the tension or simply share a moment of pure, unfiltered joy. And best of all, she never complained, never got mad and sometimes dared me to do it.
The first time I discovered Em was extremely ticklish is a memory that’s etched vividly in my mind. We were sitting in her living room after school, the sunlight streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything. She was sprawled out on the couch, her bare feet resting on my couch , completely relaxed. We were watching SNL. I reached out and spider tickled my fingers along the sole of her foot. Her reaction was instantaneous. She let out a sharp, surprised laugh, jerking her foot away as if she’d been shocked. Her eyes widened, and she looked at me with a mix of amusement and mock indignation. “What was that for?” she demanded, though she was already grinning. I couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction, and in that moment, I knew I’d stumbled onto something special. Her feet were impossibly ticklish, and the way she squirmed and laughed was utterly captivating. She stuck your tongue out at me so so I grabbed her ankles and gave her feet a really good tickling. She laughed so hard she could barely get words out. After I let her go, she caught her breath and said "looks like my bare feet will be in trouble when you're around Mister."
Em’s feet were impossibly ticklish, and I took a strange pride in knowing exactly how to make her laugh the hardest. She’d try to fight me off, kicking her legs and swatting at my hands, but I always managed to pin her down, my fingers dancing across her soles with practiced precision. Sometimes, she’d even tease me, daring me to try it, as if she secretly enjoyed the attention. “oh great, not the tickle monster again,” she’d say between gasps of laughter, her face flushed and her hair a wild mess. But there was always a smile on her lips, a glint in her eyes that told me she didn’t really mind. Those moments became some of my fondest memories of our time together—simple, silly, and full of laughter. Even now, years later, the thought of her bare feet and the sound of her laughter brings a smile to my face, a reminder of a time when things were easier and the world felt a little brighter.
“Em,” I said, my voice tinged with surprise. “Wow, it’s been… what, two years?”
“Something like that,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile. “You look good. Still working at the theater, huh?”
I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, it’s not much, but it pays for the essentials. Like Slurpees.” "I'll find a better paying job soon"
She laughed, and the sound brought back a flood of memories. We used to laugh like that all the time, back when things were simple. Back when we were together.
We chatted for a while, catching up on the basics. She told me she was starting a job soon. I shared a bit about my life, though there wasn’t much to tell. I'd just discovered tickling on the internet. So I was glued to the computer when I wasn't with friends. Hotel tickle and sw tickle were my favorite. I asked what her plans were for the rest of the day and she said she had none. "Want to go for a bike ride" I asked
"Mmmmm, maybe, actually, it’s way too hot to be outside,” she said. “My dad’s out of town for a few days, so I’ve got the place to myself. You wanna come hang out? It’s not far.”
I hesitated for a moment. I was dating someone else now, but it wasn’t serious. Actually pretty boring. We were hanging out less and less. Besides, what harm could there be in catching up with an old friend? “Sure,” I said. “Why not?”
But I had another thought in my mind. The girl I was seeing wasn't ticklish. And when I would try to get a reaction out of her she would get mad. So even if nothing happened it would be exciting just to be around an actual ticklish girl again. At least catch a few glances of those extremely ticklish bare soles. I want to see the bottoms, not just the tops.
We biked to her place, the heat making the ride feel longer than it was. Her house was a modest rental, tucked into a quiet neighborhood. We walked inside, she kicked off her sandas. She showed me around, and I couldn’t help but notice how different it felt from her old place. The walls were bare, and the furniture was sparse, but it had a cozy vibe.
“Not much to do here,” she admitted, plopping down on the couch. “Wanna watch a movie?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, taking a seat beside her. The couch was small, like a big love seat, and our legs brushed against each other as we settled in. Em got up and opened the tv stand and scrolled through the VHS tapes before landing on E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial.
“Classic,” I said, grinning. I could see her soles as she did this.
Sitting on the couch with Em, I found it impossible to keep my eyes off her bare feet. They were right there, resting casually on the coffee table, so close and so tempting. The soft curves of her arches, the delicate shape of her toes, and the smoothness of her soles seemed to draw me in like a magnet. Every little movement she made—whether it was a slight wiggle of her toes or the way her feet shifted as she laughed at something on TV—only made it harder to look away. I tried to focus on the movie we were watching, but my mind kept drifting back to her feet, imagining how they’d feel under my fingers again, how she’d react if I reached out and gave them a playful tickle, or a savage tickle. It was a constant battle between wanting to respect the moment and the irresistible pull of that familiar, teasing game we use to play.
About halfway through the movie I started to think. I need to make a plan. I made up my mind. I was going to tickle her like the old days. Hopefully she's cool with it. Only one way to find out I thought. But just as I was making a plan she turned to me and started to stare. She had a funny grin on her face. I turned to her smiling back. What's happening here I thought. After about 10 seconds she says
“Remember when you used to those red high tops” she said. "You were such a geek."
"Hey", I said laughing, and turned to face her. I pushed closer to her so that were were side by side. Hands up in front of me like I'm ready to strike. "People can't call me a geek without facing consequences" I said laughing with a grin.
"What are you going to do" she said. "Tickle me to death?"
Hearing Em say, “What are you going to do? Tickle me to death?” sent a rush of excitement through me, and it instantly brought back a flood of fond memories. That playful challenge in her voice, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, and the way she instinctively curled her toes as if bracing herself—it all reminded me of the countless times we’d shared those moments of laughter and connection. Tickling her feet had always been my favorite way to make her laugh, and her words only fueled my eagerness to dive back into that familiar game. I could already picture her squirming, her laughter filling the room as my fingers danced across her impossibly ticklish soles. Those memories were so vivid—the way her toes would curl, the way she’d try to pull her feet away, and the way her laughter would grow louder and more uncontrollable with every touch. It was more than just a game; it was a shared language of joy and playfulness that always brought us closer. Hearing her say those words again felt like an invitation to relive those moments, and I couldn’t wait to see that familiar spark of laughter in her eyes once more. Instead of answering her question, I thought I would drag things out.
“Oh, come on,” I said, poking her in the ribs once. “You’re one to talk. You used to wear those glittery t-shirts with anime characters and perfume that made you smell like cotton candy.”
She giggled, swatting my hand away. “Hey, that was high school! We all made questionable choices.”
“True,” I said, my fingers lingering near her ribs. “But some things never change.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
"Like you smelling like cotton candy" I said this while tickling her ribs. She howled.
"And like you wearing sweats all year round" I tickled her thighs as I said this. She jumped and squealed.
“and of course, how ticklish you are,” I said, grinning mischievously.
Her eyes widened, and she tried to scoot away, but I was faster. I reached out and tickled her ribs again, eliciting a burst of laughter. She squirmed, trying to push me away, but I wasn’t about to let her off that easily.
“oh no!” she gasped between laughs. “You’re still such a tickle monster!”
“You started it,” I said, my fingers moving to her armpits. She shrieked, doubling over in laughter. Her bare feet were right there, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I went for them.
Finally, she managed to break free, collapsing onto the floor in a fit of giggles. Her hair was a mess, and her face was flushed. “You’re terrible,” she said, trying to catch her breath.
“You love it,” I replied, smirking.
She rolled her eyes, but there was a playful glint in them. “ill be right back. I have to pee becase of you.”
I watched her walk to the bathroom. Her bare feet sinking into the soft carpet floor. After she finished came back and sat down on the couch. "Hopefully I can finish this movie without laughing myself silly" she said.
I figured I'd give her a break. But I'm definitely not leaving without getting those feet I thought.
The movie continued, but my attention was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about her feet, and I knew she could tell. I decided to sit on the floor in front of the couch. I was going to start my attack. But suddenly she got up and laid in front of me. She stretched out on the floor, her feet just inches away from me. It was like she was daring me to make a move. " This is more comfortable" she said. She knew what she was doing.
Now here I am, who would have thought a few hours ago getting a Slurpee would bring me here. Now I'm sitting cross-legged in front of a couch with a woman laying in front of me, her bare soles within reach. And I know from experience that those bare feet are extremely undoubtedly, and perfectly ticklish.
Finally, I couldn’t resist anymore. I reached out and lightly traced my fingers along the sole of her foot.
She jerked her foot away, laughing. “You’re impossible!” "how am I supposed to watch the movie when you're distracting me."
“You’re just too ticklish,” I said, laughing along with her. " I can't resist" Every 10 seconds I gave her bare feet a one finger tickle. Each time she squealed. Sometimes looking back and sometimes rolling on her side.
Then, after all the fun build up, i attacked like a tickling maniac.
The moment all my fingers made contact with the soft, smooth soles of her feet, Em’s entire body jolted as if an electric current had shot through her. Her laughter erupted instantly, loud and unrestrained, filling the room with its musical, almost melodic quality. Her toes splayed wide, then curled tightly, as if trying to protect themselves from the relentless assault. I could feel the warmth of her skin under my fingertips, the delicate arches of her feet trembling with every touch. Her laughter was a symphony of high-pitched giggles and breathless gasps, and I couldn’t help but grin at how quickly she had dissolved into a writhing, helpless mess.
I shifted my focus to the balls of her feet, using my thumbs to press and wiggle against the sensitive pads just below her toes. Her reaction was immediate—her legs jerked violently, and she let out a shriek that was half-laugh, half-protest. “Im so haha! Oh my God, I'm so haha!” she begged, though her laughter betrayed her words. Her feet twisted and turned, trying to escape, but I held her ankles firmly, my grip just tight enough to keep her in place. The way her feet reacted to every touch was mesmerizing; her toes flexed and curled, her soles twitching as if they had a mind of their own. I could see the faint pink flush spreading across her skin, a testament to how intensely she was feeling every sensation.
Moving to the arches of her feet, I let my fingers dance lightly, tracing feathery patterns that sent her into another fit of hysterics. Her laughter grew louder, more desperate, and she kicked her legs wildly, though I managed to keep her pinned. “You’re, haha—you’re the worst!” she managed to choke out between gasps, her voice breaking with laughter. Her hair was a tangled mess, falling across her face as she thrashed her head from side to side, trying to catch her breath. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her, the sound of her joy infectious and exhilarating. Her feet were so incredibly responsive, every touch eliciting a new wave of laughter, and I found myself marveling at how much more ticklish she seemed now than she had been two years ago.
Finally, I decided to switch things up, targeting the spaces between her toes. I wiggled my fingers into the gaps, gently squeezing and teasing the sensitive skin there. Em’s reaction was explosive—she let out a high-pitched squeal, her body arching off the floor as she tried to pull her feet away. “No! Not there! Please!, tickle monster, No, hahaha” she begged, her voice cracking with laughter. Her toes clenched together, trying to block my fingers, but I persisted, my touch light and relentless. Her laughter was uncontrollable now, a cascade of giggles and gasps that seemed to echo off the walls. Eventually, she managed to twist free, scrambling to her feet and stumbling away, her face flushed and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “You’re a monster,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at me, though the wide grin on her face told me she didn’t mean it.
Em stuck out her tongue at me and started running upstairs laughing. I started my chase. She barely made it halfway up the stairs before I caught her, my hands finding her waist as I pulled her back with a playful growl. She shrieked, her laughter echoing through the house as she tried to wriggle free, but I wasn’t about to let her escape that easily. “Oh no, you’re not getting away that fast,” I said, my voice teasing as I scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way to her room. She kicked her legs, her bare feet flailing as she laughed uncontrollably, but I held her tight, determined to make her pay for teasing me earlier.
I dropped her onto her bed, and she immediately tried to scramble away, but I was faster. I grabbed her ankles, pulling her back toward me as she let out another burst of laughter. Her feet were right there, bare and vulnerable, and I couldn’t resist the temptation. I pinned her legs down, my fingers finding the arches of her feet and dancing across the smooth, sensitive skin. Em’s laughter exploded, her body twisting and writhing as she tried to pull her feet free. “Hahahaha, I'm too....hahaa! Please!” she gasped, her voice high-pitched and breathless, but I just grinned, my fingers moving faster.
Her feet were impossibly ticklish, and I took full advantage of it. I alternated between light, fluttering strokes and more deliberate movements, tracing circles along her arches and wiggling my fingers between her toes. Em’s laughter was uncontrollable, a cascade of giggles and gasps that filled the room. Her toes clenched and flexed, trying to shield themselves from the onslaught, but I was relentless. I moved to the balls of her feet, pressing my thumbs into the soft pads just below her toes, and she let out a shriek, her legs jerking as she tried to kick me away. “You’re—hahahaha, you’re liking this aren't you. Hahaha. Se.. see..seeing me a laughing mess, hahah!” she managed to choke out between bursts of laughter, her face flushed and her hair a wild mess.
Eventually, I gave her a break, leaning back to catch my breath as she collapsed onto the bed, her chest heaving and her laughter slowly subsiding. Her feet were still twitching, as if they hadn’t quite recovered from the tickling, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “You’re even more ticklish than I remember,” I said, my tone teasing.
Em shot me a glare, but there was no real anger behind it. “I can't believe how ticklish my feet still are,” she said, her voice shaky with laughter. “But… I kind of missed this." "And it looks like you really enjoyed this." Pointing to my you know what. She grinned and approached.
I stayed the night and of course from morning till mid afternoon, she let me indulge in my tickle urges. I even grabbed a bottle of lotion that smells like strawberries. I applied it on her feet and went to town. I had never done that with her in the past. I even used a hairbrush for a bit. I must have got those ideas from my new found access to tickling on the internet. We talked about us and decided It still wouldn't work because of differences in religion. But, I think I did more tickling in this one visit than I had total tickling in my whole life. That's why it always stuck with me. I left in the afternoon and we both admitted to having a great time. "Maybe I'll catch you at the 711 sometime in the future" I said. "I'll make sure to have shoes and socks and strapped to my feet next time I go there". "I'll rip them off. Nothing will stop me from getting your bare feet" I said. " I know you will," she giggled. I know you well.
We hugged. I didn't see her again till 10 years later. We were both in good relationships. We exchanged emails and said we would keep in touch. We would chat once in a while, like birthdays and Christmas. But what is really cool, she would always throw in a random comments about her feet. Very sneaky little comments that only we would understand. She new what it did to me. So much fun.
1998 was a wild ride of a year! The International Space Station took off, literally, as humanity reached for the stars. Google popped up to make searching the internet way less of a headache. "Titanic" had everyone crying, sweeping the Oscars and box office alike. Over in Europe, France partied hard after winning the FIFA World Cup on home turf, the U.S. was glued to the drama of President Bill Clinton’s impeachment saga. From space to sports to scandals, 1998 was a year that had it all! But for me, it was one of my top tickling experience's.
Mid August. The sun was a blazing orb in the sky, its heat pressing down on the city like a heavy blanket. It was one of those summer days where the air felt thick and suffocating, and even the breeze offered no relief. I had just finished my shift at the movie theater, my part-time job that barely paid the bills but kept me entertained with free popcorn and the occasional sneak peek at new releases. My bike was my only mode of transportation, and as I pedaled toward the 7-Eleven, I could feel the sweat trickling down my back.
The convenience store was a welcome oasis, its air conditioning blasting as I pushed open the glass door. The familiar chime greeted me, and I made a beeline for the Slurpee machine. As I filled my cup with a mix of cherry and coke, I heard a voice behind me—a voice I hadn’t heard in years but would recognize anywhere.
“Well, look who it is.”
I turned around, and there she was: Em. My ex-girlfriend from high school. The girl I used to spend hours with, laughing, talking, and yes, tickling. Time had changed her, but in the most subtle ways—she was still unmistakably Em, yet there was a new maturity to her features that made her even more striking. Her black hair, which used to fall just past her shoulders, now cascaded down her back in loose, effortless waves, catching the light with a soft sheen. A few strands framed her face, accentuating her high cheekbones and the faint dusting of freckles across her nose that I had always found endearing. Her dark eyes sparkled with the same playful mischief I remembered, and her lips curved into a smile that was both familiar and disarmingly new.
She was dressed for the summer heat in a simple outfit that somehow looked effortlessly perfect on her. A light blue tank top hugged her skinny frame, the thin fabric revealing just a hint of the tan lines on her shoulders. As usual, black thin sweat pants. Wore sweats all year.Her legs were long and still looked toned. But it was her feet that caught my attention most of all. She wore a pair of black sandals, the kind that had clearly seen many summers, and her bare toes peeked out from the front. Her feet were just as I remembered them—size 10, with long, slender toes and smooth soles that looked impossibly soft. Her nails were unpainted, natural and unadorned, and the faint pink hue of her skin made them look even more inviting. I couldn’t help but notice how her toes flexed slightly as she shifted her weight, a small, unconscious movement that brought back a flood of memories.
The sight of her feet in those flip-flops was almost hypnotic. The straps of the sandals hugged the tops of her feet, accentuating the delicate curves and the faint veins that ran just beneath the surface of her skin. Her arches were high, and the soles of her feet looked smooth and untouched, as if they’d never seen a day of hard wear. I could see the faint indentation where the sandles had pressed into her skin, a small detail that somehow made her seem even more real, more present. It was impossible not to remember how ticklish she was, how even the lightest touch would send her into fits of laughter. Standing there, with the sun streaming through the windows and the faint hum of the convenience store around us, it felt like no time had passed at all.
Back in high school, tickling Em’s bare feet became something of a ritual for me—a playful, almost instinctive way to connect with her. And of course, to feed my tickling hunger. Every chance I got, I’d seize the opportunity to make her laugh, and her feet were always my favorite target. Whether we were lounging on the couch after school, sitting under the shade of a tree during lunch, or just hanging out in her room, I’d find a way to sneak my hands toward her feet. She’d always see it coming, her eyes widening in mock panic as she tried to pull her legs away, but I was relentless. The moment my fingers brushed against the smooth, warm soles of her feet, she’d burst into uncontrollable laughter, her toes curling and flexing as she tried to escape. Her laughter was infectious, a melodic sound that filled the room and made it impossible not to join in. I’d alternate between light, teasing strokes and more deliberate movements, tracing circles along her arches or wiggling my fingers between her toes, each touch eliciting a new wave of giggles and protests. It was a game we both loved, a way to break the tension or simply share a moment of pure, unfiltered joy. And best of all, she never complained, never got mad and sometimes dared me to do it.
The first time I discovered Em was extremely ticklish is a memory that’s etched vividly in my mind. We were sitting in her living room after school, the sunlight streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything. She was sprawled out on the couch, her bare feet resting on my couch , completely relaxed. We were watching SNL. I reached out and spider tickled my fingers along the sole of her foot. Her reaction was instantaneous. She let out a sharp, surprised laugh, jerking her foot away as if she’d been shocked. Her eyes widened, and she looked at me with a mix of amusement and mock indignation. “What was that for?” she demanded, though she was already grinning. I couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction, and in that moment, I knew I’d stumbled onto something special. Her feet were impossibly ticklish, and the way she squirmed and laughed was utterly captivating. She stuck your tongue out at me so so I grabbed her ankles and gave her feet a really good tickling. She laughed so hard she could barely get words out. After I let her go, she caught her breath and said "looks like my bare feet will be in trouble when you're around Mister."
Em’s feet were impossibly ticklish, and I took a strange pride in knowing exactly how to make her laugh the hardest. She’d try to fight me off, kicking her legs and swatting at my hands, but I always managed to pin her down, my fingers dancing across her soles with practiced precision. Sometimes, she’d even tease me, daring me to try it, as if she secretly enjoyed the attention. “oh great, not the tickle monster again,” she’d say between gasps of laughter, her face flushed and her hair a wild mess. But there was always a smile on her lips, a glint in her eyes that told me she didn’t really mind. Those moments became some of my fondest memories of our time together—simple, silly, and full of laughter. Even now, years later, the thought of her bare feet and the sound of her laughter brings a smile to my face, a reminder of a time when things were easier and the world felt a little brighter.
“Em,” I said, my voice tinged with surprise. “Wow, it’s been… what, two years?”
“Something like that,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile. “You look good. Still working at the theater, huh?”
I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah, it’s not much, but it pays for the essentials. Like Slurpees.” "I'll find a better paying job soon"
She laughed, and the sound brought back a flood of memories. We used to laugh like that all the time, back when things were simple. Back when we were together.
We chatted for a while, catching up on the basics. She told me she was starting a job soon. I shared a bit about my life, though there wasn’t much to tell. I'd just discovered tickling on the internet. So I was glued to the computer when I wasn't with friends. Hotel tickle and sw tickle were my favorite. I asked what her plans were for the rest of the day and she said she had none. "Want to go for a bike ride" I asked
"Mmmmm, maybe, actually, it’s way too hot to be outside,” she said. “My dad’s out of town for a few days, so I’ve got the place to myself. You wanna come hang out? It’s not far.”
I hesitated for a moment. I was dating someone else now, but it wasn’t serious. Actually pretty boring. We were hanging out less and less. Besides, what harm could there be in catching up with an old friend? “Sure,” I said. “Why not?”
But I had another thought in my mind. The girl I was seeing wasn't ticklish. And when I would try to get a reaction out of her she would get mad. So even if nothing happened it would be exciting just to be around an actual ticklish girl again. At least catch a few glances of those extremely ticklish bare soles. I want to see the bottoms, not just the tops.
We biked to her place, the heat making the ride feel longer than it was. Her house was a modest rental, tucked into a quiet neighborhood. We walked inside, she kicked off her sandas. She showed me around, and I couldn’t help but notice how different it felt from her old place. The walls were bare, and the furniture was sparse, but it had a cozy vibe.
“Not much to do here,” she admitted, plopping down on the couch. “Wanna watch a movie?”
“Sounds good to me,” I said, taking a seat beside her. The couch was small, like a big love seat, and our legs brushed against each other as we settled in. Em got up and opened the tv stand and scrolled through the VHS tapes before landing on E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial.
“Classic,” I said, grinning. I could see her soles as she did this.
Sitting on the couch with Em, I found it impossible to keep my eyes off her bare feet. They were right there, resting casually on the coffee table, so close and so tempting. The soft curves of her arches, the delicate shape of her toes, and the smoothness of her soles seemed to draw me in like a magnet. Every little movement she made—whether it was a slight wiggle of her toes or the way her feet shifted as she laughed at something on TV—only made it harder to look away. I tried to focus on the movie we were watching, but my mind kept drifting back to her feet, imagining how they’d feel under my fingers again, how she’d react if I reached out and gave them a playful tickle, or a savage tickle. It was a constant battle between wanting to respect the moment and the irresistible pull of that familiar, teasing game we use to play.
About halfway through the movie I started to think. I need to make a plan. I made up my mind. I was going to tickle her like the old days. Hopefully she's cool with it. Only one way to find out I thought. But just as I was making a plan she turned to me and started to stare. She had a funny grin on her face. I turned to her smiling back. What's happening here I thought. After about 10 seconds she says
“Remember when you used to those red high tops” she said. "You were such a geek."
"Hey", I said laughing, and turned to face her. I pushed closer to her so that were were side by side. Hands up in front of me like I'm ready to strike. "People can't call me a geek without facing consequences" I said laughing with a grin.
"What are you going to do" she said. "Tickle me to death?"
Hearing Em say, “What are you going to do? Tickle me to death?” sent a rush of excitement through me, and it instantly brought back a flood of fond memories. That playful challenge in her voice, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, and the way she instinctively curled her toes as if bracing herself—it all reminded me of the countless times we’d shared those moments of laughter and connection. Tickling her feet had always been my favorite way to make her laugh, and her words only fueled my eagerness to dive back into that familiar game. I could already picture her squirming, her laughter filling the room as my fingers danced across her impossibly ticklish soles. Those memories were so vivid—the way her toes would curl, the way she’d try to pull her feet away, and the way her laughter would grow louder and more uncontrollable with every touch. It was more than just a game; it was a shared language of joy and playfulness that always brought us closer. Hearing her say those words again felt like an invitation to relive those moments, and I couldn’t wait to see that familiar spark of laughter in her eyes once more. Instead of answering her question, I thought I would drag things out.
“Oh, come on,” I said, poking her in the ribs once. “You’re one to talk. You used to wear those glittery t-shirts with anime characters and perfume that made you smell like cotton candy.”
She giggled, swatting my hand away. “Hey, that was high school! We all made questionable choices.”
“True,” I said, my fingers lingering near her ribs. “But some things never change.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
"Like you smelling like cotton candy" I said this while tickling her ribs. She howled.
"And like you wearing sweats all year round" I tickled her thighs as I said this. She jumped and squealed.
“and of course, how ticklish you are,” I said, grinning mischievously.
Her eyes widened, and she tried to scoot away, but I was faster. I reached out and tickled her ribs again, eliciting a burst of laughter. She squirmed, trying to push me away, but I wasn’t about to let her off that easily.
“oh no!” she gasped between laughs. “You’re still such a tickle monster!”
“You started it,” I said, my fingers moving to her armpits. She shrieked, doubling over in laughter. Her bare feet were right there, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I went for them.
Finally, she managed to break free, collapsing onto the floor in a fit of giggles. Her hair was a mess, and her face was flushed. “You’re terrible,” she said, trying to catch her breath.
“You love it,” I replied, smirking.
She rolled her eyes, but there was a playful glint in them. “ill be right back. I have to pee becase of you.”
I watched her walk to the bathroom. Her bare feet sinking into the soft carpet floor. After she finished came back and sat down on the couch. "Hopefully I can finish this movie without laughing myself silly" she said.
I figured I'd give her a break. But I'm definitely not leaving without getting those feet I thought.
The movie continued, but my attention was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about her feet, and I knew she could tell. I decided to sit on the floor in front of the couch. I was going to start my attack. But suddenly she got up and laid in front of me. She stretched out on the floor, her feet just inches away from me. It was like she was daring me to make a move. " This is more comfortable" she said. She knew what she was doing.
Now here I am, who would have thought a few hours ago getting a Slurpee would bring me here. Now I'm sitting cross-legged in front of a couch with a woman laying in front of me, her bare soles within reach. And I know from experience that those bare feet are extremely undoubtedly, and perfectly ticklish.
Finally, I couldn’t resist anymore. I reached out and lightly traced my fingers along the sole of her foot.
She jerked her foot away, laughing. “You’re impossible!” "how am I supposed to watch the movie when you're distracting me."
“You’re just too ticklish,” I said, laughing along with her. " I can't resist" Every 10 seconds I gave her bare feet a one finger tickle. Each time she squealed. Sometimes looking back and sometimes rolling on her side.
Then, after all the fun build up, i attacked like a tickling maniac.
The moment all my fingers made contact with the soft, smooth soles of her feet, Em’s entire body jolted as if an electric current had shot through her. Her laughter erupted instantly, loud and unrestrained, filling the room with its musical, almost melodic quality. Her toes splayed wide, then curled tightly, as if trying to protect themselves from the relentless assault. I could feel the warmth of her skin under my fingertips, the delicate arches of her feet trembling with every touch. Her laughter was a symphony of high-pitched giggles and breathless gasps, and I couldn’t help but grin at how quickly she had dissolved into a writhing, helpless mess.
I shifted my focus to the balls of her feet, using my thumbs to press and wiggle against the sensitive pads just below her toes. Her reaction was immediate—her legs jerked violently, and she let out a shriek that was half-laugh, half-protest. “Im so haha! Oh my God, I'm so haha!” she begged, though her laughter betrayed her words. Her feet twisted and turned, trying to escape, but I held her ankles firmly, my grip just tight enough to keep her in place. The way her feet reacted to every touch was mesmerizing; her toes flexed and curled, her soles twitching as if they had a mind of their own. I could see the faint pink flush spreading across her skin, a testament to how intensely she was feeling every sensation.
Moving to the arches of her feet, I let my fingers dance lightly, tracing feathery patterns that sent her into another fit of hysterics. Her laughter grew louder, more desperate, and she kicked her legs wildly, though I managed to keep her pinned. “You’re, haha—you’re the worst!” she managed to choke out between gasps, her voice breaking with laughter. Her hair was a tangled mess, falling across her face as she thrashed her head from side to side, trying to catch her breath. I couldn’t help but laugh along with her, the sound of her joy infectious and exhilarating. Her feet were so incredibly responsive, every touch eliciting a new wave of laughter, and I found myself marveling at how much more ticklish she seemed now than she had been two years ago.
Finally, I decided to switch things up, targeting the spaces between her toes. I wiggled my fingers into the gaps, gently squeezing and teasing the sensitive skin there. Em’s reaction was explosive—she let out a high-pitched squeal, her body arching off the floor as she tried to pull her feet away. “No! Not there! Please!, tickle monster, No, hahaha” she begged, her voice cracking with laughter. Her toes clenched together, trying to block my fingers, but I persisted, my touch light and relentless. Her laughter was uncontrollable now, a cascade of giggles and gasps that seemed to echo off the walls. Eventually, she managed to twist free, scrambling to her feet and stumbling away, her face flushed and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. “You’re a monster,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at me, though the wide grin on her face told me she didn’t mean it.
Em stuck out her tongue at me and started running upstairs laughing. I started my chase. She barely made it halfway up the stairs before I caught her, my hands finding her waist as I pulled her back with a playful growl. She shrieked, her laughter echoing through the house as she tried to wriggle free, but I wasn’t about to let her escape that easily. “Oh no, you’re not getting away that fast,” I said, my voice teasing as I scooped her up and carried her the rest of the way to her room. She kicked her legs, her bare feet flailing as she laughed uncontrollably, but I held her tight, determined to make her pay for teasing me earlier.
I dropped her onto her bed, and she immediately tried to scramble away, but I was faster. I grabbed her ankles, pulling her back toward me as she let out another burst of laughter. Her feet were right there, bare and vulnerable, and I couldn’t resist the temptation. I pinned her legs down, my fingers finding the arches of her feet and dancing across the smooth, sensitive skin. Em’s laughter exploded, her body twisting and writhing as she tried to pull her feet free. “Hahahaha, I'm too....hahaa! Please!” she gasped, her voice high-pitched and breathless, but I just grinned, my fingers moving faster.
Her feet were impossibly ticklish, and I took full advantage of it. I alternated between light, fluttering strokes and more deliberate movements, tracing circles along her arches and wiggling my fingers between her toes. Em’s laughter was uncontrollable, a cascade of giggles and gasps that filled the room. Her toes clenched and flexed, trying to shield themselves from the onslaught, but I was relentless. I moved to the balls of her feet, pressing my thumbs into the soft pads just below her toes, and she let out a shriek, her legs jerking as she tried to kick me away. “You’re—hahahaha, you’re liking this aren't you. Hahaha. Se.. see..seeing me a laughing mess, hahah!” she managed to choke out between bursts of laughter, her face flushed and her hair a wild mess.
Eventually, I gave her a break, leaning back to catch my breath as she collapsed onto the bed, her chest heaving and her laughter slowly subsiding. Her feet were still twitching, as if they hadn’t quite recovered from the tickling, and I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “You’re even more ticklish than I remember,” I said, my tone teasing.
Em shot me a glare, but there was no real anger behind it. “I can't believe how ticklish my feet still are,” she said, her voice shaky with laughter. “But… I kind of missed this." "And it looks like you really enjoyed this." Pointing to my you know what. She grinned and approached.
I stayed the night and of course from morning till mid afternoon, she let me indulge in my tickle urges. I even grabbed a bottle of lotion that smells like strawberries. I applied it on her feet and went to town. I had never done that with her in the past. I even used a hairbrush for a bit. I must have got those ideas from my new found access to tickling on the internet. We talked about us and decided It still wouldn't work because of differences in religion. But, I think I did more tickling in this one visit than I had total tickling in my whole life. That's why it always stuck with me. I left in the afternoon and we both admitted to having a great time. "Maybe I'll catch you at the 711 sometime in the future" I said. "I'll make sure to have shoes and socks and strapped to my feet next time I go there". "I'll rip them off. Nothing will stop me from getting your bare feet" I said. " I know you will," she giggled. I know you well.
We hugged. I didn't see her again till 10 years later. We were both in good relationships. We exchanged emails and said we would keep in touch. We would chat once in a while, like birthdays and Christmas. But what is really cool, she would always throw in a random comments about her feet. Very sneaky little comments that only we would understand. She new what it did to me. So much fun.
Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
