My senior year in high school I had the good fortune of dating a 21 year old former gymnast who had fled a foster family and a bit of a harsh life to end up in my home town. She ended living with the family of a classmate for that year until she got her finances sorted out. She was all of 5' tall with serious curves and a "D" cup pair of the firmest breasts on earth. That gymnast body was solid-great legs with gorgeous calves and little size five feet-and she could control muscles I never knew existed. During sex she could grip me with her vaginal muscles and hold tight enough to keep me in one place, and she could pulse those same muscles rapidly whenever she wanted. INTENSE and something no woman in the past 25 years has duplicated-and I've been with more than a few.
We both worked at a local Friendly's and back in the late 80's the women's uniform was a mid-length one-piece skirt/dress thing that showed some leg, and the ladies were all supposed to wear stockings...perfect for a stocking foot lover and tickler like me. I was lucky to catch glimpses of several of the waitresses' feet on many occasions in the break room.
Many nights Samantha and I closed together and I gave her a ride home. Usually this entailed a visit to a local dark parking lot for some quality time in the back seat, but almost every night she would kick off her shoes and put those stocking clad size feet in my lap and ask for a foot massage as we drove to our destination. While the word fetish never existed for me at that time, she and I both knew what was up. She would playfully grind a nylon covered foot into my crotch and say "Please 'T' I need a massage, my feet are killing me." I of course, was happy to oblige, tickling her throughout. She never pulled too far away, even though she she would whine for me to massage not tickle. No matter how much I tickled, those feet would return to my lap within seconds. She had great control. I knew those legs could kick me into the next town if she chose, but she only ever did that once. My jaw still hurts from that kick.
For almost a year we repeated this ritual, followed by great sex in the back seat, at least 4 nights a week. She had a great laugh, almost never got pissed at me, and always came back for more. She said she hated the tickling, yet those feet were always in my lap. One night when no one was around at her place, she agreed to let me tie her up and have my way with her. Just as I finished her arms and headed to those awesome feet...car doors outside. We scrambled, I freed her and a small group of drunken dipshits stopped over. Playtime was officially done.
Almost a year to the day we met, she got drunk and slept with a buddy of mine. I saw her the next morning and she didn't even realize she had a neckful of hickies from that asshat. I walked into her apartment, got an eyeful of her betrayal, walked away and never turned back. It was good while it lasted.
We both worked at a local Friendly's and back in the late 80's the women's uniform was a mid-length one-piece skirt/dress thing that showed some leg, and the ladies were all supposed to wear stockings...perfect for a stocking foot lover and tickler like me. I was lucky to catch glimpses of several of the waitresses' feet on many occasions in the break room.
Many nights Samantha and I closed together and I gave her a ride home. Usually this entailed a visit to a local dark parking lot for some quality time in the back seat, but almost every night she would kick off her shoes and put those stocking clad size feet in my lap and ask for a foot massage as we drove to our destination. While the word fetish never existed for me at that time, she and I both knew what was up. She would playfully grind a nylon covered foot into my crotch and say "Please 'T' I need a massage, my feet are killing me." I of course, was happy to oblige, tickling her throughout. She never pulled too far away, even though she she would whine for me to massage not tickle. No matter how much I tickled, those feet would return to my lap within seconds. She had great control. I knew those legs could kick me into the next town if she chose, but she only ever did that once. My jaw still hurts from that kick.
For almost a year we repeated this ritual, followed by great sex in the back seat, at least 4 nights a week. She had a great laugh, almost never got pissed at me, and always came back for more. She said she hated the tickling, yet those feet were always in my lap. One night when no one was around at her place, she agreed to let me tie her up and have my way with her. Just as I finished her arms and headed to those awesome feet...car doors outside. We scrambled, I freed her and a small group of drunken dipshits stopped over. Playtime was officially done.
Almost a year to the day we met, she got drunk and slept with a buddy of mine. I saw her the next morning and she didn't even realize she had a neckful of hickies from that asshat. I walked into her apartment, got an eyeful of her betrayal, walked away and never turned back. It was good while it lasted.
Thanks for sharing it here. 
