ticklingfun
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I had a girlfriend in recent months named Julie. Jules was kind of short and really cute, with shoulder-length brown hair and a face that lit up when she smiled. Despite her diminutive stature, her feet were not overly small and not enormous, either. They were a decent size. I had tickled her a couple of times, but she had seemed to really dislike it and always told me to stop, which I had done out of respect.
One night I was over at her house and I was massaging her feet, which she was enjoying. After a while, I grinned mischievously and used the fingernails of one of my hands to scratch the sole of one of her feet. She jumped and giggled, pulling away. I took her foot back and began massaging again.
And then the strangest thing happened. Jules looked at me coyly and, somewhat shyly, said, “You can keep scratching my feet if you'd like.”
I stared for a moment in disbelief. Could she really have said what I thought I'd heard her say? Was she actually asking me to tickle her? I raised my eyebrows, trying not to seem too anxious, and said, “Really?”
Julie nodded. “Yeah,” she replied.
I didn't need to be told twice. (Well, actually, apparently I did, but she got no argument and I didn't ask her again!) I took her ankle gently in one hand and raised the other one. I looked at her face, half expecting her to change her mind at the last moment, but all that was there was the ghost of a smile and an expression of anticipation. I decided that I was dreaming and hoped that I wouldn't wake up too soon.
I moved my hand to her foot and began by gently using the nails to scratch her sole, as I'd done before. Her smile grew, lighting up her face, and she began to giggle. To her credit, she kept her foot relatively still in my lap, watching my hand do its work.
I explored her sole and between her toes and then pulled them back and scratched their sensitive skin underneath them as well, pacing myself. At each action I allowed the tickling to get a little bit worse, gauging her reactions. She jumped a few times when the tickling got worse or I found a particularly sensitive spot, but she didn't pull away or ask me to stop. She actually seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was!
She may have been enjoying it, but there came a time—hadn't yet done my worst!--when she decided she needed to take her mind off of the constantly ticklish sensation. She continued to giggle helplessly, but began to talk, which was always her way of attempting to distract herself from thinking about any given situation. “It's like—hee, hee—sometimes my feet itch and I—ha, ha, ha—and I take out a hairbrush to—heh, heh—scratch them and I end up tickling myself for ten minutes!”
This bit of information intrigued me and I thought one of these days it might be something else to explore. Right now, though, I had no interest in losing my momentum. I took her other foot in my lap and began tickling both of them. Her uncontrollable laughing continued and I allowed the tickling to get worse.
Still laughing, she said, “The scratching feels really good, but you're driving me nuts!” As she completed her sentence, I began really raking my fingernails up and down the entire length of her feet. “Oh, God...heeheeheeheehahahahahahaha!” she cried and began bouncing up and down on the couch beside me, trying desperately not to pull her feet away, to get her laughter under control, to do anything so that the tickling would stop yet continue. She fell back into the cushions behind her, dissolving into completely uncontrolled giggles, helpless to do anything except laugh.
The tickling continued for a reasonable length of time. I explored the sides and tops of her feet and re-explored her toes, but the best reactions I got—and the part of the torture she seemed to enjoy the most—was the fingernails scratching up and down the soles of her feet. I scratched fast. I scratched slowly. Hard. Softly. Up and down. Side to side. The varying sensations kept her off-balance, never knowing what to expect, and added to the ticklish sensitivity of her feet. Neither of us had ever had an experience like that before.
Eventually we moved on to doing...other things and it was hands down the best night we ever spent together.
Jules and I have since broken up. It's only recently that I've allowed myself to think or talk about her. I truly loved her and I miss her very much. I tickled her several times afterwards, one time making her collapse on the floor squirming and giggling, once again helpless, as I attacked her sides, ribs and armpits mercilessly. After the “foot incident”, she never again told me not to tickle her and seemed to actually enjoy it every time. I like to think I converted her, but maybe she actually always enjoyed it and just didn't feel ready to open that part of her up to me yet. Whatever the reason, I'll never forget her or the night she asked me to tickle her.
One night I was over at her house and I was massaging her feet, which she was enjoying. After a while, I grinned mischievously and used the fingernails of one of my hands to scratch the sole of one of her feet. She jumped and giggled, pulling away. I took her foot back and began massaging again.
And then the strangest thing happened. Jules looked at me coyly and, somewhat shyly, said, “You can keep scratching my feet if you'd like.”
I stared for a moment in disbelief. Could she really have said what I thought I'd heard her say? Was she actually asking me to tickle her? I raised my eyebrows, trying not to seem too anxious, and said, “Really?”
Julie nodded. “Yeah,” she replied.
I didn't need to be told twice. (Well, actually, apparently I did, but she got no argument and I didn't ask her again!) I took her ankle gently in one hand and raised the other one. I looked at her face, half expecting her to change her mind at the last moment, but all that was there was the ghost of a smile and an expression of anticipation. I decided that I was dreaming and hoped that I wouldn't wake up too soon.
I moved my hand to her foot and began by gently using the nails to scratch her sole, as I'd done before. Her smile grew, lighting up her face, and she began to giggle. To her credit, she kept her foot relatively still in my lap, watching my hand do its work.
I explored her sole and between her toes and then pulled them back and scratched their sensitive skin underneath them as well, pacing myself. At each action I allowed the tickling to get a little bit worse, gauging her reactions. She jumped a few times when the tickling got worse or I found a particularly sensitive spot, but she didn't pull away or ask me to stop. She actually seemed to be enjoying it as much as I was!
She may have been enjoying it, but there came a time—hadn't yet done my worst!--when she decided she needed to take her mind off of the constantly ticklish sensation. She continued to giggle helplessly, but began to talk, which was always her way of attempting to distract herself from thinking about any given situation. “It's like—hee, hee—sometimes my feet itch and I—ha, ha, ha—and I take out a hairbrush to—heh, heh—scratch them and I end up tickling myself for ten minutes!”
This bit of information intrigued me and I thought one of these days it might be something else to explore. Right now, though, I had no interest in losing my momentum. I took her other foot in my lap and began tickling both of them. Her uncontrollable laughing continued and I allowed the tickling to get worse.
Still laughing, she said, “The scratching feels really good, but you're driving me nuts!” As she completed her sentence, I began really raking my fingernails up and down the entire length of her feet. “Oh, God...heeheeheeheehahahahahahaha!” she cried and began bouncing up and down on the couch beside me, trying desperately not to pull her feet away, to get her laughter under control, to do anything so that the tickling would stop yet continue. She fell back into the cushions behind her, dissolving into completely uncontrolled giggles, helpless to do anything except laugh.
The tickling continued for a reasonable length of time. I explored the sides and tops of her feet and re-explored her toes, but the best reactions I got—and the part of the torture she seemed to enjoy the most—was the fingernails scratching up and down the soles of her feet. I scratched fast. I scratched slowly. Hard. Softly. Up and down. Side to side. The varying sensations kept her off-balance, never knowing what to expect, and added to the ticklish sensitivity of her feet. Neither of us had ever had an experience like that before.
Eventually we moved on to doing...other things and it was hands down the best night we ever spent together.
Jules and I have since broken up. It's only recently that I've allowed myself to think or talk about her. I truly loved her and I miss her very much. I tickled her several times afterwards, one time making her collapse on the floor squirming and giggling, once again helpless, as I attacked her sides, ribs and armpits mercilessly. After the “foot incident”, she never again told me not to tickle her and seemed to actually enjoy it every time. I like to think I converted her, but maybe she actually always enjoyed it and just didn't feel ready to open that part of her up to me yet. Whatever the reason, I'll never forget her or the night she asked me to tickle her.
Thanks for telling us about it. 
Welcome
