This was one of the more tame experiences tickling-wise I've had with the pedicurist I've commented about before. But she'd had shoulder surgery that sidelined her for two months, and I was in no hurry to get a pedicure in the meantime.
If you've never had a pedicure or foot massage, you ought to live the experience at least once, especially if foot tickling is a turn-on. She's ticklish and generally does not like tickling; in fact, while she's pretty, she's something of a tomboy and as non-flirtatious as it gets.
She's a former tennis player with strong hands, though, and when she starts gently massaging the toes and arches, a stream of endorphins washes over me. The lotions add to it, and the fact she does enjoy the massaging and carries on for a long while is enough for a nearly out-of-body experience.
And then she starts with the light nail strokes, in random patterns all along the top of my foot, with nails just long enough to mirror a sensual tickling attack.
I've made it clear to her multiple times by now how much I enjoy it. Today I swear she was looking straight into my eyes the entire time she did it. Sixty seconds on each foot seems like an eternity when your nerves are on fire, you're trying not to flinch or crack a huge grin, and also trying to apply your mind in two places at once, both carrying on a normal conversation as a cover-up while absorbing every fiber of the sensation.
I may have to start planting the seed of an idea that she can take me back to one of the spa's massage rooms after the pedicure for ten minutes of this. Such an odd request would take some special skill to pull off without discomforting the relationship we've established after two years. But I'm patient enough, and experienced enough through similar situations, that I believe it's possible, if I'm alert enough when the right opportunity comes.
If you've never had a pedicure or foot massage, you ought to live the experience at least once, especially if foot tickling is a turn-on. She's ticklish and generally does not like tickling; in fact, while she's pretty, she's something of a tomboy and as non-flirtatious as it gets.
She's a former tennis player with strong hands, though, and when she starts gently massaging the toes and arches, a stream of endorphins washes over me. The lotions add to it, and the fact she does enjoy the massaging and carries on for a long while is enough for a nearly out-of-body experience.
And then she starts with the light nail strokes, in random patterns all along the top of my foot, with nails just long enough to mirror a sensual tickling attack.
I've made it clear to her multiple times by now how much I enjoy it. Today I swear she was looking straight into my eyes the entire time she did it. Sixty seconds on each foot seems like an eternity when your nerves are on fire, you're trying not to flinch or crack a huge grin, and also trying to apply your mind in two places at once, both carrying on a normal conversation as a cover-up while absorbing every fiber of the sensation.
I may have to start planting the seed of an idea that she can take me back to one of the spa's massage rooms after the pedicure for ten minutes of this. Such an odd request would take some special skill to pull off without discomforting the relationship we've established after two years. But I'm patient enough, and experienced enough through similar situations, that I believe it's possible, if I'm alert enough when the right opportunity comes.
