Tickling Fun, Part 1
(Posted on Thursday, October 12, 2000)
This story was submitted anonymously.

During my first tour of duty overseas, while attending a gathering at a friend’s military housing, I was lucky enough to find myself in the right place at the right time. A young SGT I had met several times named Dee was there.

Dee, as I said was a SGT in the old WACS, Woman’s Army Corps. She was tall, red wavy hair, green eyes and not a bad looking lady. Prior to this gathering I had only seen her in duty uniform, which meant combat boots. This night she wore a pair of loafers with a very sheer pair of blue socks.

She sat next to me on the couch, drinking and talking with the small group that gathered around. I kept watch for a view of her foot, but she didn’t seem to be one of those women that dangles her shoes from her toes. She kept so tightly inside them that I couldn’t even get a quick peek at her arch. I didn’t know it early in the evening, but later things would change for the better.

As the evening went on, conversations started, changed, stopped, people came and went. A couple of times, while some light banter was tossed around, I had given her a couple of quick pokes in the ribs. It was obvious from her reaction that if no where else, she was very ticklish there. I had done it enough times that I could make her jump just by moving my hand towards her.

As it got later in the evening, we found ourselves pretty much alone. I was about to get up to get another beer and make a stop in the little boys room. As I started to get up she “ordered” me to get her a new drink. As I reached for glass, I quickly grabbed a handful of her ribs instead and started to really give her a good tickling.

She curled up in a ball, laughing and begging me to stop as I asked her, “Do I LOOK like the butler to you?”

Between the giggles and laughing, she finally managed to say no and asked if I would “PLEASE” get her a drink.

I stopped tickling her, and taking the glass from her hand said, “Now that’s much better.” As I walked away, I left her still curled up on the couch trying to catch her breath.

When I returned a couple of minutes later, she had changed her sitting position. Now she had her back to the armrest, her left leg was stretched out across my seat, her other leg was bent at the knee and her shoes were on the floor.

This was way too much. I handed her the drink and sat down so that her shin was under my thigh, trapping her foot and leaving it right in easy tickling range. She didn’t object to being trapped or she hadn’t really noticed the position she had left herself in.

I wanted to attack her foot right away, but I held myself in check. I couldn’t help looking down and watching that trapped foot. Before I could say anything she said, “I moved to protect myself from my own sharp tongue and those probing fingers of yours.”

I just gave her a wink and a sly grin. If she was as ticklish on her feet as she was on her ribs, she had no idea of how little protection she had really given herself. And I was going to find out the first chance that I could get.

We talked for a short while when her friend, who she had driven over with, came by. She told Dee that she was ready to leave. I offered Dee a ride back to the base right away. I didn’t want her to be leaving now, not when I had her right where I wanted her.

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Like I’d feel real safe being with you.” She was of course joking. I moved to grab her ribs again, but with the way she was sitting, she was able to put her right foot in my side and push me back slightly. I let her and didn’t fight it. I wanted her to feel like she was safe.

Luckily for me, she did and told her friend that she wanted to stay if I would agree to bring her back when she felt like leaving. I agreed. It was only about 9 p.m., so I figured that I had plenty of time.

After some more small talk, I again got up to get another beer and her a drink. She got up too and headed for the powder room. After getting the drinks, I stopped to talk long enough to make sure that she got back to the couch first. She did and sat back down the same way as she was before we had gotten up.

It was going on 10 p.m. now. I had waited long enough. All I needed was the excuse to make my move. She didn’t disappoint me. Another barb from her sharp tongue and I moved towards her to grab her ribs. Once again she placed her foot against my side and pushed me back.

She smiled and said, “Ha, looks like I’ve solved that problem.”

I looked her right in the eye. While unnoticed by her, my hand moved towards her trapped foot. “Or,” I said, “exchanged it for another one,” as I started to lightly tickle the sole of her foot.

She tried to pull away, squirming and giggling as my fingers raced all over the bottom of her foot. She was almost able to pull her foot free, but I grabbed her ankle and continued to increase the pressure of the tickling. After about 10 seconds, she was begging me to stop and I did. I wouldn’t let her remove her foot however and changed from tickling her to a massage.

As she got her breath back she said, “Now that’s much better.”

So I started to tickle her foot again saying, “Oh, you like this better?”

Again she was giggling and squirming. “No, no, the massage smart ass.” So I stopped and started the massage again.

For the next couple of hours as we talked I would massage her foot and then slip in a tickle. At one point she slid her right foot into my lap, rubbing it against my hard on. I was going crazy. Touching her feet was bad enough, but watching her giggle and squirm was almost unbearable.

It was getting late and I knew I had to get going soon, so I wanted one more solid tickle. She helped out by, after a short tickle, kicking me in the thigh with her free foot and calling me “Bad.”

I responded by saying, “Bad? I’ll show you bad.” And really dug in on the sole of her foot.

Once again she was squirming and laughing and had her fill after about 10 seconds. She started to beg me to stop between the laughing, but I pressed on. Finally I told her to say, “Uncle” and I would stop. But she refused and the tickling continued.

After 2 full minutes and falling off the couch, she finally gave in and cried, “Uncle.” But even after that, she didn’t look angry. By now I was almost ready to hump a VW, so I wanted to get her out of there. She too was ready and we made some goodbyes and such and hit the road.

The cool air helped clear our heads and as we got back to base and remembered that there was nothing we could do with each other. It was long after visitors' hours in both our barracks. The local, cheaper places to stay were all closed and that left only the high price hotels which we couldn’t afford.

Given the number of MPs (of which I was one) that were on the base, we couldn’t risk getting caught in the car, so we did the only thing that we could. We made plans to meet the next day.

To be continued ... Click here for Tickling Fun, Part 2