View Full Version : Tickling My Best Friend's Mother - A True Story

10-12-2002, 08:25 PM
Like all my stories, this is completely true.

For me, women’s feet and tickling have always been intertwined, a mutual passion. Together with the desire, came the guilt and the feeling that I was alone: the only one who was this way. All my friends talked about girls – of course, so did I – but tickling never came into it nor did their feet. I developed the strong conviction that I was weird and was determined to keep my mouth shut about my desires.

I indulged myself whenever I could though, particularly with my older cousin, Ellen. Oddly, I wasn’t interested in tickling girls my own age until my mid-teens. I got crushes and “fell in love” often enough but my interests in feet and tickling seemed focused on older women: cousins, aunts, and neighbors – especially neighbors. And every time I fantasized, I pictured tickling the bare feet of an older woman.

I realize that these women were mostly in their mid-thirties then – hardly what I would call “old” today at 56 – but they all seemed old when I was 18. This was in the late ‘50’s and most of the mothers I knew were homemakers. In other words, when I dropped in to see my friends, I could be almost sure that the mothers were around somewhere or soon would be. A few were unattractive or, at least, commonplace or with harsh personalities but most were friendly and I had the ability to connect with adults and talk about things other than just “kid-stuff”.

Mrs. Kerran was high on my list as a target for I knew her best and, although she rarely went barefoot, she always wore open-toed, backless slippers that would be no problem removing. One of the ironies of life, however, is the fact that I never got a chance to tickle her until my early twenties. By that time, I had scored with four others in the neighborhood and had started a foot- tickling affair with another neighbor who was to become my future mother-in-law.

But, when I was 18, Mrs. Campbell - the mother of a very close friend - was my first big tickle among the neighbors.

She certainly was the youngest of the mothers as well as the prettiest with short, dark hair and a full figure. Her feet were what I noticed most though: they were small and wide with very high arches and short, almost chubby toes, which had always turned me on. Around the house, she wore backless fuzzy slippers, or flat “slip-on” types shoes. Once in awhile she wore only socks and, in the summer, I had seen her barefoot on more than one occasion.

The problem was that, every time I was there, so was her son, and - in order to tickle her - I had to get her alone. I was also terrified that she would tell everyone that I had tickled her. This fear is something I have never gotten over with any of the women I have tickled. (And no, even at my age, I don’t need letters telling me to come out of the closet). So, a couple of times when I had a chance to tickle her, I backed off because it was late in the afternoon and her husband would soon be home from work. I didn’t need her greeting him at the door with her shoes in one hand and her face red from laughter.

My chance came during the summer holidays. She had given birth in May and passed on the family’s regular July fishing trip, choosing to keep the baby at home. Seeing an opportunity, I volunteered to take over my friend’s regular chores of cutting the grass for the two weeks he was gone with his father and younger brother. I even played the good friend and refused any money, saying I would do it to help them out. So everyone thought I was a noble little bastard when I was really trying to ingratiate myself with her. But it worked.

Two weeks, I thought, three cuttings. I would use the first one to scout out my chances, and the second one to tickle her. During the third, I would play innocent, not go near her and hopefully she would forget about the tickle and not tell anyone. But, as they say, the best laid plans….

It was a hot, clear day. I knocked on the door but no one answered. Disappointed that she wasn’t home, I walked around to the backyard where the mower was kept in a small shed. And there she was: on a blanket with the baby, sunning herself in what they called in those days a “sun-dress”, short, sleeveless, pink cotton skirt and top….and she was barefoot, lying on her stomach, her legs stretched towards me, her toes slowly wiggling in the grass. A pair of thongs laid beside her.

I froze for a moment taking it all in, then I walked quietly up behind her. I wasn’t going to tickle her yet but it was the closest I had ever been to the soles of her feet and I looked them over hungrily. They were smooth and curving with a wide ball and a high arch moving up to a strong heel.

Before every tickle, I always enjoyed planning the tickling and looking for a long time at the woman’s feet. Now, I could imagine my fingers digging into her as she laughed and kicked under my grasp. I was going to tickle her today and to hell with my plans. I wasn’t going to miss this chance. I looked at her feet for a few moments longer. Then, “Hi,” I said.

She turned. “Oh, hello! I didn’t hear you.”

“I’ll start,” I said.

“I’ll move if I’m in your way.”

“No,no.” I wanted her to stay just where she was.

It was an old, push-mower and I cut the lawn around the perimeter so that every circuit I passed behind her, getting a good look at those delicious feet. Finally, the only uncut part was under the wide blanket. She picked the baby up saying it was time for his nap and I laid the blanket in a freshly cut space, hoping she would come back. By the time I finished, she came back with two glasses of lemonade. I put the mower away and sat beside her. We chatted for a bit, finished our drinks, and then she said, “I think I’ve had enough sun.”

Now or never, I thought. I put down my glass and picked up her thongs. She was still lying on her stomach, her feet near me. I held up the sandals. “Do you want these?”

She laughed. “Sure,” she said. Then she raised both her feet in what I now know as The Pose. “Are you going to put them on for me?”

My mouth went dry and I hope I didn’t look to startled. “Okay…” My voice must have shown my nervousness but I dropped one thong and got the other ready. I was going to do this one at a time to get the most out of it.

“Make sure there’s no grass on my feet.”

I raised a trembling hand and gently brushed down her right sole. Her soft skin felt incredible under my slowly moving hand, like a jolt of electricity right through to my groin. She giggled but arched her foot and spread her toes.

“That tickles.” she said, looking over her shoulder at me.

“Does it?” I dropped the thong and grabbed her ankle. “Then let’s see how much!”

Her eyes widened in surprise as she realized what was about to happen. I started tickling.

She screamed and I braced myself for the kicks and struggling that almost always followed when I tickled a woman. I dug my fingers hard into her arch as her foot twisted under my hands. She was screaming with laughter broken with cries of “Oh no – oh no – oh no – oh no – oh no!” Her foot bunched tightly making incredibly soft, wrinkled ridges on her sole. Seen close up, her foot was even sexier than ever and her toes bunched and spread in spasms. I pushed my fingers deep under them and between them. Her foot jerked sideways trying to escape but I was having no problem hanging on tight with my left arm. Then, glancing quickly back over my should, I saw why.

It was the one of the strangest reactions I had ever seen in a ticklish woman. From her knee down, her leg was thrashing, kicking, thrusting and twisting as she tried to break away. But the rest of her was still, flat on the ground, her arms unmoving by her sides. It was as if her upper body had been drained of power, collapsing like a wet bag, and all her focus was on the storm of tickling on her right foot. She didn’t even move her head much. I realized that, except for her lower leg, she wasn’t putting up much of a fight at all. But there was no denying she was ticklish!

My body thought before my brain and I pulled both her feet together and sat firmly on her ankles. If the struggling was all below her knees, I was more than a match for that. Even though an average 14 year old, I had both weight and height advantage. This was going to be good!

Her bare feet were now gripped between my legs, just inches from my thrusting erection. Her ankles were twisting on the grass. Using both my hands in the roughest tickling I had ever done, I dug into her soft soles, my fingers scrambling up and down from her heels to her sexy toes. I shot another quick glance over my shoulder. Her face was red, a wide, screaming smile on her face and the laughter was pouring out of her now, no more words, not asking me to stop, just endless, breathless laughter. I felt a wild rush of sexual energy burst in me. Turning back to her feet, I tickled her even harder, not stopping to tickle special parts or to search for ticklish points as I sometimes did or even admiring her feet. I just tickled…and tickled….

I don’t know how long it lasted, probably only a few minutes, although it seemed like hours. Finally, I heard her gasp out, “Please…please…I can’t breathe!”

I stopped and rolled off her ankles. I watched her as she caught her breath, her lungs heaving, her body shaking. She kept repeating, “Oh my God…oh my God…” over and over. I realized how aroused I was, not just my prick, but my whole body. I was shaking as much as she was and my arms felt weak. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and rolled over and looked at me, grinning and shaking her head. “You little…..” She paused, still gulping for air. Then she added, “You can get us both some lemonade.”

I went into the house. “I’ve gone too far this time,” I said to myself. “I’m really going to get it.” My hands were trembling but with nervousness now, not just sexual tension. I thought of going into the bathroom and jacking off right there but I didn’t have time. I brought the two brimming glasses back to the blanket. She was sitting up, her legs bent in front of her, bare soles firmly on the ground.

She drank slowly. Silence. This was an adult and I was just a kid. I thought of her husband and my friend and the possible anger of my parents. I was scared. Nervously, I said, “I’m sorry…I…I…didn’t mean…” My voice trailed off.

“Don’t worry,” she said lightly. She took another long drink and then looked at me, her large brown eyes candid and direct. Here comes the lecture, I thought. But she only smiled. “It was fun,” she said, “But I guess I paid for getting my lawn cut.”

The next week, I was determined not to go near her, whatever happened. If I did, I hoped she would forget about the tickle or pass it off as harmless fun. My fear of getting known as a foot-fetish was about equal to my desire for feet in the first place. I didn’t even bother knocking this time. I just went around the back, took out the mower and started in. Halfway through, she came out on the back porch. And, damn it, she was barefoot again.

After some regular pleasantries, she said, “I really wish you would let me pay you for all this.”

“No, it’s okay,” I replied. “I’m happy to help out.”

“Well, come in and get some lemonade when you finish.”

Fifteen minutes later, I put the mower away and nervously walked into the kitchen. I’m not going near her, I reminded myself. I’m not even going to look at her bare feet. She heard me come in and called me into the living room. She was on a deep plush couch, wearing a sleeveless, cotton housedress, her legs and feet resting on the cushions. I had a drink, forcing myself to look directly at her eyes or through the window, anywhere but at those feet. When I rose to go, she said, ”Wouldn’t you accept even a couple of dollars?”

I shook my head. She teased, “Of course, that would be for this week. If I remember, you got paid for last week.”

I froze. I probably looked every bit as frightened as I felt.

“I…I’m sorry for that,” I stammered. “It was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it.” Then I added, “I don’t want to get in trouble…I’m sorry…” It makes me cringe a bit to think of how pleading I was but, after all, I was only 14 and it was the straight-laced ‘50’s. I was scared.

Then, in my nervousness, I did what I had promised myself I would not do: I looked directly at her feet. They were resting on the cushion, soft and tanned, the soles toward me. Her toes, unpainted last week, were polished a soft pink today. Having discovered how ticklish they were, I found them even more desirable than ever. I followed the curving line of those high, inviting arches and remembered how wonderful it felt to push my fingers between her toes. I dragged my eyes away and glanced at her. She was smiling but looking directly at me. I thought I was being casual but she had seen where my eyes had gone.

She waved her hand. “You’re not in trouble.” Her voice was light and relaxed. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. It was just a bit of fun.” Then she added, “I just thought maybe you’d want the same payment.”

My expression must have been very funny for she giggled. Almost involuntarily, she wiggled her toes. I forgot my fears: I didn’t think about her husband, my friend, my parents. Suddenly those beckoning feet were the most delicious things I had ever seen and I lunged.

She laughed as I grabbed her ankles. The moment I started tickling, she collapsed like last time, falling back on the couch, kicking and pulling with her knees only. Again, her upper body seemed to have lost all its strength. In all my years of tickling girls and women, it was the strangest reaction I have ever had.
I knew this had to be a shorter tickle so I concentrated on her wiggling, bunching toes. Her laughter was more controlled but I got my fingers deep between her toes and tickled hard. She squealed, “This is as bad as I remember!” but I held her firmly and kept scrambling from one foot to the other. When she was reduced to muffled giggles, I attacked her arches and this brought a fresh shriek as she tried to pull sharply away. Her skin felt wonderful under my dancing fingers, soft and firm at the same time.

Usually my tickling sessions ended with the woman managing to break away, but she couldn’t escape the tight grip of my left arm. Knowing I had taken it almost as far as I could, I tickled her for another minute. She had almost given up struggling but her laughter was still squealing from her. When it started to come in short sobs of breath, I slowed from a tickle to what one later tickle-victim called “a caress”. In later years, I found this slow tickling - lightly tracing patterns with my fingers, following the lines and wrinkles of a woman’s soles, tracing the curve of her arches and the contour of her bare toes, exploring the whole shape of her feet with slow, tickling strokes - to be almost as erotic as a hard tickle. But this was the first time I had ever done it. Her giggles turned more to pleasurable moans.

I looked closely at her feet, thinking how beautiful they were. For the first time in my life, I thought of how much I wanted to kiss a woman’s toes. Later, I was surprised at this for the idea of kissing or licking a woman’s feet had never occurred to me before. But, at that moment, I wanted it badly. I just couldn’t get the nerve. I knew it would be crossing a boundary. Perhaps she saw me drooling over her toes. Perhaps she was aware that her own giggles had turned to moans and squeaks of pleasure. She must have realized that things were turning sexual for her. At any rate, she gently pulled her feet from under my arm and said, “I guess you had better stop now.”

She gave a groaning giggle and put both feet on the floor. “Well,” she laughed, “That’s a cheap way of getting my lawn cut.”

Her family came back four days later. I waited nervously for a week but I heard nothing. I don’t know if she ever told her husband; certainly, she never told her son since he never mentioned it. Well, I said to myself, I got away with it. Two years later, they moved away. It was only many years after that, however, that I understood she must have realized what I was and why I did it.

10-13-2002, 02:48 AM
Excellent true story! I really enjoyed your vivid descriptions and recollections.

10-14-2002, 03:23 AM
That was great! If you don't mind, I have to excuse myself.......

sole seeker
10-21-2002, 02:23 PM
Great story! Thanks for making the effort to write it down. Excellent detail - I was able to visualize the entire episode.

This tale is as good or better than your last one, which is saying something. You not only have some terrific experiences, but you are a tallented story-teller too.

Post some more when you can.

07-18-2003, 07:04 AM
An excellent story! Very well written and the better for knowing it was true.

07-18-2003, 07:24 PM
Good story kibdos....I myself love to tickle the feet as well
i believe thats the best part!!!................... ;)

07-18-2003, 09:17 PM
You are a good storyteller and, in case you didn't know, one lucky son of a bitch. I too have the neighbor fantasies, and I live in a neighborhood that has its fair share of hot moms. I'm only 19, so hopefully my luck will turn in the direction yours did sometime soon.
P.S. If you don't mind my asking, does your wife indulge you in your tickling and foot-fetish fantasies?

07-19-2003, 12:04 AM
As usual, thank you for another great story. I don't know which is better, the fact that it is a true story or the story itself. I envy you so much

07-20-2003, 02:19 AM
Just before the site went down, I posted a note of thanks to those who wrote appreciatively of this story. That note was lost so I thought I should write it again. I am glad to see that the memories of this experience touched a number of you. It certainly had an impact on me and I have revisited the experience from time to time over the years.

Someone - I think it might have been SlaverTickler - asked about stories of my mother-in-law as I had mentioned her in passing. I wrote two stories about her ("My Ticklish But Willing Mother-in-Law" parts 1 & 2) which are now buried in the pile of earlier stories on this site. If you haven't read them, I hope you enjoy them.

Bdubs16, you asked about how my wife reacted to my fetish. Sadly, she is now my ex-wife but I wrote a true story about an evening with her when we were still married under the title, "A Tickling Fantasy That Came True." That explains the situation we enjoyed at the time.

By the way, I still see her from time to time and she allows me some slow, gentle foot-tickling (provided I don't go above her knees) and some pics. So her feet aren't entirely out of my life.

Again, thanks all of you for the positive response. I only wish I had such support for my desires when I was growing up.

sole seeker
07-21-2003, 02:41 PM
Originally posted by Kibdos
Again, thanks all of you for the positive response. I only wish I had such support for my desires when I was growing up.
Don't we all. If only we'd had the internet back then, we probably would have felt more comfortable with tickling-related sexual issues . I suspect that the youth on this site will be better off than us when they reach their 50's, simply because of this interaction.

Good to see you posting again, Kibdos. How about another tale? I always enjoy your stuff.

07-28-2003, 05:26 AM
excellent story. You told it very well. I felt like I was there

12-03-2003, 11:28 PM
That was the first story I have read from you, since I'm new to this story section. I have had a LOT of experiences with tickling but I never had one with any of my friends' mothers. That's one experience I had until this day always wished I could participate in. Your description was superb!

12-06-2003, 04:17 PM
You know, no matter how many times I read this story(and I make it a point everytime it gets bumped), It's still one of the most amazing stories I've ever read. I don't think I'll ever get tired of it. Thanks for sharing it with us.

12-07-2003, 02:51 AM
Holly Shit!!!! :shocked: Damn lucky as all hell..espessaly back then. As I was reading that true story for some reason I was thinking about the movie "Private Lessons" (if anyone remembers that film), accept having it be tickling instead of hard drivin sex :p . Very hot story and well done...think I need to go SPANK SPANK now LOL LOL. Damn..why I can I have this kinda luck?


12-12-2003, 11:51 PM
I used to tickle my best freind's mom's feet all of the time. She was very pretty and I remember it took me years to get up the nerve to do it, but when I finally did it, I will never forget how pleased she was that I tried to tickle her the way that I did.
Did I mention that she was also my music teacher for a year?
Having her as my music teacher afforded me many opportunities to see her feet especially when she played guitar. She would often play for us to get us in tune to sing or just to teach us somthing about music. She would often sit with her legs crossed and the guitar seated on her knee. As she did this, her shoe would leave her elevated foot and dangle on the ends of her toes. If she happened to be wearing stockings that day, what a glorious site that was!
We had a neighborhood pool in our comunity where everyone knew almost everyone else. Mrs. Quincy,we'll call her, would usually be at the pool on warm sunny weekends with her son, Mike, my good bud. Mike and I would do what ever there was to do in the pool, swim, tease girls, do cannon balls, you name it and we did it . Mrs. Quincy would either sit on a chair and read a book or dangle her feet in the pool and hang out with Mike and I while we goofed around.
It was when Mrs. Quincy would dangle her feet in the pool that I would just ache inside. In school I was never really able to get close to her feet, mostly because I was older now and the formalities and rules were much strickter, but here, it was different.
Every weekend for almost two months during the summer I would try and get closer and closer to tickling Mrs. Quincy's feet. I had a routine down. Everytime Mrs. Q. would get up from her chair and move to put her feet in the water, no matter where I was with Mike, I would always find an excuse to head to the shallow end near her. Sometimes it would be, "hey Mike let's ask your mom if she can give us some money for a snack" or "hey Mike let's go play basket ball in the shallow end" or "hey Mike, I need a break, let's go over there."
Once we made our way over to Mrs. Q. I would always say hello, comment on how hot it was and then would dunk my head under the water and get a real good hard look at Mrs.Q's dangling feet and just dream about tickling them. I would wish so hard that I could just get the nerve up to touch those perfect high arches right before me, that I always came back up with a little something extra. Mrs. Q was a M.I.L.F. or in this case a M.I.L.T.. This little routine of mine went on for a while, and to this day I still can't believe Mike never figured out what I was doing.
So I suffered...till one night while I was in bed "suffering" over my delima, I had a brilliant idea of how I could put this all together. I had a cousin Tasha that Mrs. Q knew from school. It was Tasha's birthday coming up and I still had yet to buy her a present. "What kind of things do girl's like?" I thought to myself. "I know, I'll ask Mrs. Q. tomorrow when I see her at the pool!" The anticipation grew in my mind, the excitement built, my heart raced....what a great plan I had built up in my mind...
The next day came, I met Mike, we played, and I worked into the old faithful routine once Mrs. Q. came and sat down by the pool, except this time I was no longer going to be just looking at those feet if I played my cards right.
Mike and I were hanging around Mrs. Q. and I started the conversation this way:
"Mike, I don't know what to buy for my cousin for her birthday Whadda you think I should get?"
"I dunno know dude, she's stupid." Mike was the brains behind our outfit.
"Shut up duffus, no she's not! Maybe I should get her clothes."
"That's gross, you're going to buy girl clothes?"
"Well, maybe just shoes."
"EWWWWW, her feet probably stink!"
"Shut up dude!"
Obviously, I think you can see the direction I was hoping to push this... but then with out having to say another word, the coolest thing happened without any effort from me. Something so out of the blue, something so random, it was as if all of my wishes had all been heard.
Mrs. Q. said "I think that is sweet. Do you know what size shoes she wears?"
Me:"Um, no, I didn't even think about that."
"Well come here, put your hand out." With that she put her left foot in my hand under the water and said;
"Is her foot about that big?"
Do you know that complete excitemet that runs through your body at a time like this. Instant cotten mouth, a lump in your throat, your heart beats and head gets light....this was much more than that.
"Um, I'm not sure." I couldn't move.
"Put your one hand on my heal, and the other hand at my toes. Now pick up your hands and look. Do they look about the distance between your hands?"
I held up my hands to my face, but I was trembling so much that they moved back and forth and I lost the measurement.
Suddenly a mysterious smile came across Mrs. Q's face and she look at me and asked;
"Are you nervous about something?"
Feeling very embarrased at this point, I stammard out;
"N-no, let me try it again."
"Okay." She said with a curious smile.
This time however, she leaned back with her hands behind her, streched her legs out and elevated her left foot out of the water for me to grab.
(Much to my relief Mike had run to the bathroom at this point)
Like before, I put one hand on her ankle and the other hand at her toes. Except this time I sat there for a second or two and she started to ask;
"Does that look about right...?"
Just as she said "right" I proceeded to live the impossible dream. I just couldn't stand it any longer...I tickled. I slid my right hand directly under the ball of her foot and reached out with my index finger and slightly scratched the surface of her arch. And right when she said "right" a big wide smile came across Mrs. Q's. face and she look directly at me, but I continued! As I was lightly scratching, feeling very excited and nervous at the same time, she just sat there looking at me all the while smilling, not saying a word. Feeling more emboldened, my single finger scratching turned into an all four finger assault, moving them back and forth in a cascading motion. Mrs. Q. must have seen how much I was enjoying this, and I think she must have been enjoying watching how much I was enjoying it because she let me go at it for at least a minute or two at least. I then got really bold and reached for the right foot and began to tickle it. At one point I saw Mrs. Q lightly bite her bottom lip, and suck in air as if she was trying to hold back a giggle, but, unfortunately I wasn't completly sure if she was ticklish or not... and much to my dismay I wouldn't get a laugh out of her because it all came to an abrupt halt, and I do mean abrupt, when Mike cannon balled in and soaked us both.
Pissed was not the word. And when Mrs. Q. got up and walk away to get a towel, and headed for the ladies room, it all just sank. But WOW! I did it after month's of anticipation and deep longing...
Later that day, I would attempt to get in a quick tickle everytime I swam by Mrs.Q's feet, which I tried to do as much as possible. The few times I was able tickle Mrs. Q with out Mike seeing me, ('cause the last thing I wanted was Mike knowing that I had a foot thing) Mrs. Q would give me a "shame on you" smile.....
There is more to this story but that is how it got started out.

12-13-2003, 04:43 PM
:D Great story! :D

sole seeker
12-16-2003, 05:27 AM
There is more to this story...

I'd for damn sure love to hear more about this story! Thanks for posting.

09-23-2007, 04:13 AM
wow great story did you tickle her feet and sitting on her ankles again?

09-23-2007, 10:40 AM
I aged the youngest character to be 18 rather than deleting the thread. Please remember that discussion of tickling involving minors, especially minors with adults, is NOT allowed at the TTC.

09-26-2007, 09:15 PM
...there is more to the story but its long.

sole seeker
10-02-2007, 04:24 PM
...there is more to the story but its long.Hotchy, for your story I'd make the time!

sole seeker
02-04-2008, 04:23 PM
...there is more to the story but its long.
Please try to find the time to add the rest of the story.

I love reading your posts - they're so well written - highly descriptive, usually erotic and always interesting. :yellowsta :greenstar :redstar: :bluestar:

edit.... whoops! I didn't realize I'd already beseached you for the follow-up. When I wrote this reply I was at the bottom of the previous page.

Since I'd really love to read the rest of this tale, I'm gonna let this redundant plea stand.

12-31-2013, 07:54 PM
totally hot!!!

09-13-2015, 12:23 AM
yea,this is great and should be finished