The Ticklish Bitch #8
(Posted on Wednesday, June 16, 1999)
This story was submitted anonymously.

To read the 1st story in this series, click The Ticklish Bitch #1.

THESE STORIES ARE TRUE. THEY DON'T ALWAYS INVOLVE A BONAFIDE "BITCH" (WHATEVER THAT IS) THOUGH THEY MAY INVOLVE SOMEONE WHO'S BEEN BITCHY AT TIMES, SOMETIMES RIGHT BEFORE THE TICKLING.

My sister has two sister-in-laws. And she doesn't get along with either of them. She thinks they are beyond bitchy. For the most part, I give her moral support, though I am nice to them at face value. Besides, what my sister never realized is that from the first moment our families united, and I saw each of these women, I wondered if they were ticklish, and to what extent. Especially on their feet.

As these tickling episodes are brief, one with each sister-in-law, I'll relay them both here. They both occurred in the same setting, a beach town where my sister's husband's family owns a house and vacations during the summers. My sis and her husband were there, and I was invited, too. During one of the early summers, I found myself at the beach with the one sister-in-law, Lynda. Lynda is a really short, plump, cute brunette with medium to light skin and small, wide feet. She was sitting on a beach chair, and I strategically angled my beach towel to get a better angle for a suntan so that my hands were not far from her little bare feet.

As we were chatting, waiting for the others to arrive, she finally positioned her feet in such a way that they were lifted a bit off the ground, except for the heels. Her bare soles, then, were inches from my hands! I was so tempted to just reach down and tickle, but I didn't have the nerve to do it. Instead, I decided to pretend that there was a bug on her sole, so I looked at the bottom of her foot and said, "Hold still." I then sort of pinched her sole quickly with my thumb and forefinger, as if to squish the bug.

Lynda twitched her little foot considerably! She didn't giggle, but she certainly reacted to the touch, even though I had warned her. Clearly, a ticklish little bitch she was! She asked, "What was it?"

I said, "A bug. Did it bite you?"

She said, "No."

I then responded, "Oh, I thought it bit you because you jumped up so quickly. Why'd you jump?" She didn't respond and changed the subject. Rather than risk pursuing the matter, I dropped it, too. Aaaaah the mistakes of youth (I was about 19).

About five years later, I found myself at that same beach, in the fortunate position of being in the company of sister-in-law #2, Mary. Mary was almost as short and about as chubby as Lynda (neither of them were very heavy, but they both had some meat on their bones). But her feet were a bit more shapely (longer and narrower than Lynda's little stubs). We were discussing various topics, and I brought up the wonders of a good massage on the palms of the hands or the soles of the feet.

Of course, I had already positioned myself near Mary's bare soles, so that I could grab hold of them within the next two seconds, which I did. I began to trace my fingers along her soles, in a massaging sort of way. To my dismay, Mary's soles were not nearly as ticklish as Lynda's, though whenever I pinched a sensitive spot, her voice would heightened and she'd say, "Why are you doing that?" While saying that, she'd breaking into a wide smile. At one point, almost under her breath, Mary giggled, "Hee hee, I'm ticklish." It was soft, almost soft enough as if it was not meant to be heard by me.

But hear it I did. And though those two pairs of feet, Lynda's and Mary's, were and are, hard to get to, I had finally succeeded. My success was limited. Then again, who knows, someday...