The Ticklish Bitch #16
(Posted on Sunday, July 4, 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.

Continuing with memories of my ticklish cousins, (The Ticklish Bitch #s 13 and 15), I turn to Ileen, the middle sister. The hottest of the three, and the most bombastic and confident. Ileen was quite a knockout, and although we are cousins, we'd historically flirt with one another. During our college years, she being about two years older than me, we both lived with our parents.

One day, Ileen came home looking drop-dead gorgeous. Her tight, shapely body decorated in black, from head to toe. She slipped off her boots and lay on the couch. I was sitting on the other end. To my delight, she had little fuzzballs on her black socks. Again to my delight, she said, "Take them off." She basically shoved her feet into my hands.

I didn't even have to try to tickle her. Just the act of trying to lift a fuzzball from her stockinged sole got her to giggle and squirm. She always had very very ticklish feet, and still does. Ileen was never one for verbalizing her ticklishness. She'd rarely use the words tickle or ticklish. But we both knew that it was so obvious. She kept giggling and saying, "Stop!" She'd remove her feet. I kept promising that I'd do it gently. She kept returning her feet onto my lap and we'd go through it again.

I made her giggle by tickling those sexy little feet a few times over the course of a couple of minutes that day. Good thing I went over to her house that day! Another great memory.

Onto a recent Ileen memory: I visited her in her own home. She's married with kids now. She was a bit depressed about something. Again, laying on the couch, she wore a pair of white socks. I was sitting on the floor of the couch with my head literally inches from her feet. I saidm, "Come on, smile."

She made a forced, phony smile, and again I said, "Coooooome on......" I gave gave her stockinged sole a little tickle. She immediately broke into a huge smile and with her voice quivering and cracking, she said, "Stop it!" Clearly, she was getting out of control. Good to know that after all these years, she's still as ticklish as ever. On the feet, anyway