Tickle-Torturing Stinky Feet
(Published on Sunday, January 19, 2003)
This story was submitted anonymously.

When I attended a Midwest college in the mid to late 80’s, I took a girl to a fraternity date party we had.  We had a pretty good time, and hit it off pretty well.  After the party, we went to a few of the local bars, and finally made our way back to her place around 1:00 a.m.  Her roommate was gone for the weekend, so we had the place to ourselves.

She turned on the TV, lay down on the couch in the living room on her stomach and told me to make myself at home.  I was trying to find a way of getting her shoes off so that I could see her feet.  I went for the old “massage your feet” routine.

She said, “Oh, no,” and waved her hand in front of her nose, and said, “I have a problem with foot odor.”

She was wearing a sweater and turtleneck, jeans, and black flats with dark suntan nylons.

I said, “Oh, don’t worry about it,” and sat on the back of her calves.

She begged me not to, but I took off her shoes. Her feet really WERE stinky. I began to massage her toes, and she said, “Please put them back onnnnaahhhhhaaaa,” as I worked each toe individually.

“Are we a little ticklish?” I asked.

She said, “VERRRRY!”

I will never forget the look of her sweaty, stinky, nylon soles as I descended upon them. I said, “Well in that case…” and began raking my fingernails up and down her feet, from her heels to the tips of her big toes, back and forth. Every rake caused her legs to thrash under me like she was being electrocuted. The maniacal laughter then erupted from her, and I thought it would cause her neighbors to call the police, but I couldn’t stop.

Her feet were so wet in the nylons and smelled like a combination of vinegar and Frito chips. I couldn’t help myself.  I told her I was going to “tickle the stinkies out of her feet.” I played the “gitchy gitchy goo” and “this little stinky piggie” games,  each of which caused her to laugh even harder.

For anyone else, the smell would have been overwhelming.  I kept tickling though, for probably about three minutes, until she finally screamed, “I’m gonna pee my pants!”

I finally let up. She told me that her feet had not been tickled in years, as she NEVER took off her shoes around anyone. She told me if I didn’t mind the smell, I could massage them anytime I wanted, but no tickling. She said it was the most unbearable torture she had ever endured.

Every time I saw her on campus after that, I would make a wicked grin and take my index finger and make a tickling motion in the air at her, and she would laugh her head off and say, “No way!”

I never did tickle her after that night, but what a memory!