Happy Spanksgiving, Aunt Katy!
(Published on Friday, December 5, 2003)
This story was submitted by Foot Man.

I never expected Thanksgiving to be such a treat this year. It's been quite some time since my last smackdown of Aunt Katy (Aunt Katy's Smackdown!), but, she was long overdue.  In case you're not aware, I grew up with my tickling fingers practically attached to my Aunt Katy's soles from age four to twenty-four. Our tickling sessions were kinda like an unspoken bond between us. She always wore shoes that provided me easy access to her soles and she would inconspicuously tease me with her foot and shoeplay from time to time. She would always feign shock and protest, but, secretly I think she enjoyed me being on her feet just as much as I loved being on them.

When I got married some years ago, it appeared that our tickle-bond had been broken because my attention was suddenly diverted to another. I believe that my Aunt Katy sees my wife as a rival for my affections, even if it is just the footplay. She knows my deep passion for a woman's feet and, in my mind, I think that she feels that my foot affections should be reserved for her only. Let me tell you what happened.

Shortly after I arrived over to my cousin's house for Thanksgiving dinner Aunt Katy made her arrival. A huge smile crossed her face when I met her at the door. "Hey, Baby!" She exclaimed. "It's been a while.  Oh my, look at those muscles; have you been working out?"

I nodded and gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. She was absolutely stunning for  her fifty-one years of age. She wore a long, loose and flowing red dress that hung just below the knees. She was adorned in white pearls and she was wearing red sling-backs with pointed toes. Her diamond ankle bracelet was the perfect accent. She kissed and held both of my offspring, and she hugged my wife and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

Things began to heat up when she noticed that my wife was wearing a pair of sleek thong high-heeled slides which accentuated her dainty size 8.5 feet and her pink metallic toenail polish. I could literally see her jaw drop, for she knew how much I CRAVED slides and mules of any kind. Her territory had been violated. She immediately put my daughter down on the floor and hiked her left foot up behind her to release the sling of her shoe from her heel. She repeated with the right foot. I saw her look over her shoulder directly at me as she replaced her right foot back in its original position on the floor. She had this sort of smug, satisfied look on her face as she watched my eyes follow her foot to the floor. She rubbed my head as she sauntered her way into the kitchen to greet the rest of the family.

I knew what she was up to. I knew all too well. She was competing for my foot affections again. Something like this happened a few years ago when we visited her house,but that's another story. The somewhat muffled sound of her shoe spanking the soles of her feet brought in a rush of emotion. She stopped at the bar to talk to my uncle for a brief moment. Her beautiful red shoe fell to the floor in a loud "clunk" as she released her soft barefoot from its clutches. She grasped the top of the shoe with her toes, lifted the shoe off the floor and let it fall again as she released it and fanned her toes open in a wicked spread. I was mesmerized and completely in awe. I couldn't move. DAMN HER! She was good. She was working me and I couldn't do anything about it. From that moment I knew I had to have her feet in my hands, and perhaps my mouth that night without fail ... but, how?  She continued her subtle foot teases on into the night. I felt the night slipping away from me and then horror ...

"Wow, I love your shoes." Aunt Katy complimented my wife. "You have such beautiful feet. You really take care of them, don't you?" My wife nodded and looked over at me with a smile. Aunt Katy looked my way also with a devilish grin, her shoe dangling dangerously from the tip of her toes as she talked with her legs crossed. She was driving me INSANE. "I bet your husband makes sure that you keep those feet looking presentable, huh?"

She shot me another look and continued on with her line of embarrassing conversation. "Honey, do you remember how you used to just love my feet when you were younger. You were pure HELL on my feet the way you used to just tickle and paw at them." She chuckled, dropped her shoe to the floor, and focused her gaze on her own toes as she fanned them open to draw attention. "I bet your cute little feet have his fingerprints all over them, huh?" My wife smiled, nodded, and engaged her in conversation. I left the room. I couldn't take it. Boy, she was MINE . ALL MINE when I could get her alone.

My opportunity came when she went to use the bathroom in my cousin's house. The toilet in the guest bath was broken, so she had to use the one in the master bedroom, which was toward the rear of the house. I watched her disappear from the den and I waited a few minutes before I went back to wait on her. I heard the toilet flush and I caught her in the hallway. I stopped her by putting both hands on her shoulders. "Let me look at you. It's been quite a while," I said as I turned her around facing forward toward the bedroom.

She giggled and asked me what I was doing. I ignored her as I wrapped my arm around her midsection and pulled her close to me against my body. The back of her head was resting on my shoulder as I walked her back toward the bedroom. I knelt down and brushed the hair from her ear and planted my lips against it. I whispered, "Sounds like you want to take a trip down memory lane, huh? I'm gonna tickle the SHIT out of you when we get to the bedroom ... for old time's sake."

She squealed in shock and struggled to break free from my grip. When she realized that she was no match for my strength, she began to giggle uncontrollably. "Don't you dare ... " She began, but I cut her sentence with a quick finger jab to her side. She squealed again and almost fell from my grasp. I caught her, pulled her up, and continued marching her to the back room. I closed the door behind us, turned her around to face me, forced her against the wall and put my shoulder into her waist. I lifted her off the floor and let her feet dangle. She kept her soles close to her shoes to avoid my prying fingers to no avail. I wedged my spidering fingers into her shoes and raked her soles until she kicked both shoes to the floor.  She was literally marching in mid-air. My fingers never left her soles as she raised and lowered each foot in an alternating pattern.

She was breathing heavy and trying to retain her composure in order to keep the others from hearing the commotion. I have to commend her on the fine job she was doing to keep quiet, but her silent giggles were like a symphony to my ears. She began pounding and scraping my back with her fingernails. She even tried tickling my sides, but I wouldn't let up. I was still struggling with her kicking feet as I back away from the wall.

I needed  a more secure position. I threw her down on my cousin's bed and quickly laid across her calves with her soles exposed just underneath me. She was lying on her stomach with her toes hanging off the edge of the bed. I dug into the underside of her writhing bare toes as she threw her head back and let out a piercing gasp followed by a loud moan and some begging and pleading. She must have called my name 78 times as I raked her soles with my fingers. The pace was fast and furious as I worked my way from her heels to her toes. At one point I removed her toering and tickled her arches with it. It was mass hysteria. I thought I was going to have to pause to let her up for air. No chance. I was in a state of total ecstacy. I was caught up.

I began gnawing on her rough heels with my teeth and I nibbled my way down to her toes darting my tongue in between each one as I continued scraping her arches. Her hair was a total wreck. We were both breathing heavily by this point. I was totally exhausted, but I wanted more and more of her feet. I finally let her up. Her eyes were wide. She fixed her dress, punched me in the shoulder as she shot me wicked grin, and she disappeared into the bathroom. When she reappeared, she ran her hand in my hair, kissed my cheek with a broad smile and said, "Happy Thanksgiving, Honey."

She took my hand and I stood with her as she slipped her feet back into the shoes that lay lifeless on the floor next to the wall. I listened to the sole-spanking sound as we both walked down the hallway to meet the others. We were only gone for a short time, but, it seemed like an eternity. I got emotionally excited everytime she looked across the dinner table at me and smiled widely when she caught me smelling my fingers and curling my lip up to my nose. GOD, I loved the way her feet smelled! I can't wait to see her again at Christmas!

FootMan!