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Kate and I always had wonderful times together at Christmas. We typically spent Christmas Eve Day shopping, sledding, and hanging out at our grandmother's house decorating the family Christmas tree. Amidst these holiday activities, I always found opportunities to tickle my beautiful cousin.

At the time of this story, Kate and I were in our junior year of high school, and it was December 24th. Although I was essentially a young adult, I still had a childlike sense of enthusiasm about Christmas. I gleefully awoke before sunrise to make last minute preparations for the holidays.

Kate had been incredibly sweet about indulging my foot and tickling fetishes, especially after our vacation at the storm ravaged Belmont Hotel. She frequently allowed me access to her feet and also introduced me to a number of pretty girls at her school. I wanted to show my appreciation by giving her a special gift -- something that couldn't be purchased in a store.

Just a few weeks earlier, Kate mentioned that she yearned for the cookies our Aunt Gladys used to make for us at Christmas. Our beloved aunt died when we were ten years old, and no one ever successfully recreated her trademark sugar cookies. I knew Kate would be thrilled if I could make some, and I decided to try.

When I was only seven years old, Aunt Gladys spent a rainy Saturday afternoon teaching me how to make her famous cookies. I was pleasantly surprised that I could remember the high points of her instructions so many years later.

Within an hour, my mother's kitchen smelled exactly as it did the last time Aunt Gladys baked for us. The cookies turned out remarkably well. This was going to be Kate's first present from me, and I couldn't wait to see the look on her face.

I still needed additional presents for Kate, so I drove to the local shopping center. The beauty aisle featured an incredible assortment of lathering foot soaps, foot lotions, massage oils, and facial moisturizing creams. I selected a dozen items, mostly foot products. I also spotted adorable pink slippers and tossed a pair into my shopping cart.

My gifts for Kate had an obvious foot fetish theme, and I decided to balance things out by purchasing some of her favorite music and a football jersey dorm shirt with her favorite number on it. The customer service staff wrapped Kate's gifts in stylish holiday paper, and I delivered them to grandmother's house.  

Kate arrived
just before ten o'clock, and we ran to the living room like giddy children, eager to decorate the family Christmas tree.  We hung the lights and ornaments with the skill of seasoned professionals. Grandmother and our parents spent a few minutes admiring our work before returning to the kitchen to squabble about trivial holiday details like place settings and wrapping paper.

Grandmother's living room looked beautiful, and no further decorating was required. Kate began carefully arranging gifts beneath the tree.

" I bought you so many presents that you'll still be opening them on New Year's Eve," she giggled.

"I have some nice presents for you too," I replied while handing her an elegantly wrapped gift. "About a month ago, you said this was something you wanted."

Kate excitedly tore through the wrapping paper, but she looked disappointed when she discovered I'd given her a jar of cookies.

"Those aren't just any cookies," I said with a smile. "Try one."

Kate snatched a cookie from the jar and literally squealed as she took a bite.

"These are the cookies Aunt Gladys used to make!" she exclaimed. "I haven't had these in years. Where did you get them?"

"You can't buy these at the store Kate," I laughed. "I made them this morning."

"This means a lot to me," she said while hugging me. "I can tell you put a lot of thought and effort into this."

After devouring several cookies, Kate announced that she wanted to go sledding behind the house. I should have known better. She pelted me with snowballs during my first run down the hill, and several of them lodged inside my coat.

Kate was an accomplished snowball fighter, and she never gave me an opportunity to return fire. The onslaught continued as I made a run for grandmother's front door. My lovely cousin was right behind me, giggling the entire time.

As I stood in the front hallway removing my coat, Kate threw her arms around me and began tickling my sides. This seemed unusual because she'd never tried to tickle me before. I squirmed around and tried to get away.

"That was so sweet of you to bake cookies for me," she giggled while continuing her attack. "Now I want to give you one of your presents."

Kate practically dragged me to the living room and asked me to sit down. She joined me on the couch and handed me a present. I was thrilled to discover she'd given me a video game system I'd been talking about for months.

"Thanks Kate!" I said while leaning over to hug her.

This beautiful holiday moment was interrupted when Kate's mother entered the room.

"Hey you two!" she shouted. "It's time to start getting ready for church."

Throughout our childhood, Kate and I dreaded going to church on Christmas Eve. It always seemed like our priest was trying to set a record for the longest Christmas service. His typical holiday mass lasted almost four hours.

Kate and I understood the religious significance of Christmas, but we didn't share our parents' affinity for lengthy church services. During our early teens, we negotiated a deal. If we attended one of the shorter services during the day, our parents allowed us to skip the marathon evening mass. We usually chose an afternoon service that lasted less than an hour.

Neither of us was properly dressed for church. It only took me ten minutes to throw on a nice shirt, tie, and black pants. Kate, on the other hand, was in the bathroom so long I thought she was undergoing plastic surgery. She emerged forty minutes later looking absolutely gorgeous.

Kate's hair, makeup and nail polish were flawless, as if she'd just come from a salon. She was wearing a white sweater and black skirt, both of which accentuated her figure. She'd also put on sheer nylons and a pair of black pumps I'd helped her shop for during our summer vacation.

"Kate, you look fantastic!" I said.

"Thanks," she replied. "I appreciate the compliment, but I'm going to ask a small favor of you this evening."

"What?" I asked.

"Last year, I got dressed up for church and some creepy guy hit on me while I was in line for communion," she explained. "If that happens again, I want you to pretend you're my boyfriend."

"No problem," I assured her.

Honoring Kate's request would not be difficult. People often mistook us for a couple because we had such an affectionate demeanor toward each other.

Snow began to fall as Kate and I left grandmother's house. Heavy accumulations were expected, and I was glad we'd be getting home early. Driving on treacherous winter roads wasn't one of my favorite activities.

There were many cars in the church parking lot, and the sidewalk leading to the building was covered in snowy footprints. Kate and I weren't the only parishioners who'd chosen not to attend the lengthy evening mass.

We entered the church, and I immediately noticed that Kate was turning heads. Several wide-eyed men watched my cousin as she looked for a place to sit. One older gentleman who was staring at her received a sharp elbow in the shoulder from his wife.

Kate seemed aware of the attention being paid her, and I think it made her slightly uncomfortable. She asked if we could sit toward the back of the church where there were several rows of empty pews.

I laughed as a number of men peered over their shoulders, attempting to steal discreet glimpses of Kate. She responded by placing her arm around my shoulder, hoping to make us look like a couple.

"Haven't any of these guys seen a woman before?" she asked in a whisper.

"This is a small, conservative town," I explained. "Very few women here dress like you, and you're much prettier than most of them. That's why you stand out."

Kate thanked me for the compliment, and the mass began. The priest was terribly dull, and it would be fair to say he had the personality of dry toast. Four rows ahead of us, two elderly parishioners actually fell asleep.

The service droned on, and I could see that Kate was becoming bored. I was bored too. I thumbed through a prayer book, reset my watch several times, and used a copy of the parish newsletter to fashion a paper airplane.

My efforts to entertain myself were no defense against the drearily monotone sermon being piped through the church sound-system. I was in danger of falling asleep, until I noticed movement through the corner of my eye.

Kate was reflexively sliding her feet into and out of her shoes. Her ankles were sinuous and gracefully curved, and the delicate wrinkles of her silky arches were visible through her nylons. She caught me staring and decided to tease me.

While I pretended not to notice, Kate removed her shoes, wiggled her toes, and repeatedly arched her shapely feet. Their beguiling movements were literally driving me wild. I would have scooped them into my lap had we not been in church.

I became careless while enjoying my cousin's impromptu foot show. Instead of casually eyeing her movements, I was leaning forward with my mouth agape, staring down at her feet. It finally occurred to me that I was being rather obvious, and I looked up to find Kate smiling at me. She'd been watching me for several minutes.

Intense heat began to radiate from my head, and my face must have been a deep shade of purple. I was profoundly embarrassed. Kate, however, found the whole thing quite funny. She laughed, gave me a consoling pat on the back, and affectionately placed her head on my shoulder.

The priest announced it was time for communion. My cheeks were still completely flushed, and I felt rather self-conscious as I made my way to the front of the church. Kate was right beside me, and she continued to giggle about my reactions to her feet.

We received communion and quietly returned to our seats. There was a hymn, followed by a short prayer, and the mass ended.

The parish sidewalks were frosted with snow and ice, and Kate clung to me during our trek to the parking lot. She didn't make fun of me for ogling her feet in church, but the smirk on her face told me she was thinking about it. I tried to distract her by discussing our plans for the evening.

"We should have grandmother's house to ourselves for most of the night," I said. "What would you like to do?"

"I think we should finish exchanging gifts while the so-called grown-ups are gone," she suggested. "After that, we can just hang out."

"Sounds good to me," I responded.

Kate and I were hungry, and we knew things would be hectic at grandmother's house. Rather than battling our parents for control of the kitchen, we decided to have a restaurant meal on the way home.

Bellini's Pizzeria was the only local restaurant that remained open on Christmas Eve. Kate and I frequently dined there, and the food was always superb. We had our choice of seats and requested our favorite corner booth.

The waiter politely took our order and returned to the kitchen. He'd only been gone for a moment when Kate started to look uncomfortable. She awkwardly repositioned herself in the booth, and her shoeless feet suddenly appeared in my lap beneath the tablecloth.

"These shoes look like a million dollars, but they really hurt," she complained while showing me one of her pumps. "Would you rub my feet while we wait for our pizza?"

I hesitated to act on Kate's request, and that surprised her.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Well, I was hoping to give you a really long foot massage later," I sheepishly replied.

Kate covered her face with a napkin and laughed.

"It's okay sweetie," she giggled. "You can still give me one of your marathon spa-caliber foot massages after we get home. I'd love it."

That was all I needed to hear, and I began massaging Kate's nylon-clad feet with deep, soothing techniques. She sighed and leaned back in her seat, deeply relaxed.

Our pizza arrived, and it was a work of art -- pepperoni, three layers of farm-fresh cheese, and home-style tomato sauce on an authentic hand-tossed crust. The waiter also delivered a pitcher of premium root beer.

Kate offered to remove her feet from my lap, but I was eager to continue the massage. She smiled as I alternated between eating pizza and rubbing her feet.
My techniques seemed to influence her mood, and she became increasingly silly.

"You should have seen the look on your face when I took my shoes off in church," she giggled while pointing at me.

"Kate, what were you trying to do to me?" I asked.

"I was just having fun," she replied while gently wiggling her toes against my stomach. "You were mesmerized... it was really funny!"

Kate knew that I would never embarrass her by aggressively tickling her in a room full of people. She was teasing me, however, and I could no longer resist the urge to inflict some playful tickles.

I secured Kate's ankles with my left arm and methodically stroked her soles with a single fingernail. Her entire body jerked as if she'd received an electrical shock, but she managed not to burst out laughing.

Kate's face became increasingly red as I continued to tickle her feet. She was barely holding back the giggles, her body was shaking, and an involuntary smile was making its way across her face. She somehow managed to speak and quietly urged me to stop.

"He-he-he-he-he... please don't tickle... hoo-hoo-hoo... you'll embarrass me-hee-hee... ha-ha-ha-ha-ha," she whispered.

Kate had been wonderful about accepting my foot fetish. I truly didn't want to embarrass her, so I lightened my touch considerably. It didn't seem to make much difference.

The effects of my tickling were still quite pronounced. Kate was struggling to conceal her reactions from the other restaurant customers -- and she was quickly losing the battle. Her eyes were beginning to tear as she appealed to me one last time.

"Plee-hee-hee-ease stop... ha-ha-ha-ha-ha... tickles too-hoo-hoo much... he-he-he-he-he," she begged.

"Well, if I stop right now, do you promise to let me play with your bare feet when we get home?" I asked.

Kate was unable to speak, but she desperately nodded her response to my demands. I stopped tickling her, and she quickly withdrew her feet from my lap.

"You are terrible!" she exclaimed with a smile as she worked to locate her shoes under the table.

"As I recall, you were teasing me," I shot back. "Regardless, I plan to hold you to your promise."

Kate and I shared a few minutes of playful banter before leaving the restaurant. On our way home, we took a detour so we could admire the city Christmas lights. The town was frosted with snow and looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Back at grandmother's house, things were insane. Grandmother and our parents were scrambling to get ready for church, and they were running late. Kate and I retreated to the living room, hoping to stay out of their way.

We were enjoying the view of our beautifully illuminated Christmas tree when it suddenly went dark. I volunteered to examine the lights, but Kate stopped me.

"I'll get it," she said. "I used to be good at this when we were kids."

Kate crawled under the tree, seemingly unconcerned with her expensive clothes. By the time she reached the plug for the lights, only her feet were sticking out.

"Can you see the problem?" I asked.

"Yeah, we didn't have the lights plugged in firmly," she explained. "While we were decorating the tree, we jostled it, and the master set of lights became unplugged. Just to make sure this doesn't happen again, I'm going to unplug all of the lights and plug them in again."

The tree shook as Kate yanked on the various strings of lights.

"These plugs are so old they've become stiff," she grunted while struggling to plug in the lights. "I can do this, but it's going to take a few minutes."

Kate whistled a Christmas carol while working on the lights. She also began flexing her feet with enticing movements intended to get my attention.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Have you forgotten already?" she giggled. "I'm fixing the Christmas lights."

"You know what I'm talking about," I replied.

"No, I really don't," she answered in the most innocent tone she could muster.

Kate was doing her best to tease me with her wiggling feet. She went a step further by extending her left foot and pinching my nose with her toes. That was the last straw. I grasped her ankles and began tickling her feet.

"Foot monster... hee hee hee... if you don't want everyone to know about our foot fun... ha-ha-ha-ha-ha... you'd better be gentle... hee hee hee," she giggled.

Kate was right. If I tickled her aggressively, she would scream and draw unwanted attention to our activities. I couldn't risk that, so I continued stroking her soles with gentle techniques. Her reactions were delightful.

The nylons seemed to make Kate more ticklish than usual, and my lightest touches caused her to giggle heartily. Unfortunately, our parents were approaching, and I had to stop.

Kate resumed work on the lights, and I pretended to assist her. Our parents entered the room, chattering about last minute holiday errands. They paid us no attention and quickly returned to the kitchen.

The Christmas tree sprang to life as Kate finished connecting the final strand of lights. I was complimenting her work when she pinched my nose with her toes again.

"Thanks foot monster," she giggled.

Kate was satisfied that she'd teased me to my breaking point, and she left the room to change her clothes. She returned wearing a cute sweatshirt, jeans, and adorable white socks. I was dying to tickle her, but I had to wait until we were alone.

Time seemed to stand still as I waited for our family to leave for church. Grandmother lost her purse, Kate's father couldn't find his jacket, and my dad misplaced his car keys. This was typical.

Grandmother and our parents never did anything in an organized fashion. Twenty long minutes passed before they were finally ready to leave. Kate's mom stopped to talk with us on her way out the door.

"The mass probably won't end until midnight," she explained. "After church we're going to the reception, so we won't be home until very late."

Our church always hosted a midnight reception after the lengthy Christmas Eve mass. Half of the people in town would gather there for coffee, conversation, and homemade pie. The last time Kate and I attended this event, we didn't get home until two o'clock in the morning.

It seemed likely that grandmother and our parents would be gone for several hours. I saw this as a golden opportunity for foot fetish and tickling fun with my beautiful cousin.

The churchgoers finally left the house, but I knew they might return if they'd forgotten something. I stood at the living room window and watched as their car pulled out of grandmother's driveway. When they reached the intersection at the end of the street, I knew they wouldn't be back.

I turned to look at Kate, and she backed away from me. We'd played this game of "tickle chase" many times as children, and she knew what was coming.  When I tried to approach her, she giggled and took off running.

Kate ran laps around the dining room table as I chased her. She was almost within reach, until she veered off and darted toward the kitchen. I finally caught up with her in grandmother's bedroom. She squealed and giggled as I threw my arms around her waist, tickled her sides, and gently tossed her onto the bed.

A playful wrestling match ensued as I struggled to capture Kate's wildly kicking legs and remove her socks. Her feet were beautiful beyond words, and I spent a few minutes caressing them as she wiggled her toes and giggled nervously.

Realizing that she was helpless and about to be tickled, Kate clenched the sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white. I paused for a moment, allowing her the chance to take a few long, deep breaths. With her ankles firmly gripped under my left arm, I used my right hand to tickle both of her soles aggressively.

"Cootchy cootchy coo!" I gleefully teased as Kate thrashed all over the bed.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… MY GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD IT TEEEEHEEHEEKLES!" Kate screamed. “GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD NONONONONO… PLEEE-HEE-HEEZE S-STOP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA… IT TEEEEHEEHEEKLES… HAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Oh, come on, we’ve just gotten started,” I replied. “Besides, you’ve been teasing me all night. Tickle tickle tickle!”

Kate’s eyes widened and involuntary laughter continued to pour from her mouth as I dug into the soles of her feet with wildly scribbling fingers.

"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… ST-HA-HA-HA-P… HAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA,” Kate pleaded. “NONONOHAHAHA … HAHAHAHAHAHAA… IT TEEEEHEEHEEKLES… HAHAHAHAHA!”

“I think if I pushed you just a little bit harder, your voice could go a full octave higher,” I said in a sarcastic tone. “Let’s see what happens when I tickle your arches and the spaces between your toes really hard.”

With that, I applied my most vicious techniques to Kate’s velvety soft feet. As predicted, she let out a high-pitched, ear-piercing shriek that only Mariah Carey could duplicate.

“HAHAHAHA… TOO MUCH… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA… PLEEEEEHEEE-HEEEEZE… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Kate begged through hysterical laughter. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA… IT TEEEHEEHEEKLES TOO MUCH… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… PLEEEEEHEEE-HEEEEZE ST-HAA-HA-HAP!”

Kate was completely hysterical, and I didn’t want to cross the line between harmless fun and outright cruelty.

“Okay…I don’t want you to hate me, but I’m having too much fun to stop yet,” I explained in a teasing voice. “I’ll try to be more gentle.”

Kate didn’t seem the least bit reassured. She continued to giggle and fidget as I lightly drew circular patterns across the soles of her feet, including several passes up and down her arches.

"Hee hee hee hee hee... oooooh gaaaawwwd... you're still tickling me-hee-hee… ha-ha-ha,” Kate said through her giggles.

“Silly, of course I’m still tickling you,” I replied sarcastically.

I punctuated my teasing by rapidly stroking both of Kate’s arches simultaneously. Kate threw her head back and another hail of giggles poured from her mouth.

“HAHAHAHA…hoo-hoo-hoo…if you don’t stop I’ll pee…hahahahaha!" Kate laughed. "Ha-ha-ha… pleeeheeheeeze stop… hee-hee-hee!”

“Alright, but there’s one more thing I have to do first,” I teased. "This little piggy went to market, and this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, and this little piggy had none, and this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home... cootchy cootchy coo!!!"

Kate’s toes wiggled and she wildly flexed her feet. Each individual toe seemed like it was trying to get away from my tickling fingers.

"GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD NO-HOO-HOO!” Kate screamed. “S-STOP… HOHOHO… I’LL DO ANYTHING… HAHAHAHAHA… DONT! IT TICKLES! HAHAHAHAHA… S-STOP!"

”If you agree to go barefoot for the rest of the evening, I’ll stop tickling you now,” I explained.

Kate was laughing too hard to speak, but she nodded her agreement to my terms. I immediately stopped tickling her, but she continued to giggle for several minutes. When she finally pulled herself together, her entire demeanor changed, and she stared at me with a mischievous smile.

"I've been thinking about something," Kate said. "Who decided that you always get to tickle me?"

I didn't have a good answer for her, and I remained quiet.

"I've been a very good sport about letting you tickle me all of these years,” Kate explained. “Now I think it's my turn to do the tickling," she explained.

Kate wasn't angry with me. She was simply being playful, and also seemed a little fascinated. In all of our years of playing together, I had always been the tickler. Kate seemed intrigued with the idea of reversing roles.

She asked me to lie down on our grandmother's bed. Once I was in position, she straddled my waist and raised my shirt. She also knelt on my hands so I wouldn't simply overpower her and pull away.

I was a little bit apprehensive about this process. Very few people had ever tickled me, and most of them weren't any good at it. As such, I didn't really know what this would feel like, and I had no idea what my reaction would be.

Kate sensed my nervousness and loved it. I tickled her countless times without showing any mercy, and now it was her turn. As I looked up at her, Kate wiggled her fingers over my stomach.

"Are you ready?" she asked with a huge grin on her face.

Before I could answer, Kate plunged her wiggling fingers into my stomach with a bread-kneading motion. I think tickling skills must be inherited, because Kate quickly located ticklish spots I didn’t know I had. Kate was having a wonderful time forcing involuntary laughter from me. She intensified her techniques while simultaneously teasing me.

"My goodness you’re ticklish,” Kate said in a playful voice. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

Kate punctuated her comments by digging in even harder. The tickling was driving me completely out of my mind, and a chorus of involuntary laughter was pouring from my mouth.

"I can see why you like to be the tickler," Kate said. "This really is fun. Let me make you laugh foot monster!”

Somehow, Kate managed to make the tickling even more intense, and she persisted for at least two minutes. I was actually struggling to breathe, and Kate decided to be merciful.

"Relax,” Kate said in a soothing voice. “I’m not ready to stop yet, but I’ll be a little more gentle.”

Almost immediately, Kate eased up, and the tickling became less torturous. Although I was still giggling, Kate could tell that I was more relaxed.

"That’s better," she said. "How does that feel?”

“HAHAHA… um… hee hee hee… it tickles… ha-ha,” I replied in a giggly voice.

"Good," Kate said with a sinister grin. "It’s supposed to.”

Over the next few minutes, Kate stroked, poked, and gently kneaded my stomach. Throughout the process, I didn’t stop giggling, and I could tell that Kate thoroughly enjoyed my reactions. However, she also appeared concerned about my breathing, and she didn’t want to overtax me.

"I can’t believe how ticklish you are,” Kate said in a gleeful voice. “I'm really having fun, but I should stop."

"Um… he-he-he-he-he... I'm okay... ha-ha-ha... you're not hurting me... he-he-he," I managed while giggling.

This was the first time anyone had ever tickled me like this, and I was actually having fun.

I really didn't want Kate to stop, and she picked up on that. She leaned over me so that our noses were almost touching and started giggling.

"Does someone like being tickled?" Kate asked in a silly voice.

I was too embarrassed to answer.

"Since you won’t answer me, I think I should continue,” Kate teased. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

Kate continued ticking my stomach while cooing at me. For the better part of five minutes she had me giggling like a child. Suddenly her attention shifted. The next thing I knew, my feet were in her lap and she was removing my socks.

“You’ve tickled my feet hundreds of times,” Kate explained. “I think I deserve the chance to tickle your feet once.”

Instead of tickling me, Kate spent a few minutes caressing my feet. Then she looked at me with a growing smile.

“Wow… you don’t have ugly guy feet,” Kate chuckled.

I looked at Kate with a shocked expression, and she quickly clarified that she didn’t have a foot fetish. However, her past several boyfriends had ugly feet (scraggly nails, ugly calluses, and so on). She was a little surprised to find my feet so well maintained.

Kate seemed slightly vengeful as she tickled my feet, and her first techniques were very aggressive. I squealed loudly and yanked my feet from her grasp.

“If you keep pulling away like that, you’ll never see my feet again,” she mockingly threatened. “Now get back here.”

Kate knew that was the leverage she needed, and I returned my feet to her lap. She immediately resumed her most intense techniques, and I could hardly sit still. As she had done with my stomach, Kate decided to use a gentler touch.

"Fine, you big ticklish baby,” Kate laughed. “I’ll keep things gentle. Does this still tickle?”

"He-he-he... yes… ha-ha-ha... you're tickling me... ha-ha-ha-ha-ha," I replied.

"Good," Kate said. " Cootchy cootchy coo!”

The tickling went on for at least ten minutes, and Kate’s techniques were relatively gentle.

Every so often she would intensify things when she wasn’t satisfied with my reactions.

While tickling me, Kate started talking about our childhood and all of the fun times we had together growing up. Eventually, she seemed to get lost in our conversation, and her tickling techniques took on an absent-minded quality. She was lazily dragging her fingernails all over my feet, just enough to tickle. Moments later, she stopped tickling me and put my socks back on.

“Come on,” Kate said. “We’ve still got at least three hours before everyone gets home. Let’s go open some presents.”

We made our way to the living room, giggling as we went. Both of us were in a silly mood, and opening presents on Christmas Eve was always fun.

For the better part of ten minutes, we exchanged gifts. Kate gave me some very nice clothes, a good selection of music, a new football, and a new basketball. I remember feeling a little awkward because Kate obviously spent more money than I did, but she assured me that it didn’t matter.

As she opened her presents from me, Kate noticed the disproportionate amount of foot products I’d bought for her. She looked at me and started laughing.

“Should I be expecting a few foot massages during the holidays?” Kate asked sarcastically.

“That’s the idea,” I replied.

Kate didn’t require any convincing. She extended her feet, playfully wiggled her toes, and handed me the pile of foot massage supplies I had given her. I wanted to start by soaking Kate’s feet, but my grandmother had expensive wood floors, and I couldn’t afford any spills or mishaps. Since we had the house to ourselves, I decided to use the kitchen sink.

I filled the sink with warm water and a generous amount of the richly lathering foot soap I gave Kate for Christmas. She laughed as I picked her up, set her down on the counter, and placed her feet in the sink.

“The last spa I went to didn’t go to this much trouble,” Kate laughed as she wiggled her toes in the water. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“I was planning to wash your feet and give you a nice long foot massage while we hang out,” I replied.

“You always wash my feet,” Kate said with a smile. “Do they stink?”

“Not at all… I just like washing your feet,” I explained. “There’s something about holding your bare feet in the water and caressing them with lather… it’s fun.”

 

Kate reached down and patted me on the head.

“You really are strange but you’re also very sweet and I love being pampered,” she laughed. “Knock yourself out.”

Both of us laughed as I worked Kate’s feet into a luxurious lather that began to fill the sink. She was enjoying the process and repeatedly flexed and wiggled her feet, causing soapsuds to squirt from between her toes.

The site of Kate’s beautifully painted toenails peeking out from beneath the soapsuds was nothing short of irresistible. I applied additional lather to Kate’s feet and started massaging her toes.

“That feels so good,” Kate said in a relaxed voice. “You just keep getting better at this.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” I replied. “Kelly is coming tomorrow, and I want to make sure my techniques are solid.”

“Trust me, she’ll love this,” Kate said while flexing her feet.

For those of you who didn’t see my previous story, Kelly was Kate’s best friend. Kate introduced me to her after our weekend at the Belmont Hotel. Kelly and I had become very good friends, which worked out well for me.

For starters, Kelly was very flirtatious and affectionate, so I was able to manage plenty of hugs, kisses, and snuggling. Additionally, she loved having attention paid to her feet (massages were her favorite, but she also let me kiss and tickle her feet). Kate briefed Kelly about my foot fetish history before we met, so foot-play was part of our relationship from the day we met.

A few days before Christmas, Kelly told me that she had annoying relatives coming to her house after lunch on Christmas Day. She desperately wanted an excuse to leave her parents’ house before these dreaded houseguests arrived. I invited her to join Kate and me at our grandmother’s house, and she accepted.

“Just one question foot monster,” Kate giggled as she splashed her feet in the sink. “Grandmother’s house is going to be a zoo tomorrow. How are you going to find the privacy you need for having foot-fun with Kelly?”

“I’ve got a plan,” I replied in an exaggerated, sinister voice.

“I won’t even ask,” Kate replied while laughing and burying her face in her hands.

For more than twenty minutes, I continued washing Kate’s feet, employing a nice array of massage techniques. She would have been content to let me wash her feet for another hour, but the sink was rapidly filling with soapsuds, and I was afraid it would overflow.

I carefully emptied the sink and proceeded to rinse Kate’s feet. This took a few minutes because they were covered in profuse quantities of richly foaming lather. When I was finished, I brought Kate’s feet to my nose and inhaled deeply.

“Absolutely wonderful,” I said in a silly voice. “They smell like flowers.”

Kate found my actions quite funny and doubled over laughing. Moments later, I carried her to the living room, propped her feet up with pillows and helped her get comfortable on the couch. Then I raced to the kitchen and came back with a serving tray full of sodas and snacks. Kate helped herself and urged me to begin the foot massage.

I grabbed the richest of the foot lotions and went to work on Kate’s arches, using her favorite massage techniques. Before long, I could see Kate becoming drowsily relaxed, and she also became noticeably less talkative. During the next forty-five minutes, she fell asleep at least four times. My instincts told me this would be a good time to stop for the evening.

Kate was completely limp and looked as if she’d received surgical sedation. Instead of attempting to wake her, I carried her to the bed in the guest room and tucked her in. Throughout the process, she never woke up.

With Kate tucked into bed for the evening, I decided to put away all of my foot massage supplies and clean the living room and kitchen. It took me fifteen minutes to put everything away and wash the sink. I also burned some heavily scented Christmas candles to cover up the scent of massage products that was wafting through the room. Satisfied that any evidence of my foot fetish activities with Kate had been erased, I went to bed in the other spare bedroom.

Christmas morning arrived, and Kate and I awoke before anyone else. We met in the hallway outside of the bathroom after I showered. Kate looked at me for a moment and started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“It always amazes me,” Kate giggled. “Whenever you give me one of those marathon foot massages, my feet still feel wonderful the following morning.”

Kate gave me a hug and stepped into the bathroom. I continued on my way to the living room. Kate joined me about twenty minutes later, and we organized all of the presents under the Christmas tree.

Within an hour, everyone else woke up, and we spent nearly two hours opening presents. When we were finished, it was time to prepare for lunch. Grandmother’s house quickly filled with the wonderful smell of home-cooked food.

On the whole, Christmas Day turned out to be fun. For me, there was only one awkward part… my foot fetish was driving me crazy. Kate knew me well enough to recognize the symptoms, and she couldn’t resist the urge to tease me with another of her foot wiggling exhibitions. Wherever I went, she positioned herself in my field of vision, slipped her shoes off, and flexed her feet at me.

For the record, Kate was not trying to be cruel… she was simply being playful. With our family around, there was no way I could retaliate. Eventually, I reached a point where I just couldn’t take anymore.

There was no privacy to be had at grandmother’s place, so I came up with an excuse to get Kate out of the house. I convinced our family that Kate and I should run to the convenience store and buy more milk before lunch. Our parents thought it was a good idea, and Kate never suspected a thing.

Kate and I made conversation while driving to the Stop-N-Go. The store was almost empty, and it only took a few minutes to buy two gallons of milk. On the way back to grandmother’s house, I made a detour.

“Where are we going?” Kate asked.

“We’re just going to run one more errand,” I replied in the most casual voice I could muster.

Kate accepted my answer, but she looked confused when I pulled in behind the abandoned foundry on the edge of town.

“What are we doing here?” she asked.

Instead of answering Kate, I pressed a button and moved the front seat back as far as it would go. Kate watched me with a confused look on her face, completely unaware of my intentions. I seized the opportunity to take her by surprise.

With lightning quickness, I reached down and grabbed Kate’s ankles. She immediately thrashed about, fighting to break free, but my grip was too strong. Knowing that Kate’s feet were secure, I playfully removed her shoes and tossed them into the back seat.

Kate was wearing the most adorable white cotton socks I have ever seen, and she frantically wiggled her feet while begging me not to tickle her. As she continued to plead her case, I slowly removed her socks. Once Kate was barefoot, I spent a few minutes playing with her toes. I methodically stroked every side of each toe, one by one. Throughout the process, Kate squirmed, giggled, and her eyes became teary.

“Hee hee hee… please foot monster… hehehehehehehe.... that tickles!” Kate said.

“That’s the idea,” I explained in a sinister tone. “You spent the bulk of the morning teasing me with your feet! It’s only fair that I get to tickle you.”

“Noooo… hee hee hee....pleeeease.... it tickles… hehehehehehehe.... I was only teasing… ha-ha-ha,” Kate pleaded.

“Sorry, but I’m going to have to step things up a bit,” I explained. “We can’t sit here all day. They’re expecting us for lunch.”

Using my deepest and firmest techniques, I wiggled my fingers into Kate’s arches and soles. She immediately responded by flopping wildly on the seat while screaming with involuntary laughter.

"HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA… STAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHHAHAAAAAP… DON’T TICKLE… AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Kate screamed. "PLEEEEEHEEE HEE HEEEEZE... TEEEEHEEKLES… HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!

STAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHHAHAAAAAP! AAAAAAAAAIEEEEEEEEEE! STAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHHAHAAAAAP! STAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHHAHAAAAAP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

As much as I enjoyed tickling Kate, I felt guilty about torturing her. I continued the tickling, but with substantially milder techniques.

"Hee hee hee... pleeease staaahahahahap tickling me-hee!" Kate giggled.

“I’ll only stop if you agree to let me sit here and play with your feet!” I teased.

“HAHAHA… it’s a deal… hee hee hee… HAHAHA… now stop… hee hee hee,” Kate squealed.

I maintained my grip on Kate’s feet but stopped tickling her. While Kate worked to catch her breath, I contentedly played with her toes.

“You monster!” Kate exclaimed as she smiled and slapped my back. “That was torture!

“It was also a lot of fun,” I replied sarcastically while continuing to fondle Kate’s feet.

Kate was in good spirits, and for the next twenty minutes, I sat there caressing her feet and playing with her toes. She never complained, but she did remind me that we were overdue at grandmother’s house. I finally conceded that we needed to get going, and I helped Kate retrieve her shoes and socks.

On the way back to grandmother’s house, Kate laughed and playfully punched me in the shoulder several times. She wasn’t angry, but I suspected she might want to pay me back for torturing her. When we got inside, she had a golden opportunity.

As we walked into the kitchen, Kate’s parents asked why we were gone for so long. I was completely paranoid that our family would learn of my foot fetish, and my heart was in my throat. Kate looked at me with a sly smile on her face, and she waited a few moments before answering her parents.

“The store was really busy,” Kate said. “Sorry it took us so long.”

While I let out a sigh of relief, Kate walked over to me, winked, and whispered in my ear.

“You are my best friend,” she said. “I would never out you in front of the family like that… but it was fun watching you sweat.”

I was genuinely touched by Kate’s comments, and I joined her in the living room while we waited for lunch to be served. We talked for several minutes, and I was enjoying Kate’s company, but I also found myself becoming anxious.

“You look like you’ve got ants in your pants,” Kate laughed. “You just can’t wait until Kelly gets here.”

“How could you tell?” I asked.

“It’s really obvious,” Kate giggled. “Just relax. She’ll be here before you know it.”

I tried to follow Kate’s advice, but it was difficult. Throughout lunch, I repeatedly stared at the clock, and it seemed like time was standing still.

At two o’clock, Kelly finally arrived. When I saw her approaching the house, my jaw hit the floor. Kelly was wearing a gorgeous sweater, an incredible skirt, sheer black nylons, and a pair of black pumps. Her beautiful blonde hair was fluttering in the breeze, and her lipstick and makeup were flawless.

I greeted Kelly at the door with a hug that must have looked like a quarterback sack. She found my enthusiasm about her arrival quite funny, and she laughed hysterically while hugging me at the front door.

Moments later, Kate rushed to join us, and the three of us decided to hang out in the living room. We had a wonderful time talking, playing video games, and sharing my grandmother’s homemade pastries.

While we sat in front of the TV, Kelly disposed of her pumps. Through her nylons, I could make out the intricate wrinkles on the soles of her feet. I was completely distracted, and my performance in the video game quickly and uncharacteristically deteriorated. Kelly noticed that I was staring down at her feet instead of looking at the TV. She immediately threw her arm around my shoulder while smiling broadly.

“Before I go home, I promise you can give me one of your patented foot massages,” Kelly said in a giggly voice. “Meanwhile, let’s just stay here and visit with Kate.”

I honored Kelly’s request, but throughout our conversation, I couldn’t stop thinking about her feet. Grandmother’s house was now filled with people, and there was never an opportunity for me to be alone with Kelly. It got to be seven o’clock in the evening, and I think Kelly assumed that any foot-related activities would have to be postponed. What she didn’t know was that I had a backup plan.

One mile from grandmother’s house, there was a community ice-skating rink with a cozy warming house. Very few people skated there after dark. It was Christmas, the temperature outside would best be described as Arctic, and I knew we would have the place to ourselves.

During high school, I worked part-time for the local parks & recreation department. At the risk of sounding obsessed, I had volunteered to lock up the warming house on Christmas Day so that I would have a place to take Kelly if we couldn’t find privacy at grandmother’s house. The time had come to put my plan into action, and I asked Kelly if she’d like to go out. This technically wasn’t a date, and I didn’t feel right about leaving Kate behind, so I invited her as well.

At the last minute, it occurred to me that I needed Kelly to change her clothes. She was wearing nylons, and my plans required her to be barefoot. I convinced her that a skirt and nylons simply wouldn’t be good attire because of the cold, and Kate loaned her some clothes. Moments later, Kelly stepped out of the bathroom in Kate’s best pair of jeans and a familiar pair of white canvas sneakers.

“Where can we go, and what is there to do?” Kelly asked. “It’s freezing outside, and nothing is open.”

“You’ll see,” I replied.

Both girls looked at me with puzzled expressions, but they put on their coats and we walked to the car. For ten or fifteen minutes, I drove around town pointing out all of the businesses that were closed. Then I drove us to the ice skating rink. As predicted, the place was deserted.

When Kate and Kelly realized that I was leading them to a warming house, they thought I was crazy. The warming houses at other nearby skating rinks were little better than musty shacks with wood-burning stoves. This place, however, was quite different.

A local banker donated the warming house to the community. He was a huge fan of youth sports, especially hockey. He wanted this to be the best warming house in the area, and he spared no expense in building it. Although the building was not very large, it was toasty warm, well furnished, and even had a small bathroom.

“This place is nice, but what are we doing here?” Kelly asked.

In response to Kelly’s question, I reached into my duffel bag and produced an arsenal of foot massage products. Kelly started laughing when she realized I had brought her to this unusual venue to get her alone for some foot fun. Nonetheless, she was agreeable to my plans. Kate jokingly commented that she felt left out, and I promised her a foot massage too.

Expecting to be pampered, Kate and Kelly willingly removed their shoes and socks and sat down on a comfortable bench. They didn’t realize that I was in the mood to tickle. With both girls barefoot, I quickly locked their shoes and socks in the supply closet. They immediately knew what was coming and began to scurry around the warming house.

I playfully chased the girls while making tickling gestures in the air. Kate put a move on me that would have made Barry Saunders proud, and she retreated into a corner. Kelly, on the other hand, wasn’t as graceful. I was gaining on her.

In her haste to escape a possible tickling, Kelly forgot about the climate and bolted outside barefoot. The door automatically locked behind her. Within seconds, she was shrieking and begging me to let her in. I couldn’t leave Kelly outside, but I did allow myself a few seconds to tease her.

“Let me in!” Kelly screamed through the door. “I’m standing barefoot in the snow, and it’s freezing!”

“You don’t want to come back in here,” I replied in a sarcastic tone. “If you do, I’ll tickle your feet.”

“Fine!” she shouted emphatically. “You can tickle my feet as much as you want… just let me in!”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes!” she screamed.

I opened the door and Kelly literally leaped into my arms. Kate found the spectacle quite amusing. Kelly playfully slapped me on the shoulder and giggled as I carried her toward the heater to warm up.

“How could you forget that it was so cold out there?” I asked. “Your feet could have frozen.”

“I was being tickle chased!” Kelly replied while wiggling her toes near the heater.

“Well, now your feet are cold AND you’re going to get tickled,” I said with a sinister smile as I began scribbling my fingers over Kelly’s soles.

Kelly was slightly more ticklish than Kate, and her reactions to my efforts were deafening. She bucked and writhed all over the bench while emitting screams of laughter.

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… NOOOOO... NOT MY FEET, NOT MY FEET, PLEEEASE NOT MY FEEEEHEEHEET!” Kelly screamed. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... OOOHH HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA… PLEEEEEHEEEHEEEEZE DOOOOHOHOHOHOHON'T TEEEEHEEKLE… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

"Cootchy cootchy coo Kelly!" I teased. “Tickle tickle tickle!”

Kate timidly crept out of her corner to watch me tickle her friend. She smiled nervously and cringed while watching Kelly react to my torturous techniques.

Kelly was cackling like a madwoman and flailing her arms wildly. Being a lifelong tickler, I was enjoying her reactions, and I continued to aggressively probe both of her soles. Using my deepest strokes, I singled-out her most ticklish spots and dug in viciously. This produced an even more intense reaction from Kelly.

"GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD PLEEEEEHEEEHEEHEEEEZE… WHOA… STAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHHAHAAAAAP… AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!” Kelly begged through screams of laughter. “DOOOOHOHOHOHOHON'T TEEEEHEEKLE… TOO HARD… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... OHHHHHH HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO… STAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHHAHAAAAAP… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Kelly was an extremely beautiful young woman, a great friend, and she’d been a dream come true where my foot fetish was concerned. I didn’t want to take things too far, so I reduced the tickling to a level I knew she could cope with. Her body language changed, she relaxed noticeably, and she willingly surrendered herself to the giggles.

"Hee hee hee… foot monster… that really tickles… hahaha!” Kelly giggled. “Hehehehehehehe... oooh that tickles mee-hee-hee!"

“I know sweetie,” I replied in a soothing voice. “Just let me tickle your pretty feet for a little while longer.”

Kelly complied with my request as I continued to gently explore both of her soles. She was giggling helplessly and had an involuntary smile plastered across her face. Even through her involuntary reactions, it was obvious that Kelly was being very tolerant of my efforts.

“You’re being a very good sport about this Kelly,” Kate said while watching me work.

“Hee hee hee… what choice… HAHAHA… do I have?” Kelly laughed. “Your cousin… EEEK… is a tickle-torture maniac… hee hee hee… and he’s got my… HAHAHA… shoes and socks.”

Kelly really had been very sweet about indulging me, and I decided it was nearing the time to wrap things up.

“If you promise to let me kiss your feet I’ll stop right now,” I said.

This really wasn’t much of a demand on my part. Kelly loved having her feet kissed.

"Hee hee hee… fine… hahaha… no problem… hee-hee!” Kelly giggled.

I stopped tickling Kelly, and immediately began playfully kissing her feet. When my lips made contact with her arch, she started to giggle again. Even though we hadn’t discussed toe sucking, I popped Kelly’s beautiful toes into my mouth one at a time and sucked them like lollipops.

Kate had never seen this side of my foot fetish. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her watching me with interest.

“Do you two do this kind of thing all of the time?” Kate asked.

"Hee hee hee… yes… hee hee… your cousin loves kissing my feet,” Kelly explained in a giggly voice. “You should have seen him last weekend. He nearly… hahaha… sucked the polish off of my toenails.”

Both girls giggled hysterically while talking about me. I suddenly felt like I was under a microscope, and I stopped kissing Kelly’s feet. She spent a few minutes recovering before sitting up.

“After putting up with all of that, I expect a foot massage,” Kelly said teasingly while playfully messing up my hair.

“I was planning on it,” I replied while hugging her.

Kate was pleased to see that Kelly and I were getting along so well. She also made an ill-advised comment that sealed her fate.

“I’m glad you’re here Kelly,” Kate explained. “I haven’t gotten tickled once this evening because he’s been so preoccupied with you.”

Upon hearing Kate’s remarks, I smiled. When she saw the look on my face, she began crawling away while giggling and pleading not to be tickled. I leaped to the floor, snatched Kate’s ankles, and gave her twenty seconds of tickle-torture that made her squeal.

"GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD FOOT MONSTER… HAHAHAHA… PLEEEEEHEEEEEZE STAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHHAHAAAAAP TICKLING MEE-HEE-HEE!” Kate pleaded. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

When I stopped tickling Kate, she remained giggling on the floor, her breath coming in heaves. I leaned over and gave her a gentle pat on the back.

“I wouldn’t want you to feel left out Kate,” I said in a sarcastic voice. “It wouldn’t be right for me to tickle Kelly and not tickle you.”

“Thanks a whole bunch for thinking of me foot monster,” Kate giggled as she slapped me on the back.

With the tickling festivities out of the way, I decided to treat the girls to at least an hour of spa-caliber foot massages. They liked the idea and quickly made themselves comfortable on the bench closest to the heater. I propped their feet up on folding chairs covered with pillows. Then I sat down on the floor.

Kate and Kelly’s feet were level with my nose, and just inches from my face. Throughout the massage, I stared at and memorized every line and wrinkle on the soles of those beautiful feet.

Within a few minutes, the girls became quite chatty and began talking about my foot fetish. Kelly grilled Kate about our childhood games. Kate gleefully recounted our many games of foot doctor and shoe store, sparing no detail. Even though she’d heard about all of this before, Kelly was fascinated. Kelly decided to return the favor by sharing her favorite tales of our foot fetish encounters.

It was mildly embarrassing to have Kate and Kelly exchanging information and comparing notes about my foot fetish. I stepped up the foot massage, hoping they would change the subject.

“Your cousin is soooo good at this,” Kelly sighed. “One of the perks of hanging out with him is that I get foot massages.”

“He takes good care of me too,” Kate responded. “He gave me a foot massage last night that put me to sleep.”

The girls laughed and talked as I completely lost track of time. Over the course of ninety minutes, I alternated between massaging Kelly and Kate’s feet. When I finally realized the time, I decided we should get going, lest we arouse the concerns of our overprotective parents.

As we exited the warming house, it was snowing heavily, and the winds were intense. It was a blizzard. Driving back to my grandmother’s house was a struggle due to the poor visibility and slick roads. We never exceeded five miles per hour, and the trip took almost twenty minutes. When we finally reached grandmother’s house, I began clapping my hands like a gleeful child.

“Kelly has to stay overnight!” I squealed as I leaped across the seat and threw my arms around Kelly.

“He’s right,” Kate said. “You’ll never make it home on those roads, and it isn’t even safe to try.”

Kelly giggled and hugged me back.

“Okay foot monster, clam down, I’ll stay,” Kelly laughed while hugging me.

The three of us dashed in the house and informed our parents of Kelly’s situation. Our grandmother immediately went out of her way to make Kelly feel at home. She showed her to the guest bedroom where she’d be staying with Kate.

It was late, and we all decided to change for bed. I threw on my Notre Dame sweatpants and football jersey nightshirt, while the girls stepped into the bathroom and put on pajamas.

Kate and Kelly made their way to the bedroom while I prepared a snack for them. It only took me a few minutes to join them. I plopped down in bed between them and we talked for nearly thirty minutes. Kate finally decided to evict me.

“Okay, it’s time for girl-talk,” she playfully explained. “You need to go.”

I was in the process of complying with Kate’s request when I just couldn’t resist the urge to have one more round of foot-play for the night.

“No problem Kate,” I said in a playful tone. “But I’ll have to tuck you two in and count your toes first.”

Kate looked at me with wide eyes and giggled, realizing that I was referring to yet another of our childhood foot games. When we were kids, I used to tuck Kate in and count her toes, which was essentially nothing more than a variation on the classic piggies saga.

Kelly smiled and looked at Kate, trying to guess what I had in mind.

I peeled back the covers, uncovering Kate and Kelly’s feet. Much to my surprise, neither of them attempted to retract their feet.

“Kate, I’ll start with you,” I said.

Kelly was smiling and giggling, even though I hadn’t touched her yet.

“Hee hee hee… what should we do Kate?” Kelly asked with a smile.

“Oh, let him have his fun,” Kate giggled in frustration. “He used to do this with me when we were kids. It only takes a minute.”

Upon hearing Kate’s willingness to play along, I gently grasped the smallest toe of her right foot between my fingers and began tickling it. As Kate giggled and squirmed, I moved on the space between her smallest toe and its neighbor. I continued the process… tickling each toe and the spaces in between. While I worked my ticklish magic, Kate attempted to count her toes aloud.

"Hee hee hee… one… hahaha… two… it tickles foot monster… hahaha… three… four… HAHAHA… five toes… hee hee hee!” Kate giggled.

“Let’s make sure we came up with the same number,” I said while scribbling my fingers all over the sole of Kate’s foot. “How many toes did you say you counted?”

“Hehehehehehehe... come on… hee hee hee… that tickles… five toes… hahaha!” Kate giggled.

Kate had been a wonderful sport, so I stopped the tickling and gave her a chance to recover. Then I repeated the process on her left foot, which proved to be equally ticklish.

When I was finished, I covered Kate’s feet and hugged her goodnight. Then I made my way to Kelly’s feet. The poor girl was already giggling as I approached.

“I don’t need my toes counted,” she playfully protested. “They’re all there!”

“Well, I’ve always found that it’s better to be safe than sorry,” I explained. “Imagine how you’d feel if you woke up tomorrow with one or more of your toes missing! This way you can go to sleep without any worries.”

Kelly laughed at my response and prepared to play along. She was nervously expecting the tickling to begin. Instead, I spent a few minutes fondling and admiring her feet.

Her ankles and arches were at least as shapely as Kate’s, and her long graceful toes were beautifully curved. The soles of her feet were like velvet, and I spent a few minutes caressing them. Finally, I decided it was time to get underway.

As I had done with Kate, I gently grasped the smallest toe of Kelly’s right foot between my fingers. She giggled and writhed as the tickling began. Pleased with Kelly’s reactions, I slowly and methodically continued… tickling each toe and the spaces between. Kelly’s efforts to count her toes aloud were hindered by her involuntary giggles.

"HAHAHA… um… EEEK… one… er… um… hahahaha… it tickles foot monster…three… NO… two…HAHAHAHA… crap… five toes… hee hee hee!” Kelly squealed.

“You didn’t sound very sure about that count,” I said while tickling the sole of Kelly’s foot. “I’ll count them myself just to be sure.”

I quickly repeated the process of tickling Kelly’s toes and she giggled and squirmed.

“Hee hee hee… they’re all there… HAHAHAHA… all five….hehehehehehe... they’re all there… HAHAHA… that tickles… HAHAHA!” Kelly giggled.

“You’re right” I exclaimed in a playful tone. “Now we just have to check the other foot and we’re done.”

Before Kelly could protest, I repeated the process on her other foot. That foot was much more ticklish, and she alternated between giggles and silent laughter. When the time came to count her toes aloud, she had difficulty speaking.

"HAHAHA… one…. hee hee hee… oooh… two…. AAAAHHH… three-hee-hee… HAHAHA… four… hahahaha… five toes… hee hee hee!” Kelly giggled.

Delighted that both girls had been so sweet about playing along, I stopped tickling Kelly. She continued to giggle for a minute or two. When she stopped, I leaned over to hug her and she gave me a playful, wet, sloppy kiss. Then Kelly and Kate pointed to the door, urging me to go so they could talk. I complied, but I remained in the hallway out side of the bedroom door, attempting to eavesdrop.

I could only make out bits and pieces of what was being said. Kelly was asking Kate tons of questions about me. To Kate’s credit, she was giving me extremely favorable reviews. She told Kelly how I had watched over her at the Belmont and spoke warmly of our many non-foot related experiences growing up. Kelly was very impressed.

“Your cousin is a total sweetie and you two are best buddies,” Kelly explained. “My cousins are complete jerks and we’ve never gotten along.”

The girls must have turned away from the door because I was once again having trouble hearing them. I picked up bits and pieces… Kate talking about our grandparents, Kelly sharing her own family stories, and other miscellaneous topics.

My ears perked up again when I heard Kate telling Kelly about our childhood fun and the room in our grandmother’s basement. Kelly was fascinated and wanted to hear everything. As much as anything, I think she was fishing for embarrassing childhood stories she could tease me about.

I would have liked to stay there listening for a while longer, but I heard footsteps approaching. I took off for my own bed before anyone spotted me. I was so wrapped up in thoughts of Kelly that it took me a while to fall asleep. Once I did fall asleep, I didn’t wake up until morning.

The next day brought an unexpected turn of events. My parents announced that they wanted all of us to attend the town Christmas festival. This was one of those long, dragged out, hokey small town affairs. Kelly, being from a larger city, saw a certain novelty in the festival, and she was eager to go. I was less enthusiastic, but I wanted to make Kelly happy.

For more than an hour, Kate, Kelly and I walked down Main Street, checking out the various storefronts and watching the preparations for the Christmas parade. After an hour, the novelty of things had worn off and Kelly was ready to return to my grandmother’s house. Kate announced that she was going shopping… she was really trying to give me time alone with Kelly.

I walked back to my grandmother’s house with Kelly, and we dashed through the front door, eager to escape the cold. It took us several minutes to warm up.

While we were standing in the front hallway, I could tell that Kelly was becoming increasingly silly. She was staring at me and giggling.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Your cousin was talking with me last night,” Kelly explained. “She told me all about the foot games you two played in this house when you were kids.”

Normally, it would have been a treat to have a beautiful young woman taking interest in my foot fetish. However, I found myself feeling embarrassed, and more than a little awkward. I repeatedly explained to Kelly that Kate and I did many things together that did NOT involve feet.

“I know… Kate explained that to me last night,” she laughed. “I’m just really interested in this. Knowing you two so well and being in this house, I can almost imagine you playing here together as kids.”

I loosened up a little bit and started answering Kelly’s questions about my foot fetish. She giggled and listened with interest. Then she wanted a tour of the house.

“Where is your grandfather’s office?” she asked with a smile. “Kate told me about that.”

I was once again feeling slightly shy, but I led Kelly to the basement office where Kate and I had played so many times. When we got there, she wanted to see the files from my childhood games of foot doctor with Kate. I felt very self-conscious because nobody else had ever seen those before. As Kelly leafed through the pages, her eyes widened, and she smiled and laughed.

“These are so cute!” she said. “I can’t believe you had such an interest in feet as a little kid. I didn’t know that fetishes could start so early on.”

By now, I was blushing a nice shade of crimson. Kelly could see that I was embarrassed, and she put her arm around my shoulder.

“It’s okay… I think this is really sweet,” she giggled. “Actually, I’m jealous. I never had anyone to play with like this.”

I nervously glanced at Kelly, and our eyes met. At first, I thought I might be misinterpreting her signals. The she made her meaning clear… she wanted to play foot doctor.

To this day, I can’t believe that I hesitated for even a second. Nonetheless, I did. For some reason, I was feeling really embarrassed, and I was reluctant to do this. Kelly, on the other hand, was in a very playful mood. She’d never played a game like this before, and she was eager to try while we had the house to ourselves. With a bit of coaxing, she persuaded me to play along.

“How do we do this?” Kelly giggled. “Where do we start?”

I escorted her to the door and explained how Kate used to walk in and pretend to be a patient entering a doctor’s office. Kelly was positively giddy. She dashed to the door and returned in character, pretending to enter the lobby of a doctor’s office.

"Hello ma’am,” I said. “How may I help you?"

"Yes, I'm here for an appointment with the podiatrist," Kelly replied while playfully winking at me.

"That’s me,” I said. “Come in and make yourself at home. I just need you to fill out some medical forms, and then we can get started."

Kelly took a pen from the desk, and I handed her one of the blank forms I had stashed in the office. She chuckled, thanked me, and went to work on the forms. I was still feeling mildly foolish for doing this, and Kelly detected that. She quickly finished working on the forms and announced that she was ready to proceed.

“Would you come with me please?” I said while taking Kelly’s hand and leading her to a comfortable chair.

I sat down and spent a few minutes reading Kelly’s comments on the form.

"You've never been here before," I said.

"My friend Kate referred me to you," Kelly giggled.

I continued reading the form, and found myself surprised by Kelly’s comments.

PATIENT COMPLAINTS: My feet are very ticklish, but being tickled gently can be fun.

PATIENT COMMENTS: I’ve never had anyone I could do silly, playful things like this with!

Just relax and have fun!

I looked up from the form, and Kelly smiled and nodded while making eye contact. Then she extended her bare feet to me.

“How should we proceed?” Kelly asked while arching her gorgeous feet and wiggling her toes.

"Well, I need to examine your feet,” I said while trying to remain in character.

For the next few minutes, I massaged Kelly’s feet and caressed her toes. She leaned back in her chair, and I could tell she was deeply relaxed.

“That feels wonderful,” Kelly sighed. “You’re really good at this.”

I continued massaging Kelly’s feet for another two or three minutes. Then I realized it was time to proceed with the game.

“Since you’ve never been here, I need to trace your feet for my records,” I explained.

Kelly was very cooperative as I traced each of her feet. As my pen made it’s way around each of her feet, Kelly scrunched her toes and giggled quietly, but she never pulled away. It only took me a minute to complete the tracings.

“Great,” I said. “Now that I’ve got these tracings, we can proceed.”

I led Kelly to the hospital bed as she smiled broadly.

“Please lie down on the bed with your feet just slightly over the end,” I said.

Kelly never hesitated. She crawled onto the bed face down and positioned herself perfectly. I brought my desk chair to the end of the bed. Kelly’s beautiful feet, bare soles facing up, were no more than si or seven inches from my face.

“In your patient comments, you described yourself as ticklish,” I said.

“Yes doctor,” Kelly said while wiggling her toes and smiling. “What’s the next step?”

“Don’t be nervous,” I said in a calming voice. “I need to examine your feet and determine just how ticklish you are. The technique I’m going to use will help me isolate and identify the most ticklish areas of your feet.”

I further explained that the tracings we just created would be used to make charts. The most sensitive areas of Kelly’s feet would be marked on the charts, and the degree of sensitivity would be measured using a scale of 1 to 3, with 3 being the most sensitive. I think Kelly realized what she was in for, and she giggled nervously while fidgeting on the bed. However, she was still having fun and wanted to continue playing.

“Okay Kelly,” I said in a soft voice. “I need you to relax and respond freely. Just let me know where this tickles, and remember to call out those numbers.”

“Alright,” Kelly quietly replied.

I lubricated Kelly’s feet with massage oil and firmly gripped her toes. Just as I had done with Kate so many times, I started at the center of Kelly’s left heel. With the edge of a fingernail, I made a series of circles, with each circle just a bit larger than the one before it. I gradually worked my way toward the edge of Kelly’s heel, and she giggled quietly throughout the process. When my fingernail finally reached the outside edge of

Kelly’s heel, her laughter intensified.

"Doctor…HAHAHA… that tickles…hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!" Kelly giggled.

“Can you tell me how much it tickles?” I asked.

“Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee… it’s either... HAHAHA… a one or two… hee hee hee,” Kelly replied.

After scribbling some notations on Kelly’s chart, I resumed the tickling. I dragged my fingernail up her arch to the balls of her feet, and back down toward the heel again. She began to laugh and squirm more intently, and it was harder to maintain my grip on her foot.

"Doctor…HAHAHAHAHAHA ... oooh… HEE-HEE-HEE… um… three… that really ti-hi-hi-hi-hi-hickles… HAHAHAHAHAHA,” Kelly squealed.

Kelly was being very good about lying there allowing me to tickle her foot. I eased up slightly while explaining the next stage in the process.

"I’ll try to be gentle, but I’m going to dig into various spots a little deeper so I can examine them,” I explained.

Kelly acknowledged me, and when she seemed ready, I targeted a few of her most ticklish spots with my most intense techniques. In response to my efforts, Kelly thrashed wildly and squealed with ticklish laughter.

"HAHAHAHA… HEEHEEHEE… PLEEEEEHEEHEEEEZE WAIT!!!" Kelly screamed. “HEEHEEHEE...DOHOHOHON'T TEEEEHEEKLE!!!"

"A few seconds more", I said while trying to sound affectionate. “Don’t worry about the numbers at this point. I don’t need them because you’re so expressive.”

"GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD… HEEHEEHEE… PLEEEEEHEEHEEEEZE… STAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHHAHAAAAAP… HEEHEEHEE… HAHAHA!” Kelly screamed.

Seconds later, I stopped, expecting to find Kelly angry with me. Instead, she was bubbly, playful, and silly. She made no efforts to withdraw her feet as I made some notations on her chart.

"Hee-hee-hee… I’ll give you credit… you really know how to tickle feet, Kelly giggled.

“Thank you dear,” I replied.

After I finished marking Kelly’s chart, it was time to tickle her other foot. Although she wasn’t complaining, I decided to start with a gentler touch. I was concerned that she might feel tortured and ask me to stop altogether. With my gentles techniques, I repeated the entire procedure on Kelly’s other foot. Throughout the process, she squirmed, giggled, and occasionally squealed. When I finished, she remained in character.

“Doctor, what is your diagnosis?” Kelly asked while smiling broadly.

I held up the charts of her feet so she could see them.

“You have unusually large clusters of nerve endings that are responsible for your ticklishness,” I explained while trying to sound authoritative. “Each of these clusters is very sensitive to touch.”

“What can you do about it?” she asked.

“Well, I think you’re a good candidate for stimulator therapy followed by extensive foot massage,” I said.

“What’s a stimulator, and how does this work?” Kelly asked with a smile.

“Well, if you’re willing to give it a try, I’ll show you,” I said. “I’ll just need you to lie face down again. This will only take a few minutes.”

Kelly giggled nervously, wondering what I had in mind, but she followed my instructions. Once she was in position, I reached into the desk and pulled out my best stimulator… an electric toothbrush. Ready to begin, I carefully sat on the back on Kelly’s legs to hold her feet in place. Then I profusely lubricated her feet with massage oil and turned on the toothbrush. As the rapidly spinning bristles made contact with Kelly’s feet, she screamed frantically.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH… ST-HA-HA-HA-P… NONONOHAHAHA… STAAHAAHAAHAAHAAHHAHAAAAAP… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… GAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA… TEEEEHEEHEEKLES TOO-HOO MUCH… PLEEEEEHEEEHEEHEEEEZE… HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Kelly pleaded through gales of hysterical laughter.

“Well, if you force me to stop now, you’ll still have to consent to a gentler version of stimulator therapy on your toes,” I explained.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA… AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA… ANYTHING… HAHAHAHAHA… JUST ST-HA-HA-HA-P… I’LL DO IT… HEEHEEHEE!” Kelly screamed.

I quickly turned off the toothbrush and watched as Kelly tried to compose herself. Her face was red and her cheeks were stained with tears. Her breath and her giggles were coming in snorts. It took a few minutes before she could speak.

“Hee hee hee… that’s the most I’ve ever been tickled in my life,” Kelly explained in a breathless voice.

“I know dear,” I said softly. “The rest will be much more gentle.”

I don’t think Kelly believed me, but she was still eager to play the game, so I proceeded. I heavily lubricated Kelly’s toes with a much thicker foot lotion, and I also changed the head of the toothbrush. This new attachment was much softer, and Kate had previously informed me that it didn’t tickle quite as badly.

I allowed Kelly a chance to take a few deep breaths. When she was prepared, I turned on the brush and went to work on her toes. It obviously tickled, but nowhere near as badly as my previous efforts. Kelly’s feet were squirming, her toes were wiggling, and she was laughing. However, I could tell from her body language that she was much more relaxed, and her reactions were less frantic than before.

“Doctor… hee hee hee… um… that really… HAHAHA… tickles,” Kelly giggled. “Hehehehehe... oooh… be careful with my toes… HAHAHA!”

With the spinning bristles of the electric toothbrush, I scrubbed each of Kelly’s toes and the spaces between as she continued to giggle and fidget. This process continued for more than ten minutes before Kelly finally questioned my actions.

“HAHAHA… hee hee hee… what are… hoo hoo hoo… you learning from this doctor… hee hee hee?” Kelly asked.

“Not a thing dear,” I replied. “Truthfully, I’m just really having fun tickling your pretty feet. Kitchy kitchy coo!”

On that note, I threw down the toothbrush and gave Kelly one final session of ruthless tickle torture that lasted for over two minutes. She was screaming so loudly that I thought she might break a few windows, so I stopped tickling her.

I came around to the side of the bed so I could make eye contact with Kelly. She was still smiling and giggling, and I was hoping that she wouldn’t be pissed about being tickled so hard. Thankfully, she wasn’t. Instead, she leaned over, kissed me on the cheek, and invited me to snuggle with her for a while.

We talked for more than thirty minutes before deciding to leave the office. Kelly reached for her shoes and socks, but I snatched them and walked toward the door. She didn’t even bother to protest, and the two of us made our way upstairs.

I really thought all of the foot fun was over for the day, until Kate returned. She stumbled through the front door looking completely frozen.

“COLD!” Kate said.

I stepped outside for a moment, and it was obvious that the temperature had dropped quite radically. It was frigid. I turned to Kate again and asked if there was anything I could get for her. She grabbed my hand and dragged me to the living room as Kelly followed us. Kate plopped down in a reclining chair and sarcastically grabbed the collar of my shirt.

“FOOT MONSTER… BRRR…. FEET COLD,” Kate said.

I understood Kate’s cryptic instructions. When we were kids, she’d often get cold feet when we went outside to play in the snow, and she’d always come to me for help. This happened so many times that I’d actually developed a procedure for warming Kate’s toes.

I raised the footrest of the chair to elevate Kate’s legs and I removed her shoes and socks. I opened my mouth widely, stopped just short of placing Kate’s toes completely inside my mouth, and breathed on them with the hottest breath I could muster. Once I could tell that’s Kate’s toes were warming up, I switched to massaging her feet, attempting to warm them. She smiled and sighed, obviously feeling more comfortable.

“Where is everyone else?” I asked.

“They went on that boring tour of homes, and I decided to walk home,” Kate replied. “They won’t be back for another three hours.”

“What have you guys been up to while I was gone?” Kate asked.

Kelly laughed and approached the chair.

“You’ll notice that I’m barefoot,” she giggled.

“You don’t need to say anything more,” Kate laughed. “I can imagine what’s been going on here.”

“I have to warn you Kate,” Kelly said sarcastically. “You’re sitting in a very dangerous position. Your cousin is in a tickling mood.”

As I sat in front of the footrest, Kate and I made eye contact. She knew what was coming and didn’t bother trying to escape.

“You’re planning to tell me your favorite story, aren’t you?” Kate asked playfully.

“It would be a crime not to,” I replied as Kate giggled.

Kate made no attempt to remove her feet from the footrest, and she was surprisingly cooperative as I gently grasped the smallest toe of her left foot between my fingers.

"This little piggy went to market, and this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, and this little piggy had none, and this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home… kitchy kitchy coo Kate!” I said in a high-pitched silly voice.

Kate was squirming around in the chair and giggling like a little girl. As the tickling continued, Kelly pulled up a chair and sat beside Kate.

"He-he-he-he-he... hohoho… hahaha... that tickles… hahaha!" Kate squealed.

"I know sweetie,” I said in a gentle voice. “Now let’s do the other foot.”

Before telling the story, I began lightly stroking the balls of Kate’s right foot. I was going out of my way to be gentle, but she was giggling mess anyway.

“How does that feel sweetie?” I asked innocently.

"He-he-he-he-he-he...come on foot monster… hahahahahaha… you know that it tickles… hee hee hee,” Kate said.

Kelly smiled while watching me tickle Kate. She also seemed amused by Kate’s reactions to my techniques. As I repeated the piggies saga on Kate’s right foot, Kelly watched very intently. Kate’s reactions were priceless. She giggled, wiggled, and squirmed about in ways that were truly comical. When I stopped tickling Kate, she continued to giggle.

“That looked like so much fun,” Kelly said. “You’re really sweet.”

“Do you really think so?” I asked.

“Yes, I do,” Kelly said.

“Good, because you’re next,” I said while rushing Kelly and grabbing her ankles.

Kelly immediately giggled, wiggled her feet, and playfully tried to break free. She was not successful, and I went to work on her left foot.

"Kelly," I said in a teasing voice. "This little piggy went to market, and this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, and this little piggy had none... "

That’s as far as I got before Kelly completely fell apart.

“Hee heeeee heeeeeee… th-th-thaaaaaat ti-hi-hi-hi-hi-hickles my toes… HAHAHAHAHAHA!” Kelly laughed. “HAHAHAHA… oh my… nohohoho… hee hee hee… tickles… HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Well, hang on sweetie, because this little piggie went wee wee wee all the way home!” I teased while gently wiggling my fingers all over Kelly’s foot.

“HAHAHAHAHAH… he’s home already… hoo hoo hoo… hee hee hee… you can… EEEK… stop now… HAHAHA!” Kelly squealed.

I stopped tickling and allowed Kelly to catch her breath for a moment. Before she had the opportunity to protest or pull away, I began tickling her right foot. When I was finished, she slumped in her chair giggling and red-faced.

Tickling both of the girls had put my foot fetish into overdrive, and I was hungry for more. I reached over and grabbed Kate’s left foot while continuing to hold Kelly’s right foot. Both of the girls squealed, expecting to be tickled again. That’s when I surprised them.

“I need to rub feet!” I said in my silliest voice, which made Kate and Kelly laugh.

I received no arguments, as both of them were eager to receive another of my foot massages. The three of us walked to the kitchen where I ordered a pizza and set up two of my grandmother’s best plastic basins. For the next two hours, I sat on the floor bathing and massaging Kate and Kelly’s feet while we shared pizza, laughed, and talked.

Everyone was having a wonderful time until Kate reminded me that we wouldn’t be alone in the house for much longer. I quickly scurried about cleaning the kitchen while the girls retrieved their shoes and socks. Literally seconds after I had finished cleaning up, everyone else got home.

Kate winked at me as she finished tying her shoelaces. Kelly had just taken a seat at the kitchen table when my grandmother approached her.

“Kelly dear,” my grandmother asked. “I need to know if you’ll be staying with us again this evening. You’re more than welcome.”

I looked at Kelly with pleading eyes, hoping she would stay. She let me squirm for a few minutes before announcing her decision.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay for another day or two,” Kelly said.

In the days that followed, I had a lot more foot fun with Kelly and Kate, and it turned out to be one of the best Christmas seasons I’ve ever had.