From our first date, I could tell Tina was ticklish — and not only that. She got a real sexual thrill from being tickled. That might seem like a funny observation to make about someone, but then I’m a funny guy. The friends who had set us up would say that about me all the time. I didn’t know if Tina shared that opinion. But I sure got a few laughs out of her on the first night we met up.

We’d picked a little seafood place down by the water for our initial date. I was already seated and waiting by the time Tina arrived. She must have recognized me from our friends’ description because she waved cheerily at me the moment she saw me, and I was happy to wave back. She had blonde hair in tightly curled ringlets and a sweet, golden tan that went from her head all the way down to the tops of her feet in their loafers.

Those feet interested me immediately. As is the case with most ticklers, they were generally the first things I noticed on ladies. Unlike most of the guys who share my fetish, I wasn’t so crazy about sandals or open-toed shoes; I liked the element of mystery loafers provided. But to my delight, all was revealed seconds later when Tina sat down and casually slipped off the shoes, baring her cute size sevens with their evenly sized, French-polished toes. I couldn’t help but wonder how those feet would respond to a finger sliding over their arches.

I’ve been a tickle fan a good long time, as my previous girlfriends — and now my Tina — can attest. I love to tie ’em up, tie ’em down and tickle the daylights out of them. Nothing nonconsensual — that’s not my thing. I just love the sound of a woman’s laughter. Best of all is a gal who likes taking it as much as I love dishing it out. They’re not easy to find, though.

In any case, I thought Tina was a serious cutie and personable to boot. We started gabbing as soon as she sat down. It was like we’d known each other forever, and the way she giggled kept me curious about her ticklishness.

Soon enough, my curiosity was satisfied in the best possible way.

After dinner, we went for a walk along the boardwalk, talking about this and that. Eventually, we ended up down at the beach. It was a lovely night. No one was around, and the sand was soft and warm beneath our feet. Tina had already dispensed with her shoes, carrying them in one hand as we went on our way.

“I just love going barefoot,” she purred, wriggling her toes under the sand. “If I could, I’d never wear shoes at all.”

“Is that a fact?” I asked. Then in a casual tone, I added, “So I guess you’re not ticklish?”

All it took was the sudden, startled look that came over her pretty face to tell me my assumption was thankfully incorrect.

“What do you mean?” she asked with a slight giggle in her voice. She looked startled, but there was a certain eagerness in her manner as well.

“Well, you know,” I said comfortably. “Some women are awfully sensitive on their bare feet. If they walk on concrete or wet grass or… well, sand, pretty soon they start laughing like crazy. They can’t stand those different textures on their foot bottoms.”

“’Foot bottoms,’” she said, giggling again. “That’s so cute. But no, I’ve never been all that ticklish.”

“Not ‘all that ticklish,’” I teased. “But you are… a little?”

“Well, if you’re so interested, why don’t you just try them out for yourself?” Tina said laughingly. She flopped herself down on a conveniently placed bench and stretched out her legs. Her sassy voice held a hint of challenge, but it also trembled slightly with excitement.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I said, not quite drooling. I seated myself beside her and almost groaned in pleasure as she slid her long legs and sweet, sandy feet into my lap.

Where to begin? I touched the tips of her toes with a careful finger, dislodging the grains of sand that covered them. Her digits flexed a little, and I could have sworn I heard a tiny whimper escape her lips. I felt my dick stiffening in my khakis. If I’d been in my apartment, I probably would have unzipped and taken matters in hand. As it was, I was at considerable pains to keep the bulge of my erection invisible. A couple of laughing coeds from the local university sashayed by us, and I felt instantly embarrassed as though my arousal were visible to them and everyone for miles around.

For her part, Tina was too busy hiding evidence of her own excitement, which took a rather different form than mine.

“Is that laughter I hear?” I asked in a flirty whisper.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she sputtered. The corners of her lips were lifting to form a wide, helpless smile, and both of her hands were curled into fists.

“Then maybe we ought to take things to the next level,” I said. I repeatedly flicked the ball of her foot with a quick left-to-right motion of my index finger. That did it. She squeaked and pulled both of her feet into her hands, laughing delightedly as she rubbed her toes.

“Oh God, no! That’s the worst, right there!” she exclaimed.

We sat for a while as she massaged the tickle away, still chuckling softly. We didn’t talk anymore about her ticklish situation, at least not that night. I didn’t feel any need to push matters; I knew I had found the perfect gal.

We started dating pretty regularly after that. I got to look forward to seeing her lovely face every few nights — and her feet, too. I knew it was only a matter of time before we got into something a little more serious. It came about two months after our date on the water.

It was right after we’d finished having dinner. I’d suggested we head over to the movie theater, but I wanted to run back to my place first to grab a jacket. Tina was comfortable enough to come inside with me, and of course she ditched her shoes at my door.

Just as I was ready to go, she said, “So where’s the dungeon?”

“The dungeon?” I asked, playing dumb. The truth was, I’d never had a dungeon before, or a playroom, or any other place in my home dedicated to fetish games. But if my lovely guest wanted one, I was certainly amenable to having one.

“Yeah,” she said playfully. “You know, the tickle torture chamber.”

“Well, a dungeon is where you make it,” I said casually. “Where do you want it to be?”

She flung herself into my recliner and propped her feet up on the armrest. “I think I’d like it to be right here,” she said with a smile.

I had a feeling we weren’t going to the movies that night.

I went to the small room I used for storing hardware and fetched a coil of rope. It was soft and silky-smooth from a spin in the washing machine, and it was just waiting for some bedroom games. Before you could say “Tina has ticklish tootsies,” I had my gal trussed up on the floor. It was nothing elaborate. Basically, I tied her wrists behind her back and her feet at the ankles. She lay on her tummy with her feet resting on my lap. It wasn’t quite a hog-tie, but a very passable imitation.

Tying someone up requires more talent than you might think, but with a little practice you, too, can be a rope-master!

“Oh God,” Tina murmured, wriggling her toes. “You’re gonna do it, aren’cha? You’re gonna tickle me.”

I told her, “Yep, I’m gonna do it, all right. And I’m gonna start… right… now!”

She broke down laughing — not playful giggles this time, but real, helpless laughter that shook the walls. It was the byproduct of me digging my fingers between her adorable, ticklish piggies.

But I had another surprise for her.

When I was in the utility room, I’d taken the opportunity to grab a small bag of items I’d had all too few occasions to use. The first little wonder I pulled out was a feather, a soft, sharp-edged beauty that had caught my eye at a crafts store. Tina was looking over her shoulder, watching me as best she could, and when she saw it she gasped, “Oh, no, not that!”

“Yes, indeed,” I told her. I began drawing the feather between her toes and dusting her soft soles with it. The female foot is full of delicious tickle-spots, places the average person might not know. The very center of the ball of the foot, for instance, has a little place that will drive your victim absolutely crazy if you press the edge of your nail into it, particularly if you’re also using a feather on her heels. A pretty pair of ankles can be amazingly sensitive, and never forget the power of suggestion. For example, I zeroed in on a tiny birthmark on Tina’s left foot, just by teasing her about it.

“I don’t suppose this little spot right here is ticklish?” I pondered out loud.

I doubt Tina had ever even noticed that spot before. Suddenly, it was charged with sensation, and she was absolutely shaking with laughter when I caressed it.

“What? N-no! Oh God!” she howled.

“Oh yes, I think Mr. Feather wants to meet that little spot.”

“Not Mr. Feather! Oh please, not that!” she wailed.

All of her protests were in jest. I could tell she was seriously thrilled by everything that was happening to her sweet feet.

Next, I grabbed a toothbrush from the bag, along with a travel-size bottle of baby oil. Tina’s feet were already quite soft — she’d told me she enjoyed weekly pedicures — and the brush’s bristles sliding over the oil drove her into hysterics. Finally, I plucked one last item from my bag of tricks.

“What’s that?” she panted, turning her head as well as she could. “What’re you… what you gonna do?”

A moment later her voice exploded into peals of hysteria as I deployed a small plastic toothpick — the kind with a bit of floss built into it. A lot of ladies find the prickings of the pick’s sharp point cause surprisingly ticklish sensations. Tina certainly did as I tormented her tiny toes.

After a few minutes of gasps and whimpers, I showed some mercy.

“What’s that?” I inquired gently as she uttered absolute gibberish. “I can’t quite make out what you’re saying.”

Still breathing hard and with tears in her eyes, Tina made me an offer I simply couldn’t refuse. A few minutes later, we changed position, so her pretty face was in my lap and my cock was in her mouth. I was able to easily provoke fresh laughter by pressing my fingers into her sides, and let me tell you, Tina’s muffled yet raucous laughter felt mighty good on my dick.

It probably won’t surprise you to hear Tina and I are still enjoying regular bouts of funny business. There’s a lot to be said for a little tickle!