By Bad Penny

I love tickling. I always have. Of all the fetishes and turn-ons I’ve explored over the years, there’s just something about being able to render someone helpless with laughter by using only the lightest of touches that I find incredibly exciting. When I tickle someone—particularly a lover—it makes me feel powerful and irresistibly sexy. When I’m the one on the receiving end of the feather, it’s the most exquisite torture; I’m lost in a shivery, purely responsive mode.

All I can do is laugh, and every shake and giggle seems to turn me on more and more. As a writer of erotica, I’ve written many, many non-tickling stories, both as Bad Penny and under other names.. .but it’s always been the tickling tales that are dearest to my heart. When I first discovered the internet, the first thing I did was try and get in touch with other ticklers. I was a bit surprised by how easy it was to find them, and how welcoming they were. Even people who didn’t consider themselves tickling fetishists seemed eager to talk with me about their experiences tickling and being tickled.

Over the years, I’ve built up a very sizable file of these accounts, and I’ve always wanted to share them with a wider audience. Finally I settled on this book as a perfect way to “get them out» and let a whole new generation of ticklers enjoy them the way I have. Obviously I’m not simply reprinting the stories as they were emailed to me; they are too varied in style and «voice” for that to be practical. Instead, I’ve retold them in my own way, while quoting occasionally from the originals. I’ve lost contact with all of these folks, but I’ve disguised names and other details where it seemed like a good idea, while quoting where appropriate from the original.

In some cases I’ve fleshed out the stories with additional details from my own imagination, making this a truly collaborative work. Most of the tickling here focuses on feet, hence the title. This is no surprise, since most ticklers seem to love feet above all other ticklish body-parts. But there are delights here as well for people who love other kinds of tickling. I hope you like what you read here. I hope these stories turn you on, and, yes, tickle you. Because they certainly tickled me. 😉 With love and laughter, Bad Penny.


We all know what it’s like to be teased, just as we all know what it’s like to be tickled (even though some of us may choose to deny being ticklish!). There’s nothing so delicious as knowing an attractive someone is interested enough in you to tease you a little. But sometimes a sexy flirt can overstep boundries, or just get too bratty.

Then only one punishment will do! Nothing puts a tease in her place quite so emphatically as a good tickle to the ribs or (shudder) bare feet! Unsurprisingly, a number of the ticklish adventures in my files bear witness to this truth. Take our first lovely victim, who we’ll call Andrea. At the time of her little adventure, Andrea was a divorcee of 35 living in a small southern town. She was a beautiful woman with a heavy mane of red hair and startling, cat like green eyes.

At five feet, ten inches tall, she was above average height and this, combined with her busty body, curvy hips and long legs, gave her a remarkable sexiness. Andrea and her husband had separated shortly after they relocated to the town—ironically, the move had been a last-ditch effort to rekindle their marriage. Her husband moved right back to the city, but Andrea decided she enjoyed small town life. She made friends with a number of women and began dating in earnest. Soon she was the subject of a certain amount of gossip—her flirty nature and physical beauty made her irresistible to the local men, and she was rarely seen without a new beau on her arm. But the newly-liberated Andrea had also begun exploring a weakness for younger men—particularly twenty-year-olds from the local college.

That weakness was to be her ticklish downfall! At first, Andrea was too circumspect to actually be seen dating younger men, but it was soon noticed that she was hiring male students to do yardwork and other chores around her property. Needless to say, the students she hired were on the brawny side, muscular jocks who tended to work in nothing but a pair of shorts.


Andrea would come out periodically to distribute glasses of lemonade to her “poor thirsty boys,” always dressed in little more than a very skimpy bikini. She would then hang around them, finding excuses to stroke shoulders and flirt outrageously. “I don’t know what I was thinking, Andrea recalled later in her email to me. «I mean, I was practically begging them to try something. I was like, ‘Please, gangbang me.’ I would never have tried that with men my own age. But the fact that they were younger—even though they were adults—really turned me on.

It made me a little gaga. And the thing was, they were actually good guys. Most of them had girlfriends they were faithful to, and they were all pretty serious about their studies. I mean, I definitely saw them stealing glances at me, but I think to them I was always just the cool older lady who ifirted with them. They weren’t going to try anything. And that, of course, made me even more gaga.” One afternoon, the lemonade break went on longer than usual.

The guys sat around wisecracking and flirting with Andrea while she reclined on her favorite sun-chair, basking in their attention. At this point, Andrea was barefoot, having kicked off her flip-flops. Andrea’s feet were a bit on the large side, but beautiful, being highly-arched with long toes. Soon one of the guys—name of Travis—began teasing her about them, claiming that they smelled or that the glare from her cherry-red nail polish was hurting his eyes.

“I think he was a little bit of a foot-fetishist,”

Andrea told me. «He was the one whose eyes always seemed to be looking at my toes instead of my tits.”  Finally one of Travis’s friends said, “Hey dude, if you’re so into her feet, why don’t you suck her toes?»


You can find the complete story here:

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