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Ticklish Brothers

by Dtuc

My first intense tickling experences came about with my younger brother, he was just as ticklish as I am. One time when I was fourteen and Chris was twelve, our parents left me in charge for the day. We went into the backyard to throw the football around for awhile. After ten minutes, the neighborhood kids came over; there were four of them. Cory was with them.

Now, my bro had been fighting with Cory over the summer. As soon as Chris saw him, he yelled,

“Get out my yard asshole!” and started shoving Cory around.

Now, I liked Cory; he was the same age as Chris and really cute with blonde wavy hair. So, I broke up the fight and Chris starts swearing at every one. I tell him to shut up or he’ll regret it. The others decide to knock Chris down and pin him to the ground, Cory looks really mad and wants to get even.

I pull Cory over to the side and say, “Cory, if you really want to get even, I can tell you his weakness.”

He looks at me and says, “Oh yeah? He has a weakness, does he? What is it?”

I smile and say, “He has extremely ticklish feet; you could tickle his bare feet until he pees himself. What would be more embarrassing than that?”

Cory smiles and says, “Now this could be fun.”

We walk over to Chris and Cory says, “Guys, sit on him and keep him pinned down. It’s time to have some fun.”

They pin him on his stomach; one sitting on his back, another on his butt and the third on his legs. Chris starts screaming for everyone to get off of him. Cory sits across his ankles and starts pulling off his shoes.

He says, “So, Chris, I hear you’re a little ticklish. Lets see just how ticklish you are.”

Chris starts yelling and begging,Cory smiles and pulls off Chris’ socks.

Chris now yells, “No, not the socks, please Cory! I’m sorry, don’t tickle my bare feet, please! I can’t take that!!”

Cory says, “Too late.”

He starts running his finger up and down his left foot, stroking his soles ever so lightly. Chris starts giggling. I’m sitting on the ground across from his feet; watching and thinking, This just what you deserve, you little shit. Just wait until I get involved.

I say, “Hey, Cory! Let me have a foot; I have a little revenge for all those times he tickled my bare feet.”

Cory looks down at my feet and says, “So, you have ticklish feet also, huh?”

I say “Don’t even think about it, bud.”

My feet are about two sizes bigger than my brother’s and even more ticklish, if you can believe it. Anyway, I pick up a stick and start tracing the lines on Chris’ sole. He starts bucking and laughing even harder.

I say, “See? You need to use a hard object to run across his soles.”

Cory says, “How about this?” and pulls a comb out of his pocket. He starts dragging the comb across my brother’s instep; concentrating on his pale white instep has Chris going crazy, so I pick up another stick. Using both, I zig-zag them all over his sole. Now we’re both torturing the hell out of his soles and Chris is laughing so hard, it sounds like he’s ready for a heart attack.


I say, “So, do you have to go to the bathroom yet?”


We just start tickling him faster, torturing those pale size nine soles of his, tickling his arch like madmen. He really loses it when the others join in tickling his ribs and under his arms. He starts screaming and thrashing around and gets free and runs in the house. But that’s OK, because we notice a wet stain on the ground. The guys leave, but I yell after them, “You know his weakness, so if he gives you anymore trouble, remind him of this day and that you could repeat it anytime.”

I grabbed his shoes and socks and go into the house, he’s nowhere in sight. He could be upstairs in the bathroom or hiding to attack me. I knew this hasn’t ended, so I go upstairs and grab his sleeping bag, bring it downstairs and hide it behind the couch, just in case. He comes back downstairs; he had changed his clothes.

He starts yelling and swearing, “You’re going to get it! I’m telling mom and dad,” in that whinney voice of his.

I reply, “I guess you didn’t learn your lessen,yet, did you?” I drag out the sleeping bag and say, “You know what this is for? Its time for a nap, runt.”

He’s confused and tries to run, but I grab him and put the sleeping bag over his head and down his body. I trip him and tie the strings around his ankles and sit across his legs, looking at a pair of very ticklish soles.

I say, “Let’s see just how loud you can laugh. I’m tickling these poor soles until you laugh yourself hoarse.”

I can’t believe how exciting it is to have a pair of bare soles trapped under your legs, to do anything you want to them. To tickle them and watch the toes curl and go crazy, to feel the soft soles under your fingernails. To watch the soles turn a light red from the torment of the tickling.

Anyway I say, “Don’t move; I have a surpise for you.”

I get up and go into the kitchen to get two forks and a couple of stiff feathers out of a planter. When I get back to Chris, he’s rolling around, trying to get up.

I say, “You’ve been a bad boy, time for some torture. Where should I start?”

He says, “Just leave me alone.”

I say, “NO way! I’ve waited a long time for those ticklish tootsies of yours. Did I say tootsies? That sounds like a good place to start.”

I turn him onto his back and wrap my legs around his ankles so they are resting in my lap. Looking at ten deliciously sensitive toes, waiting for a feather. I start tickling under his toes with the feather; he starts moaning and curling his toes. I start to run both feathers under his toes and he starts giggling and begging me to stop.

I say, “I’m just warming up, pal,” and I drag the feathers between his toes, going from first toe to last toe. Then back again inbetween all ten toes about a dozen times.

I ask, “Have you had enough yet?’


I say, “I only have one more thing to use on you.”. With his soles trapped between my thighs, I grab the forks and drag them both across his soles. Now he’s howling with laughter and his toes are going crazy. So for the next five minutes I keep the forks stroking his soles. I then pull his toes back and run the forks over his taunt soles. He starts screaming for me to stop, but I ignore him. Then a loud, hysterical laugh pours out of the sleeping bag and he starts coughing and spitting up in the bag. I decide he’s had enough and untie him. He stumbles up the stairs and passes out in his bed.

But, later in the summer, he sure got me back and really gave my feet a workout. But thats another story to tell at a later time.


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