dig dug dog
3rd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2001
- Messages
- 1,678
- Points
- 38
Dear friends in tickling,
It's been a very long time since I submitted a story to this forum. I've been back in graduate school and just haven't had the time. With some summer break on my hands, I wrote the first part of a new tale. Unlike most of my past efforts, this one is not celebrity-based. If people like it, I'm happy to continue.
All the best,
dig dug dog
A Wife's Secret: Part One
As far as I knew, Karyn, my wife of three years, had never been ticklish. During many playful and, I think, skillful tickle attacks on my part, she rarely even cracked a smile. I mention this silly fact only as background to the odd sight I saw this week across the school gymnasium at Karyn’s high school reunion. As a former student council president, Karyn really looked forward to the event and to reconnecting with old friends. About 10:30 that evening I stood making small talk with a group of non-alumni husbands near the bar. I glanced over at Karyn just as a tall, thin, blonde woman extended one finger in my wife’s direction and began to wiggle it slowly back and forth. I thought for a moment that the woman was explaining how some gadget worked, but then a strange thing happened: I couldn’t hear anything being said, but I watched, puzzled, as Karyn started backing away from the blonde who moved toward her with a lone finger pointed at my wife’s midsection. The blonde, whose profile I could clearly see, smiled largely and a bit “evilly” as she stepped deliberately ahead.
My wife’s slow retreat was blocked suddenly as she ran straight into the back of a huge man in a dark suit who must have been a lineman on their high school football team. He turned around quickly and chuckled as he saw the woman coming at Karyn with finger drawn. Karyn seemed to be looking around for some easy escape, but then that guy clamped his massive hands to the sides of Karyn’s slim, 5’6” frame. She clearly wasn’t going anywhere for a while. When the woman reached my wife, Karyn tried to grab or block the blonde’s hands, but the woman was strong and quick and managed to penetrate Karyn’s defense. She pressed her long fingers forward and a moment later was able to reach my wife’s stomach through the black, sleeveless evening gown Karyn was wearing.
For a few seconds, Karyn just stood there; it looked like her lips were pressed together and she was staring straight ahead. But then my wife began to smile, a tight, uncomfortable smile, and squirmed slightly, or so it seemed, in reaction to the fingers pressing in on her body. As the blonde woman persisted in the tickling, you could now see Karyn’s beautiful white teeth; her squirming had definitely increased. And seconds later, to my great surprise, Karyn suddenly threw her head back and began laughing very loudly. In spite of the music playing, I could hear her distinctly across the room and, apparently, many others could too. The laughter seemed to encourage the tickler because it looked like she said something to the “lineman” who then gently pulled Karyn down toward the gym floor and onto her back. Laughing and shaking, my wife was in no position to resist. Quickly, the blonde moved to yank off my wife’s right, high-heeled shoe, wrapped her arm around Karyn’s ankle, and began tickling the bottom of her foot. Karyn went berserk. She flailed and bucked, jerking her limbs in all directions. The guy, I noticed, carefully cradled her head to keep it from hitting the floor. The sound of her laughter mounted higher in volume and pitch as more and more people in the huge room started to look. Then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, the woman stopped tickling Karyn and walked away. A few guys helped her up, she put on her shoe, brushed off her dress a little, and walked over to a bathroom on the far side of the room. When Karyn returned, she mingled, ate, danced and seemed to be completely enjoying herself. We didn’t have a real chance to talk until we left the reunion near midnight.
On the car ride home, after chatting about this and that, I piped up, “So that was a pretty interesting incident earlier.”
“What was?” Karyn said.
“Yeah, right—the little spectacle where you were attacked by some of your friends. Or do you always end up lying on the floor at social gatherings?”
“Oh. Did you see that? I didn’t think many people noticed."
“Only 100 or so,” I said.
“Yeah, well, some of those people haven’t changed a bit since high school. Especially Tracie.”
“You mean, this has happened before?”
“What has happened before?” she asked blankly.
“Karyn…I'd say you got the hell tickled out of you tonight.”
She didn’t say a word.
“I mean, I thought you weren't even ticklish. How many times have I tried and failed?”
“A lot,” she said, smiling slightly.
“Yes, a lot. What’s the deal with that?”
“Well, I’m not ticklish…usually.”
“Usually?” I said, urging her with on with my tone.
“Yeah, under most circumstances, I really can't be tickled.”
“And under just what circumstances can you be tickled?”
She paused. “Would you believe, at high school reunions?”
I threw her a scowl.
--end of part one--
It's been a very long time since I submitted a story to this forum. I've been back in graduate school and just haven't had the time. With some summer break on my hands, I wrote the first part of a new tale. Unlike most of my past efforts, this one is not celebrity-based. If people like it, I'm happy to continue.
All the best,
dig dug dog
A Wife's Secret: Part One
As far as I knew, Karyn, my wife of three years, had never been ticklish. During many playful and, I think, skillful tickle attacks on my part, she rarely even cracked a smile. I mention this silly fact only as background to the odd sight I saw this week across the school gymnasium at Karyn’s high school reunion. As a former student council president, Karyn really looked forward to the event and to reconnecting with old friends. About 10:30 that evening I stood making small talk with a group of non-alumni husbands near the bar. I glanced over at Karyn just as a tall, thin, blonde woman extended one finger in my wife’s direction and began to wiggle it slowly back and forth. I thought for a moment that the woman was explaining how some gadget worked, but then a strange thing happened: I couldn’t hear anything being said, but I watched, puzzled, as Karyn started backing away from the blonde who moved toward her with a lone finger pointed at my wife’s midsection. The blonde, whose profile I could clearly see, smiled largely and a bit “evilly” as she stepped deliberately ahead.
My wife’s slow retreat was blocked suddenly as she ran straight into the back of a huge man in a dark suit who must have been a lineman on their high school football team. He turned around quickly and chuckled as he saw the woman coming at Karyn with finger drawn. Karyn seemed to be looking around for some easy escape, but then that guy clamped his massive hands to the sides of Karyn’s slim, 5’6” frame. She clearly wasn’t going anywhere for a while. When the woman reached my wife, Karyn tried to grab or block the blonde’s hands, but the woman was strong and quick and managed to penetrate Karyn’s defense. She pressed her long fingers forward and a moment later was able to reach my wife’s stomach through the black, sleeveless evening gown Karyn was wearing.
For a few seconds, Karyn just stood there; it looked like her lips were pressed together and she was staring straight ahead. But then my wife began to smile, a tight, uncomfortable smile, and squirmed slightly, or so it seemed, in reaction to the fingers pressing in on her body. As the blonde woman persisted in the tickling, you could now see Karyn’s beautiful white teeth; her squirming had definitely increased. And seconds later, to my great surprise, Karyn suddenly threw her head back and began laughing very loudly. In spite of the music playing, I could hear her distinctly across the room and, apparently, many others could too. The laughter seemed to encourage the tickler because it looked like she said something to the “lineman” who then gently pulled Karyn down toward the gym floor and onto her back. Laughing and shaking, my wife was in no position to resist. Quickly, the blonde moved to yank off my wife’s right, high-heeled shoe, wrapped her arm around Karyn’s ankle, and began tickling the bottom of her foot. Karyn went berserk. She flailed and bucked, jerking her limbs in all directions. The guy, I noticed, carefully cradled her head to keep it from hitting the floor. The sound of her laughter mounted higher in volume and pitch as more and more people in the huge room started to look. Then, almost as suddenly as it had begun, the woman stopped tickling Karyn and walked away. A few guys helped her up, she put on her shoe, brushed off her dress a little, and walked over to a bathroom on the far side of the room. When Karyn returned, she mingled, ate, danced and seemed to be completely enjoying herself. We didn’t have a real chance to talk until we left the reunion near midnight.
On the car ride home, after chatting about this and that, I piped up, “So that was a pretty interesting incident earlier.”
“What was?” Karyn said.
“Yeah, right—the little spectacle where you were attacked by some of your friends. Or do you always end up lying on the floor at social gatherings?”
“Oh. Did you see that? I didn’t think many people noticed."
“Only 100 or so,” I said.
“Yeah, well, some of those people haven’t changed a bit since high school. Especially Tracie.”
“You mean, this has happened before?”
“What has happened before?” she asked blankly.
“Karyn…I'd say you got the hell tickled out of you tonight.”
She didn’t say a word.
“I mean, I thought you weren't even ticklish. How many times have I tried and failed?”
“A lot,” she said, smiling slightly.
“Yes, a lot. What’s the deal with that?”
“Well, I’m not ticklish…usually.”
“Usually?” I said, urging her with on with my tone.
“Yeah, under most circumstances, I really can't be tickled.”
“And under just what circumstances can you be tickled?”
She paused. “Would you believe, at high school reunions?”
I threw her a scowl.
--end of part one--
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