dig dug dog
3rd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Jul 2, 2001
- Messages
- 1,678
- Points
- 38
Link to Part One: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=109318
A Wife's Secret: Part Two
“Jimmy, I know you like to tickle, but…I don’t want to be ticklish with you, or with anybody. I mean, you just feel so out of control.”
“I know,” I blurted out, “that’s the fun part.”
“See what I mean. Once you ‘ticklers’ know how to tickle somebody, you’re relentless. And when I get ticklish, I’m like a 15 on a scale of 1-10, so I don’t plan on making myself, well, vulnerable.”
I thought for a minute, trying to stay on this topic. “So who was the woman?”
“Tracie Evans—well, Kimbark now. We were on student council together and pretty close, actually. We kind of had a falling out senior year.”
“She’s cute,” I said, teasingly. Karyn nodded ‘yes’. “And she knows the secret of how to break Karyn Macintyre?”
“There’s no ‘secret’, Jimmy. I just can’t—”
Her cell phone rang. It was the babysitter checking in, as arranged, at midnight. “Great, great…Yeah, we’re about seven minutes from the house. Thanks, Lily.”
“Is everything OK,” I asked.
“Kelly was fine all night. She was crawling up a storm, according to Lily.”
The rest of the ride was pretty quiet. I don’t know what Karyn was thinking about, but I was replaying the evening’s tickle attack in my mind. I couldn’t quite get over the expression on my wife’s face as she was writhing around on the gym floor, while Tracie ran fingers up and down her foot. Like she said herself, Karyn was simply out of control, the laughter pouring out of her mouth, her eyes totally amused and yet a little panicky at the same time. Her arms might as well have been attached to the strings of a drunk puppeteer. It’s true that I had always ‘liked tickling’—growing up I would frequently tickle girlfriends and friends who were girls—but it was just fun for me, not a major fetish or anything. But something about what I saw happen to my wife that night really intrigued me and fired my imagination.
After we had looked in on Kelly and settled into bed, I was lying awake on my back, glancing occasionally at my wife's face concentrating on her book. No matter how tired she was, Karyn always read in bed for about a half hour before turning out the light. I wasn’t tired at all and I got up and walked over to the dresser across from our bed. Trying to look occupied, I examined my face in the mirror.
Attempting nonchalance, I said, “So, what did Tracie say before she came at you with her finger? I mean, she must have had some excuse for starting in on you like that.”
“Jimmy, are you still thinking about that? Come on, dear, can’t we just pretend it didn’t happen?”
“I’m just curious.” I went over and sat on her side of the bed next to her feet. “You think you know a person and then you find out something…you never knew,” I said lamely.
“Yeah, right, something really important and crucial to our relationship. Jim, it’s late. I’m going to bed.”
“Well,” and I smiled, “I could always…tickle the information out of you.” And with that, I reached out and grabbed the same ankle which Tracie had trapped a couple hours before. Now, based on past experience I didn’t stand much chance of getting a reaction—but then again, this wasn’t just any night.
Placing my fingers in the middle of Karyn’s right foot, I started scrabbling my short nails over her soft skin in what I thought to be the tickliest way I could. First, I went slowly in a deliberate pattern, then I speeded up and tried going in random directions.
Karyn sat there watching me. I, in turn, watched her face for any signs of the response I was hoping for, like the corners of her pretty mouth beginning to turn slowly upward. “Come on, Karyn…I know now that you’re really ticklish…don’t tell me this doesn’t affect you.”
She took a breath. “No, Jimmy, I’m sorry, but it doesn’t. Basically, I’m not ticklish. Tonight was kind of a fluke.” Then with a look of genuine sympathy she added, “I could fake it, if you want: Hahahahaha, heheheheeeee,” she ‘laughed’ and pretended to struggle a bit.
“But what did Tracie do that I’m not doing, or haven’t done before?” I sounded a little more desperate to myself than I intended. I tried to look more at ease. “What turns you into a ‘15’, dear?”
“Well…” I could see her choosing her words carefully. “There are just…certain times when it…gets to you. Very rarely, but I guess it depends on the situation. Actually, I never thought about it that much and, besides you, I’ve haven’t been tickled much as an adult. Now, Jim, can we please go to bed? It’s almost 1:00 and I’ve got a ton to do tomorrow.” She reached over and turned off the reading lamp.
*****
That was three days earlier. Outwardly, I dropped the subject as Karyn clearly wanted to, but it snuck back into my thoughts from time to time. And as I was chopping vegetables for Sunday lunch with Karyn’s family, I remembered my wife’s comment about not being ‘tickled much as an adult’. Does that mean she was tickled a lot as a kid? If so, and it was intense, that might explain why she’s had enough of tickling. Karyn was the youngest of four, with two older sisters and a brother just 18 months her senior. ‘Maybe I’ll have to do some research today’, I said to myself.
--end of part two--
A Wife's Secret: Part Two
“Jimmy, I know you like to tickle, but…I don’t want to be ticklish with you, or with anybody. I mean, you just feel so out of control.”
“I know,” I blurted out, “that’s the fun part.”
“See what I mean. Once you ‘ticklers’ know how to tickle somebody, you’re relentless. And when I get ticklish, I’m like a 15 on a scale of 1-10, so I don’t plan on making myself, well, vulnerable.”
I thought for a minute, trying to stay on this topic. “So who was the woman?”
“Tracie Evans—well, Kimbark now. We were on student council together and pretty close, actually. We kind of had a falling out senior year.”
“She’s cute,” I said, teasingly. Karyn nodded ‘yes’. “And she knows the secret of how to break Karyn Macintyre?”
“There’s no ‘secret’, Jimmy. I just can’t—”
Her cell phone rang. It was the babysitter checking in, as arranged, at midnight. “Great, great…Yeah, we’re about seven minutes from the house. Thanks, Lily.”
“Is everything OK,” I asked.
“Kelly was fine all night. She was crawling up a storm, according to Lily.”
The rest of the ride was pretty quiet. I don’t know what Karyn was thinking about, but I was replaying the evening’s tickle attack in my mind. I couldn’t quite get over the expression on my wife’s face as she was writhing around on the gym floor, while Tracie ran fingers up and down her foot. Like she said herself, Karyn was simply out of control, the laughter pouring out of her mouth, her eyes totally amused and yet a little panicky at the same time. Her arms might as well have been attached to the strings of a drunk puppeteer. It’s true that I had always ‘liked tickling’—growing up I would frequently tickle girlfriends and friends who were girls—but it was just fun for me, not a major fetish or anything. But something about what I saw happen to my wife that night really intrigued me and fired my imagination.
After we had looked in on Kelly and settled into bed, I was lying awake on my back, glancing occasionally at my wife's face concentrating on her book. No matter how tired she was, Karyn always read in bed for about a half hour before turning out the light. I wasn’t tired at all and I got up and walked over to the dresser across from our bed. Trying to look occupied, I examined my face in the mirror.
Attempting nonchalance, I said, “So, what did Tracie say before she came at you with her finger? I mean, she must have had some excuse for starting in on you like that.”
“Jimmy, are you still thinking about that? Come on, dear, can’t we just pretend it didn’t happen?”
“I’m just curious.” I went over and sat on her side of the bed next to her feet. “You think you know a person and then you find out something…you never knew,” I said lamely.
“Yeah, right, something really important and crucial to our relationship. Jim, it’s late. I’m going to bed.”
“Well,” and I smiled, “I could always…tickle the information out of you.” And with that, I reached out and grabbed the same ankle which Tracie had trapped a couple hours before. Now, based on past experience I didn’t stand much chance of getting a reaction—but then again, this wasn’t just any night.
Placing my fingers in the middle of Karyn’s right foot, I started scrabbling my short nails over her soft skin in what I thought to be the tickliest way I could. First, I went slowly in a deliberate pattern, then I speeded up and tried going in random directions.
Karyn sat there watching me. I, in turn, watched her face for any signs of the response I was hoping for, like the corners of her pretty mouth beginning to turn slowly upward. “Come on, Karyn…I know now that you’re really ticklish…don’t tell me this doesn’t affect you.”
She took a breath. “No, Jimmy, I’m sorry, but it doesn’t. Basically, I’m not ticklish. Tonight was kind of a fluke.” Then with a look of genuine sympathy she added, “I could fake it, if you want: Hahahahaha, heheheheeeee,” she ‘laughed’ and pretended to struggle a bit.
“But what did Tracie do that I’m not doing, or haven’t done before?” I sounded a little more desperate to myself than I intended. I tried to look more at ease. “What turns you into a ‘15’, dear?”
“Well…” I could see her choosing her words carefully. “There are just…certain times when it…gets to you. Very rarely, but I guess it depends on the situation. Actually, I never thought about it that much and, besides you, I’ve haven’t been tickled much as an adult. Now, Jim, can we please go to bed? It’s almost 1:00 and I’ve got a ton to do tomorrow.” She reached over and turned off the reading lamp.
*****
That was three days earlier. Outwardly, I dropped the subject as Karyn clearly wanted to, but it snuck back into my thoughts from time to time. And as I was chopping vegetables for Sunday lunch with Karyn’s family, I remembered my wife’s comment about not being ‘tickled much as an adult’. Does that mean she was tickled a lot as a kid? If so, and it was intense, that might explain why she’s had enough of tickling. Karyn was the youngest of four, with two older sisters and a brother just 18 months her senior. ‘Maybe I’ll have to do some research today’, I said to myself.
--end of part two--
Keep up the good work!
