C.K. Storyteller
3rd Level Blue Feather
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- Mar 7, 2007
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Greetings. I am the storyteller.
Today’s story takes us away from our friends, the Two Couples. Worry not, we shall see them again. However, there are some stories that will not wait to be told. This is one of those tales.
Our story today involves a young man, as our stories often do. This young man’s name is Tim. Tim is in his early twenties, a recent graduate of college and ready to make his way in the world. He has sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and is moderately athletic, though being a recent college grad, he holds a bit more weight than he would like to. Don’t we all?
Tim is a very good guy. Ask anyone; they will tell you the same thing. Go ahead. I’ll wait for you.
See? I told you they’d say so. Because he is such a good guy, Tim frequently does odd jobs for his friends and co-workers. One of these odd jobs (Tim’s personal favorite) is house sitting for friends of his family. The house is gorgeous, it’s filled with delightful food choices, and they have extended cable. Life, as they say, is good.
Tim received a phone call the other day from said friend of the family, who informed him about another house sitting opportunity. This one was different from the others, however, because he would not be alone. Samantha would be there as well.
Samantha is another friend of the people who own the house. She is older (a year or two away from 30) and, as you would expect, is also very nice. She’s staying because her apartment is being worked on and she is up the proverbial creek, as it were. Luckily, the friend’s house is big enough to sustain two people easily, and thus it would.
Samantha is a gym freak, though not nearly as bad as the women on the covers of those magazines. You know, the ones whose muscles have sprouted their own muscles and look in risk of busting something important. Sam (she prefers Sam) works out frequently and is in very good shape. She has long blonde hair almost always up in a ponytail, green eyes, and one of those smiles that stops you a block away, so you can stare at it as she approaches.
As it turns out, Tim has always had a secret crush on Sam, and is half mortified / half ecstatic to be spending some time alone with her. Not that he has any hopes of anything besides friendship, but it would still be fun.
So it was that Sam and Tim moved their travel bags in at about the same time, and settled in for a long weekend of relaxing in a beautiful home. They ate, they chatted, they watched television, it was a good life. On Sunday night, however, it became a great night.
Tim and Sam were on separate couches, watching television. (Flipping between sports and HGTV, if you must know)
“It feels like I haven’t worked out in months,” lamented Sam, tossing the remote over to Tim.
“Hm?” answered Tim. The remote had stirred him from his daydream. You see, while Sam was watching television, Tim was watching Sam. Not in a creepy kind of way, but in a “I wonder which parts of her are most ticklish?” kind of way.
(Did I need to mention Tim had an interest in tickling? I didn’t think so. On with the show.)
“I’ve been here, so I haven’t made it to the gym. I feel all sluggish and gross.” Sam got up to stretch, giving Tim a wonderful view of her underarms and a hint of stomach.
(How silly of me. We need details. Sam was clad in a white lycra tank top, gym shorts, and ankle socks, her normal “I’m an athlete” attire. Tim, conversely, was in jeans and a baggy T-shirt, his normal “College Man” garb.)
“How far away is your gym?” Tim inquired absentmindedly. Sam had wandered into the kitchen for a bottle of water, giving him another wonderful look at the backs of her legs and feet. (Tim, like all men, and probably all people, had what he described as Adult ADD. Curse that entertainment box and all its wonders!)
“About forty five minutes. Waste of gas.”
“Well, work out here then.”
“I’ve been trying. I go for runs every morning, do the calisthenics before bed, but I don’t get the rush or the burn that I get from the gym,” Sam said as she collapsed back on the couch. “I just need a good ab workout, and sit-ups are no fun whatsoever. Tim, are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just choked on my water a bit,” Sam said, trying to hide the rush of color to his face. “An ab workout? I’m sure we can think of something.”
Sam laughed, causing Tim to blush even more. “You let me know when you have an idea, my friend. I’m going for another run.”
Tim’s mind raced as Sam pulled her sneakers on and took off out the door. This was his chance. He just needed to find a way of convincing Sam that letting him tickle her was the best idea, and he’d be in eighth heaven. (I know, its usually 7th Heaven. But there are copyrights and all that.)
Tim paced the living room, racking his brain. Finally, he had an idea. Not a good one, but it was worth a shot. Worst case scenario is she turns it down and he can play it off as a joke. He’s told worse.
When Sam arrived twenty minutes later, Tim was sitting at the computer.
“How’s the research going?”
“Pretty good, Sam. Come see what I got so far.”
Sam wandered over and peered at the screen. Tim, of course, found himself captivated by her ribs and stomach so close to him.
“Hmm, most of these require equipment we don’t have here,” Sam said as she perused Tim’s Word document. “I don’t see any that strike me as. . .Wait a second. What’s that one?”
“Which one?” Tim asked, glancing at the screen as nonchalantly as he could.
“This one,” Sam pointed at the monitor. “Tickling? Tickling is exercise? Says who?”
“Err, well, all of these I got from the Internet. Your ab muscles get a workout from all the laughter. I thought it silly myself, but you seemed desperate.” Tim was sweating, certain Sam would see through his explanation and storm off.
Sam wandered off to the kitchen counter, sitting atop it.
“Well, I guess that makes sense.”
“. . .It does?”
“Sure. I know my stomach always hurts after I’ve been laughing a while, and my abs have been sore after. I guess it would be good exercise.”
“Well, it’s up to you. You’re the fitness guru.” Tim kept pinching himself under the desk, thinking this was all a dream and that he was asleep on the couch. He would wake up any minute and Sam would be gone, doing some legitimate workout.
Sam smiled, throwing a wadded paper towel at Tim. “It’s up to you, Tim. You’d have to tickle me. Do you want to?”
(I must pause for a second, not for any witty comment, but just to say this. How many times have you dreamed of that question being asked to you? My goodness.)
Tim paused, not wanting to scream, whoop with joy, or any of the other thousand answers he had mulling through his brain. “Play it cool, boy,” he thought to himself.
“Sure,” he said, throwing the paper towel back at her. “After all, its in the name of exercise.”
Sam snorted. “Exercise? I have a sneaking suspicion you’ll enjoy this, Tim. But I might too, so lets get going.”
Tim gulped, silently praying to any and all gods that may have been listening, offering up his sincerest thanks for what must be Sam’s spontaneous insanity.
“Where do you want to go?”
“The living room is fine,” Sam said, kicking off her sneakers and heading towards the couch. “So in your extensive research, did it say how I should be positioned?” Sam winked at Tim as she said this, making him grin and blush yet again.
“No, it didn’t. Just get comfortable.”
Sam nodded, lying face-up on the couch. Tim pulled a chair closer to her, still amazed this was even happening.
“So, I suppose I need to know where you’re ticklish, don’t I?”
Sam grinned, slightly lifting up her tank top. “You’ll know when you’ve hit a nerve.”
Tim stared at her stomach, reaching out involuntarily. Sam immediately giggled and sucked her tummy in, making Tim nearly jump out of his seat with excitement.
“I’ll stop the second you tell me to, I promise.”
“I know you will. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be doing this. Now stop talking and tickle me.”
Tim did not need to be told twice. He reached out, letting his fingertips gently graze up and down Sam’s flat, toned stomach.
Sam immediately began giggling, grabbing the sides of the couch to keep herself from squirming away. She sucked in her stomach once again, but that only exposed her sides more for Tim’s fingers. She rolled a bit from side to side, but tried her hardest not to turn over completely.
Tim was amazed at her willpower. He knew he was as ticklish as Sam was, if not a little more, and that he’d be on the floor in a fetal position by this point. Sam kept herself as still as possible, however, though she laughed like nobody’s business. Tim was more amazed at how she continued looking at him through her laughter, which just made him tickle her harder. He lowered his other hand, now tickling both sides at once, which made Sam thrash even harder, now starting to roll towards the back of the couch.
“You OK? Want me to stop?” Tim forced himself to say, stopping the tickling but keeping his hands on her sides.
Sam continued giggling, but shook her head.
“Good,” said Tim, now grinning wider. “In which case, can you lift your arms a little?”
Sam looked at him suspiciously, but then winked and raised her arms slightly. Tim pounced on the opportunity, sliding his fingers up and beginning to tickle her underarms quickly. Sam immediately clamped down on Tim’s hands, now fully rolled over and screaming with laughter into the pillows on the couch. Tim slowed down a bit, but Sam seemed in no rush to remove his hands, so he resumed tickling with even more vigor. Sam thrashed and squealed, howled and wriggled, but seemed trapped by the tickling sensations, unable to unclasp her arms, which just made her torture continue.
Tim continued wiggling his fingers, but slowed down enough to give Sam an opportunity to move her arms, which enabled him to slide down and begin tickling her ribcage. Now, Tim had tickled people before, but had never really tickled ribs, so was unsure of how to do it. He experimented with soft up and down motions, followed by pokes and prods, then finished up with squeezing, moving from one rib to another. Sam laughed through all of them, but it was this last method that got her screaming anew, so that’s what Tim continued with.
Tim stopped again, leaving Sam still face-down in the pillows, gasping for air.
“Had enough?” Tim asked, reclining back in his chair.
Sam could not answer from gasping and giggling, but managed to turn herself over, revealing a red and lightly sweaty face.
“Oh god, that was insane,” she said, staring at the ceiling.
“We can stop,” Tim replied. “It’s been ten minutes or so.”
Sam peered at the clock. “That’s it? It feels like an hour.”
“Nope, ten minutes, actually more like nine. But if that’s all you can handle. . .” Tim grinned, loving his new found sense of power and control. He had never felt like this before, especially with someone older and attractive like Sam.
Sam scowled, still looking at the clock.
“I guess nine minutes isn’t much of a workout,” she said, grimacing as she did so.
“Nope, not really. How much time do you spend on the ab machines at the gym?”
“Half an hour or more,” Sam replied, eyes widening as she did so.
“Hmm,” Tim said, stroking her hair. “Well, we’ll call it an easy day.” He got up to grab her a water, only to feel her hand grasp his arm.
“Keep going,” she said, edging back against the rear of the couch.
“You sure?”
Sam nodded. “Just not my underarms any more, OK?”
Tim grinned. “Of course. Bend your knees.”
Sam did as she was told, bending her knees, lifting her socked feet into the air. Tim hopped on the free space of the couch that Sam provided, facing her feet.
”Socks on or off?” he asked, still smiling.
Sam turned to look at him, biting her lip gently at the sight of him so close to her feet.
“On. I haven’t showered yet.”
“Suit yourself,” Tim replied, lightly grasping one ankle with one hand and spidering his fingers up and down her socked sole with the other. He watched Sam’s face and body, testing her reactions.
Sam tensed up immediately, but did not laugh. She grasped the arm of the couch, scrunching her face up to hold in the laughter. Obviously her feet were somewhat ticklish, but he couldn’t tell how much with the socks on. Not that he minded.
Tim began exploring her feet, moving from heel slowly up the arch, which got Sam to gasp and slap the armrest, but still not laugh. Once he began working up towards the ball of her foot, giggles escaped, but she was still fighting as hard as she could. Tim loved the look on Sam’s face, as if laughter would open a floodgate that she was desperate to keep closed. Tim took this as a challenge, and slowly made circles with his fingers on the balls of her foot, but Sam still wouldn’t break. Only when he lightly grazed his fingers along her toes did Sam begin to laugh out loud, which she did with great gusto.
Tim continued tickling her toes for a minute or two, making Sam pound the armrest as hard as she could, flinging her head back and forth in ticklish mirth. After a minute, Tim switched to the other foot, copying the same exploration as before, only this time, Sam continued to laugh, albeit softer than when her toes were being worked on. Tim reveled in this for what seemed like an hour to Sam and only seconds to himself, finishing with another toe tickling that caused Sam to have tears running down her cheeks.
Once the tickling stopped again, Sam collapsed onto the couch, thinking the worst was over. Tim, however, had other plans. He lifted Sam’s feet skyward, dragging his fingers down the backs of her legs, from calves to thighs and back again. Sam, completely unprepared for this new torture, shrieked and tried flinging her feet down. Luckily, Tim was ready and caught her ankles with his shoulder, trapping her legs in that position and freeing both hands to squeeze behind her legs.
Sam’s laughter raised an octave and got much louder than any other spot Tim had tickled. She cried out, howling with laughter, trying to move her legs, but finding herself unable to do so. She pawed her way off the couch, in a feeble attempt to crawl to safety, but this just freed more ticklish leg space, which Tim took full advantage of.
Tim found that Sam’s laughter reached its peak when he squeezed just below where her gym shorts ended, around mid-thigh. Sam began pleading for the torture to stop after only a few seconds of that ultimate tickling sensation.
“Tim, OK, I’m done, god, please.”
Tim stopped, as he promised he would. He couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed to do so, but knew this was far more than he could have ever dreamed. He helped Sam back onto the couch, where she lay for a long time without speaking. Tim’s mild concern grew to outright worry as time went on, afraid that he had gone too far, and that he had completely destroyed the friendship.
Sam turned towards him after ten minutes or so, still sweating from the ordeal. Tim, unsure of what would happen next, just stared at her.
She lunged forward with more energy that Tim ever thought she would possess, pressing him back against the couch and kissing him deeply. Tim’s eyes widened at first, but he returned the kiss eagerly, reaching up to cup her face as he did so. They kissed for a minute or so before Sam retracted, gasping again, eyes flashing.
“I’m going to grab a shower,” Sam said absentmindedly, getting up and disappearing upstairs.
“K,” uttered Tim, his fingers playing along his lips, wondering if he would ever feel something that surprising and intense again, and knowing for certain that this would be one of those memories he kept with him for the rest of his life.
Sam emerged from the shower twenty minutes later, wrapped in a towel. She walked by Tim, who was still frozen on the couch, smiling at him as she headed upstairs. Tim stared at her, still replaying every moment in his head. When Sam came back down the stairs dressed, he was just getting to the kiss part, which explained the large smile on his face.
“I’ve got to go to work,” she said, grabbing her keys.
“Oh,” Tim replied, wondering what he was supposed to say or do.
“I’m headed back home tonight,” she said, stopping and looking at him on the couch.
Tim’s heart sank. “You are?”
She nodded. “Work all the rest of the week, so it doesn’t make much sense to stay here.”
“Err, umm, ok, whatever,” Tim said, trying to play it off, even though he could feel himself sinking into a deep depression.
Sam leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Thanks for the workout, stud.” She grabbed her purse and walked out the door.
Tim sat there for what seemed to be an eternity, staring at the door. How could he have just let her leave like that? How big of an idiot was he? Why was his hip beeping?
He reached down and pulled out his cell phone.
1 New Message.
“Hey, I forgot to mention something…My place…Friday night…Your turn for a workout. Sam.”
Tim glanced at the calendar. Today was Wednesday. He could sit on this couch for another 48 hours, he was sure of it.
There you have it. Another adventure told, one of intrigue, espionage, and laughter. Well, maybe not espionage. But definitely the other two. Along with all other stories told here, this one could continue. You’ll just have to wait and see.
There is always a need for a storyteller.
Today’s story takes us away from our friends, the Two Couples. Worry not, we shall see them again. However, there are some stories that will not wait to be told. This is one of those tales.
Our story today involves a young man, as our stories often do. This young man’s name is Tim. Tim is in his early twenties, a recent graduate of college and ready to make his way in the world. He has sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and is moderately athletic, though being a recent college grad, he holds a bit more weight than he would like to. Don’t we all?
Tim is a very good guy. Ask anyone; they will tell you the same thing. Go ahead. I’ll wait for you.
See? I told you they’d say so. Because he is such a good guy, Tim frequently does odd jobs for his friends and co-workers. One of these odd jobs (Tim’s personal favorite) is house sitting for friends of his family. The house is gorgeous, it’s filled with delightful food choices, and they have extended cable. Life, as they say, is good.
Tim received a phone call the other day from said friend of the family, who informed him about another house sitting opportunity. This one was different from the others, however, because he would not be alone. Samantha would be there as well.
Samantha is another friend of the people who own the house. She is older (a year or two away from 30) and, as you would expect, is also very nice. She’s staying because her apartment is being worked on and she is up the proverbial creek, as it were. Luckily, the friend’s house is big enough to sustain two people easily, and thus it would.
Samantha is a gym freak, though not nearly as bad as the women on the covers of those magazines. You know, the ones whose muscles have sprouted their own muscles and look in risk of busting something important. Sam (she prefers Sam) works out frequently and is in very good shape. She has long blonde hair almost always up in a ponytail, green eyes, and one of those smiles that stops you a block away, so you can stare at it as she approaches.
As it turns out, Tim has always had a secret crush on Sam, and is half mortified / half ecstatic to be spending some time alone with her. Not that he has any hopes of anything besides friendship, but it would still be fun.
So it was that Sam and Tim moved their travel bags in at about the same time, and settled in for a long weekend of relaxing in a beautiful home. They ate, they chatted, they watched television, it was a good life. On Sunday night, however, it became a great night.
Tim and Sam were on separate couches, watching television. (Flipping between sports and HGTV, if you must know)
“It feels like I haven’t worked out in months,” lamented Sam, tossing the remote over to Tim.
“Hm?” answered Tim. The remote had stirred him from his daydream. You see, while Sam was watching television, Tim was watching Sam. Not in a creepy kind of way, but in a “I wonder which parts of her are most ticklish?” kind of way.
(Did I need to mention Tim had an interest in tickling? I didn’t think so. On with the show.)
“I’ve been here, so I haven’t made it to the gym. I feel all sluggish and gross.” Sam got up to stretch, giving Tim a wonderful view of her underarms and a hint of stomach.
(How silly of me. We need details. Sam was clad in a white lycra tank top, gym shorts, and ankle socks, her normal “I’m an athlete” attire. Tim, conversely, was in jeans and a baggy T-shirt, his normal “College Man” garb.)
“How far away is your gym?” Tim inquired absentmindedly. Sam had wandered into the kitchen for a bottle of water, giving him another wonderful look at the backs of her legs and feet. (Tim, like all men, and probably all people, had what he described as Adult ADD. Curse that entertainment box and all its wonders!)
“About forty five minutes. Waste of gas.”
“Well, work out here then.”
“I’ve been trying. I go for runs every morning, do the calisthenics before bed, but I don’t get the rush or the burn that I get from the gym,” Sam said as she collapsed back on the couch. “I just need a good ab workout, and sit-ups are no fun whatsoever. Tim, are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just choked on my water a bit,” Sam said, trying to hide the rush of color to his face. “An ab workout? I’m sure we can think of something.”
Sam laughed, causing Tim to blush even more. “You let me know when you have an idea, my friend. I’m going for another run.”
Tim’s mind raced as Sam pulled her sneakers on and took off out the door. This was his chance. He just needed to find a way of convincing Sam that letting him tickle her was the best idea, and he’d be in eighth heaven. (I know, its usually 7th Heaven. But there are copyrights and all that.)
Tim paced the living room, racking his brain. Finally, he had an idea. Not a good one, but it was worth a shot. Worst case scenario is she turns it down and he can play it off as a joke. He’s told worse.
When Sam arrived twenty minutes later, Tim was sitting at the computer.
“How’s the research going?”
“Pretty good, Sam. Come see what I got so far.”
Sam wandered over and peered at the screen. Tim, of course, found himself captivated by her ribs and stomach so close to him.
“Hmm, most of these require equipment we don’t have here,” Sam said as she perused Tim’s Word document. “I don’t see any that strike me as. . .Wait a second. What’s that one?”
“Which one?” Tim asked, glancing at the screen as nonchalantly as he could.
“This one,” Sam pointed at the monitor. “Tickling? Tickling is exercise? Says who?”
“Err, well, all of these I got from the Internet. Your ab muscles get a workout from all the laughter. I thought it silly myself, but you seemed desperate.” Tim was sweating, certain Sam would see through his explanation and storm off.
Sam wandered off to the kitchen counter, sitting atop it.
“Well, I guess that makes sense.”
“. . .It does?”
“Sure. I know my stomach always hurts after I’ve been laughing a while, and my abs have been sore after. I guess it would be good exercise.”
“Well, it’s up to you. You’re the fitness guru.” Tim kept pinching himself under the desk, thinking this was all a dream and that he was asleep on the couch. He would wake up any minute and Sam would be gone, doing some legitimate workout.
Sam smiled, throwing a wadded paper towel at Tim. “It’s up to you, Tim. You’d have to tickle me. Do you want to?”
(I must pause for a second, not for any witty comment, but just to say this. How many times have you dreamed of that question being asked to you? My goodness.)
Tim paused, not wanting to scream, whoop with joy, or any of the other thousand answers he had mulling through his brain. “Play it cool, boy,” he thought to himself.
“Sure,” he said, throwing the paper towel back at her. “After all, its in the name of exercise.”
Sam snorted. “Exercise? I have a sneaking suspicion you’ll enjoy this, Tim. But I might too, so lets get going.”
Tim gulped, silently praying to any and all gods that may have been listening, offering up his sincerest thanks for what must be Sam’s spontaneous insanity.
“Where do you want to go?”
“The living room is fine,” Sam said, kicking off her sneakers and heading towards the couch. “So in your extensive research, did it say how I should be positioned?” Sam winked at Tim as she said this, making him grin and blush yet again.
“No, it didn’t. Just get comfortable.”
Sam nodded, lying face-up on the couch. Tim pulled a chair closer to her, still amazed this was even happening.
“So, I suppose I need to know where you’re ticklish, don’t I?”
Sam grinned, slightly lifting up her tank top. “You’ll know when you’ve hit a nerve.”
Tim stared at her stomach, reaching out involuntarily. Sam immediately giggled and sucked her tummy in, making Tim nearly jump out of his seat with excitement.
“I’ll stop the second you tell me to, I promise.”
“I know you will. If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be doing this. Now stop talking and tickle me.”
Tim did not need to be told twice. He reached out, letting his fingertips gently graze up and down Sam’s flat, toned stomach.
Sam immediately began giggling, grabbing the sides of the couch to keep herself from squirming away. She sucked in her stomach once again, but that only exposed her sides more for Tim’s fingers. She rolled a bit from side to side, but tried her hardest not to turn over completely.
Tim was amazed at her willpower. He knew he was as ticklish as Sam was, if not a little more, and that he’d be on the floor in a fetal position by this point. Sam kept herself as still as possible, however, though she laughed like nobody’s business. Tim was more amazed at how she continued looking at him through her laughter, which just made him tickle her harder. He lowered his other hand, now tickling both sides at once, which made Sam thrash even harder, now starting to roll towards the back of the couch.
“You OK? Want me to stop?” Tim forced himself to say, stopping the tickling but keeping his hands on her sides.
Sam continued giggling, but shook her head.
“Good,” said Tim, now grinning wider. “In which case, can you lift your arms a little?”
Sam looked at him suspiciously, but then winked and raised her arms slightly. Tim pounced on the opportunity, sliding his fingers up and beginning to tickle her underarms quickly. Sam immediately clamped down on Tim’s hands, now fully rolled over and screaming with laughter into the pillows on the couch. Tim slowed down a bit, but Sam seemed in no rush to remove his hands, so he resumed tickling with even more vigor. Sam thrashed and squealed, howled and wriggled, but seemed trapped by the tickling sensations, unable to unclasp her arms, which just made her torture continue.
Tim continued wiggling his fingers, but slowed down enough to give Sam an opportunity to move her arms, which enabled him to slide down and begin tickling her ribcage. Now, Tim had tickled people before, but had never really tickled ribs, so was unsure of how to do it. He experimented with soft up and down motions, followed by pokes and prods, then finished up with squeezing, moving from one rib to another. Sam laughed through all of them, but it was this last method that got her screaming anew, so that’s what Tim continued with.
Tim stopped again, leaving Sam still face-down in the pillows, gasping for air.
“Had enough?” Tim asked, reclining back in his chair.
Sam could not answer from gasping and giggling, but managed to turn herself over, revealing a red and lightly sweaty face.
“Oh god, that was insane,” she said, staring at the ceiling.
“We can stop,” Tim replied. “It’s been ten minutes or so.”
Sam peered at the clock. “That’s it? It feels like an hour.”
“Nope, ten minutes, actually more like nine. But if that’s all you can handle. . .” Tim grinned, loving his new found sense of power and control. He had never felt like this before, especially with someone older and attractive like Sam.
Sam scowled, still looking at the clock.
“I guess nine minutes isn’t much of a workout,” she said, grimacing as she did so.
“Nope, not really. How much time do you spend on the ab machines at the gym?”
“Half an hour or more,” Sam replied, eyes widening as she did so.
“Hmm,” Tim said, stroking her hair. “Well, we’ll call it an easy day.” He got up to grab her a water, only to feel her hand grasp his arm.
“Keep going,” she said, edging back against the rear of the couch.
“You sure?”
Sam nodded. “Just not my underarms any more, OK?”
Tim grinned. “Of course. Bend your knees.”
Sam did as she was told, bending her knees, lifting her socked feet into the air. Tim hopped on the free space of the couch that Sam provided, facing her feet.
”Socks on or off?” he asked, still smiling.
Sam turned to look at him, biting her lip gently at the sight of him so close to her feet.
“On. I haven’t showered yet.”
“Suit yourself,” Tim replied, lightly grasping one ankle with one hand and spidering his fingers up and down her socked sole with the other. He watched Sam’s face and body, testing her reactions.
Sam tensed up immediately, but did not laugh. She grasped the arm of the couch, scrunching her face up to hold in the laughter. Obviously her feet were somewhat ticklish, but he couldn’t tell how much with the socks on. Not that he minded.
Tim began exploring her feet, moving from heel slowly up the arch, which got Sam to gasp and slap the armrest, but still not laugh. Once he began working up towards the ball of her foot, giggles escaped, but she was still fighting as hard as she could. Tim loved the look on Sam’s face, as if laughter would open a floodgate that she was desperate to keep closed. Tim took this as a challenge, and slowly made circles with his fingers on the balls of her foot, but Sam still wouldn’t break. Only when he lightly grazed his fingers along her toes did Sam begin to laugh out loud, which she did with great gusto.
Tim continued tickling her toes for a minute or two, making Sam pound the armrest as hard as she could, flinging her head back and forth in ticklish mirth. After a minute, Tim switched to the other foot, copying the same exploration as before, only this time, Sam continued to laugh, albeit softer than when her toes were being worked on. Tim reveled in this for what seemed like an hour to Sam and only seconds to himself, finishing with another toe tickling that caused Sam to have tears running down her cheeks.
Once the tickling stopped again, Sam collapsed onto the couch, thinking the worst was over. Tim, however, had other plans. He lifted Sam’s feet skyward, dragging his fingers down the backs of her legs, from calves to thighs and back again. Sam, completely unprepared for this new torture, shrieked and tried flinging her feet down. Luckily, Tim was ready and caught her ankles with his shoulder, trapping her legs in that position and freeing both hands to squeeze behind her legs.
Sam’s laughter raised an octave and got much louder than any other spot Tim had tickled. She cried out, howling with laughter, trying to move her legs, but finding herself unable to do so. She pawed her way off the couch, in a feeble attempt to crawl to safety, but this just freed more ticklish leg space, which Tim took full advantage of.
Tim found that Sam’s laughter reached its peak when he squeezed just below where her gym shorts ended, around mid-thigh. Sam began pleading for the torture to stop after only a few seconds of that ultimate tickling sensation.
“Tim, OK, I’m done, god, please.”
Tim stopped, as he promised he would. He couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed to do so, but knew this was far more than he could have ever dreamed. He helped Sam back onto the couch, where she lay for a long time without speaking. Tim’s mild concern grew to outright worry as time went on, afraid that he had gone too far, and that he had completely destroyed the friendship.
Sam turned towards him after ten minutes or so, still sweating from the ordeal. Tim, unsure of what would happen next, just stared at her.
She lunged forward with more energy that Tim ever thought she would possess, pressing him back against the couch and kissing him deeply. Tim’s eyes widened at first, but he returned the kiss eagerly, reaching up to cup her face as he did so. They kissed for a minute or so before Sam retracted, gasping again, eyes flashing.
“I’m going to grab a shower,” Sam said absentmindedly, getting up and disappearing upstairs.
“K,” uttered Tim, his fingers playing along his lips, wondering if he would ever feel something that surprising and intense again, and knowing for certain that this would be one of those memories he kept with him for the rest of his life.
Sam emerged from the shower twenty minutes later, wrapped in a towel. She walked by Tim, who was still frozen on the couch, smiling at him as she headed upstairs. Tim stared at her, still replaying every moment in his head. When Sam came back down the stairs dressed, he was just getting to the kiss part, which explained the large smile on his face.
“I’ve got to go to work,” she said, grabbing her keys.
“Oh,” Tim replied, wondering what he was supposed to say or do.
“I’m headed back home tonight,” she said, stopping and looking at him on the couch.
Tim’s heart sank. “You are?”
She nodded. “Work all the rest of the week, so it doesn’t make much sense to stay here.”
“Err, umm, ok, whatever,” Tim said, trying to play it off, even though he could feel himself sinking into a deep depression.
Sam leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Thanks for the workout, stud.” She grabbed her purse and walked out the door.
Tim sat there for what seemed to be an eternity, staring at the door. How could he have just let her leave like that? How big of an idiot was he? Why was his hip beeping?
He reached down and pulled out his cell phone.
1 New Message.
“Hey, I forgot to mention something…My place…Friday night…Your turn for a workout. Sam.”
Tim glanced at the calendar. Today was Wednesday. He could sit on this couch for another 48 hours, he was sure of it.
There you have it. Another adventure told, one of intrigue, espionage, and laughter. Well, maybe not espionage. But definitely the other two. Along with all other stories told here, this one could continue. You’ll just have to wait and see.
There is always a need for a storyteller.
