Hi. My name is Becky and I wanted to tell you the story of how I got into tickling. I grew up in a small town in Oklahoma. My parents owned a bakery and I was their only daughter. They saved all their money to send me to college so I could become a nurse. I had blossomed fairly young, so I developed some rather nice breasts to complement my long, brown hair. I was too focused on my studies to pay boys much attention although I did participate in one extracurricular activity.
I was a cheerleader. I loved football, but I hated football players. They were such one dimensional imbeciles and I wanted to meet someone who was on my intellectual level. There really wasn’t anyone like that in my high school.
When I went away to college, I joined the cheerleading squad and really loved going to the football games. When we went to an out-of-town game, I would take my nursing books with me and study on the bus. It was on the first of these bus trips my freshman year that my life really changed.
I had arrived at the bus a little late and the only open seat was next to a real clod of a football player name Henry. Well, I had my anatomy book with me, so at least I wouldn’t have to talk to him on the 3 hour bus ride. Also, my book sitting on my lap would help cover my thighs since our cheerleading uniforms were short and they tended to ride up as the bus rumbled along.
We were about 30 miles out of town when I heard the guttural voice of Henry say, “Anatomy, huh?”
Since my book clearly had ANATOMY written on the spine, I responded rather flippantly, “What was your first clue?”
That comment went right over his head. “There is something I’ve always wondered about anatomy,” he said. “Is it true that men have one more rib than women?”
Being the studious nursing student that I was, I missed the implication hiding in his question. “No.” I said. “Both men and women have the same number.”
Henry was setting a trap and I fell right into it. “I’m sure that women have one less,” he said with a gleam in his eye. “Let me count yours.”
With that his fingers snaked under my left arm and wiggled against one of my lower ribs. I had really never been tickled before and I about jumped out of my skin. I squealed and giggled and grabbed for his hand. “Are you a little ticklish?” he asked deviously.
Unsure of how to answer, I replied, “I guess so.” I had both my hands gripping his arm trying to hold them back. However, while I was trying to hold back Henry’s tickling paw, I felt two other fingers probing my right rib cage. It was Oscar, another dumb football player who was sitting in the seat behind me. He had heard me squeal and thought he would get in on the fun. I reached back with my right arm to grab his hand and quickly realized that was the wrong thing to do. He pulled my hand back over the back of the seat and said to Henry, “Give me her other hand.”
Henry lifted my hand up and gave it to Oscar who now had both my hands pinned over my head and draped over the back of my seat. This exposed my smooth armpits as the cheerleader uniform was sleeveless. It also had a bare midriff and now my melon-sized breasts were close to popping out of my uniform. My tight belly was exposed and my ribs could be clearly seen. Oscar had by now locked his elbows over my arms, leaving his hands free to tickle my armpits. He shouted to Henry, “I’ll get her high and you get her low.”
With that he started tickling my armpits with a vengeance. Henry was working on my sides and ribs. I was squealing and giggling and bouncing all over the seat of that bus. I discovered that I was ticklish literally everywhere. My armpits were very sensitive and Henry found a sweet spot just above my hip that drove me insane. “Now let me count those ribs,” Henry said as he ran his hand up my side.
I was in hysterics. I was bouncing up and down and shrieking. I knew that everyone on the bus was looking at the hysterical nursing student whose tits were bouncing like jello and whose skirt was riding higher and higher up on her thighs.
What they didn’t know was that for the first time in my life, I was becoming extremely horny. I felt like I wanted one of these dumb jocks to realize it and grab one of my breasts as my nipples were hard as bullets. They just kept tickling and I could feel my pussy becoming wetter and wetter.
Finally, as I could barely breathe and was in that silent laughter stage, they took pity on me and stopped. “It’s a ritual,” Henry said as I rearranged my uniform. “The football team tests the ticklishness of the new cheerleaders. I think you’re the most ticklish we’ve seen. But you were the best sport. You never even told up to stop.”
I looked across the aisle at Stephanie, one of the sophomore cheerleaders. She nodded knowingly. “They did it to me last year. Nearly drove me nuts.”
Little did Henry know that there was a reason I never told them to stop. I didn’t want it to stop. My panties were soaked. For the rest of the trip, I sat with my anatomy book across my lap, but I wasn’t doing much reading. My hand was under the book rubbing my damp pussy. I’m sure I came at least 5 times before we got to the game. That night I lay awake thinking that those dumb lugs taught me something about myself. I realized that although I had never been tickled before, I had a tickling fetish. And it wouldn’t be long. But soon, I would meet the perfect man for a girl with a tickling fetish. I’ll tell that story next time.
I was a cheerleader. I loved football, but I hated football players. They were such one dimensional imbeciles and I wanted to meet someone who was on my intellectual level. There really wasn’t anyone like that in my high school.
When I went away to college, I joined the cheerleading squad and really loved going to the football games. When we went to an out-of-town game, I would take my nursing books with me and study on the bus. It was on the first of these bus trips my freshman year that my life really changed.
I had arrived at the bus a little late and the only open seat was next to a real clod of a football player name Henry. Well, I had my anatomy book with me, so at least I wouldn’t have to talk to him on the 3 hour bus ride. Also, my book sitting on my lap would help cover my thighs since our cheerleading uniforms were short and they tended to ride up as the bus rumbled along.
We were about 30 miles out of town when I heard the guttural voice of Henry say, “Anatomy, huh?”
Since my book clearly had ANATOMY written on the spine, I responded rather flippantly, “What was your first clue?”
That comment went right over his head. “There is something I’ve always wondered about anatomy,” he said. “Is it true that men have one more rib than women?”
Being the studious nursing student that I was, I missed the implication hiding in his question. “No.” I said. “Both men and women have the same number.”
Henry was setting a trap and I fell right into it. “I’m sure that women have one less,” he said with a gleam in his eye. “Let me count yours.”
With that his fingers snaked under my left arm and wiggled against one of my lower ribs. I had really never been tickled before and I about jumped out of my skin. I squealed and giggled and grabbed for his hand. “Are you a little ticklish?” he asked deviously.
Unsure of how to answer, I replied, “I guess so.” I had both my hands gripping his arm trying to hold them back. However, while I was trying to hold back Henry’s tickling paw, I felt two other fingers probing my right rib cage. It was Oscar, another dumb football player who was sitting in the seat behind me. He had heard me squeal and thought he would get in on the fun. I reached back with my right arm to grab his hand and quickly realized that was the wrong thing to do. He pulled my hand back over the back of the seat and said to Henry, “Give me her other hand.”
Henry lifted my hand up and gave it to Oscar who now had both my hands pinned over my head and draped over the back of my seat. This exposed my smooth armpits as the cheerleader uniform was sleeveless. It also had a bare midriff and now my melon-sized breasts were close to popping out of my uniform. My tight belly was exposed and my ribs could be clearly seen. Oscar had by now locked his elbows over my arms, leaving his hands free to tickle my armpits. He shouted to Henry, “I’ll get her high and you get her low.”
With that he started tickling my armpits with a vengeance. Henry was working on my sides and ribs. I was squealing and giggling and bouncing all over the seat of that bus. I discovered that I was ticklish literally everywhere. My armpits were very sensitive and Henry found a sweet spot just above my hip that drove me insane. “Now let me count those ribs,” Henry said as he ran his hand up my side.
I was in hysterics. I was bouncing up and down and shrieking. I knew that everyone on the bus was looking at the hysterical nursing student whose tits were bouncing like jello and whose skirt was riding higher and higher up on her thighs.
What they didn’t know was that for the first time in my life, I was becoming extremely horny. I felt like I wanted one of these dumb jocks to realize it and grab one of my breasts as my nipples were hard as bullets. They just kept tickling and I could feel my pussy becoming wetter and wetter.
Finally, as I could barely breathe and was in that silent laughter stage, they took pity on me and stopped. “It’s a ritual,” Henry said as I rearranged my uniform. “The football team tests the ticklishness of the new cheerleaders. I think you’re the most ticklish we’ve seen. But you were the best sport. You never even told up to stop.”
I looked across the aisle at Stephanie, one of the sophomore cheerleaders. She nodded knowingly. “They did it to me last year. Nearly drove me nuts.”
Little did Henry know that there was a reason I never told them to stop. I didn’t want it to stop. My panties were soaked. For the rest of the trip, I sat with my anatomy book across my lap, but I wasn’t doing much reading. My hand was under the book rubbing my damp pussy. I’m sure I came at least 5 times before we got to the game. That night I lay awake thinking that those dumb lugs taught me something about myself. I realized that although I had never been tickled before, I had a tickling fetish. And it wouldn’t be long. But soon, I would meet the perfect man for a girl with a tickling fetish. I’ll tell that story next time.
