Well, I feel I've finally lurked long enough; and considering the relative dearth of true stories lately, this is an excellent opportunity for me to contribute to the community after taking so very, very much.
This story took place back during my somewhat-less-than-wild high school days, while I was on a camping trip with a group of family and friends. We were in Gettysburg, PA, site of the historic battle and whatnot. The place was great for the history buff in me, and the large girl to boy ratio was great for the hormone-driven tickler in me. I got in a few small tickles here and there during that 3-day weekend, but one girl and the incidents involving her really stand out. Her name was Andrea, Andie for short, a girl about a year younger than me, and she was cute-- about 5'5", shoulder length straight brown hair, brown eyes, pretty face, olive complexion, the works. And for some unfathomable reason or another, she also had a crush on me. See, Andie was rather shy and withdrawn, except when I was around. So her older sister had asked me to stick close to her and get her to open up with the rest of the group. All around great guy that I am, I was more than happy to comply.
It all started on Saturday, while we were on a self-guided tour of the Gettysburg Battlefield. We ended up in Devil's Den, a huge jumble of gigantic boulders and rocks where Confederate snipers had hidden, in the late afternoon. The rocks are shot through with nooks, crannies, tunnels, and genuine caves that are great for climbing around in. But since I'd already been to Gettysburg and had seen it all before, I went off on my own down another run of smaller boulders. Little did I know, I had a follower.
A clatter from above and behind me was the giveaway. I turned to see Andie sitting on the flat top of a boulder, clutching her ankle. When I asked if she was ok, she replied, "I fell, I think I sprained it." So, having had successfully completed First Aid merit badge in the Boy Scouts, I climbed back to her to have a look. It was easy to see that her injury was only a bad twist of the ankle; there wasn't enough swelling to be a sprain. But a plan of the devious kind was forming in my head, so I started to unlace her sneaker. Maybe she had ESP, for she nervously asked, "Wh-what are you doing?"
"I've gotta get a better look at your ankle, so the shoe and sock have to go." She nodded to this logical request and let me proceed. I slid the sneaker off gently and stripped the sock away, revealing her maybe size 6 foot. Taking hold of her foot by the tanned top and heel, I gently rolled her ankle around the joint, asking how it felt. She said it was alright. I pointed her toes forward, and that was ok too. Finally, I took my left hand from her heel and skittered my now free fingers across her sole, right in the arch. "And how does this feel?"
Andie gasped sharply and tried to wriggle her foot away from the tickling, but I had her trapped. "Please! D-don't do that!" she squeaked. "What, does this hurt?" I asked innocently, running my fingers up and down the whole length of her sole. Still no giggles or laughs spilled out of her, just further gasps. "Nonono, it-- EEK!" she squeaked again and pulled her tortured foot out of my grasp and immediately pressed her sole against the flat rock.
"it doesn't hurt, it.. what?" I asked, moving up closer to her and running my index finger across the curled tops of her toes. She kept her lips pressed together but smiled in spite of herself. "Andie, you wouldn't happen to be ticklish on your feet, would you?" She closed her eyes and turned her head away from me, silent still. "Maybe? Just a little tiny bit?" I pressed, sliding my finger into the crevice between her arch and the flat boulder top. There, trapped between cool, unfeeling stone below and warm, tender flesh above, my finger wiggled. Andie's eyes snapped open and she tried to move her foot away, but I kept it pressed down on the tormenting finger. Finally, she giggled and gushed out, "YES! I'm ticklish! *giggle* Just please, stop!" I did, and she heaved a sigh of relief before quoting Carmen Electra exactly: "My feet are the most ticklish spot on my whole entire body!"
"Oh really? How ticklish is that?"
“No, don’t tickle-- EEK! Stop, please! *giggle* It’s awful!” Andie squirmed as my finger wiggled in her arch again. She lifted her foot from the rock and tried to twist away, but I held onto her ankle gently and kept tickling. With her foot no longer pressed against the rock, her entire sole was vulnerable to my fingers. The sensation must’ve been overpowering because after a minute of writhing and wiggling, Andie just melted into an occasionally twitching puddle of giggles. She never really laughed or screamed; only fountains of giggles and a few gasps would issue from her lips. The gasps came whenever I found a particularly sensitive spot on her sole. Her toes weren’t all that responsive, but the ball of her foot was a good place, and her arch remained the real hot spot. She would gasp when I scratched the nail of my index finger over the ball, then just go on tittering until all five fingers scrambled in the dead center of her sole before sliding into the hollow of her arch. Then Andie would gasp sharply, and the process would start over again.
I finally had her lying flat on her back atop the boulder, eyes opened wide and staring while she clasped her hands over her mouth in a futile attempt to halt the flood of giggles. “Andie…” I said, giving her a rest, “I think your foot is very, very ticklish. Is that how ticklish you really are?”
“No,” she answered, “my feet are desperately ticklish! I’m desperately ticklish! Please, no more… It’s driving me crazy!” She sat up slowly and looked at me very nervously. Her toes were curled tight. “Please don’t tickle me anymore? It’s too much to bear… right now.”
“Alright, then. I won’t tickle you anymore… right now.” She smiled very slowly, very shyly, but snatched her foot away as soon as I loosened my grasp. As she pulled on her sock and shoe, I asked, “So how does your ankle feel now?” “Oh, it feels a lot better! I hardly can tell I hurt it now! Except,” and now she glanced over at me without meeting my eyes, “I don’t know if I can actually walk on it…” I grinned, stepped over to her, and scooped her up in my arms. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to carry you back to the cars.” She nodded and giggled a non-tickle-induced laugh.
But as I was carrying her back, I slowed down and looked into her face. “But hey… Why were you following me down here in the first place?” She didn’t answer. “Andie?” She shook her head. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to get you to tell me somehow… But not right now.”
And I did. But that’ll be my next post.
This story took place back during my somewhat-less-than-wild high school days, while I was on a camping trip with a group of family and friends. We were in Gettysburg, PA, site of the historic battle and whatnot. The place was great for the history buff in me, and the large girl to boy ratio was great for the hormone-driven tickler in me. I got in a few small tickles here and there during that 3-day weekend, but one girl and the incidents involving her really stand out. Her name was Andrea, Andie for short, a girl about a year younger than me, and she was cute-- about 5'5", shoulder length straight brown hair, brown eyes, pretty face, olive complexion, the works. And for some unfathomable reason or another, she also had a crush on me. See, Andie was rather shy and withdrawn, except when I was around. So her older sister had asked me to stick close to her and get her to open up with the rest of the group. All around great guy that I am, I was more than happy to comply.
It all started on Saturday, while we were on a self-guided tour of the Gettysburg Battlefield. We ended up in Devil's Den, a huge jumble of gigantic boulders and rocks where Confederate snipers had hidden, in the late afternoon. The rocks are shot through with nooks, crannies, tunnels, and genuine caves that are great for climbing around in. But since I'd already been to Gettysburg and had seen it all before, I went off on my own down another run of smaller boulders. Little did I know, I had a follower.
A clatter from above and behind me was the giveaway. I turned to see Andie sitting on the flat top of a boulder, clutching her ankle. When I asked if she was ok, she replied, "I fell, I think I sprained it." So, having had successfully completed First Aid merit badge in the Boy Scouts, I climbed back to her to have a look. It was easy to see that her injury was only a bad twist of the ankle; there wasn't enough swelling to be a sprain. But a plan of the devious kind was forming in my head, so I started to unlace her sneaker. Maybe she had ESP, for she nervously asked, "Wh-what are you doing?"
"I've gotta get a better look at your ankle, so the shoe and sock have to go." She nodded to this logical request and let me proceed. I slid the sneaker off gently and stripped the sock away, revealing her maybe size 6 foot. Taking hold of her foot by the tanned top and heel, I gently rolled her ankle around the joint, asking how it felt. She said it was alright. I pointed her toes forward, and that was ok too. Finally, I took my left hand from her heel and skittered my now free fingers across her sole, right in the arch. "And how does this feel?"
Andie gasped sharply and tried to wriggle her foot away from the tickling, but I had her trapped. "Please! D-don't do that!" she squeaked. "What, does this hurt?" I asked innocently, running my fingers up and down the whole length of her sole. Still no giggles or laughs spilled out of her, just further gasps. "Nonono, it-- EEK!" she squeaked again and pulled her tortured foot out of my grasp and immediately pressed her sole against the flat rock.
"it doesn't hurt, it.. what?" I asked, moving up closer to her and running my index finger across the curled tops of her toes. She kept her lips pressed together but smiled in spite of herself. "Andie, you wouldn't happen to be ticklish on your feet, would you?" She closed her eyes and turned her head away from me, silent still. "Maybe? Just a little tiny bit?" I pressed, sliding my finger into the crevice between her arch and the flat boulder top. There, trapped between cool, unfeeling stone below and warm, tender flesh above, my finger wiggled. Andie's eyes snapped open and she tried to move her foot away, but I kept it pressed down on the tormenting finger. Finally, she giggled and gushed out, "YES! I'm ticklish! *giggle* Just please, stop!" I did, and she heaved a sigh of relief before quoting Carmen Electra exactly: "My feet are the most ticklish spot on my whole entire body!"
"Oh really? How ticklish is that?"
“No, don’t tickle-- EEK! Stop, please! *giggle* It’s awful!” Andie squirmed as my finger wiggled in her arch again. She lifted her foot from the rock and tried to twist away, but I held onto her ankle gently and kept tickling. With her foot no longer pressed against the rock, her entire sole was vulnerable to my fingers. The sensation must’ve been overpowering because after a minute of writhing and wiggling, Andie just melted into an occasionally twitching puddle of giggles. She never really laughed or screamed; only fountains of giggles and a few gasps would issue from her lips. The gasps came whenever I found a particularly sensitive spot on her sole. Her toes weren’t all that responsive, but the ball of her foot was a good place, and her arch remained the real hot spot. She would gasp when I scratched the nail of my index finger over the ball, then just go on tittering until all five fingers scrambled in the dead center of her sole before sliding into the hollow of her arch. Then Andie would gasp sharply, and the process would start over again.
I finally had her lying flat on her back atop the boulder, eyes opened wide and staring while she clasped her hands over her mouth in a futile attempt to halt the flood of giggles. “Andie…” I said, giving her a rest, “I think your foot is very, very ticklish. Is that how ticklish you really are?”
“No,” she answered, “my feet are desperately ticklish! I’m desperately ticklish! Please, no more… It’s driving me crazy!” She sat up slowly and looked at me very nervously. Her toes were curled tight. “Please don’t tickle me anymore? It’s too much to bear… right now.”
“Alright, then. I won’t tickle you anymore… right now.” She smiled very slowly, very shyly, but snatched her foot away as soon as I loosened my grasp. As she pulled on her sock and shoe, I asked, “So how does your ankle feel now?” “Oh, it feels a lot better! I hardly can tell I hurt it now! Except,” and now she glanced over at me without meeting my eyes, “I don’t know if I can actually walk on it…” I grinned, stepped over to her, and scooped her up in my arms. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to carry you back to the cars.” She nodded and giggled a non-tickle-induced laugh.
But as I was carrying her back, I slowed down and looked into her face. “But hey… Why were you following me down here in the first place?” She didn’t answer. “Andie?” She shook her head. “Well, then I guess I’ll have to get you to tell me somehow… But not right now.”
And I did. But that’ll be my next post.
