Laffy Daffy
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jan 6, 2009
- Messages
- 207
- Points
- 0
After multiple readings of Alex Garland's "The Beach" I was inspired to try a tickling themed parody of what was really a great story. This is the beginning of what came out. It's kind of slow to develop, but I'll be posting part two soon. The tickling is f/f, f/m, and m/f.
Feedback is always appreciated
PART ONE
I’d recognize it anywhere, but in the open-air, paper-thin walls of this fleabag hotel in Bangkok, it’s impossible not to notice it. Mischievous giggles and whispered threats, clearly a female. Grunts and struggling, followed by sudden bursts of uncontrollable masculine laughter. Ticklish laughter.
I lay back on my bed and remember the last time I was tickled. Two months ago in Hong Kong I went to a massage house and ended up paying a little extra once I found out the masseuse was oldest in a family of seven, and an expert tickler. She giggled and made fun of me the whole time, calling me her “ticklish little American.” She would tell me which techniques worked on which sibling. As she drilled her fingers into the hollows of my armpits, she would smile at my howls of laughter and say “just like second brother.” As her nails flicked along my inner thighs I heard her giggle about her youngest sister. And when she began scraping her nails on the soles of my feet, well then I was laughing too hard to really care what she said.
But that was two months ago. Way too long for any real tickle nut, and I was going stir-crazy. Now, hearing the struggle going on in one of the rooms next to mine, I just had to see if I could make out what was going on. I stood on the bed and pulled myself up, peering through the screen, only to see a mostly empty room next to mine. I shook my head and started to turn away in disappointment when I heard her voice.
“It’s the next room down.”
I nearly fell back onto the bed, and turned back, startled to see someone on the other side of the screen. I stammered for a few seconds and finally managed to blurt out, “What do you mean?”
She sighed, took a drag from her cigarette, and blew the smoke through the screen to me. “The tickling. That’s what you’re up here for, isn’t it?”
After a few more moments of hemming and hawing she laughed and shook her head. “Silly prude American. I know what you’re looking for, I heard it too. Why do you think I’m up here?”
Her accent sounded Australian, and all I could tell about her through the screen was that she appeared to be a redhead. I lit a cigarette of my own, and tried to sound casual.
“So, do you listen to people getting tickled a lot?”
The second it left my mouth I felt like a moron, but she giggled sweetly. “Not as a rule, no, but I never turn down an opportunity to. This is the third time she’s been after him today.”
We were interrupted by a sudden squeal, and then high, girlish giggles. My new friend giggled again. “That was her getting it. She sounds like she’s more ticklish, but she’s always starting trouble.”
I took a drag and selected my words more carefully this time. “Do you know them?”
“Nope, just staying here a few nights before heading back to Sydney. Haven’t seen my family in almost five years.”
Now the giggles rose into steady, hard laughter. Snorted pleas for mercy mixed in with the hysterical laughter, and couldn’t help but chuckle a little. My friend leaned in close to the screen and asked quietly, “Wanna hear something funny?”
“Sure.”
“I like to think that really loud laughter is her feet. I saw her coming back to her room today and said hello. I glanced at her feet a few times and I swear she was trying to catch me, wiggling her toes and giggling a lot. She seems like a handful. I wish I could get my hands on her.”
Again, trying to play it casual, I asked, “What about you? Are you ticklish yourself?”
She blew out another puff of smoke and hesitated a second. “Very, but don’t get your hopes up fella. My soles are for female nails only.”
I nodded. Figures that the one fellow tickler I meet would be a lesbian with no interest in guys. Well a little conversation can’t hurt. “Yeah, I’m pretty ticklish myself.”
“Of course you are. I saw you go in to your room yesterday. I bet I could make you cry if I wanted.” She laughed, and as she did, the laughter from the other room abruptly turned to moaning. “Well, looks like our show is over. Well, it was nice sharing a tickle with you.”
Before she could step down I quickly poked a finger through the screen. “I didn’t catch your name. I’m James.”
Silence for a moment. Then, “Amy. Nice to meet you James.”
I sat back down on my bed, listening to the moans of couple down the hall and reliving what just happened in my head. It wasn’t a tickle but… it was better than nothing. I fell asleep dreaming of my ticklish neighbors.
The next morning I was sitting the hotel lobby eating breakfast when I saw the couple from down the hall come down and sit at a table only two over from mine. They were flirty, even in the early morning, and the girl kept grabbing at her boy’s sides, eliciting giggles and jerks away from her. She was a stunner, blonde hair, long, tan legs, tight waist. She sat across the table from him, smiling coyly. He was a fairly good looking guy, dark hair, a little taller than her and athletic looking. I think I could probably take him, but I wouldn’t want to. I continued with my breakfast, occasionally glancing over to admire my neighbor. They were just waiting for their food, talking, and that’s when she started again.
Her foot was suddenly resting on the bench next to him, her toes wiggling against his side. Instantly she was in control as his face screwed up and he began talking to her in a very hushed, frantic tone. She kept it up as he squirmed and tried not to laugh, up until another group walked up and began talking to them. At first I had a perfect view between two of the people, watching her toes wiggle expertly along his side. He cracked a few times that I could hear, giggling loudly during a word, or suddenly laughing. But then, just as he grabbed her ankle himself, one of their friends stepped directly into my sight line.
I heard her squeal twice loudly, and then, after the group left, she slapped him on the arm, and he smiled back at her and stuck out his tongue. They continued eating without much event, but it was at this point that I noticed a tall, thin girl sitting three tables down from them, smoking a cigarette and pretending to read a magazine. Her bright red hair was electric in the morning, and she had her bare feet on the chair in front of her, soles facing my way.
I caught her eye and waved, and she smiled and waved back. I pointed to her soles and made a tickly motion, and she wagged a finger at me. She continued to wiggle her toes and flex her feet at me every time I looked back, driving me insane. The idea that I’d never see those soles get their due tickling was unbearable. Then I got my chance.
My ticklish neighbors had decided to separate, with the gentleman retiring back to the room and the lady sitting at her table, finishing her noodles. An outrageous plan sprang into my mind. After a minute of internal debate, I got up quickly and sat across from her, my back to Amy.
“Hi.”
She looked up at me, clearly a little surprised. She chewed her food slowly and stared me down, trying to figure out what my plan was. She swallowed, and I was amazed that she was even more beautiful in person. She didn’t have much of an accent, but it was clearly French.
“Hello. You do realize my boyfriend just left. He’ll probably be back any minute.”
I smiled. This was to be expected. “I figured he probably was. And don’t get me wrong, you certainly are beautiful, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Her eyebrows narrowed, and she took another bite of noodles, waving her fork as if to say continue, so I went on.
“See the girl with the red hair? Over my left shoulder? She’s a friend of mine. We met the other day, and she admitted to me that she has very ticklish feet.” At this the girl’s eyes widened, and encouraged, I plowed on.
“She also told me that nothing tickles more than a girl with good tickling nails, and you,” I paused, taking one of her hands, “look like you fit the bill.”
She smiled warily, taking her hand back. “So you want me to tickle her?”
I grinned. “Well, if you want to. I want to see if she was telling
the truth, and you look like the kind of person who might be up for a little tickle attack. It’s ok, you don’t…”
She raised one hand, silencing me. “I’ll do it. Just walk away like you’re leaving and then find a good spot to watch. I’ll give you a nice little show.”
I started to stand, and her hand on mine stopped me. I looked
down and she was smiling up at me. “I don’t believe I ever got your name. I’m Veronique.”
“James. Nice to meet you Veronique.”
“You’re staying down the hall from us, yes James?”
“I am.”
“Tres bien. Don’t be a stranger.”
I walked away, towards the stairs back to the rooms, but ducked behind a fern and sat, counting to thirty so I didn’t seem eager. She was probably going to tell Amy, and they were both going to be looking at me when I glanced over. I leaned carefully around the fern, and my jaw nearly hit the floor. Veronique was sitting across from Amy, one hand already resting next to Amy’s bare feet. Amy seemed flustered, blushing at something Veronique had said. She complimented her next comment with a wiggle of her nails under Amy’s left foot, and Amy yelped and pulled her foot away.
The next few minutes were just wonderful. Veronique was teasing Amy, nails constantly poking and wiggling under Amy’s feet as Amy squirmed and giggled helplessly. It was perfect, seeing the ultra-cool, composed woman I had spoken to last night red-faced and giggling helplessly. She nearly slid under the table as Veronique wiggled her finger under her toes, and outright laughed when all five nails raked her sole. By the end Veronique was leaning across the table, smiling happily and chattering away. Amy was slumped in the booth, blushing furiously and still giggling. Under the table, Veronique was holding one foot, steadily drawing one nail up and down Amy’s sole. As Amy giggled helplessly, Veronique leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Amy’s face lit up, only to screw up with giggles as Veronique renewed her torment.
Another few seconds and Veronique released her quarry, leaving Amy a giggling mess. She walked back to her table, her eyes quickly finding me and tipping a wink my way. I smiled, and took one last look at an adorably disheveled Amy, and casually headed outside. Hell of a way to start a day.
Two hours later I awoke from my dreams rather violently, sitting up with a yell. Nightmares have become part of my nightly ritual since a bad experience with a pack of wolves up in Siberia. I leaned over the edge of my bed, breathing hard, and then I noticed the folded paper on the ground, by the door. I walked over and picked it up, beginning to read the words which would change my life.
James,
Well done. I have to say I thought you were a bit of a sap last night, but that move downstairs certainly put me in my place. By the way, her nails are outrageous, but I’m sure you saw what they did to me. As a little thank you I’ve decided to share something with you. I encourage you to share it with Veronique and her boyfriend, as they seem like the type who would enjoy it. It’s a secluded little piece of paradise, a beach that no one knows about. Except for the people who have already been there. I used to live there, and let me tell you, it’s one ticklish stretch of beach. You should check it out. If your feet are anything like mine, you’ll love it.
Tickles,
Amy
P.S. Wanna know what she said at the end? Her exact words: “My feet are unbearably ticklish too.” Just thought you should know.
Out from the letter fell a map, with one unmarked island highlighted. At the top it said, “Find the way to T.B.”
Feedback is always appreciated
PART ONE
I’d recognize it anywhere, but in the open-air, paper-thin walls of this fleabag hotel in Bangkok, it’s impossible not to notice it. Mischievous giggles and whispered threats, clearly a female. Grunts and struggling, followed by sudden bursts of uncontrollable masculine laughter. Ticklish laughter.
I lay back on my bed and remember the last time I was tickled. Two months ago in Hong Kong I went to a massage house and ended up paying a little extra once I found out the masseuse was oldest in a family of seven, and an expert tickler. She giggled and made fun of me the whole time, calling me her “ticklish little American.” She would tell me which techniques worked on which sibling. As she drilled her fingers into the hollows of my armpits, she would smile at my howls of laughter and say “just like second brother.” As her nails flicked along my inner thighs I heard her giggle about her youngest sister. And when she began scraping her nails on the soles of my feet, well then I was laughing too hard to really care what she said.
But that was two months ago. Way too long for any real tickle nut, and I was going stir-crazy. Now, hearing the struggle going on in one of the rooms next to mine, I just had to see if I could make out what was going on. I stood on the bed and pulled myself up, peering through the screen, only to see a mostly empty room next to mine. I shook my head and started to turn away in disappointment when I heard her voice.
“It’s the next room down.”
I nearly fell back onto the bed, and turned back, startled to see someone on the other side of the screen. I stammered for a few seconds and finally managed to blurt out, “What do you mean?”
She sighed, took a drag from her cigarette, and blew the smoke through the screen to me. “The tickling. That’s what you’re up here for, isn’t it?”
After a few more moments of hemming and hawing she laughed and shook her head. “Silly prude American. I know what you’re looking for, I heard it too. Why do you think I’m up here?”
Her accent sounded Australian, and all I could tell about her through the screen was that she appeared to be a redhead. I lit a cigarette of my own, and tried to sound casual.
“So, do you listen to people getting tickled a lot?”
The second it left my mouth I felt like a moron, but she giggled sweetly. “Not as a rule, no, but I never turn down an opportunity to. This is the third time she’s been after him today.”
We were interrupted by a sudden squeal, and then high, girlish giggles. My new friend giggled again. “That was her getting it. She sounds like she’s more ticklish, but she’s always starting trouble.”
I took a drag and selected my words more carefully this time. “Do you know them?”
“Nope, just staying here a few nights before heading back to Sydney. Haven’t seen my family in almost five years.”
Now the giggles rose into steady, hard laughter. Snorted pleas for mercy mixed in with the hysterical laughter, and couldn’t help but chuckle a little. My friend leaned in close to the screen and asked quietly, “Wanna hear something funny?”
“Sure.”
“I like to think that really loud laughter is her feet. I saw her coming back to her room today and said hello. I glanced at her feet a few times and I swear she was trying to catch me, wiggling her toes and giggling a lot. She seems like a handful. I wish I could get my hands on her.”
Again, trying to play it casual, I asked, “What about you? Are you ticklish yourself?”
She blew out another puff of smoke and hesitated a second. “Very, but don’t get your hopes up fella. My soles are for female nails only.”
I nodded. Figures that the one fellow tickler I meet would be a lesbian with no interest in guys. Well a little conversation can’t hurt. “Yeah, I’m pretty ticklish myself.”
“Of course you are. I saw you go in to your room yesterday. I bet I could make you cry if I wanted.” She laughed, and as she did, the laughter from the other room abruptly turned to moaning. “Well, looks like our show is over. Well, it was nice sharing a tickle with you.”
Before she could step down I quickly poked a finger through the screen. “I didn’t catch your name. I’m James.”
Silence for a moment. Then, “Amy. Nice to meet you James.”
I sat back down on my bed, listening to the moans of couple down the hall and reliving what just happened in my head. It wasn’t a tickle but… it was better than nothing. I fell asleep dreaming of my ticklish neighbors.
The next morning I was sitting the hotel lobby eating breakfast when I saw the couple from down the hall come down and sit at a table only two over from mine. They were flirty, even in the early morning, and the girl kept grabbing at her boy’s sides, eliciting giggles and jerks away from her. She was a stunner, blonde hair, long, tan legs, tight waist. She sat across the table from him, smiling coyly. He was a fairly good looking guy, dark hair, a little taller than her and athletic looking. I think I could probably take him, but I wouldn’t want to. I continued with my breakfast, occasionally glancing over to admire my neighbor. They were just waiting for their food, talking, and that’s when she started again.
Her foot was suddenly resting on the bench next to him, her toes wiggling against his side. Instantly she was in control as his face screwed up and he began talking to her in a very hushed, frantic tone. She kept it up as he squirmed and tried not to laugh, up until another group walked up and began talking to them. At first I had a perfect view between two of the people, watching her toes wiggle expertly along his side. He cracked a few times that I could hear, giggling loudly during a word, or suddenly laughing. But then, just as he grabbed her ankle himself, one of their friends stepped directly into my sight line.
I heard her squeal twice loudly, and then, after the group left, she slapped him on the arm, and he smiled back at her and stuck out his tongue. They continued eating without much event, but it was at this point that I noticed a tall, thin girl sitting three tables down from them, smoking a cigarette and pretending to read a magazine. Her bright red hair was electric in the morning, and she had her bare feet on the chair in front of her, soles facing my way.
I caught her eye and waved, and she smiled and waved back. I pointed to her soles and made a tickly motion, and she wagged a finger at me. She continued to wiggle her toes and flex her feet at me every time I looked back, driving me insane. The idea that I’d never see those soles get their due tickling was unbearable. Then I got my chance.
My ticklish neighbors had decided to separate, with the gentleman retiring back to the room and the lady sitting at her table, finishing her noodles. An outrageous plan sprang into my mind. After a minute of internal debate, I got up quickly and sat across from her, my back to Amy.
“Hi.”
She looked up at me, clearly a little surprised. She chewed her food slowly and stared me down, trying to figure out what my plan was. She swallowed, and I was amazed that she was even more beautiful in person. She didn’t have much of an accent, but it was clearly French.
“Hello. You do realize my boyfriend just left. He’ll probably be back any minute.”
I smiled. This was to be expected. “I figured he probably was. And don’t get me wrong, you certainly are beautiful, but that’s not why I’m here.”
Her eyebrows narrowed, and she took another bite of noodles, waving her fork as if to say continue, so I went on.
“See the girl with the red hair? Over my left shoulder? She’s a friend of mine. We met the other day, and she admitted to me that she has very ticklish feet.” At this the girl’s eyes widened, and encouraged, I plowed on.
“She also told me that nothing tickles more than a girl with good tickling nails, and you,” I paused, taking one of her hands, “look like you fit the bill.”
She smiled warily, taking her hand back. “So you want me to tickle her?”
I grinned. “Well, if you want to. I want to see if she was telling
the truth, and you look like the kind of person who might be up for a little tickle attack. It’s ok, you don’t…”
She raised one hand, silencing me. “I’ll do it. Just walk away like you’re leaving and then find a good spot to watch. I’ll give you a nice little show.”
I started to stand, and her hand on mine stopped me. I looked
down and she was smiling up at me. “I don’t believe I ever got your name. I’m Veronique.”
“James. Nice to meet you Veronique.”
“You’re staying down the hall from us, yes James?”
“I am.”
“Tres bien. Don’t be a stranger.”
I walked away, towards the stairs back to the rooms, but ducked behind a fern and sat, counting to thirty so I didn’t seem eager. She was probably going to tell Amy, and they were both going to be looking at me when I glanced over. I leaned carefully around the fern, and my jaw nearly hit the floor. Veronique was sitting across from Amy, one hand already resting next to Amy’s bare feet. Amy seemed flustered, blushing at something Veronique had said. She complimented her next comment with a wiggle of her nails under Amy’s left foot, and Amy yelped and pulled her foot away.
The next few minutes were just wonderful. Veronique was teasing Amy, nails constantly poking and wiggling under Amy’s feet as Amy squirmed and giggled helplessly. It was perfect, seeing the ultra-cool, composed woman I had spoken to last night red-faced and giggling helplessly. She nearly slid under the table as Veronique wiggled her finger under her toes, and outright laughed when all five nails raked her sole. By the end Veronique was leaning across the table, smiling happily and chattering away. Amy was slumped in the booth, blushing furiously and still giggling. Under the table, Veronique was holding one foot, steadily drawing one nail up and down Amy’s sole. As Amy giggled helplessly, Veronique leaned over and whispered something in her ear. Amy’s face lit up, only to screw up with giggles as Veronique renewed her torment.
Another few seconds and Veronique released her quarry, leaving Amy a giggling mess. She walked back to her table, her eyes quickly finding me and tipping a wink my way. I smiled, and took one last look at an adorably disheveled Amy, and casually headed outside. Hell of a way to start a day.
Two hours later I awoke from my dreams rather violently, sitting up with a yell. Nightmares have become part of my nightly ritual since a bad experience with a pack of wolves up in Siberia. I leaned over the edge of my bed, breathing hard, and then I noticed the folded paper on the ground, by the door. I walked over and picked it up, beginning to read the words which would change my life.
James,
Well done. I have to say I thought you were a bit of a sap last night, but that move downstairs certainly put me in my place. By the way, her nails are outrageous, but I’m sure you saw what they did to me. As a little thank you I’ve decided to share something with you. I encourage you to share it with Veronique and her boyfriend, as they seem like the type who would enjoy it. It’s a secluded little piece of paradise, a beach that no one knows about. Except for the people who have already been there. I used to live there, and let me tell you, it’s one ticklish stretch of beach. You should check it out. If your feet are anything like mine, you’ll love it.
Tickles,
Amy
P.S. Wanna know what she said at the end? Her exact words: “My feet are unbearably ticklish too.” Just thought you should know.
Out from the letter fell a map, with one unmarked island highlighted. At the top it said, “Find the way to T.B.”
