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Tickle Beach 2

Laffy Daffy

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Jan 6, 2009
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OK, so this is probably a little quicker than the following parts will get posted, but here is part two of the Tickle Beach saga. Once again, any and all responses are appreciated.

PART TWO

After an hour or so of contemplating what to do with the note from Amy, I decided it was way too good an offer to pass up, even if it was just a ruse. And since my meeting Veronique had also gone well earlier that day, it seemed like a no-brainer to at least float the idea out there to the young French couple as well. They could easily say no, but after seeing the mischievous spark in her eyes when I sent her after Amy’s ticklish peds, I had to believe they would be as intrigued by the message and the map as I was. Plus, it was almost impossible to imagine not getting a tickle in on Veronique myself before we went our separate ways, boyfriend or not.

They weren’t in the room, and I was already having second thoughts about them when I literally tripped over the boyfriend as he sat smoking a cigarette on the stoop in front of our hotel. Now I played basketball all through my school career and ran track in the off season, and I like to think I have a certain amount of grace to the way I move from my active background, but this time I was unable to catch myself and tumbled to the ground, ending up half in the bushes growing alongside the walkway. I hadn’t seen Veronique when walking out the front door, but now I heard the musical laughter I knew to be hers from the night with Amy, and then she was standing over me.

This girl was a vision, her long blond hair hanging in a loose ponytail over her left shoulder, dressed in a belly-baring tank top and shorts so short that they could be considered underwear. I checked myself, realizing I was staring like a fool, and tried to pick myself up. The bush held on tight, but luckily the boyfriend sprang to my aid and pulled me up onto solid ground again. I was blushing furiously but trying to remain nonchalant.

“Thanks. Sorry to have tripped over you.”

The boyfriend took a drag and smiled at me, smoke seeping out the corners of his mouth. “Pardonne-moi. I should not be blocking the doorway.” He held out a hand. “Jean-Paul. Although many of my friends prefer to call me J.P.” He said it ‘Shay-Pee,’ and it took a concentrated effort not to mock his thick French accent trying it out for myself. “J.P. I’m James, nice to finally meet you.”

His eyebrows went up when I said finally, but before I could explain, Veronique had an arm around his waist. “James and I met during breakfast the other day, right before I met that girl Amy I was telling you about. He’s staying in a room near ours, which means he probably overheard you one night.” She punctuated this remark by snaking her fingers under his shirt, and he jerked away, smiling sheepishly.

“She is… how do you say? Insatiable.” He said the word slowly, trying it out like a good drink or a fine cigar. Again I found myself staring at Veronique; captivated by this beautiful woman who was obviously every bit the tickler I was. And since the subject of tickling had already found its way into our conversation…

“Well, that’s actually part of the reason why I was looking for you two.”





Two hours and too many beers later, the three of us were clustered around a table way too small for a pair of people, let alone the three of us. I wasn’t complaining, as Veronique had draped her legs over JP’s lap, giving me a first class view of her tanned, smooth legs and perfect feet. She had been wearing flip-flops when we sat down, but had let them drop to the floor, and was teasing JP (and probably me as well) with her wiggling bare feet. I hadn’t shown them anything, deciding only to explain the situation so that they would not be able to kick me to the curb and go themselves. I shouldn’t have worried, as Veronique was highly intrigued right from the start.

“How far will we have to go? And what do you think she means by a ticklish stretch of beach?” Her green eyes never left my face as she fired question after question like torpedoes, as if I knew more than I was telling them. Unfortunately for both of us, I didn’t.

“The truth is, all I have to go off is this note. I would imagine after our respective interactions with her, Amy pegged us as tickle people. She obviously knows something we don’t, whether its that she knows a couple of hippies who live out on a random island and love tickling people, or maybe there’s some native tribe that will be waiting for us to capture us and tickle us till we lose our minds. It’s a pretty big risk to just go for it, but I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

And that was the truth. At beer number one, I hadn’t been entirely sure of my plan, but the longer I sat here, watching Veronique’s pink-painted toes curl and twitch, the more sure I became that I’d chase Amy’s ticklish beach as far as was necessary. Partially because I was sure Veronique would be too curious to do anything but come along for the ride. On that note, I wasn’t totally right.

She turned to JP, and for the first time since we had sat down, asked him what he thought. He pursed his lips and a thoughtful look came over his face. Instead of answering right away, he slowly picked up and sipped his beer, his eyes focused off in the distance. Clearly not expecting an answer in the immediate future, Veronique turned back to me.

“Jean and I met in France, and he had already been planning a trip to East Asia. We were dating five months when he booked the full trip, which was originally for a month. He invited me along when he booked it, and I jumped at the chance. We’ve been bouncing around here for almost a year now, and loving every minute of it. The thing is, he’s not a true ticklephile, like I am, and I’m assuming you are. It took a good month to get him into the idea of being tickled on a regular basis, and I still think he puts up with it for my sake more than he actually enjoys it himself. He’s very ticklish.”

It was odd to have her speak so frankly about him as if he weren’t even there. But it explained a lot I guess. I had seen Veronique tickle him and Amy, and bait him to tickle her at breakfast, but had never seen him initiate any ticklish play. It was always Veronique poking and prodding, instigating what she could. Even here, since we had been drinking and talking, she had tickled him half a dozen times, and even with her feet in easy reach, he has only absentmindedly stroked the soles I would have been tickling like a mad man.

I nodded, but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to risk pushing him in one direction or the other unintentionally, and I knew that if I had a girl as beautiful as Veronique wanting to go anywhere, no matter how uncomfortable it made me, I’d probably still go. I’m a sucker for the pretty girls that way.

Finally JP spoke. “I am intrigued by this beach you speak of, but what if it is some kind of trap. This Amy knew you were a tourist, and had to assume we were as well. Even if it is tickling that awaits us, how can we know it will be fun instead of torture? I do not wish to spend my final moments of life laughing so hard I cannot breathe.”

On that point he and I differed, and I hoped Veronique was on my side of the fence instead of his. That being said, I knew now what he was thinking, and made my drunken play at convincing him to come along. “I can’t imagine it’s anything as sinister as that. When Amy and I first met we talked for a little while, and she said she was from Australia, so I have to think this is a tourist friendly spot anyway.” I didn’t mention that she hadn’t been home in five years, or that we had met while I was eavesdropping on their ticklish fun. Still, JP nodded, and it looked like he was coming around to the idea.

Naturally, it was Veronique who made the final demands. “As long as Jean agrees, I think we will come along, but with one condition. And it is a very personal condition, James, so I understand if you wish to set out alone instead of having us along.”

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I should’ve known. “OK, well what is it?”

“First, you know that we are ticklish from the noises you’ve heard, and from being around us today. I will elaborate on this information by saying that Jean is the most ticklish boy I have ever known, and that I have yet to find a spot on him that isn’t incredibly ticklish to the right touch. Would you agree, sweetie?” JP was lighting a cigarette, but he nodded calmly, as if he was confirming his favorite brand of smokes instead of his most vulnerable areas. “I am also very ticklish, but I do not like my ears or neck being touched. Beyond that, any spots are fair game. Now, James, I wish to know the same about you.”

She smiled when she said this, and I don’t know if she even realized it, but her eyes looked me up and down with a hunger that sent a chill down my spine. I have been tickled by some truly sadistic women in my lifetime, but I could tell just from this look that Veronique would give any one of them a run for their money.

I’m not generally as open with my ticklishness as my new friends were, and I could feel a warm blush coloring my cheeks as I responded. “Well, I admit I have very ticklish feet, enough that I usually can’t go barefoot because of the sensitivity. My hips are also one of the spots that make me really crazy, and then the general ticklish spots are all good enough to get some good laughter out of me.” I wasn’t sure if I should go on or not, but Veronique’s crafty smile stopped me in my tracks. “Well James, I think my condition will be quite fun for all of us. Before we leave this area, I wish to tickle you, and for you to see me tickle my beloved Jean. And then I will even allow the two of you to tickle me senseless. For if we are to journey together, I think it is only fair that we know just what each one of us is getting into.”

And that is how I ended up tied to a cot in a rented room inside a brothel, tears running down my cheeks as Veronique showed me just how good a tickler she really was. It wasn’t officially a brothel according to Veronique, who claimed she and JP had been here a few times since arriving in town. However, it was a closed-off room offering more privacy than our hotel, and they supplied ropes, cuffs, and some fun sexually themed toys. Brothel or not, it suited our purposes just fine. JP was sitting on a folding chair in the corner, sipping a beer and smoking while he recovered. Veronique had demanded he be the first victim, and I had been the drinker, watching as she drove him completely mad. She hadn’t been kidding about how ticklish he was; I’ve got a mental catalogue of all the ticklish girls I’ve ever known and in terms of overall ticklishness, I think he rivals even the most sensitive. She made him use his safe word six times in a half hour, and three of those times were on the feet alone. She was a devious ler, playful and taunting at one moment and then furiously driving the air out of your lungs the next. I knew I was in for it before she tied me down, and even though she started at the top, away from my most ticklish spot, I was laughing hard right from the start. My armpits and ribs, usually only lukewarm spots, had me flopping around and gasping for air. I was trying to gauge JP’s reactions to his girlfriend’s obvious enjoyment in tickling me silly, but it wasn’t long before the only thing I could focus on were the sensations screaming throughout my tortured body. She pried the safe word out of me once, kneading my hips till I was laughing so hard I thought my eyes would pop. In the two minute break she gave me, I heard nothing but taunts about how great a tickler she was, and how weak men could be when you found their weak spots. I made up my mind not to say it again no matter what she did, but that was a silly stance to take, as she hadn’t even touched my feet yet. When she reached the bottom of the cot, pulling off the sneakers she had insisted I keep on, I knew I was doomed.

I thought she must’ve spent an hour down there, but the clock revealed I only lasted about fifteen minutes before I was screaming the safe word at the ceiling helplessly between deep belly laughs. I had been OK with the nail treatment on my soles, and even on the tops of my feet, which is a surprisingly sensitive point for me. She paid great attention to the toes, which was the most exquisite torture I can ever remember experiencing. It was clear she knew what she was doing, and enjoyed it as well. I tried to sneak a few glances at JP as I laughed, but he seemed unmoved by my frantic struggles and laughter. She put me out of my misery with her tongue, still using all ten fingers to torment my soles, but adding her mouth to equation in the form of an incredibly efficient bout of toe licking. After I had finally given up, she untied me and let me lay there for a moment, breathing hard through the aftershocks of giggles.

“I think we will have a lot of fun on our adventure, non?” I couldn’t answer, but was shocked to hear JP chime in with a “C’est vrai.” I slid my legs off the bed and sat up, setting my sights on the girl I had wanted to tickle all along. “I believe it’s your turn, Miss Tickler.”

She smiled, and lay on the bed herself, bare toes already curling. I looked over to JP, and he nodded, getting up to help me secure his girlfriend to the bed. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this, man?”

He nodded again. “If it means she has someone to tickle other than me, I’m all for it. And as far as other people tickling her goes, she brings it on herself far too often for me to be bothered by it anymore. However, if we are to set out tomorrow morning, I think we should probably save the full exploration for another time. Tonight we will simply get revenge for what she did to us, and for that, I think we can stick to la pieds, oui?”

Being a foot guy myself, I wasn’t going to argue, and as we each sat down at our own foot, Veronique twitched in anticipation. She was a six or seven, I always have a hard time telling, and her left foot, my foot, was perfect. Incredibly soft, perfectly symmetrical toes, and wonderfully sensitive. We both started with light scratches all along the bottom of her foot, testing this spot and that. Right from the beginning she was giggling happily, and even taunting us a little, encouraging us to really go after her. It didn’t take much encouragement for me, and I let my fingers scribble wildly up her high arches, loving the way her foot flexed in my grip. The taunting had ceased, and now her head was thrown back in loud, giddy laughter. JP seemed content to strum up and down her sole like a nice guitar, while I explored all over her bare foot. It was everything I had hoped for from the moment I saw her. With each new area her laughter changed in a new and exciting way. Under the toes got a high pitched, screamy giggle, while the ball of her foot broke her down into gasping, deep guffaws. Her heels were perfect for making those delicate pink toes curls down, and the tops of her feet and ankle bones were very ticklish as well. After close to twenty minutes JP had slowed to lightly teasing her bare toes, and I did the same once I noticed. At this she giggled wildly, never once asking for mercy or a break. He turned to me and smiled almost apologetically, and nodded towards the bed.

“If you don’t mind, I think we shall now bid you adieu. If this is to be our last night alone together until we reach this beach, I think an hour or two for ourselves is not too much to ask, oui?”

Of course he was right, and I thanked him and a giggly Veronique, then made plans to meet the next morning at the check out desk. As I left the room to the sounds of her squeals as JP ramped up the torture again, I could barely walk. I had made two excellent new friends, and we were about to have a hell of an adventure together one way or another.

The only hitch left was how I would manage to keep myself from falling in love with the girl of my dreams, currently tied to a cot, enjoying her last night alone with her boyfriend.
 
Another great addition. I look forward to seeing the next installment of the series. I'm extremely curious to see what this beach looks like.
 
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