Jamie sat in her dormroom and listened to her roommate Jenna. Jenna was crying about an episode that happened last night.
"It was awful. He kept tickling me. He kept tickling and tickling way past where I couldn't take it anymore. I'm so ticklish, I couldn't do anything about it. He finally made me pee in my pants and then ran off".
"I can't believe such an asshole even exists. Nobody knows him?"
"No! No! The guys…nobody remembered him. He lied, gave them different names".
"Well, we'll tell the R.A. Man, if somebody ever tried that on me I'd kick their ass".
Jamie Sara Jura had reason to be confident. The 5'10, 20 year old woman from Miami was a starting striker on the college soccer team. If you looked at her body, you could mistake her for Serena Williams while her face looked like the actress Vivica Fox. Her hard work, athleticism and attractiveness had taken her a long way so far.
Mike's Practice His beginning sequel
Mike flipped through his mail absent-mindedly while last night occupied his mind. He had met a girl at a college party, Jenna, and tickled her beyond the point of reason. Violated her personal space. Tickled, perhaps tortured, her against her will. Mike didn't understand exactly why he enjoyed it so much, but he did and now he couldn't stop thinking about it. .He had found a girl so ticklish that once tickled, she couldn't fight back. He didn't want to assault her sexually, he just wanted to tickle her past the point of desperation. He had done that, and now the thoughts raced through his mind as fondly as any.
He noticed the cover of the university athletic brochure. It was the woman on the cover, a very beautiful woman. Black pony-tail, skin the color of mahogany, tank top, great muscular arms, nice chest, prominent, but strong butt and great legs. Her name was Jamie, the roommate of the girl he'd tickled last night. He started to imagine what it would be like to tickle her.
Mike wanted to tickle a woman like he'd tickled Jenna and knew who he wanted to get. It had to be Jamie. Beautiful, athletic and Jenna reported her to be ticklish. How to get her? He'd have to find her alone, but in a place where she'd feel comfortable. He couldn't go around Jenna as she would recognize him. No. Mike had to figure out what Jamie did, where she went…but he needed some practice and he needed to do some tickling.
Mike went to the mall. He walked in on his secret mission and felt something like a predator stalking prey. He had to do some tickling, and knew there must be plenty of women here. Mike had an uncanny knack for knowing just where a person would be ticklish. He thought he could tell just on sight, and experience proved he was almost never wrong. Now he would put his skill and new hobby to the test.
The hair stylist. He saw her from across the hall and knew he could get the hairstylist. Mike guessed she was about 35, possibly of middle eastern heritage. Reasonably attractive, dark hair and a lean, slender body. Mike waited his turn. He finally sat in her chair, nervous, and waited for an opening. He sweat, his heart raced but he fought to stay relaxed. Finally she stretched to get the blow dryer. He reached out and wiggled his fingers against her small, firm belly. Just a playful moment, but apparently he hit a very sensitive spot. She dropped her blow dryer and screamed. Then of all things, she apologized to him for being so ticklish.
As he left the stylist, Mike's heart beat so loudly he swore others could hear it. His mouth was bone dry, but he'd tickled a stranger and gotten away with it, right here in public. Everything around him seemed to move slowly as he walked down this wing of the mall.
Could he do it again? Who next? He walked through the food court and past the kiosks. He saw a blonde woman, young, maybe 25 looking at calendars. She was quite tall and very strong-looking and wore a light blue shirt that just slightly exposed her waist. He walked behind her, grabbed her sides and said "Gotcha Mary!". Of course, he didn't know who she was. He didn't know what she would do.
She jumped, laughed and shrieked. Mike delighted at the feel of her taught, sensitive sides and the uncontrolled sound of her laughter. Knowing that he had caused her to feel that way gave him a huge rush. Of course, he pretended to be sorry when she turned around and he didn't know who she was. A simple case of mistaken identity is how he explained it.
2 down, and now he felt like he could do just about anything. Mike shook with adrenalin, but he loved it. This was easier than he thought. Maybe one more "victim", then he could get out of the mall. He didn't want to do this so much as to alert security.
Mike went to another wing of the mall. In a store that sold international flags, he saw a very pretty dark-skinned girl stocking shelves. She looked like she might be Caribbean, with her heavily braided hair and defined facial features. She wore a dressy tank-top and a black skirt. He quietly walked behind her and lightly wiggled his fingers under both her arms. Her laughter erupted and she clamped her arms down over his hands and twisted to face him. Mike smiled and, faking a thick nondescript accent, asked her where he could find the Hungarian flag.
Mike left the store and pondered where he could make his next move. He felt invincible. He walked by the hallway to the restrooms and phone bank. He saw a woman, maybe 45 or so years old talking on the phone and nobody was around. She was short, but quite voluptuous with a narrow waist, wide hips and a large chest. Could he do it, he thought to himself. Why not. The mall exit was nearby in case he had to run.
He walked down the hall. She saw him as he walked towards her, but he kept his eyes on the bathroom. He noticed her face. She had short, wavy light brown hair and a round, full face. She wore a horizontally blue and white striped shirt and khaki slacks, not a good choice for a woman of her build, he thought. He nodded at her as he walked past.
He turned around and faced her from behind. She still talked on the phone. For just a second he examined her frame. Flaring hips, wide breasts slightly evident from behind, broad shoulders for a woman only about 5'3" or 5'4". She reminded him of an older version of Jenna. He felt she must be terribly ticklish on her hips, and thought for a tiny moment that he could slip his hands into her pants pockets and tickle her that way. He thought better of that approach, though and chose another spot.
The woman was totally shocked when she felt someone grab her waist from behind and tickle her. Her laughter was rolling forth like a waterfall. Mike was dead-on target. She was intensely ticklish on her sides. She doubled over, raised her left leg off the ground and dropped her left arm to cover her side. Her right hand retained the phone against her ear, giving the other party an earful of shrieking laughter. Mike firmly, but gently squeezed her as rapidly as he could. Her tender, soft sides provided no resistance and he was enraptured with how sensitive she was.
On the other end of the phone a woman's voice yelled "What's wrong? Val, Val?" The gasping woman twisted and turned to try and figure out who was tickling her. From her bent-over position she saw a grinning figure, a young man who's hands were about to dig underneath her arms. All she said into the phone between her unwanted bursts of laughter was "he's tickling me!"
Mike tickled her underarms. Still intent on holding the phone to her ear, the older, extremely sensitive woman clamped her arms down around his hands. Mike saw her eyes and mouth open as wide as they could. He heard the phone partner yelling "who? Who's tickling you? Val?" The woman's clamped arms squeezed her own breasts together. "I don't know!", she laughed into the phone.
The woman backed against the wall. Mike looked at her for a second. The woman was scared, bent-knees, lurched forward at the waist while her bosom heaved with her deep breaths. Mike bent down and grabbed her waist again. She emitted a high-pitched shriek of laughter as she fell to the floor. Mike took off running. He wanted to stay there and tickle the poor woman senseless, but he knew he had to escape.
The woman caught her breath and explained to her friend that some stranger had just tickled her and ran off. She filed a complaint with mall security, but they didn't find anybody matching his description in the mall. Videotape didn't show his face clearly either.
Mike was back at his apartment contemplating his successful mission. He stared at the brochure with Jamie on the cover and knew it wouldn't be much longer.
"It was awful. He kept tickling me. He kept tickling and tickling way past where I couldn't take it anymore. I'm so ticklish, I couldn't do anything about it. He finally made me pee in my pants and then ran off".
"I can't believe such an asshole even exists. Nobody knows him?"
"No! No! The guys…nobody remembered him. He lied, gave them different names".
"Well, we'll tell the R.A. Man, if somebody ever tried that on me I'd kick their ass".
Jamie Sara Jura had reason to be confident. The 5'10, 20 year old woman from Miami was a starting striker on the college soccer team. If you looked at her body, you could mistake her for Serena Williams while her face looked like the actress Vivica Fox. Her hard work, athleticism and attractiveness had taken her a long way so far.
Mike's Practice His beginning sequel
Mike flipped through his mail absent-mindedly while last night occupied his mind. He had met a girl at a college party, Jenna, and tickled her beyond the point of reason. Violated her personal space. Tickled, perhaps tortured, her against her will. Mike didn't understand exactly why he enjoyed it so much, but he did and now he couldn't stop thinking about it. .He had found a girl so ticklish that once tickled, she couldn't fight back. He didn't want to assault her sexually, he just wanted to tickle her past the point of desperation. He had done that, and now the thoughts raced through his mind as fondly as any.
He noticed the cover of the university athletic brochure. It was the woman on the cover, a very beautiful woman. Black pony-tail, skin the color of mahogany, tank top, great muscular arms, nice chest, prominent, but strong butt and great legs. Her name was Jamie, the roommate of the girl he'd tickled last night. He started to imagine what it would be like to tickle her.
Mike wanted to tickle a woman like he'd tickled Jenna and knew who he wanted to get. It had to be Jamie. Beautiful, athletic and Jenna reported her to be ticklish. How to get her? He'd have to find her alone, but in a place where she'd feel comfortable. He couldn't go around Jenna as she would recognize him. No. Mike had to figure out what Jamie did, where she went…but he needed some practice and he needed to do some tickling.
Mike went to the mall. He walked in on his secret mission and felt something like a predator stalking prey. He had to do some tickling, and knew there must be plenty of women here. Mike had an uncanny knack for knowing just where a person would be ticklish. He thought he could tell just on sight, and experience proved he was almost never wrong. Now he would put his skill and new hobby to the test.
The hair stylist. He saw her from across the hall and knew he could get the hairstylist. Mike guessed she was about 35, possibly of middle eastern heritage. Reasonably attractive, dark hair and a lean, slender body. Mike waited his turn. He finally sat in her chair, nervous, and waited for an opening. He sweat, his heart raced but he fought to stay relaxed. Finally she stretched to get the blow dryer. He reached out and wiggled his fingers against her small, firm belly. Just a playful moment, but apparently he hit a very sensitive spot. She dropped her blow dryer and screamed. Then of all things, she apologized to him for being so ticklish.
As he left the stylist, Mike's heart beat so loudly he swore others could hear it. His mouth was bone dry, but he'd tickled a stranger and gotten away with it, right here in public. Everything around him seemed to move slowly as he walked down this wing of the mall.
Could he do it again? Who next? He walked through the food court and past the kiosks. He saw a blonde woman, young, maybe 25 looking at calendars. She was quite tall and very strong-looking and wore a light blue shirt that just slightly exposed her waist. He walked behind her, grabbed her sides and said "Gotcha Mary!". Of course, he didn't know who she was. He didn't know what she would do.
She jumped, laughed and shrieked. Mike delighted at the feel of her taught, sensitive sides and the uncontrolled sound of her laughter. Knowing that he had caused her to feel that way gave him a huge rush. Of course, he pretended to be sorry when she turned around and he didn't know who she was. A simple case of mistaken identity is how he explained it.
2 down, and now he felt like he could do just about anything. Mike shook with adrenalin, but he loved it. This was easier than he thought. Maybe one more "victim", then he could get out of the mall. He didn't want to do this so much as to alert security.
Mike went to another wing of the mall. In a store that sold international flags, he saw a very pretty dark-skinned girl stocking shelves. She looked like she might be Caribbean, with her heavily braided hair and defined facial features. She wore a dressy tank-top and a black skirt. He quietly walked behind her and lightly wiggled his fingers under both her arms. Her laughter erupted and she clamped her arms down over his hands and twisted to face him. Mike smiled and, faking a thick nondescript accent, asked her where he could find the Hungarian flag.
Mike left the store and pondered where he could make his next move. He felt invincible. He walked by the hallway to the restrooms and phone bank. He saw a woman, maybe 45 or so years old talking on the phone and nobody was around. She was short, but quite voluptuous with a narrow waist, wide hips and a large chest. Could he do it, he thought to himself. Why not. The mall exit was nearby in case he had to run.
He walked down the hall. She saw him as he walked towards her, but he kept his eyes on the bathroom. He noticed her face. She had short, wavy light brown hair and a round, full face. She wore a horizontally blue and white striped shirt and khaki slacks, not a good choice for a woman of her build, he thought. He nodded at her as he walked past.
He turned around and faced her from behind. She still talked on the phone. For just a second he examined her frame. Flaring hips, wide breasts slightly evident from behind, broad shoulders for a woman only about 5'3" or 5'4". She reminded him of an older version of Jenna. He felt she must be terribly ticklish on her hips, and thought for a tiny moment that he could slip his hands into her pants pockets and tickle her that way. He thought better of that approach, though and chose another spot.
The woman was totally shocked when she felt someone grab her waist from behind and tickle her. Her laughter was rolling forth like a waterfall. Mike was dead-on target. She was intensely ticklish on her sides. She doubled over, raised her left leg off the ground and dropped her left arm to cover her side. Her right hand retained the phone against her ear, giving the other party an earful of shrieking laughter. Mike firmly, but gently squeezed her as rapidly as he could. Her tender, soft sides provided no resistance and he was enraptured with how sensitive she was.
On the other end of the phone a woman's voice yelled "What's wrong? Val, Val?" The gasping woman twisted and turned to try and figure out who was tickling her. From her bent-over position she saw a grinning figure, a young man who's hands were about to dig underneath her arms. All she said into the phone between her unwanted bursts of laughter was "he's tickling me!"
Mike tickled her underarms. Still intent on holding the phone to her ear, the older, extremely sensitive woman clamped her arms down around his hands. Mike saw her eyes and mouth open as wide as they could. He heard the phone partner yelling "who? Who's tickling you? Val?" The woman's clamped arms squeezed her own breasts together. "I don't know!", she laughed into the phone.
The woman backed against the wall. Mike looked at her for a second. The woman was scared, bent-knees, lurched forward at the waist while her bosom heaved with her deep breaths. Mike bent down and grabbed her waist again. She emitted a high-pitched shriek of laughter as she fell to the floor. Mike took off running. He wanted to stay there and tickle the poor woman senseless, but he knew he had to escape.
The woman caught her breath and explained to her friend that some stranger had just tickled her and ran off. She filed a complaint with mall security, but they didn't find anybody matching his description in the mall. Videotape didn't show his face clearly either.
Mike was back at his apartment contemplating his successful mission. He stared at the brochure with Jamie on the cover and knew it wouldn't be much longer.
