Ticklebell
01-28-2003, 04:55 AM
OK, I don't have a whole lot of true stories worth telling, since none of my friends are really into tickling (that I know of), but this one was quite something, in my opinion.
My best friend Courtney was turning 17, and she had a party at her house one night after rehearsal for a musical that a bunch of us were in. It was a very innocent party, just goofy jokes and ice cream and presents and such, there were maybe a dozen of us, evenly distributed between girls and guys, plus Court's parents and one of her sisters, who at the time was probably 27 or 28. Well, it got to be about 11, and things were dying down, people were getting antsy, her parents had retired to their end of the house, and we were all trying to decide what to do. People were sprawled all over the place on couches and chairs and the floor, and I was standing by the door, facing away from the room, looking outside, when Courtney's sister (who I have ALWAYS suspected of having the fetish) crept up behind me and attacked my ribs. I was so taken by surprise that I yelped and my knees gave out and I just fell to the floor. She then straddled me and went to work on my upper body, for about thirty seconds, and I was screaming and laughing so hard, it had quite gotten the attention of everybody else in the room. Courtney's sister was having a great time, and she said, "Hey, Court! She's even more ticklish than you!"
I was putting up a pretty good fight, since she didn't have control over my arms, and as much as I love being tickled, defense is a natural mechanism, fetish or no. Courtney seemed very relieved to hear that I had her beat in the ticklishness factor. She was always telling me about how her sisters would gang up on her all the time, and the idea of this particular sister, who was usually the instigator, discovering an even more worthy victim, came as happy news to her.
A couple of the guys came over and grabbed my arms and legs, and hoisted me into the air and carried me, struggling and kicking,over to the couch. Some of the girls were yelling at them to stop and leave me alone, but they were outnumbered and outsized by the guys, so they gave up rather quickly. They probably figured, at least some people had found something to do to amuse themselves. I was tossed onto the overly-cushy couch, and was sat upon by Matt,one of the sturdier guys. Normally I'm strong enough to get out of these situations, but the weight of Matt coupled with the ultra squishy cuhions I was half-buried in was too much for me to deal with. Living in San Diego, wearing flip flops and a tank top are as common as eating and sleeping, so I was an easy tickling target. Matt concentrated on my ribs, and another guy went straight for my knees, which are an extremely sensitive spot for me, especially when I'm already being tickled. He discovered, after a long period of the regular squeezing and poking, that the move where you start with your fingers bunched up at the center of the knee and then slowly spread them out made me scream bloody murder, which pleased him quite a bit. Courtney's sister, meanwhile, was watching contently. I started yelling out of desperation for Courtney's mother, shouting her first name in between screams and gasps and laughter. Eventually she showed up, wondering what in the world could be going on. Now, Coutney's mom is a little Southern Woman, a beauty queen in her youth, very quiet and cordial, classic. She's like my second mom, so I figured she'd help me out here. She saw what was happening to me, and marched over to the couch and ordered the boys to stop right away in her slight Mississippi drawl. They stopped, though I was still pinned down, Matt still sitting on me. She sat down on the couch next to me and took my hand. I was panting and giggling (it had probably been a good 7-10 minutes since I had first been attacked), and I was frankly rather embarrassed that I had to basically "call for Mommy" to help me. She said to the boys very sternly, "What do you think you're doing to poor Caitlin? I can't believe you boys!"
The guys were starting to look kind of ashamed of themselves (though I knew they were gonna be pissed at me in a minute), and everyone was staring, and there I was, red-faced from the tickling and the embarrassment of it all, when Courtney's mom smiled, squeezed my hand and said, "You've completely neglected her feet!" With that, she turned around, yanked off my flip flops and went to work! I could not f@%ing believe it! I had thought she had saved me, but she was a total traitor! My feet are unbearably ticklish and I started shrieking with laughter, and within seconds had 4 or 5 of my friends tickling me at once. One of the girls took over one of my feet and Courtney went for my collarbone area, which she knew was one of my torture spots, and her sister got my waist and underarms. At some point I remeber looking up and through the blur of my tear-filled eyes, I could see Courtney's father standing above me with a video camera. I have no idea what happened to that tape.
That was definitely the most severe dose of tickle torture I've ever endured. I'd say I was tickled for a total of a half hour during that night, having been released once, and then tackled again upstairs sans family members. I was so incredibly sore the next day, I can't even tell you. I'd say that's pretty good for them not being Tickle enthusiasts (aside from my suspicion of the evil sister), and me not purposely making myself available for tickling, wouldn't you?
Mwah!
-Cait
My best friend Courtney was turning 17, and she had a party at her house one night after rehearsal for a musical that a bunch of us were in. It was a very innocent party, just goofy jokes and ice cream and presents and such, there were maybe a dozen of us, evenly distributed between girls and guys, plus Court's parents and one of her sisters, who at the time was probably 27 or 28. Well, it got to be about 11, and things were dying down, people were getting antsy, her parents had retired to their end of the house, and we were all trying to decide what to do. People were sprawled all over the place on couches and chairs and the floor, and I was standing by the door, facing away from the room, looking outside, when Courtney's sister (who I have ALWAYS suspected of having the fetish) crept up behind me and attacked my ribs. I was so taken by surprise that I yelped and my knees gave out and I just fell to the floor. She then straddled me and went to work on my upper body, for about thirty seconds, and I was screaming and laughing so hard, it had quite gotten the attention of everybody else in the room. Courtney's sister was having a great time, and she said, "Hey, Court! She's even more ticklish than you!"
I was putting up a pretty good fight, since she didn't have control over my arms, and as much as I love being tickled, defense is a natural mechanism, fetish or no. Courtney seemed very relieved to hear that I had her beat in the ticklishness factor. She was always telling me about how her sisters would gang up on her all the time, and the idea of this particular sister, who was usually the instigator, discovering an even more worthy victim, came as happy news to her.
A couple of the guys came over and grabbed my arms and legs, and hoisted me into the air and carried me, struggling and kicking,over to the couch. Some of the girls were yelling at them to stop and leave me alone, but they were outnumbered and outsized by the guys, so they gave up rather quickly. They probably figured, at least some people had found something to do to amuse themselves. I was tossed onto the overly-cushy couch, and was sat upon by Matt,one of the sturdier guys. Normally I'm strong enough to get out of these situations, but the weight of Matt coupled with the ultra squishy cuhions I was half-buried in was too much for me to deal with. Living in San Diego, wearing flip flops and a tank top are as common as eating and sleeping, so I was an easy tickling target. Matt concentrated on my ribs, and another guy went straight for my knees, which are an extremely sensitive spot for me, especially when I'm already being tickled. He discovered, after a long period of the regular squeezing and poking, that the move where you start with your fingers bunched up at the center of the knee and then slowly spread them out made me scream bloody murder, which pleased him quite a bit. Courtney's sister, meanwhile, was watching contently. I started yelling out of desperation for Courtney's mother, shouting her first name in between screams and gasps and laughter. Eventually she showed up, wondering what in the world could be going on. Now, Coutney's mom is a little Southern Woman, a beauty queen in her youth, very quiet and cordial, classic. She's like my second mom, so I figured she'd help me out here. She saw what was happening to me, and marched over to the couch and ordered the boys to stop right away in her slight Mississippi drawl. They stopped, though I was still pinned down, Matt still sitting on me. She sat down on the couch next to me and took my hand. I was panting and giggling (it had probably been a good 7-10 minutes since I had first been attacked), and I was frankly rather embarrassed that I had to basically "call for Mommy" to help me. She said to the boys very sternly, "What do you think you're doing to poor Caitlin? I can't believe you boys!"
The guys were starting to look kind of ashamed of themselves (though I knew they were gonna be pissed at me in a minute), and everyone was staring, and there I was, red-faced from the tickling and the embarrassment of it all, when Courtney's mom smiled, squeezed my hand and said, "You've completely neglected her feet!" With that, she turned around, yanked off my flip flops and went to work! I could not f@%ing believe it! I had thought she had saved me, but she was a total traitor! My feet are unbearably ticklish and I started shrieking with laughter, and within seconds had 4 or 5 of my friends tickling me at once. One of the girls took over one of my feet and Courtney went for my collarbone area, which she knew was one of my torture spots, and her sister got my waist and underarms. At some point I remeber looking up and through the blur of my tear-filled eyes, I could see Courtney's father standing above me with a video camera. I have no idea what happened to that tape.
That was definitely the most severe dose of tickle torture I've ever endured. I'd say I was tickled for a total of a half hour during that night, having been released once, and then tackled again upstairs sans family members. I was so incredibly sore the next day, I can't even tell you. I'd say that's pretty good for them not being Tickle enthusiasts (aside from my suspicion of the evil sister), and me not purposely making myself available for tickling, wouldn't you?
Mwah!
-Cait