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Glen's True Tickling Tales, no. 1

glentickle

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Joined
Apr 22, 2001
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Good morning, folks. I'm a bit of a newcomer to this place, having registered only a week or so ago. But I've been visiting for a couple of months, thinking of posting a story...but which one? I've got so many. True ones, I mean. True tickling stories, my favorite kind.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm no stud, no "tickling ladies man." I was a real nerd as a kid, and I would have been a total outcast if I hadn't been good at sports. It's kind of a simple formula for boys: if you can catch, throw, and run fast, you'll always have other boys to play with. Of course, I always preferred to play with girls. Who ever thought of tickling a boy? So I tagged along after my older sister, who hated me for it, especially because her friends thought I was so cute. I'd tickle them at every opportunity, unable to control myself, especially when their shoes were off...bare feet drove me nuts. There was one girl, Jessica, who would intentionally lie on her stomach, with her knees bent and feet in the air, pretending not to see me sneaking up on her. She'd pull her feet away at first touch, so I never got to tickle her very long, but it was the anticipation of tickling (more than the tickling itself) that made my head spin. My sister would get furious! I used to tickle her too, of course. Years later she was my first real Tickle Victim, but that's another story.

The joy of being a little brother! I know there are plenty of you out there who know what I'm talking about -- boys who were younger brothers, and girls who thought their friends' younger brothers were cute. It was a salvation. And it got me used to being around girls, being friends with them. So by the time I was a teenager, I had only a couple of guy-friends, but plenty of girl-friends.

Again, don't get me wrong -- I was no stud. Plenty of girl-friends, never a girlfriend. I was still a nerd inside, and this was complicated by my insane love of tickling (to the near exclusion of all other sexual acts), and so there were some parts of my development that ended up stunted. But not all of them, not completely...

Debbie (name changed to protect the guilty) was one of my best friends back when I was a teenager. We'd known each other since childhood; her big sister and my big sister were friends. I was one year older. One time, in the fifth grade, I got into more trouble, more trouble than usual, that is, and my teacher made me spend an entire month in the fourth grade; I was in Debbie's class. (Sometimes they'd made you spend an hour in another class, or longer if you did something really bad...usually in your own grade, though. So you can just imagine...if they put me in a lower grade, for a whole month.) We became friends when we were thirteen, when we were part of the same large crowd. That crowd had broken up by the time I was sixteen, but Debbie and I remained friends. We used to spend hours and hours talking about life, getting stoned, growing closer.

She was cute. Shoulder-length brown hair, large brown eyes. Her most striking physical characteristic, though, was her skin. Pale white -- um, excuse me, "alabaster," -- and extremely soft. Baby-bottom soft. Debbie was a late bloomer; her older sister was one of the neighborhood sluts (to put it bluntly) and this reputation made Debbie cautious. But around age fifteen she went through some kind of change. Started dressing differently. Carrying herself differently. Suddenly guys began noticing her, and she became quite popular. She got a boyfriend, whom I never met because he lived in another neighborhood. But that didn't keep us from getting stoned together often, and trading massages.

Ah, the massage! That unmistakable Prelude To A Tickle. "Oh, Glen, would you give me a massage?" "Oh, all right, but you have to lie down on your stomach; I can't give massages sitting up." And suddenly there's a girl stretched out under you, and you're straddling her from above, and if you wanted to just start brushing and wiggling your fingers up and down her sides, there would be no way for her to stop you. A girl lets you give her a massage like that, and you can hold her in place with your legs (I had strong legs), and tickle, without stopping, for as long as you like. For as long as you dare. There's nothing she can do but laugh, beg, plead, scream, laugh some more, and hope you'll stop sometime soon. But you can't really cut loose like that, you can't dare, because then she'll KNOW. Then your miserable little secret is out. So instead you massage her shoulders, then work your way down her back, and "accidentally" go too far around the sides, making her jump. "Oops, sorry, didn't mean to tickle you." You know the routine. Many of you do.

Debbie knew the routine too. Tickle-massages became a regular part of our friendship. It got to the point where we knew, every time we hung out, that eventually I'd tell her to lie down on her stomach, that I'd give her a massage...she never said no, though she knew I'd tickle her, and I stopped disguising it. Sometimes I wouldn't even massage at all. She'd lie down, I'd hop on top of her, and just start lightly brushing her sides. She was so ticklish, too! All it took was the slightest contact and she'd start laughing, and it was such a delightful laugh. Soft giggles, with sighs mixed in every time I let her catch her breath. Three or four seconds of tickling, making her let out that beautiful laugh, then a few seconds for her to breathe...she'd inhale, and sigh when she let it out.

We never discussed it. Once, and only once, she tried to. She mentioned something about being so glad she's ticklish. This made me so uncomfortable, and she must have noticed, because she never mentioned it again. But I know I stopped tickling her so freely after that.

That didn't stop me from fantasizing, though. I'd tickled plenty of girls, with massages or other ruses, and there were a bunch of times I'd just grabbed some girl, wrestled her to the ground, and tickled until she could break free. My best friend was a guy named Jimmy, and he must have had a tickling fetish too, because there were a few times we teamed up on some poor girl, one of us holding her down while the other one tickled her silly. But these never lasted for too long. Sometimes less than a minute, sometimes five minutes, but always with other people around, friends to come to her aid, always, somehow, less than a perfect setting. What I wanted was to tickle a girl, all out, with no one else around, no one to witness my depravity...and there was one obvious candidate.

It was the first Planned Tickle I'd ever carried out. A fully Pre-Meditated Tickle. The chance came when Debbie was about to leave for her first semester at college. We hadn't seen each other much for a few months -- our friendship was like that; we'd go months at a time without seeing each other, then hang out every day for a week. She called me the day before she was to leave, all filled with anxiety over this big change in her life. She was packing her suitcases, and no one was home. She wanted me to come over to "keep her company" while packing. I swear I nearly hyperventilated as I walked over; I knew exactly what I was going to do, and her parents weren't going to be home for hours and hours...

She was really in an agitated state when I arrived. Her entire wardrobe was spread out around her room (she had a LOT of clothes) and three or four suitcases were open on her bed. She was almost in tears, unable to figure out what to bring, afraid that everyone at college would hate her...she might make friends, she thought, if only she brought the right clothes...and she was usually so level-headed! I felt sorry for her. We talked for a while, and she started to calm down, but then freaked out again when she returned to packing. I laughed and asked if she wanted a massage; she said she guessed she could use one.

"All right. Let's get these suitcases off your bed," I said. We took them off. "Now lie down on your stomach." She did. I climbed on top of her, feeling like I was moving in a dream. I remember the sensation to this day: disbelief that it was all happening so perfectly.
"You're so tense!" I said, beginning to massage her shoulders.
"I know, I know, my neck is killing me." So I massaged her neck. I massaged her shoulders, and her back, waiting, waiting...letting her get more and more relaxed.
"It's like you've got rocks in your shoulders."
"Yes, but that feels so good..."
"Listen, Debbie, this isn't like you. You know you're gonna get to school, and once you're there everything will be fine. Right now you're just afraid of the unknown."
"I know, that's what I keep telling myself, but even though I know it, I'm probably not going to feel any better until I get there."
"No, that's not true. I know what would make you feel better." (Holding my breath.)
"What's that?" (Clueless.)
"Well, I don't think you really need a massage." (Slowly, carefully. My mouth had gone dry and I was having trouble speaking.)
"What do I need?" (So innocent, so unaware...or maybe she wasn't?)
"You need...a good...tickling!" And for a moment I sat perfectly still, with my hands in the air, just above her sides, by her lower back. I was dizzy, literally, so I am not sure of what happened next; I think she actually raised her arms a little higher over her head; who can be sure? I let my fingers drop softly on her sides, and she twitched. She had on a soft black cotton tee shirt, and I slipped my fingers under the bottom, feeling her soft skin. That's all it took. She buried her face in the pillow, laughing, not fighting to break free. I tickled with both hands at once, symmetrically tracing little circles around her hips, moving up her sides, over her ribs. She raised her head, laughed out loud, then buried her face in the pillow again. Kicked her feet, one then the other. I tickled back down her sides, around her hips, then up to her ribs again, under her shirt...over her bra, nearly into her armpits...she cried out, raising her head again, laughing from her belly and making a high-pitched sound as she breathed in, gasping, laughing, gasping, kicking, but not fighting to break free. She didn't even lower her arms, didn't try to swat my hands away. Only when I brought my hands all the way into her armpits did she bring her arms down, but of course she only trapped my fingers in there, and I just wiggled them, pressing down, feeling the sides of her breasts with my fingertips. I was on my knees now, sitting further up, holding her in place by squeezing my thighs around her rib cage. She wore soft black sweatpants; I had no shoes on. My knees were up near her armpits now, and I squeezed my toes in underneath her, just below her hips, near her crotch, at the top of her thighs; it turned out she was even more ticklish there than on her upper body, if that were possible. She began to buck, and scream, unable to stand being tickled by my toes so far below her hips. But there was nothing she could do. My hands, still tickling in her armpits, held her in place; my thighs were around her back, and I was leaning forward, pressing down on her. I knew she'd feel my erection on her back, but I didn't care. My head was right behind hers; I wanted to kiss her ears, but for some reason I didn't. She was trying to say my name, trying to tell me to stop, but she couldn't get the words out. I'd never made her laugh out loud like that before. "Ahhh!....Ahhhh!....Gl....Gleh....Glehhhhhaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!! Sss...ssss.....sssst......sssstoooooooohhhhhaaaaaahhhahhhhhh.....ayyyyyyaaaaaaaiii!!!! Finishing in a high-pitched scream. "Hold on, hold on," I said softly. "It's almost over."

And then it was. I stopped, but didn't get up, and I thought about starting again...but I didn't have the heart. I stayed straddling her, and she rolled over onto her back, just lying there. I looked down at her, suddenly having to face her. I tried to cover up.
"There. Now don't you feel better?"

She said nothing, no sound except her heavy breathing, still catching her breath minutes later. Finally I got up, awkward, but too exhilarated to be scared. Fuck it. I had done it. No turning back now. She'd leave for college the next day, and it would be months before we'd see each other again. Maybe we'd lose touch completely, and never see each other again.
And then finally she spoke again. "Thank you," she said.
 
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Glen, your story reads like an Anthem. It was brilliantly laid out. Oh, I remember those scenarios so well while growing up. Getting the guts up by obsessing all night about certain girls in high school. Inviting them over, turning up the heat so they would take their sweaters off. Innocent "tickle fights" with rules.
As adults, many of us have been in relationships where tickling is played, but the funny thing is that we remember vividly those isolated instances where tickling was so rare that we have fond recollections.

Glen, I would love to hear mnore of those experiences and I invite everyone to go back into their memories and tell us some instances of real-life tickling, when that poke in the ribs, finger under an arm or quick scamper on a bare sole was the highpoint of your life.

Max
 
Thanks, Max

Wow! The famous Max Speer, responding to my post...I feel like a rock star!

Thank you, Max, for your comments. It's taken me a good long time to get up the guts to post, and the positive feedback is an encouragement to try again.

Glen
 
Note to self: tell story of amazing tickle story in order to get the praise of MAX SPEERS!!! but anyway...great story GLen. As a college student I give a lotta those "lie on your stomach" massages and know exactly what your talkin about!! Keep it up man!
 
When I was in high school I used to give piano lessons to this girl named Susie. Real name. She was very cute, tall thin and shoulder-length blonde hair. She was a bit of a loner (which I liked) so we quickly became friends. Often, she would wear sleeveless shirts when I gave her lessons and it would drive me crazy with desire to try out her ticklishness.

I don't know how it started but I crossed those lines with her and she tickled back. She was a very aggressive tickler (as if she had something to prove), so it always turned into an all out Tickle Fight.

Well our Tickle Fights became so commonplace that we started to develop "rules". The main rule was that if you hurt the other person during the fight, they would yell "Penalty" and that meant that you could tickle the person for 30 seconds anywhere you wanted and they had to stay absolutely still. In retrospect, I believe it was just a way to touch each others' bodies and be touched. Needless to say, the word "Penalty" flew quite often.

For a penalty, I would often have her put her hands behind her head and I would blissfully trace my fingers down her arms to her underarms. Other times, she would lie on her back while I went to her feet and laid on my stomach, having her sole very close to my face while I tickled her bare sole.

Susie once came over my house in the winter. She was wearing a sweater and I suggested that she put on one of my t-shirts. If we were going to have a Tickle Fight then it "wasn't fair" that she was so covered up. She agreed and I raised an eyebrow as I ran upstairs and brought down the oldest t-shirt I had. She modestly put it on while I had my back turned then the tickle fight began. Often during a penalty, if I was going for her underarms, I would roll up her sleeve to tickle her. This time, she had to lie still while I cut the sleeve off with a scissors. It was the most exciting thing I had ever done in my life. I made sure that I cut it and left a lot of skin for tickling.

Trashing my own clothes and manipulating my female friends into "putting something cooler" on because it was "so hot in here", telling them to "kick off your shoes and stay awhile", were just a few things I did as an adolescent to satisfy this tickling urge.

Those were the days.

Max
 

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Great story

Man that story gave me some ideas. I wish that I had read it a day sooner though. A few days ago I was hanging out at my friends house and she was lying on her stomach on the floor playing with her cat. This girl is so gorgeous. Around 5'6, brunette, green eyes, dope body. I have tickled this girl before and know she is very ticklish, as well as do some of my guy friends. As you all well know, in the paranoid mind many things run through when you see an opportunity. Like what will she think or some other paranoid thought that might otherwise never occur to you. Same as when you are on certain drugs. So I waited and tried to think of a 'reason' to tickle. Finally the cat left, but she remained there. We had just bought our warped tour tickets and I was pretty stoked at the moment. I went for it. I dug my fingers into her sides and she started tying to get a way. After about 30 seconds I let her up. She got up and smiled, but didn't say anything. Changing the subject to lighten the mood (at least in my mind,) I said that I couldn't wait for the concert. She agreed. Had I read the story earlier things might have been a little different, however I was pleased at the outcome. Oh yeah by the way this is my first post I have been watching this board for a while and finally decided to post, blah blah, etc. etc., peace out todos.
 
I thought it was an inborn instinct

Dude! The massage/tickle ploy is such an old one; I thought it was an instinct all ticklers are born with. Maybe that's just East Coast? Still, I like the way you handled it -- sometimes the best thing is to fuck all the little tricks, grab the girl, and find out what happens. That's what I did as a little kid -- it was only when I got older and too self-aware that I started feeling like I had to hide what I was doing, and make up scenarios in order to pull off a good tickling (not that there's no insane thrill in playing out a good ruse). So, by hook or by crook, at least you went for it.

glen
 
glen, I loved your post. please do post more. each of the responses were wonderful too... love the way you guys think.

Ayla
 
Man, I was talking about the position and the place tickled. Sorry forgot to clerify. Anyway I have used that techique to get a few brief, yet beautiful foot tickles under my belt. I don't know why the thought didn't cross my mind at the time, but I bet if I had read your story that it would have. Anyway, peace and have good mosh-pitting.
 

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The years pass so quickly...

Thanks again for posting, Dave. You young whippersnapper. I was getting caught up in the mosh since BEFORE they called it "moshing." (And I'm not that old!) So here's the start of another Glen Institution: the daily trivia question. Not necessarily tickle-related. Here goes:

Where did the term "mosh" come from?

I'm pretty sure I know the answer to this one, though I'll stand corrected if someone out there claims to know better.

glen

PS: Daveisnotapunk, you'd better answer, because I'm not so sure anyone else will.

g
 

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I don't know man, but I was wondering. There I posted:). So whats the answer? This question gave me an idea about a post though so check the discussion section.
 
Non-tickling subject

There was a song by Anthrax...either the title, or just a lyric in it, something about "getting caught up in the mosh."
 

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Last words

Just wanted to thank you all for posting replies to my story. Working on another one now...be ready in a day or two. See y'all soon...

glen
 
Great story! I loved reading all the responses too, and hearing about all those sneaky methods you guys used to sneak in tickles to unsuspecting females. My only question is where were all of you when yours truly was trying to get hers from the clueless-to-tickling boys I hung out with, huh?? :confused: Ah well, there was always "He-man and She-ra"
 
Just speculating...

Where were WE? Where were YOU? -Smoking too many Red Hot Chili Peppers, while I was tickling every New York girl I could get close to. So...yeah. That's were I was. Sorry I missed you...

glentickle
 
Haha! Thanks Glen, point taken ;) Oh, and in case you're interested, I have some pretty interesting true tickling tales of my own (hence the previous "He-man and She-ra" reference.) Oh yeah, we girls can scheme too!
 
That's funny. I always had She-Ra tickling fantasies. Whenever she would raise that sword over her head.

Max
 
Yeah, yeah, you're all talk...

Yeah, Kiedisluvr, SURE you do. I'll believe 'em when I see 'em. ;)

glentickle
 
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