• The TMF is sponsored by Clips4sale - By supporting them, you're supporting us.
  • >>> If you cannot get into your account email me at [email protected] <<<
    Don't forget to include your username

The TMF is sponsored by:

Clips4Sale Banner

Long Ago Paris Tickle (true)

glentickle

TMF Regular
Joined
Apr 22, 2001
Messages
173
Points
0
Let's see now...this would be the summer of 1996, I guess, when I left for Europe, all alone, with no itinerary, and no return date. My intention was to force myself to meet new people, to leave myself without the safety net of traveling with friends or with other students.

The first week went well. So well, in fact, that I hadn't had enough time to write in my journal; so one night I stayed in my room (at the Three Ducks Hostel in Paris -- anyone know it?), ignored drunken ruckus from the courtyard below, and tried to get in a few pages. I wrote about how I'd been trying so hard not to socially isolate myself, though even as I wrote I realized that I was doing exactly that -- writing in my journal had always been a way to keep from having to interact with people.

Fate played a little joke on me, though, when one of my roommates came in. I'd met him the day before, and had a strange conversation: I couldn't tell whether he was suicidally depressed or simply debating a point, but he was a thoroughgoing determinist -- someone who believes that there is no free will in life, that everything that has ever happened, can happen, or will happen is already determined, and therefore there's nothing anyone can do to make any kind of positive impact on the world. He was stoic about it, seeming to accept this fate without emotion. He also smoked a lot of joints. But then again, so did I, and I believed in free will.

So I put down my journal to talk with him, thinking that if Fate saw fit to send companionship into my room, I shouldn't shun it just for the sake of writing about how I wasn't being as antisocial as I was accustomed to being. Make sense? That's irony. After we'd been going at it for about half an hour I felt frustrated with the guy, because he wouldn't really say anything much, would only reply to my claims by saying "how can you be sure?" His manner was so subdued, so aloof, that all I wanted to do was get a rise out of him.

By and by we were joined by another one of the travelers staying at the Three Ducks, a blonde girl in tie-dye that I'd seen around but hadn't spoken with. There was something pretty about her, in her peaceful manner, her soft voice, her attempt to perpetually radiate love to the world...I'm pretty sure she had dandelions in her hair. I quickly recapped for her the discussion I'd been engaged in with this determinist guy, and it made her feel so sad for him. She was so full of hope, so wanting to love the world into being a better place, that she couldn't leave until he had been lifted from his stupor. But her arguments, though more beautifully uttered, were no more successful than mine. She grew despondent.

"You see," I finally said to him, "you do have an effect on the world. You have made her unhappy."

"How do you know she was not supposed to be made unhappy?"

"I don't. But I can observe that she was happy when she came in, and now she is not. Had your actions been different, the result would have been different."

"You don't know that," he replied, stone-faced as ever. "If she was supposed to be unhappy, then nothing could change that."

And that was enough of a dare for me. Knowing that she was pliable, would be willing to do just about anything to change this poor guy's mind, I improvised an evil scheme that would result in the benefit of all. (Well, it would benefit, me, anyway.)

This pretty flower-child wore a long skirt and gold sandals. I didn't know her name, and had really only just met her ten minutes before, but...sometimes you just know you can get away with it. "If she were meant to be unhappy, then nothing could change it, you say? Well, I think I can prove you wrong," I said, and bent down towards her feet. Taking one ankle in my hand, I looked up at her and said "may I?" in a detached, clinical way. She just looked at me, waiting to see what I meant, without answering. But she hadn't said no, so I pulled a chair up in front of her, sat down, and placed her foot on my lap.

"Your actions have put a sad expression on her face," I said, "but mine can take it off again. Observe -- " and with that, I slipped the strap off her heel, and removed her sandal. I have to pause now, just to point out that the feeling of having a woman's bare foot in your hands, in your lap, gently holding it there at the ankle, and knowing full well that you're going to tickle it -- is so sublime that it's a shame to waste the joy of anticipation by tickling too soon. So I drew it out as long as I could, played on the moment, and tried to let it unfold at its own pace...I took the tone of a magician performing some elaborate trick -- well, it WAS a trick.

"You see now that on her face is sadness. Is it not?" He did not respond, so I looked at her. She merely looked back, trusting, a little curious, waiting. "But it would be a simple thing to make her appear happy." Again I paused, letting them both think about this, and waiting to see if any protest came. It did not. I addressed her now. "This is your foot, is it not?" She nodded, still confused. "And it is a part of your body, no less a part of you than any other, right?" I tightened my grip on her ankle, anticipating her possible reaction, and turned back to the determinist. "You see that I have removed her shoe, and here this is her bare sole." I held it up a little for him to see, which allowed me to hold her ankle even more tightly. "Touch it," I said.

He fidgeted a little, but otherwise did nothing. "Go ahead," I said, then turned again towards her. "You don't mind, do you?" She may have, but I don't think she understood what I had in mind. "Touch her foot," I said again, "unless you're afraid your action may have a result?" By now he, at least, knew what I meant, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "No? You won't take that chance?" I teased him now. This was absolutely mind-blowing to me: there I was, having an existential argument, in Paris no less, conniving to use philosophy as an excuse to tickle a girl I barely knew. And they had no idea. She was still clueless. It was time to push things a bit.

"Is your foot ticklish?" I asked her. The sudden tension in her leg was answer enough. I tugged back at her ankle, and promised her "Don't worry, he won't touch you; but you ARE ticklish?" She nodded, and couldn't keep from smiling, still involuntarily trying to pull her leg away. "You see?" I said to the determinist. "She no longer looks sad, does she?" He mumbled something about this being simply what was meant to be, but his voice wasn't as calm or detached as it had been. I turned back to Dandelion Girl.

"He would argue, you know, that you have no control over anything, even over whether you are ticklish or not. But you think he is wrong?" I must have been smiling too much, because she was no longer buying it. But I had her ankle firmly, and still one hand free. I teasingly waved my fingers near her foot, and challenged her to prove him wrong. She giggled softly, protested, and the determinist let out a strange coughing noise. I looked up at him, saw him in obvious discomfort, fidgeting and unable to sit still, grimacing, holding back a smile.

"What's the matter?" I asked him. "Does it make you uncomfortable to see her laughing? What do you think she feels right now? What do you think I'm going to do to her?" This was unbearable; he couldn't stand it, and neither could she, and, finally, neither could I. "Do you think I'm really going to tickle her? Like -- this?" And I dropped one finger down her sole, from the balls to the heel, scratching the arch, making the foot wrinkle. One little laugh escaped her, and I teased her for it, reminding her that her mission was to prove this determinist wrong: to be not ticklish.

"You have free will," I told her. "You can feel what you want to feel, or not feel. You don't have to be ticklish! (I tickled again.) "You (tickle) don't (tickle) have (tickle) to (tickle tickle tickle...) -- " and she suddenly yanked her foot away so forcefully that I was pulled right along with it, right out of my chair, and nearly fell on top of her. So the flood gates were open: I wrapped my arm around her ankle, grabbed her other foot and stuck it in my arm along with the other one, easily slipped off the other shoe, and just started going nuts all over the bottoms of both of her feet. Her laughter came out in sweet giggles, long, sing-song laughter, high-pitched but not squeaky, a beautiful sound...she was too much a pacifist to fight back, even; her legs tried to bend at the knees, but I had her ankles locked in and all she could do was cross one foot in front of the other, then cross the other foot, over and over, while I tickled away happily. "Hold on!" I told her. "It's working!"

And it was. The determinist guy was still sitting, but he couldn't keep from laughing too. It was a demented laugh, low-pitched and cruel, anguished. "Are my actions producing a result?" I called out to him. "Would she be laughing right now if I weren't tickling her? Is she just imagining this, or is she really getting tickled?" She had rolled over onto her stomach, and her skirt rode up above her knees; she had been sitting on one of the beds, and she now lay down on it. I jumped on top of her, sat on the backs of her thighs, and tickled behind her knees. She folded her legs, trapping my fingers in there, and now she really started to scream with laughter. I leaned forward, pushing her legs back down with my torso, and tickled all up and down her calves, back over her feet, back up her legs, all the while making existential arguments about reality and sensation and free will, challenging her to resist, and accusing her of not trying hard enough. Through her laughter she tried to say "I'm trying, I'm trying!" but mostly she could only get out "no no no!" and finally she just tried to say "I can't help it -- I can't help it! OKAY! I'm ticklish! I'm ticklish, I said! Oh, no, no, no!" I cinched myself up and sat directly on her calves, leaving her two little bare soles trapped right beneath my legs, and I gave her a few more minutes right on the bottoms of her feet before finally letting her up. The last minute or two she didn't have enough breath even to try to protest, and she just lay there laughing and laughing, helplessly flexing her toes, wiggling her feet in the cutest way. She had gorgeous skin, too. Her feet were a lot softer than I thought they'd be, figuring a hippie like her would go around barefoot a lot. But then, it seemed she had good reason to keep her shoes on...

I never did finish the argument with the determinist guy. After letting her up we all just sat there, while she caught her breath, and I laughed nervously. I remember her gently shoving me, and saying something like "that wasn't necessary!" No, it certainly hadn't been. But it sure was fun. And despite what had been my best effort to hole myself up indoors and write, company of the best kind had come walking in.
 
Last edited:
that sounds awesome man! I wish i could tickle random chicks for prolonged periods of time :p
 
Nice story man! Youve gotta be fast on your feet and just sieze the moment sometimes, ya know? Here's a little angle I've recently come up with. When saying goodbye to someone I'll say something like "See ya later. Watch out for him." Inevitably she will ask "who?" my response "MR. TICKLES!" and quickly go at her ribs,knees, or whatever is in reach. I've gotten quite a few good reactions from employing that one! (I've also gotten myself slapped pretty hard as well!lol) Try it on someone you love. ;)




Peace
:cool:
Ed
 
Glen-what can I say? One of my favorite parts is when you first are holding the ankle and don't want to tickle too soon (I know EXACTLY what you mean!) and I love how you prolonged it and.....the whole thing is classic!!!! I totally could see every minute of it!!! It seemed like you tickled her for a really long time!!! You tickled a stranger for a few minutes!!!!! That takes a set of cojones!!!! Your stomach must have been twisting the whole time, KNOWING what was going to happen!!! I'd have been dizzy, myself!!



And now I believe it's time for US to get together and smoke some joints....that is if we're even able to procure it anymore!!!
 
Cool

I liked it! Nice set-up, and a lot of the insight was pretty close to home.
And nontkl? About your signature? Gimme a ring...:D
 
Many Thanks

Hey, thanks much for the comments, all of you, Scooby, edv, nontkl, Dave, Bootman. Really, very gratifying to think of others sharing in the enjoyment. Many many thanks.

glen
 
where were you when I was trying to understand why you can never step into the same river twice? lol loved this story. studying would have been so much more fun with those kinds of lessons.
 
<<~~~~~Available Teacher Here.....he he he
 
Dave, you beat me to it! I was gonna say just that!

Listen, Ayla, darling...you ask why it is that you can never step into the same river twice...this is a central question in Far Eastern philosophy, addressed by those ancient Daoists who sought The Way while Europe was still blindly groping towards a merely moderately civilized Roman Empire. European Continental philosophy did not begin until (arguably) the advent of Descartes and Francis Bacon in the 16th century -- baby steps compared to the sprinting strides of Daoism.

In short: five minutes on the feet of a hippie girl might have sufficed for Existential angst, but your far-more-profound query can only be answered with a lengthy course of study, several semesters long, at least... ;)
 
Ayla? Ayla?

Shucks...I was sure you'd have responded to this by now. :( Are you playing hookey?
 
LOL! I wouldn't play hookey! why... that would mean being kept after school! :p
 
Kept after school...the phrase brings new meaning to the term "teacher's pet." ;)
 
Totally blown away

Ayla! You have no idea how much you just made my day.

--I'm really just speechless. I check the TMF only every week or so now, sometimes much less often. Not that I don't have happy old memories of the time (not so long ago, actually) when the internet gave me the chance to find out I'm not the only guy who's had his libido hijacked by this freaky fetish. It's just that I finally realized that a "real life dream" can't be satisfied in cyberspace...even if real people read my real (ummmm....sometimes just a bit embellished) stories, even if they give real feedback. So the internet has become less and less a part of my life, the good of it as well as the bad.

I am left with such a peculiar nostalgia, though, to see some of the old names. Yours, and that of nontkl, Dave2112, Scooby, and the old German guy whose name escapes me right now. And probably a couple of others. Such an odd sensation: to sense familiarity, even friendship, with words on a screen. Such an impersonal thing. Yet just now when I saw "Ayla" by one of my old posts, I got all happy about it.

--Haltickling, that's the old German guy. Maybe not German. Some association with Germany, though.

Just got lost in daydreaming for ten or twenty minutes. Lost the flow of what I was saying. Probably for the best, though, since I can babble on pretty embarrassingly if unchecked.

So...I wanna say all this stuff like "Ayla, how ya doin'? Haven't seen you in so long -- how've you been? How's the family? Geez, it's been so long; we really oughta get together again soon!" And then, of course, comes that sobering realization: people who meet in cyberspace don't get together with each other, don't meet for coffee to catch up, don't throw a ball or a frisbee in the park on weekends, don't go to each other's families' weddings and funerals and bar mitzvahs and baptisms.

So even though there's a need, a need I have, a need that maybe here at the TMF we all have, a need that isn't being met in real life, a need that unmet can at times (sometimes lots of times) lead to loneliness, to isolation and frustration, I know that the TMF meets it only halfway, only illusorily (I just made that word up), like mud paste in the belly of a famine-stricken Somali. It takes away the feeling of hunger for a while, but doesn't provide the nourishment that the hunger is there to prompt a search for.

In other words, I'm never gonna get my hands around some skinny pretty's waist by sitting at my computer.

Sorry if that sounded crass. I could've as well said "chubby lovely" but I think the offense would have been taken all the same by anyone predisposed to take it.

Anyway, where the Garfunkel was I? (OK, OK, getting silly now...)

Ayla, I miss the bejeezus out of your stories. They were the deepest, most moving, thoughtful, and confessional stuff I ever read about tickling. That style of yours: delivering a powerful, complete story with gut-level honesty in less time than it takes for your eyes to hurt from staring at a computer screen...I miss it.

That's as good a place as any to stop. See you around?

Glen
 
the boys are wonderful, beautiful and perfect in every way... and I am just fine. :) work is crazy, but rewarding, and I am on this crazy little journey (feels more like an out of control train ride sometimes lol) of self-discovery lately.

all in all, life is good.

it really is strange how you can feel friendship toward people (and we are all people behind the words) you only know by reading... but even without the getting together for coffee, the frisbees or the weddings, it happens.

your starving Somali analogy was perfect. you’re right of course, but sometimes easing the hunger is better than feeling the pangs. it's a temporary fix... but it is hard to resist.

so how the Garfunkle are you? a rock, an island myself. :)

I really hope I do see you around.

Ayla
 
Balancing act...

<p> So, Glen, you never finished the story. Did the French revoke your visa? <p>

<p> Actually, I'm pleased, too, that Ayla bumped your reminiscence to the fore, because it doesn't just relate a cute tickle encounter (I
write that as if I've had my fill of those. Not.) but craftily imparts
a wistful little lesson in empiricism and deductive reasoning, not to
mention the traditional Parisian expatriate's penchant for anomie. However, as you capably demonstrated, tickling trumps anomie everytime. Your snappy little essay is as close to the French master Montaigne as we're likely to get on THIS forum.<p>

<p>Your more recent musings--on the need for real experience in place of, or at least in addition to, the cyberlife we practice here--is a point well taken. I'll wager it's a matter many of us here consider
not infrequently. Is the choice between cyberlife or "real life," or
can a balance be struck between them? <p>

<p> Acturally, the warm--and clearly spontaneous exchange that you and Ayla just had proves, I think, that for a thinking, feeling person, a balance can be had. It just, like most else worth doing in life, requires constant vigilance and reappraisal.<p>

<p>OK, enough sententious goo! Now then, can anyone verify the tickling scene in Sartre's NO EXIT?<p>
 
Saluting the Captain

Wow, Captain! You know words like "sententious" and "anomie" and you use them appropriately, without breaking up the flow of your writing. (Unlike those who might say something like "...so one day as I was perambulating to my domicile...") And, and and and, you hit the nail on the head with the point about balance. I was thinking of that as I wrote; I seem to be an all-or-nothing kind of person, for better or for worse. Very unbalanced (in a manner of speaking). So I do appreciate being reminded, from time to time, that one can live in two worlds at once.

Which brings me back to you, Ayla. Thanks for getting me to log back on to the TMF. (It had been so long, I'd forgotten my password.) Glad to hear the boys are well. Hoping to hear more about the headlong hurtling voyage of self-discovery.

Me? Pretty good these days. Not a rock nor an island -- which was the point of planting seeds to harvest for food (instead of mud) in the first place. And you know what? My tickling fantasies were more intense, and in ways more pleasurable, when they were just fantasies, when they were unattainable dreams. Now that I've gone out and DONE a bit of stuff, I miss the old days when I...when...when the fantasy was more exciting. But then again, I don't miss the old days when I felt afflicted by unattainable dreams.

Did that make any sense? In other words: I miss the old days when I felt blessed by my passions, but I don't miss the old days when I felt cursed by my needs.

Have you gotten any closer to living out any of your stories?

glen
 
Glen, it is so good to have you back! yay!!! you are going to tell me all about this harvesting... right? right? we have lots of catching up to do. your email doesn’t work. did you cancel it? part of that all or nothing way of yours? have come so close to doing the same thing. more than once.

yes, I have gotten a lot closer to living out my stories. lived one in fact... a very big part of this little journey I am on.

Capt, you started a story once about a couple who loved tickling and mysteries. do you remember it? have you written any more about them? I really liked it (wish I could remember the name). the characters were wonderful and I just loved the ways they interacted.

Ayla
 
New email address is...

But I haven't used it yet; just set up today. You can email me on it, and if I don't get right back to you in a day or so it means I haven't gotten it.

Can't wait to trade stories :blaugh:

glen
 
Last edited:
Would somebody hold my banana for a moment?

<p>Glen, Ayla,
I feel a bit like the monkey-in-the-middle in what is turning out to
be one of few genuinely sweet threads on the TMF, but I don't mind
if you don't object to my swinging and screeching.<p>
<p>Glen, you seem like someone who actually has struck the kind of
balance born of the tempering of dreams with experience. If you consider wild, inchoate passion (unattainable dreams, as you say) to
be only a raw material--and not an end in itself, one can use it, can
direct it to build a life of the possible and the real. To utterly
abandon dreams, that is sad, but to become a slave to an undirected passion, that is sadder still. You have done neither, and project a
healthy sense of "being here now," as it were, which looks good from here.<p>
<p>Do keep dropping by the Forum. Eloquence and mindfulness are always
welcome here.<p>

<p>Ayla, the penny dreadful you referred to is "Murder Afoot," the first and (Quel surprise with my speed.)only Stephanie and Simon story. I'm flattered that you remember it, and actually am close to finishing the second installment, tentatively titled "Alarm Clock?
Ha-Ha-Ha!" Whereas the first was a bedtime story, the second is, quite
naturally a rise-and-shine tale. Again, it will be, I hope, unashamedly domestic, playful, and romantic. I lock all the stocks and cuffs and merciless torture by vengeful psychotics in an anteroom of my imagination when I work with this couple. ('Course, it's not like I throw away the key. Heh-heh-heh. I'm no fool... Uh,what do mean what was all that about slavery to an undirected passion?)<p>Don't hold me to it, but shall we say I'll have it up here by the Autumnal Equinox?<p>
 
Capt

don’t we all dream about “stocks and cuffs and merciless torture by vengeful psychotics“ once in a while? :) I am certainly guilty of indulging myself with a story and daydream or two with that theme... but the stories with that very real feel... they always hold a special place for me. little bit of a hopeless romantic I guess.

I remember another you wrote about a fortune teller I really enjoyed... but I want you to write more about abuot Stephanie and Simon the most.

call me crazy (ready for a chorus of "Ayla, your're crazy") :) but the very best part of the forum is knowing that there are people out there, into this thing, who I would like to know even w/out this common ‘interest’. to me, that is very cool.

I even remember your very kind greeting when I joined the original forum. a million years ago or so...

I will be keeping my eyes peeled for the next installment of that “penny dreadful” of yours. :)

Ayla
 
What's New

3/29/2024
The TMF Gathering forums keep you up to date on where and when folk are meeting up.
Tickle Experiment
Door 44
NEST 2024
Register here
The world's largest online clip store
Live Camgirls!
Live Camgirls
Streaming Videos
Pic of the Week
Pic of the Week
Congratulations to
*** brad1701 ***
The winner of our weekly Trivia, held every Sunday night at 11PM EST in our Chat Room
Back
Top