Teachers are a common recurring theme. Here are a couple of my own experiences with teachers, both as 'lee and 'ler.
As I stepped off the staircase while going to my next class, one teacher came up to me, slipped her hands under my jacket (it was a religious school with a dress code of jacket and tie for the boys), and started tickling my sides. It could have been fun if it wasn't for two things: 1) To put it mildly, she wasn't one of my favorite teachers (there were a couple of reasons we called her "Pooch"). 2) I'd just had a bad argument with my best friend and wasn't in the mood to be tickled. Even in a bad mood, however, I am very ticklish, but instead of squirming and laughing, I froze, wide-eyed with shock, and shook like I was being electrocuted. The tickling was only a couple of seconds, then we went our separate ways.
Now for when I was the 'ler. The victim: My crush, the music teacher. I'd spent many minutes in class wondering if she was ticklish while watching her slip her nylon-encased feet in and out of her loafers.
Back then, I played in the school band, and we did music for the school play which required after-school rehearsals. Since I would miss the bus to make rehearsal, she was kind enough to give me a ride home. It was during one of these rides home that I summoned the courage to test her.
We pulled into my driveway, and socially-awkward me blurts out "Can I see your foot for a sec. I'm curious about something." She may have asked what, I don't recall. Instead of waiting for an answer, I reached down, grabbed her ankle, and pulled her foot onto my lap. She gave no resistance, probably from a combination of shock and confusion. I pulled off her shoe to be greeted by a thick brown sock.
Wasn't my preference, but I was too far in now. I spider-tickled her sole from toe to heal and back for two seconds, chanting in my head "You've got to be ticklish. You've got to be ticklish." That's when my ears were met with an ear-shattering scream (Did I mention she studied opera?) followed by a shrill "Give me my shoe back!" I didn't have the gonads to continue tickling, so I stopped and returned her shoe. She had a big smile on her face, was probably still laughing, as I said my goodbyes and went inside my house to release the butterflies that were going insane inside me.
Apparently, I wasn't the only student to tickle her. One tradition in my school was for the graduating seniors to leave behind a "senior will." One particular girl in my class who was a known tickler (I'd seen her in action on another girl, and it was impressive, but that's another story.) left for this teacher "someone else to tickle her in the hall." Would have loved to have seen that.
As I stepped off the staircase while going to my next class, one teacher came up to me, slipped her hands under my jacket (it was a religious school with a dress code of jacket and tie for the boys), and started tickling my sides. It could have been fun if it wasn't for two things: 1) To put it mildly, she wasn't one of my favorite teachers (there were a couple of reasons we called her "Pooch"). 2) I'd just had a bad argument with my best friend and wasn't in the mood to be tickled. Even in a bad mood, however, I am very ticklish, but instead of squirming and laughing, I froze, wide-eyed with shock, and shook like I was being electrocuted. The tickling was only a couple of seconds, then we went our separate ways.
Now for when I was the 'ler. The victim: My crush, the music teacher. I'd spent many minutes in class wondering if she was ticklish while watching her slip her nylon-encased feet in and out of her loafers.
Back then, I played in the school band, and we did music for the school play which required after-school rehearsals. Since I would miss the bus to make rehearsal, she was kind enough to give me a ride home. It was during one of these rides home that I summoned the courage to test her.
We pulled into my driveway, and socially-awkward me blurts out "Can I see your foot for a sec. I'm curious about something." She may have asked what, I don't recall. Instead of waiting for an answer, I reached down, grabbed her ankle, and pulled her foot onto my lap. She gave no resistance, probably from a combination of shock and confusion. I pulled off her shoe to be greeted by a thick brown sock.
Wasn't my preference, but I was too far in now. I spider-tickled her sole from toe to heal and back for two seconds, chanting in my head "You've got to be ticklish. You've got to be ticklish." That's when my ears were met with an ear-shattering scream (Did I mention she studied opera?) followed by a shrill "Give me my shoe back!" I didn't have the gonads to continue tickling, so I stopped and returned her shoe. She had a big smile on her face, was probably still laughing, as I said my goodbyes and went inside my house to release the butterflies that were going insane inside me.Apparently, I wasn't the only student to tickle her. One tradition in my school was for the graduating seniors to leave behind a "senior will." One particular girl in my class who was a known tickler (I'd seen her in action on another girl, and it was impressive, but that's another story.) left for this teacher "someone else to tickle her in the hall." Would have loved to have seen that.
Thanks for sharing your experiences here. 
