Here's Episode 1 - they will all vary in length, quality, and experience. Sorry in advance 
Nah - I'm probably not gonna link to the other stories, if that's an ask.
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Episode 1 – The Summer Before Freshman Year
Bethany [11:52 p.m.]
Hey – I have this friend who is going to the same school as you! You should totally text her!
My cousin – not really cousins… but kind of cousins…. It’s a different story…
Err…right. She texted me all about this blonde girl who ran cross country and did cross country skiing with my cousin. Being young, ready to get out of high school, and completely unsure what to expect of college, going in with a new friend sounded like a good idea. I figured I’d respond tomorrow morning and then take it from there.
Unknown Sender [1:21 a.m.]:
Hi! My name is Summer and Bethany gave me your #! I’m so excited to go to the University. Are you ready?
I groaned in response to her text message. Really? Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow?
I let my thumbs jumble along my phone screen and typed back a somewhat legible message:
Me [1:23 a.m.]:
Hi Summer. Yeah Beth told me about you. Glad you’re excited, I think I am but honestly I’m pretty tired lol! (take the hint – I thought) What’s up?
Summer [1:25 a.m.]:
Not much. Just thought I’d say hi! We should get together though! It’d be fun to go in knowing someone at school in the first week.
Me [1:27 a.m.]:
……………………….. (zzzzzzzzz)
When the morning arrived, I readied up for my pre, pre-season conditioning. I had to cover 45 minutes in a run. Nothing crazy in pace, but just comfortable enough to strengthen the legs, and keep the lungs expanded. I picked up my phone, and saw the torrent of messages from Summer.
“Whoops”, I audibly mumbled, as I nearly toppled over trying to get out of my boxers and into my compressions while holding my phone, drifting over the messages sent the night (or morning?) before.
Nonetheless, I had a football (soccer for us American fools) career to think about. I went outside for my job and plugged in some earbuds.
I wonder how many other people run to country music…I thought, and I proceeded. One step in front of the other, to run to my the park nearby. 1.5 miles there, 1.5 miles back, repeat.
The first 3 miles went easily enough, my phone buzzed here and there, but I had to focus. Plus, sometimes my parents would text me while I was out on my run – which was stupidly silly. They knew I never responded. Glancing down, I saw a message from Summer:
[10:11 a.m.]:
Hey, I know I was texting you kind of late last night. Sorry, I’m just nervous about freshman year. Just broke up with my boyfriend and all, and I heard that you and your high school girlfriend parted ways, and I heard about you from Bethany… I dunno. Just figured maybe we could be friends. Sorry if I bugged you.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Damn”
This girl was tugging on my heart strings. All two of them… but alas, it had worked.
[10:12 a.m.]:
Hey Summer. Don’t even worry about it. I’m actually out running for soccer at Trent Park, and I will text you when I’m back alright? We should definitely get connected! It would for sure be more fun to hang out at college. Two opportunities for parties and all that
I re-locked my phone and then carried on with my run. As I was rounding the bend to enter the main area of the park, my phone started buzzing for a call.
“What in the (gasp) actual hell….?”, frustrated I kept running, but had to slow, while I looked at the phone. Lo and behold:
Summer (mobile)
Sighing…I drooped a little bit as I answered the phone, shutting my eyes.
“Hello?”
“Hi! Are you at Trent Park right now?”
Quizzically, I responded: “Ummm…. Yeeeeeahhh?”
“Me too! I’m on the upper field, come say hi!”
My thoughts drifted from kindness, to excitement, to frustration, to childish petulance…. And back to kindness.
“Okay! I’ll be right there.” I hung up. Sighing again. I trudged up to the top field and looked around before noticing that someone was walking toward me. Suddenly, I was a bit more excited…
Walking on the path, holding a towel and wearing a bathing suit was a relatively tall blonde. She was probably about 5’7”, 5’8”, and she was slim, but fit. She had a muscular build, with long, slender legs, and though she lacked some of the more stereotypical female curves, she nonetheless carried herself the way a seasoned athlete would, with a type of sexy confidence that said that she knew she could best most people in many things.
She took off her sunglasses as she approached and I spied an icy blue pair of eyes, nearly white by the iris. She wasn’t what you’d call a traditional model, but her coordination and wholesome smile captured my attention, and the attention of many a male at our University, and her future husband.
That’s right folks. Episode 1 doesn’t contain my prologue angel. Who’da thunk?!
I could end the story right here….bahaha. Just kidding. I already teased out the first story, I suppose doing that twice would just be a dick move.
Alright alright….
“(my name)? Is that you?”
Smiling, the asshole-jerk side of me came out: “Boy, it’d probably be awkward if I said no at this point, huh?” Thinking I was funny, I wasn’t quite expecting the confident poise of the persona in front of me to so rapidly transform.
She turned bright, bright pink and covered herself up with her towel…
Fuuuuuck. That sounded bad….
“No no (chuckles) I’m sorry. I was just messing around, and it was in reference to the phone call and the eye contact, not the swim suit.”
She looked me right in the eye, and crinkled her nose and her brow: “Excusssse me? Why does my swim suit have to do anything with this…?”
I just stared at her eyes, cold and icy, my jaw agape, my heart in tatters. I wasn’t even super interested in her. I mean a little, but I was a pre-college boy. It wasn’t about sex. I just felt bad, and stood in silence.
Suddenly, a toothy grin appeared on her face, and her cheeks rose, rosy and shy as she giggled “heeheehee I’m kidding you dope! Though that was a real blush” She rose her shoulder and wrapped her towel around her waist, turning slightly and looking at me, very genuinely.
I laughed, “God I’m sorry (laughs). I was running, and I was caught offguard…. I’m clearly not a natural at this…”
And then she did the unthinkable. She reached out to try and tickle my side. It didn’t really work, but it did open the door. Still – I thought it’d be wise to show tact, rather than devolve into an animal. Best save that for later… I thought (just kidding, I think).
And so Summer and I went to go sit on the nearby bleachers, me with no shirt and soccer shorts on, her in underwear designed to get wet. What more could a college kid possibly ask for before going to college?
Seriously though. I could end the story here. I had a great time. But ahhh yes, this is fiction…
Her relatively alto voice spoke out after some time in silence. We had chatted for 30 minutes, seemingly running out of all relatable topics. I didn’t know her well enough to really ask her about her recent break-up, although it seemed like she was lonely. But thankfully, she stated to me: “So I actually brought a soccer ball. I used to play and I love this park.”
My heart melted. I grew up around the park. It was my favorite place to escape – my family could really suck, and playing here changed everything for me.
“Oh?” I asked. “Do I hear a challenge?”
She giggled, “Against an actual University player? Hell yes you do!”
I was wrong. Now my heart melted. “Bring it on! I’ll bet I can panna you in 10 seconds or less. Either that or score in the same time.” My eyes flared a dangerous color, an edge in my words. I wasn’t pro or anything, but I was good. And I was a dribbler, only seconded by my ability as a set piece specialist.
She seemed to notice, and smirked. “I’ll bet you can’t. What are the stakes?”
My tickle senses tingled, but I played it smart. “I dunno, what do you think?”
She saw right through me… or it was fortuitous. Actually, probably the second one. “Well I tried to tickle you lightly earlier and I was pretty disappointed. Tickle fights are my favorite… sooooo… to ensure that I can always win one against you in college, you have to tell me where you are ticklish!”
I smiled, “Deal, but if I win, you have to lay down on that towel, and I get to see where you are ticklish…”
She returned my grin: “Deal! It’s only a fight if someone gets me too!”
And so we took the field, both barefoot, and with a ball. I faced her and the goal at about half field, and set a timer and showed her: “.10 sec”
She grinned and sided on, trying to ensure that the gap for the panna was as small as possible, but also standing in front of the goal. I gave her a look of genuine admiration – she wasn’t new to this, clearly. As I advanced the ball I leaned heavily on my left leg, pushing the ball forward with my laces. But this was all a maneuver, one that I was confident that some pretty girl in the Midwest, who’s main sport turned out to be cross country, wouldn’t have seen before.
And I was right.
I shifted the ball forward before bringing it level to my planted left foot. Turning my right foot inward, I swapped the ball side to my littlest toe and slid it right between her legs, as she tried to shuffle and anticipate the movements, and I snuck around her turned back to retrieve the ball while pressing stop on the timer: “7.44 seconds”.
I looked at her and beamed. “Well, that was almost sad Sum….”
She stuck her tongue out at me: “Don’t call me that! Double or nothing. If you win again, I’ll let you use my spare towels to tie my hands together. But if I win, I get off free of tickles!” She winked at me.
I marveled at this entire experience. I tried to go for a run today. Hell, I was still a little sticky with salt from the dried sweat. And this was an offer on the table! I had no idea who this girl was as of… [11:59 a.m.]…. Oh. I guess 10 hours ago now…
I couldn’t pass up the offer.
“Deal.”
We walked back out to the center circle, and this time I had the ball firmly on my right side. Since she likely learned from trial 1 that I was all about feints and body control, I had to get extra clever. This time I advanced the ball forward, but I let the ball bump off of my left heel, leaning forward as if I had fluffed a touch.
“HA!”, she said, “You goofed!” She moved forward to try and muscle me off the ball, but not only did I enjoy the contact, I anticipated it. Frankly, her eagerness was a little transparent, and we were both a little lonely since our breakups…. And also, she wasn’t clueless. I could see that from her last run. Any fool who takes a bad touch needs to be pressed.
So I dragged the ball with my instep behind my opposite heel, and turned my foot again inward to flick the ball on the diagonal through the back of her extended lunge.
She was stunned.
“Now what the fuck was that?!” she exclaimed, either frustrated, amazed, or scared. To this day, I don’t know which.
“You signing away your ticklespots to me!” I smirked at her, hopefully without portraying my malice or potential arousal. Is this really happening? Did I pass out from a lack of oxygen on the run? Am I still sleeping since she kept me up?
She rolled her eyes and groaned, “ughhhhh fine.” She walked back towards the bleachers, pulled out a towel, and her spare, handing me the extra one and laying out the original. She also took out a shirt…
“Ah ah ah…. I didn’t realize that hiding the ticklespots was part of this deal….”, I proclaimed, a little surprised with my own boldness….
She turned bright red on the spot… no more room for pink.
“Uh….uh…uhmmmm…” she looked at her shirt, and then at me… “but I get real squirmy and…” she looked at her modest chest. Though nothing that would spill out, it was still nonetheless, fun to spy. Which she kinda caught me doing.
“…uhhhmmmm…. You know.”, her shade of red turned even more scarlet, a hue that betrayed her relatively pale, freckled visage.
I sucked in my lips, hiding them from sight, realizing my ‘oops’, but then she did the unthinkable: “Fuck (my name), a deal is a deal.” She gave me this smile, which was adorable. It was cute, it was sexy, but it was also familiar. And it was at that point that I realized that we weren’t going to ever be partners. We’d never have sex. We’d never do more than hug. In reality, we may even want to, but it would never happen. I couldn’t do that to her, and she couldn’t do that to me. We had this odd sense of….trust. And it was immediate.
But I was going to tickle her. A deal is a deal after all.
I wrapped the towel around her wrist and she pulled at it, marveling at my tie. “You jerk, I almost think you’ve tied up a girl before”
I laughed, but the truth was, my high school girlfriends actually let me try. So yeah. Whether she was joking, or sincere, to this day I cannot say. But I was committed at that point.
“Haaa haaa Sum….” I finished tying her wrists, and then she laid on her stomach and outstretched her hands.
“Don’t. Call. Me. THAT!!!!!!!!!” She practically shouted, as if she were challenging me. And so I held her wrists down to the ground, and I began to lightly run my fingernails under her arms, with no possible way of being ready for the response.
Her laugh was high pitched, and nearly silent, almost instantaneously. Her arms flexed, and she writhed and wriggled beside me, but she never brought her arms down. Never even really tried.
Man is this a closet ticklee right here? I thought to myself, before squeezing her ribs, one at a time as I found the gaps in between to be her most sensitive spot. She bounced and jumped, the sides of her breasts squeezing out of her swimsuit each time she touched the ground.
“eeeEEEEEEEEHEHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAAAHAHAHA” she squealed and laughed her silent laugh. It was breathy and full of life, if life was the thing that you desperately held onto along with your oxygen as you were tickled.
“Can I call you ‘Sum’ yet?”, I grinned evilly, knowing it would be a challenge for the rest of our time together.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA FAAAAAHAHAHAFUHAHAHFUCKHAHAHA YOUHUHUHUHHAHAHAHAHAHA” my fingers returned to her armpits and dug, finding out that this was a powerful way to make her vulgar.
“Awwww….” I said, “we’ll get there won’t we?” her body trembled and gyrated under my touch, I leaned over her and trapped her torso even more and her laughter went even more silent, her words being mere rasps and gasps at this point. Deciding that she needed a break, I sat on her butt, as she squealed from the contact, and leaned down to her feet while she caught her breath.
“(gasping) ooooof uhhhh….enjoying yourself?” she wriggled slightly underneath me, but she wasn’t in contact with anything…. Solid.
“Oh hardy har har Sum…. Which is the name you prefer right?” my fingers ran alongside the outsides of her soles. They were soft, but areas were hardened by the training of a cross country runner. Bony feet with well-proportioned toes, if she wasn’t a regular runner, one would think that her feet would actually be near perfect.
She clenched her toes which crinkled her entire arch, which I later learned was her usual defense. Her feet didn’t move much beyond that, but I felt her entire ass clench beneath me as she snickered, and let loose an adorable snort.
“oohooohahahaah fuhuhuhuuhck youhhhohohhu weren’t suppohohohosed to hehehehearhehhahaha thathahahahhahahahaahahHAHAHA” Her laughter spiked as I found out that her toes were extremely sensitive, and I found the stems to be targets for her torture.
At this point, whether it was sweat or sunscreen, I can’t say, but her blonde hair began to mat to her forehead and her back. Her exhaustion began to truly kick in, which I could sense. I returned to her upperbody, squeezing along her sides and hips and the backs of her legs, which caused her to flip over violently and squeal.
“Fuck you (my name)” she said, with an enormous smile stretched across her face, her blue eyes deepening, ever so slightly. “Well I hope you are enjoying the show. Having a girl half naked tied up.” She wriggled side to side, just a tad, teasing me.
I smiled. I smiled because it was cute. I smiled because it was sexy. And I smiled because she clearly knew. She knew that I was attracted to her, but would never do anything with it. She knew that I was restrained by my care for her. The truth was that she would always be a friend. And she could use that against me. Just this once.
So I slipped my thumbs, just gently, just barely, into the sides of her bra.
And I pressed, and rapidly vibrated my thumbs as her arms came slamming down to cover her vulnerability. And she entered a new state of laughter. For such an athletic, confident young woman, her laughter reached a state of girly squeals that I’ll bet she never knew was possible.
“What’s your name babe?” I taunted, finding her super secret, hidden spot, by complete accident, and a nearly loving connection.
“SUUHUHUHUMMMMMMHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHTTSSSSSSHAHAHAHA SUUHUHUHUHUUUMHUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!” She laughed. She submitted.
And after it was all done, and her face was beet-red, and her body was exhausted, her tummy tucked and cut with muscles from such intense laughter, she hugged me. She was covered in sweat. She had her hair matted to her body and her face. But her eyes were as blue as they ever were. Icy. Genuine. And lonely.
Or maybe there weren't. The lonely wasn’t true for very long. We had each other through each and every first college experience. Her first bad night. My first rough romance. You name it. And though we drifted apart over the years. I’ll always remember our connection, our friendship, and the weird tension that we had, for just an instant.
I don’t tend to look back on what could have been, if we hadn’t both had bad breakups recently. But just this once, maybe.
And I always look back and treasure our friendship. Even if it has faded.
What a Summer….
Nah - I'm probably not gonna link to the other stories, if that's an ask.
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Episode 1 – The Summer Before Freshman Year
Bethany [11:52 p.m.]
Hey – I have this friend who is going to the same school as you! You should totally text her!
My cousin – not really cousins… but kind of cousins…. It’s a different story…
Err…right. She texted me all about this blonde girl who ran cross country and did cross country skiing with my cousin. Being young, ready to get out of high school, and completely unsure what to expect of college, going in with a new friend sounded like a good idea. I figured I’d respond tomorrow morning and then take it from there.
Unknown Sender [1:21 a.m.]:
Hi! My name is Summer and Bethany gave me your #! I’m so excited to go to the University. Are you ready?
I groaned in response to her text message. Really? Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow?
I let my thumbs jumble along my phone screen and typed back a somewhat legible message:
Me [1:23 a.m.]:
Hi Summer. Yeah Beth told me about you. Glad you’re excited, I think I am but honestly I’m pretty tired lol! (take the hint – I thought) What’s up?
Summer [1:25 a.m.]:
Not much. Just thought I’d say hi! We should get together though! It’d be fun to go in knowing someone at school in the first week.
Me [1:27 a.m.]:
……………………….. (zzzzzzzzz)
When the morning arrived, I readied up for my pre, pre-season conditioning. I had to cover 45 minutes in a run. Nothing crazy in pace, but just comfortable enough to strengthen the legs, and keep the lungs expanded. I picked up my phone, and saw the torrent of messages from Summer.
“Whoops”, I audibly mumbled, as I nearly toppled over trying to get out of my boxers and into my compressions while holding my phone, drifting over the messages sent the night (or morning?) before.
Nonetheless, I had a football (soccer for us American fools) career to think about. I went outside for my job and plugged in some earbuds.
I wonder how many other people run to country music…I thought, and I proceeded. One step in front of the other, to run to my the park nearby. 1.5 miles there, 1.5 miles back, repeat.
The first 3 miles went easily enough, my phone buzzed here and there, but I had to focus. Plus, sometimes my parents would text me while I was out on my run – which was stupidly silly. They knew I never responded. Glancing down, I saw a message from Summer:
[10:11 a.m.]:
Hey, I know I was texting you kind of late last night. Sorry, I’m just nervous about freshman year. Just broke up with my boyfriend and all, and I heard that you and your high school girlfriend parted ways, and I heard about you from Bethany… I dunno. Just figured maybe we could be friends. Sorry if I bugged you.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
“Damn”
This girl was tugging on my heart strings. All two of them… but alas, it had worked.
[10:12 a.m.]:
Hey Summer. Don’t even worry about it. I’m actually out running for soccer at Trent Park, and I will text you when I’m back alright? We should definitely get connected! It would for sure be more fun to hang out at college. Two opportunities for parties and all that
I re-locked my phone and then carried on with my run. As I was rounding the bend to enter the main area of the park, my phone started buzzing for a call.
“What in the (gasp) actual hell….?”, frustrated I kept running, but had to slow, while I looked at the phone. Lo and behold:
Summer (mobile)
Sighing…I drooped a little bit as I answered the phone, shutting my eyes.
“Hello?”
“Hi! Are you at Trent Park right now?”
Quizzically, I responded: “Ummm…. Yeeeeeahhh?”
“Me too! I’m on the upper field, come say hi!”
My thoughts drifted from kindness, to excitement, to frustration, to childish petulance…. And back to kindness.
“Okay! I’ll be right there.” I hung up. Sighing again. I trudged up to the top field and looked around before noticing that someone was walking toward me. Suddenly, I was a bit more excited…
Walking on the path, holding a towel and wearing a bathing suit was a relatively tall blonde. She was probably about 5’7”, 5’8”, and she was slim, but fit. She had a muscular build, with long, slender legs, and though she lacked some of the more stereotypical female curves, she nonetheless carried herself the way a seasoned athlete would, with a type of sexy confidence that said that she knew she could best most people in many things.
She took off her sunglasses as she approached and I spied an icy blue pair of eyes, nearly white by the iris. She wasn’t what you’d call a traditional model, but her coordination and wholesome smile captured my attention, and the attention of many a male at our University, and her future husband.
That’s right folks. Episode 1 doesn’t contain my prologue angel. Who’da thunk?!
I could end the story right here….bahaha. Just kidding. I already teased out the first story, I suppose doing that twice would just be a dick move.
Alright alright….
“(my name)? Is that you?”
Smiling, the asshole-jerk side of me came out: “Boy, it’d probably be awkward if I said no at this point, huh?” Thinking I was funny, I wasn’t quite expecting the confident poise of the persona in front of me to so rapidly transform.
She turned bright, bright pink and covered herself up with her towel…
Fuuuuuck. That sounded bad….
“No no (chuckles) I’m sorry. I was just messing around, and it was in reference to the phone call and the eye contact, not the swim suit.”
She looked me right in the eye, and crinkled her nose and her brow: “Excusssse me? Why does my swim suit have to do anything with this…?”
I just stared at her eyes, cold and icy, my jaw agape, my heart in tatters. I wasn’t even super interested in her. I mean a little, but I was a pre-college boy. It wasn’t about sex. I just felt bad, and stood in silence.
Suddenly, a toothy grin appeared on her face, and her cheeks rose, rosy and shy as she giggled “heeheehee I’m kidding you dope! Though that was a real blush” She rose her shoulder and wrapped her towel around her waist, turning slightly and looking at me, very genuinely.
I laughed, “God I’m sorry (laughs). I was running, and I was caught offguard…. I’m clearly not a natural at this…”
And then she did the unthinkable. She reached out to try and tickle my side. It didn’t really work, but it did open the door. Still – I thought it’d be wise to show tact, rather than devolve into an animal. Best save that for later… I thought (just kidding, I think).
And so Summer and I went to go sit on the nearby bleachers, me with no shirt and soccer shorts on, her in underwear designed to get wet. What more could a college kid possibly ask for before going to college?
Seriously though. I could end the story here. I had a great time. But ahhh yes, this is fiction…
Her relatively alto voice spoke out after some time in silence. We had chatted for 30 minutes, seemingly running out of all relatable topics. I didn’t know her well enough to really ask her about her recent break-up, although it seemed like she was lonely. But thankfully, she stated to me: “So I actually brought a soccer ball. I used to play and I love this park.”
My heart melted. I grew up around the park. It was my favorite place to escape – my family could really suck, and playing here changed everything for me.
“Oh?” I asked. “Do I hear a challenge?”
She giggled, “Against an actual University player? Hell yes you do!”
I was wrong. Now my heart melted. “Bring it on! I’ll bet I can panna you in 10 seconds or less. Either that or score in the same time.” My eyes flared a dangerous color, an edge in my words. I wasn’t pro or anything, but I was good. And I was a dribbler, only seconded by my ability as a set piece specialist.
She seemed to notice, and smirked. “I’ll bet you can’t. What are the stakes?”
My tickle senses tingled, but I played it smart. “I dunno, what do you think?”
She saw right through me… or it was fortuitous. Actually, probably the second one. “Well I tried to tickle you lightly earlier and I was pretty disappointed. Tickle fights are my favorite… sooooo… to ensure that I can always win one against you in college, you have to tell me where you are ticklish!”
I smiled, “Deal, but if I win, you have to lay down on that towel, and I get to see where you are ticklish…”
She returned my grin: “Deal! It’s only a fight if someone gets me too!”
And so we took the field, both barefoot, and with a ball. I faced her and the goal at about half field, and set a timer and showed her: “.10 sec”
She grinned and sided on, trying to ensure that the gap for the panna was as small as possible, but also standing in front of the goal. I gave her a look of genuine admiration – she wasn’t new to this, clearly. As I advanced the ball I leaned heavily on my left leg, pushing the ball forward with my laces. But this was all a maneuver, one that I was confident that some pretty girl in the Midwest, who’s main sport turned out to be cross country, wouldn’t have seen before.
And I was right.
I shifted the ball forward before bringing it level to my planted left foot. Turning my right foot inward, I swapped the ball side to my littlest toe and slid it right between her legs, as she tried to shuffle and anticipate the movements, and I snuck around her turned back to retrieve the ball while pressing stop on the timer: “7.44 seconds”.
I looked at her and beamed. “Well, that was almost sad Sum….”
She stuck her tongue out at me: “Don’t call me that! Double or nothing. If you win again, I’ll let you use my spare towels to tie my hands together. But if I win, I get off free of tickles!” She winked at me.
I marveled at this entire experience. I tried to go for a run today. Hell, I was still a little sticky with salt from the dried sweat. And this was an offer on the table! I had no idea who this girl was as of… [11:59 a.m.]…. Oh. I guess 10 hours ago now…
I couldn’t pass up the offer.
“Deal.”
We walked back out to the center circle, and this time I had the ball firmly on my right side. Since she likely learned from trial 1 that I was all about feints and body control, I had to get extra clever. This time I advanced the ball forward, but I let the ball bump off of my left heel, leaning forward as if I had fluffed a touch.
“HA!”, she said, “You goofed!” She moved forward to try and muscle me off the ball, but not only did I enjoy the contact, I anticipated it. Frankly, her eagerness was a little transparent, and we were both a little lonely since our breakups…. And also, she wasn’t clueless. I could see that from her last run. Any fool who takes a bad touch needs to be pressed.
So I dragged the ball with my instep behind my opposite heel, and turned my foot again inward to flick the ball on the diagonal through the back of her extended lunge.
She was stunned.
“Now what the fuck was that?!” she exclaimed, either frustrated, amazed, or scared. To this day, I don’t know which.
“You signing away your ticklespots to me!” I smirked at her, hopefully without portraying my malice or potential arousal. Is this really happening? Did I pass out from a lack of oxygen on the run? Am I still sleeping since she kept me up?
She rolled her eyes and groaned, “ughhhhh fine.” She walked back towards the bleachers, pulled out a towel, and her spare, handing me the extra one and laying out the original. She also took out a shirt…
“Ah ah ah…. I didn’t realize that hiding the ticklespots was part of this deal….”, I proclaimed, a little surprised with my own boldness….
She turned bright red on the spot… no more room for pink.
“Uh….uh…uhmmmm…” she looked at her shirt, and then at me… “but I get real squirmy and…” she looked at her modest chest. Though nothing that would spill out, it was still nonetheless, fun to spy. Which she kinda caught me doing.
“…uhhhmmmm…. You know.”, her shade of red turned even more scarlet, a hue that betrayed her relatively pale, freckled visage.
I sucked in my lips, hiding them from sight, realizing my ‘oops’, but then she did the unthinkable: “Fuck (my name), a deal is a deal.” She gave me this smile, which was adorable. It was cute, it was sexy, but it was also familiar. And it was at that point that I realized that we weren’t going to ever be partners. We’d never have sex. We’d never do more than hug. In reality, we may even want to, but it would never happen. I couldn’t do that to her, and she couldn’t do that to me. We had this odd sense of….trust. And it was immediate.
But I was going to tickle her. A deal is a deal after all.
I wrapped the towel around her wrist and she pulled at it, marveling at my tie. “You jerk, I almost think you’ve tied up a girl before”
I laughed, but the truth was, my high school girlfriends actually let me try. So yeah. Whether she was joking, or sincere, to this day I cannot say. But I was committed at that point.
“Haaa haaa Sum….” I finished tying her wrists, and then she laid on her stomach and outstretched her hands.
“Don’t. Call. Me. THAT!!!!!!!!!” She practically shouted, as if she were challenging me. And so I held her wrists down to the ground, and I began to lightly run my fingernails under her arms, with no possible way of being ready for the response.
Her laugh was high pitched, and nearly silent, almost instantaneously. Her arms flexed, and she writhed and wriggled beside me, but she never brought her arms down. Never even really tried.
Man is this a closet ticklee right here? I thought to myself, before squeezing her ribs, one at a time as I found the gaps in between to be her most sensitive spot. She bounced and jumped, the sides of her breasts squeezing out of her swimsuit each time she touched the ground.
“eeeEEEEEEEEHEHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHAAAHAHAHA” she squealed and laughed her silent laugh. It was breathy and full of life, if life was the thing that you desperately held onto along with your oxygen as you were tickled.
“Can I call you ‘Sum’ yet?”, I grinned evilly, knowing it would be a challenge for the rest of our time together.
“HAHAHAHAHAHA FAAAAAHAHAHAFUHAHAHFUCKHAHAHA YOUHUHUHUHHAHAHAHAHAHA” my fingers returned to her armpits and dug, finding out that this was a powerful way to make her vulgar.
“Awwww….” I said, “we’ll get there won’t we?” her body trembled and gyrated under my touch, I leaned over her and trapped her torso even more and her laughter went even more silent, her words being mere rasps and gasps at this point. Deciding that she needed a break, I sat on her butt, as she squealed from the contact, and leaned down to her feet while she caught her breath.
“(gasping) ooooof uhhhh….enjoying yourself?” she wriggled slightly underneath me, but she wasn’t in contact with anything…. Solid.
“Oh hardy har har Sum…. Which is the name you prefer right?” my fingers ran alongside the outsides of her soles. They were soft, but areas were hardened by the training of a cross country runner. Bony feet with well-proportioned toes, if she wasn’t a regular runner, one would think that her feet would actually be near perfect.
She clenched her toes which crinkled her entire arch, which I later learned was her usual defense. Her feet didn’t move much beyond that, but I felt her entire ass clench beneath me as she snickered, and let loose an adorable snort.
“oohooohahahaah fuhuhuhuuhck youhhhohohhu weren’t suppohohohosed to hehehehearhehhahaha thathahahahhahahahaahahHAHAHA” Her laughter spiked as I found out that her toes were extremely sensitive, and I found the stems to be targets for her torture.
At this point, whether it was sweat or sunscreen, I can’t say, but her blonde hair began to mat to her forehead and her back. Her exhaustion began to truly kick in, which I could sense. I returned to her upperbody, squeezing along her sides and hips and the backs of her legs, which caused her to flip over violently and squeal.
“Fuck you (my name)” she said, with an enormous smile stretched across her face, her blue eyes deepening, ever so slightly. “Well I hope you are enjoying the show. Having a girl half naked tied up.” She wriggled side to side, just a tad, teasing me.
I smiled. I smiled because it was cute. I smiled because it was sexy. And I smiled because she clearly knew. She knew that I was attracted to her, but would never do anything with it. She knew that I was restrained by my care for her. The truth was that she would always be a friend. And she could use that against me. Just this once.
So I slipped my thumbs, just gently, just barely, into the sides of her bra.
And I pressed, and rapidly vibrated my thumbs as her arms came slamming down to cover her vulnerability. And she entered a new state of laughter. For such an athletic, confident young woman, her laughter reached a state of girly squeals that I’ll bet she never knew was possible.
“What’s your name babe?” I taunted, finding her super secret, hidden spot, by complete accident, and a nearly loving connection.
“SUUHUHUHUMMMMMMHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHIHTTSSSSSSHAHAHAHA SUUHUHUHUHUUUMHUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!” She laughed. She submitted.
And after it was all done, and her face was beet-red, and her body was exhausted, her tummy tucked and cut with muscles from such intense laughter, she hugged me. She was covered in sweat. She had her hair matted to her body and her face. But her eyes were as blue as they ever were. Icy. Genuine. And lonely.
Or maybe there weren't. The lonely wasn’t true for very long. We had each other through each and every first college experience. Her first bad night. My first rough romance. You name it. And though we drifted apart over the years. I’ll always remember our connection, our friendship, and the weird tension that we had, for just an instant.
I don’t tend to look back on what could have been, if we hadn’t both had bad breakups recently. But just this once, maybe.
And I always look back and treasure our friendship. Even if it has faded.
What a Summer….
