veryberry15
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- Oct 16, 2010
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So this particular incident took place in one of the back bedrooms at my boyfriend’s fraternity. It was well into our nighttime festivities, so we were all understandably shitfaced. =P
By this time, I was the only girl around; I had my boyfriend sitting on a chair to my left, our rugby teammate, Glen, to my right, and Carl across from me. I was feeling very good at this point, so to get in a more comfortable position, I slid off my black size 6 ½ flats, and placed my left foot in my boyfriend’s lap, not thinking about the fact that my bare sole was now facing Carl. So I was having a deep conversation with Glen, of which my brain only really absorbed every other word, when I catch the last few words of what Carl said to my boyfriend: “…tickle her foot?”, to which he responds, “Yeah, go ahead!” and proceeds to wrap an arm around my leg and raise my bare foot into the air. I wasn’t fully aware of what exactly was happening until Carl’s fingers began to dance around my arch. I jumped and began giggling and trying to pull away, as if that would have done any good. What made it even worse are the words the boys exchanged while he was tickling me. Carl must’ve checked to see if my boyfriend was “ok with this” about three times, and each time he gave him the green light and assured him that “she loves it!” and not to worry because “I’ve tickled her foot for a whole ten minutes straight…”
Carl, thankfully, was very merciful, and I had to only withstand a minute or so of his tickling. However, his fingers were almost instantly replaced by Glen’s, who was far less forgiving. He asked the bf’s permission and immediately went to town on my foot. There were no breaks whatsoever between the ticklish strokes. I curled into a ball with my leg being held out in the open. Humorously, Glen kept apologizing for tickling me and saying things like “oh this is so mean,” while he tickled me even more vigorously. He finally let up, and I quickly tucked my feet beneath me.
The boys all smiled and assured me that they are ticklish as well so don’t worry. I was extremely tempted to test that, but felt a bit outnumbered, and was fully aware of the countless other ticklish areas they had not yet discovered. We were soon joined my several other brothers, and so we began yet another drinking game, which involved dealing out a number of drinks if you had matching cards. Naturally, I dealt the most drinks to Glen and Carl, and when Carl asked, “Is it because I tickled you?,” I responded with a feigned angry “You bet,” and stuck out my tongue.
By this time, I was the only girl around; I had my boyfriend sitting on a chair to my left, our rugby teammate, Glen, to my right, and Carl across from me. I was feeling very good at this point, so to get in a more comfortable position, I slid off my black size 6 ½ flats, and placed my left foot in my boyfriend’s lap, not thinking about the fact that my bare sole was now facing Carl. So I was having a deep conversation with Glen, of which my brain only really absorbed every other word, when I catch the last few words of what Carl said to my boyfriend: “…tickle her foot?”, to which he responds, “Yeah, go ahead!” and proceeds to wrap an arm around my leg and raise my bare foot into the air. I wasn’t fully aware of what exactly was happening until Carl’s fingers began to dance around my arch. I jumped and began giggling and trying to pull away, as if that would have done any good. What made it even worse are the words the boys exchanged while he was tickling me. Carl must’ve checked to see if my boyfriend was “ok with this” about three times, and each time he gave him the green light and assured him that “she loves it!” and not to worry because “I’ve tickled her foot for a whole ten minutes straight…”
Carl, thankfully, was very merciful, and I had to only withstand a minute or so of his tickling. However, his fingers were almost instantly replaced by Glen’s, who was far less forgiving. He asked the bf’s permission and immediately went to town on my foot. There were no breaks whatsoever between the ticklish strokes. I curled into a ball with my leg being held out in the open. Humorously, Glen kept apologizing for tickling me and saying things like “oh this is so mean,” while he tickled me even more vigorously. He finally let up, and I quickly tucked my feet beneath me.
The boys all smiled and assured me that they are ticklish as well so don’t worry. I was extremely tempted to test that, but felt a bit outnumbered, and was fully aware of the countless other ticklish areas they had not yet discovered. We were soon joined my several other brothers, and so we began yet another drinking game, which involved dealing out a number of drinks if you had matching cards. Naturally, I dealt the most drinks to Glen and Carl, and when Carl asked, “Is it because I tickled you?,” I responded with a feigned angry “You bet,” and stuck out my tongue.
