OldEnglish
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Apr 21, 2001
- Messages
- 235
- Points
- 18
Lady Luck has shone down upon me again and I am happy to once again be able to share with you the latest escapade in this ongoing saga between Erica and Morgan that I have been so fortunate to witness.
We were at Morgan’s house for what was becoming our sort of annual pre-4th of July festivities. While the whole family gathers together for the 4th of July, this is usually a more relaxed, casual get together with a smaller crowd. The usual suspects were there - Morgan and her husband, Erica and her husband, myself and my wife, and the assorted kiddos.
Morgan, the host, greeted us at the door with hugs for everyone, ushering us into the large family room where everything was already set up. Morgan was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of white Converse sneakers; if she had any socks on, they were just the liner socks, as the skin of her ankle was on full display between the top of the canvas sneakers and the bottom of her jeans. Erica and her husband were already in the family room. Erica was wearing a pair of black leggings with a gray long-sleeve top and a pair of white Keds canvas sneakers; like Morgan, if Erica were wearing socks, they were just the liner socks, as the skin of Erica’s ankle was on full display, as well. Knowing Erica, though, I had a strong feeling that the only socks that she had in her possession at the moment were in her bag in case she opted to take her shoes off. Eventually, Ally and her husband arrived. Ally was wearing a pair of heather gray leggings that she paired with a pair of sandals - which were promptly removed as soon as she entered the house - and a blue hooded sweatshirt.
The evening progressed without incident. Bowls of potato chips, nachos, and popcorn were passed around before the men went out to tend to the grill - burgers, hotdogs, and Americana for all! As we put our plates away and awaited dessert, the sun began to settle into the distance as we entered the dusk hours. A fire pit was planned for later in the evening, but everyone agreed that we wanted to have dessert and put it away first before heading to the fire pit; we also agreed that we needed some time to just chill in the family room, as well.
And that, as you might imagine, is when things began getting interesting.
With the kids still playing out in the yard with the dogs, Morgan’s husband announced that he had found something from their childhood that he wanted to show his brother (Erica’s husband) and his sister (my wife), so the three of them exited the room for the basement, leaving Erica, Morgan, Ally and me in the family room for the time being. Erica and I were sitting on the couch with Morgan sitting on the ground with her back to the couch in between Erica and I, and Ally was sitting in a chair across the room, facing us.
The topic of conversation turned to the goings-on of our last family gathering and the responses of people to it. Though I won’t air dirty laundry, I assure you it was just something trivial. Anyways, during the discussion, Erica made mention that she happened to know a bit more than she was letting on. Again, for the sake of not airing dirty laundry, I’ll pick up the conversation from that point and will make generic any specific details that might have been said.
“Well, I don’t think she was too happy with what happened,” Erica said softly.
“Do you know something?” Ally asked, instantly alert at the possibility of gossip.
“No,” Erica said, clearly lying. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I was sworn to secrecy,” she said.
“No,” Ally said, eager to get the dirt. “You have to tell us now,” she said. “You can’t just drop that and then move on,” she said.
“I really can’t say anything,” Erica repeated.
“We won’t tell anyone,” Ally offered. “We promise.”
“Guys, I gave my word,” Erica said, staying firm in her resolve.
“Keeping secrets?” Morgan asked, chiming in.
“Can we just forget I said anything?” Erica asked with a sigh, realizing that she wasn’t getting anywhere with either woman.
“Too late,” Morgan said. “We have ways of making you talk, you know,” Morgan said with a sly smile.
Erica looked confused for about 2.2 seconds before the weight of Morgan’s words fell on her, her eyes becoming saucers popping out of their socket as she realized what was coming.
“Oh my God, no!” Erica shrieked, pulling her feet up onto the couch as swiftly as she could to get them out of harm’s way.
But unfortunately for Erica, Morgan was just a split second ahead of her, that time it took for Erica to process the meaning of Morgan’s words being the difference in reaction time. Morgan was able to grab onto Erica’s right ankle with both hands and much like the mighty shark to Quint on the boat, Morgan began pulling Erica from her perch of safety.
“Morgan, oh my God, don’t!” Erica pleaded as she tried grabbing onto pillows, blankets, anything to break free of Morgan’s grip. “Please Morgan, no,” she begged, even before anything had happened.
I then felt Erica’s hand grasp mine, her final hope from being pulled to the floor and into Morgan’s clutches. By now, Erica must have known that she was no match for strength compared to Morgan, but no doubt I would be able to win a tug-of-war against Morgan (end humble brag).
I was now in a tough spot. I wanted to help Erica - especially after seeing the look of dread on her face as she clutched onto my hand with all her might; I felt like I owed it to her, at least. On the other hand, the TMFer in me felt like it wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen if Morgan were to get her hands on Erica again… And finally, of course, I didn’t want to hurt Erica, as her body was being stretched during this mini tug-of-war. It wasn’t a true tug-of-war, of course, but the worry was still there; it wouldn’t be the first time that some playful rough-housing had resulted in injury.
Fortunately, fate intervened on my behalf and eliminated that decision for me, as Ally, noticing Erica’s efforts and wanting to know the juicy gossip, got up off her chair, and walked over to us. With her back to the middle of the room, Erica had no idea Ally was approaching.
“Oh no you don’t,” Ally said as she reached us before planting her finger into the hollows of Erica’s exposed underarms with a hearty “Kootchie kootchie coo”. Erica lost her grip of my wrist immediately, her arms jetting down to her sides to protect her vulnerable armpits from Ally’s attack.
I had to catch Erica as she fell from my grip so she wouldn’t land on her face, but that allowed me to “lose my grip” on her much more convincingly. Morgan dragged Erica into the middle of the room where she put Erica’s ankle into a headlock.
I looked over to Ally as she sat back down in her chair and couldn’t help but notice the humongous smile across her face, clearly proud of her work.
Erica, meanwhile, was like a fish out of water, flopping around trying to break free from Morgan’s grip. Morgan was trying to pull Erica’s sneaker off but Erica’s flopping was - for the moment - preventing her from doing so.
“Morgan, please!” Erica begged as she struggled. “Not my feet,” she pleaded. I have to admit one of my favorite Erica “begs” is when she goes with the “Not my feet” line. I just think it’s cute in that it - without fail - accomplishes the exact opposite of what she’s hoping to accomplish.
“Why not your feet?” Morgan asked as she wrestled with Erica trying to get a good grip on her sneaker.
“I’m barefoot in my shoes,” Erica said, answering my earlier question. “Please just not my fee-ahahahahahahahaha,” she bellowed as laughter roared from her mouth.
“Oh my gosh your ankles are ticklish too?” Morgan asked as she fluttered her fingers along the patch of exposed ankle between Erica’s leggings and the top of her Keds.
“YES!” Erica screamed through her laughter. “Please stop!”
“There,” Morgan said, having used the momentary distraction of tickling Erica’s ankles to successfully remove Erica’s sneaker from her foot. As Erica had mentioned, she indeed was not wearing any socks inside her shoes, her barefoot now resting perilously in Morgan’s clutches.
“Not fair!” Erica shouted, still trying to free herself unsuccessfully.
“Are you going to tell us?” Morgan asked, readying herself.
Erica seemed to really give it some thought before sheepishly saying, “Come on Morgan, she swore me to secrecy.”
“Have it your way,” Morgan said, unleashing a full-fledged tickle attack on the bottom of Erica’s exposed sole.
Erica erupted in laughter, instantly, screaming out “I’LL TELL! I’LL TELL!” in between fits of laughter. It had taken all of 0.5 seconds to break her of her will. But it was evident that Morgan wasn’t going to let her off that easily.
“What was that?” she asked, pretending to not understand what Erica had said. “I couldn’t quite make it out.”
But of course as each second passed, more and more laughter spilled out of Erica, eventually making it impossible for her to form the words “I’LL TELL” at all. We heard a few more “STOP!” and “PLEASE!” thrown in there, but she had dissolved into total laughter at this point, unable to say the words that Morgan intimated would end the tickling.
Morgan had a death grip on Erica’s ankle, clutching it in a headlock and holding it as one would an ankle lock in professional wrestling; Erica now lay on her stomach with her right leg bent up at the knee, her right foot encircled in Morgan’s left arm while the fingers on Morgan’s right hand danced away across the sensitive sole. Morgan soon shifted so that she also wrapped her legs around Erica’s right leg, further limiting Erica’s range of motion; it was virtually impossible for her to escape now.
About 15 seconds had passed and Ally was clearly getting impatient.
“See if she’ll tell us,” Ally said, her hunger for gossip overwhelming her.
“Think she will?” Morgan asked, prolonging Erica’s torment.
“Yeah,” Ally said. “Come on,” she urged.
“OK, fine,” Morgan said, clearly unhappy about having to relent in her attack
“Oh my God,” Erica said, catching her breath and being able to form words for the first time over the last 15 seconds. “I’ll tell you!” she pleaded. “Just please stop tickling!”
After another second or two of catching her breath, Erica proceeded to reveal the juicy secret – only the secret wasn’t all that juicy, at all, certainly not up to Morgan and Ally’s standards, that’s for sure.
“That’s it?” Ally asked, disappointed.
“Yeah,” Erica nodded.
“She’s holding out on us,” Morgan said, not believing Erica.
“No, I swear,” Erica begged. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Morgan said. Then, having never relinquished her grip on Erica’s ankle, Morgan resumed her tickle attack on Erica’s trapped right foot, sending Erica into hysterics once again.
I watched as Erica became overwhelmed with laughter, her eyes clenched shut. I looked at the smile on Morgan’s face - a smile of pure euphoria and jubilation - as she tormented her prey. I admired her technique. With Erica’s ankle firmly in clutch, Erica’s foot had little room to even wiggle, and Morgan was dancing her fingers in such a way that the very tips of her fingernails were sweeping along Erica’s arch, almost as if she had been taking mental notes of the most ticklish spots on Erica’s foot in previous incidents.
“I think she might be telling the truth,” Ally said, almost dejectedly - though I’m not sure whether it was because she wanted more gossip or that meant there was no more reason for Morgan to tickle Erica.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Morgan said, slowing her tickling.
“I told you!” Erica said, forcing her words out through the laughter.
“Bummer,” Ally said.
“She was so quick to give up the secret, I wonder what else we can get out of her,” Morgan said to the room, seemingly only just now realizing the true power she held over Erica.
“Please!” Erica screamed through her laughter. “Oh my God, stop!”
“Think we can get her to order us ice cream?” Ally asked. If there was anything Ally liked more than juicy gossip, it was apparently ice cream.
“We have desserts,” Morgan said, not pausing her tickle attack for even a second as she spoke.
“I know, but I’d like some ice cream, too,” Ally said, explaining her request.
“You mean like sundaes?” Morgan asked. “Or a quart from the store?”
I have to admit I somewhat marveled at how nonchalant Morgan was, carrying on a conversation with Ally as if nothing else was happening in the room.
“A sundae would be good,” Ally said, perking up at the thought.
Morgan slowed her tickling as she looked at Erica. “Will you order us sundaes, Erica?” Morgan asked with a laugh. Ally seemed serious about the sundaes while Morgan seemed to think she was kidding.
“Knock it off,” Erica reprimanded as she gasped for breath.
“Suit yourself,” Morgan said, seemingly delighted that Erica had declined the offer, as Morgan began tickling in earnest as soon as Morgan declined.
“No, stop!” Erica screamed, still not recovered from the last round of tickle attacks. “I’ll buy!!” she screamed through her laughter, the second time that the tickling had proven to be too much for her.
Erica dissolved in laughter, trying desperately to agree to buy everyone ice cream sundaes but unable to get the words out through the laughter. It had only been maybe another twenty seconds total on top of the first fifteen seconds, but to Erica it clearly must have felt like an eternity.
“Oh, not this again,” Morgan’s husband said as he walked in the room with his brother and my wife.
“Quiet,” Morgan said, not wanting her husband to end her fun. “She’s agreeing to buy us all sundaes.”
“I’m not paying for no sundaes,” Erica’s husband said, clearly looking to hamstring his wife some.
“Buy the ice cream!” Erica screamed while laughing, unable to cope with yet another obstacle - her stubborn husband - as she tried to end this tickle attack.
“You heard him, Erica,” Morgan said with a smile, seemingly happy that she didn’t have to stop tickling just yet. “I can’t stop until we get sundaes.”
“BABE!” Erica screamed at the top of her lungs, almost as if willing her husband into saying yes to the ice cream. Those last two outbursts had taken all of Erica’s reserve energy, though, and she fell back on the floor laughing uncontrollably as everyone in the room watched.
“We want ice cream!” Ally began chanting, adding to Erica’s plight.
“I’m not Mr. Moneybags over here buying everyone ice cream sundaes,” Erica’s husband retorted, digging his heels in his stance.
“BABE PLEASE!” Erica begged through her laughter.
“I’m just going to keep tickling your wife until we get our ice creams,” Morgan threatened, doing her best to portray an evil henchman from the movies.
“So because my wife is ticklish, I have to buy you ice cream?” Erica’s husband asked.
“Those are the terms of the deal,” Morgan said.
“BABE PLEASE!” Erica pleaded again. “I CAN’T!!!” she bellowed through her laughter.
“Fine,” Erica’s husband said, finally relenting. “I’ll buy the friggin’ ice creams.”
Morgan and Ally both clapped, exchanging high fives while Erica lay on the floor, panting as she tried to catch her breath.
“Why would you be barefoot if you’re so ticklish?” Erica’s husband asked her. I mean, it was a worthwhile question, even if not one you’d necessarily ask someone who had just been tickled.
“She took my shoe off,” Erica said, pointing to Morgan while trying to find her shoe in the room.
"What can I say? I know your wife’s weakness,” Morgan said with a shoulder shrug, justifying her actions.
“You had to be ticklish, huh?” Erica’s husband asked her.
“I can’t help it,” Erica said, both slightly embarrassed and slightly annoyed at the same time.
“So what kind of sundaes are we getting?” Morgan’s husband asked, wanting to shift from the tension that was growing.
“Oh, we don’t need sundaes,” Morgan said, causing both Erica and Ally to do a double-take.
“What?” they both asked, clearly surprised but for different reasons.
“Oh, I just wanted to know how much it would take to get her to agree to buy them,” Morgan said proudly. “Not much, apparently,” she said with a laugh, looking at Erica.
Erica rolled her eyes, clearly not appreciative of the fact that she was the subject of such a science experiment but also not wanting to cause any issues and certainly not wanting to continue tickling as the subject of discussion.
Later on, I found myself in the kitchen alone with Erica, and both as a means to reassure her but also to see what kind of feedback I could pull from her, I said, “You know, I didn’t want an ice cream sundae, anyways”.
“I know your wife’s weakness,” Erica said quietly in her best Spongebob-meme voice.
“Gonna need a session on the couch with the tickle therapist after this one?” I asked.
“Probably,” she laughed as she refreshed her drink before we resumed the natural conversation.
My Own Takeaways
-Ally seemed to turn on Erica very quickly. I wonder how much of that was the desire for either the information/gossip or the ice cream sundae, but I also wonder how much of that is a hope for self-preservation. Ally has clearly mentioned multiple times how ticklish she is; perhaps she’s realizing that she very easily could be the next target and is choosing to side with Morgan? Or it could all just be a coincidence…
-I know I mentioned it in the story but I absolutely love when Erica - or anyone, really - uses the “Not my feet!” (or “Not (wherever)”) as their line of defense. I mean, I know clearly Erica isn’t thinking in the right mind at the moment, but saying something like that only draws attention to that spot. Or maybe she’s just become so defeated to the idea of being tickled that her last hope is for Morgan to not target her most ticklish spot all the time?
-I know I shouldn’t be at this point, but I continue to be blown away by how ticklish Erica is. I mean, this whole event couldn’t have lasted more than 1 minute in its entirety - even with the talking. And yet within that 1 minute, Erica had not only given up the secret that she had sworn she wouldn’t share but was also agreeing to purchase ice cream sundaes for everyone – all to get the tickling to stop.
-I openly admit I would also like to see Ally get tickled or I would like to see Morgan get her come-uppance, but please understand that I am not in the position to spearhead anything like that into happening. My role in all of these stories is simple outsider looking in. Aside from accidentally touching Erica’s ankle once, I’ve never participated in any tickling and it’s just something I simply am not in a position to do.
We were at Morgan’s house for what was becoming our sort of annual pre-4th of July festivities. While the whole family gathers together for the 4th of July, this is usually a more relaxed, casual get together with a smaller crowd. The usual suspects were there - Morgan and her husband, Erica and her husband, myself and my wife, and the assorted kiddos.
Morgan, the host, greeted us at the door with hugs for everyone, ushering us into the large family room where everything was already set up. Morgan was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of white Converse sneakers; if she had any socks on, they were just the liner socks, as the skin of her ankle was on full display between the top of the canvas sneakers and the bottom of her jeans. Erica and her husband were already in the family room. Erica was wearing a pair of black leggings with a gray long-sleeve top and a pair of white Keds canvas sneakers; like Morgan, if Erica were wearing socks, they were just the liner socks, as the skin of Erica’s ankle was on full display, as well. Knowing Erica, though, I had a strong feeling that the only socks that she had in her possession at the moment were in her bag in case she opted to take her shoes off. Eventually, Ally and her husband arrived. Ally was wearing a pair of heather gray leggings that she paired with a pair of sandals - which were promptly removed as soon as she entered the house - and a blue hooded sweatshirt.
The evening progressed without incident. Bowls of potato chips, nachos, and popcorn were passed around before the men went out to tend to the grill - burgers, hotdogs, and Americana for all! As we put our plates away and awaited dessert, the sun began to settle into the distance as we entered the dusk hours. A fire pit was planned for later in the evening, but everyone agreed that we wanted to have dessert and put it away first before heading to the fire pit; we also agreed that we needed some time to just chill in the family room, as well.
And that, as you might imagine, is when things began getting interesting.
With the kids still playing out in the yard with the dogs, Morgan’s husband announced that he had found something from their childhood that he wanted to show his brother (Erica’s husband) and his sister (my wife), so the three of them exited the room for the basement, leaving Erica, Morgan, Ally and me in the family room for the time being. Erica and I were sitting on the couch with Morgan sitting on the ground with her back to the couch in between Erica and I, and Ally was sitting in a chair across the room, facing us.
The topic of conversation turned to the goings-on of our last family gathering and the responses of people to it. Though I won’t air dirty laundry, I assure you it was just something trivial. Anyways, during the discussion, Erica made mention that she happened to know a bit more than she was letting on. Again, for the sake of not airing dirty laundry, I’ll pick up the conversation from that point and will make generic any specific details that might have been said.
“Well, I don’t think she was too happy with what happened,” Erica said softly.
“Do you know something?” Ally asked, instantly alert at the possibility of gossip.
“No,” Erica said, clearly lying. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I was sworn to secrecy,” she said.
“No,” Ally said, eager to get the dirt. “You have to tell us now,” she said. “You can’t just drop that and then move on,” she said.
“I really can’t say anything,” Erica repeated.
“We won’t tell anyone,” Ally offered. “We promise.”
“Guys, I gave my word,” Erica said, staying firm in her resolve.
“Keeping secrets?” Morgan asked, chiming in.
“Can we just forget I said anything?” Erica asked with a sigh, realizing that she wasn’t getting anywhere with either woman.
“Too late,” Morgan said. “We have ways of making you talk, you know,” Morgan said with a sly smile.
Erica looked confused for about 2.2 seconds before the weight of Morgan’s words fell on her, her eyes becoming saucers popping out of their socket as she realized what was coming.
“Oh my God, no!” Erica shrieked, pulling her feet up onto the couch as swiftly as she could to get them out of harm’s way.
But unfortunately for Erica, Morgan was just a split second ahead of her, that time it took for Erica to process the meaning of Morgan’s words being the difference in reaction time. Morgan was able to grab onto Erica’s right ankle with both hands and much like the mighty shark to Quint on the boat, Morgan began pulling Erica from her perch of safety.
“Morgan, oh my God, don’t!” Erica pleaded as she tried grabbing onto pillows, blankets, anything to break free of Morgan’s grip. “Please Morgan, no,” she begged, even before anything had happened.
I then felt Erica’s hand grasp mine, her final hope from being pulled to the floor and into Morgan’s clutches. By now, Erica must have known that she was no match for strength compared to Morgan, but no doubt I would be able to win a tug-of-war against Morgan (end humble brag).
I was now in a tough spot. I wanted to help Erica - especially after seeing the look of dread on her face as she clutched onto my hand with all her might; I felt like I owed it to her, at least. On the other hand, the TMFer in me felt like it wouldn’t be the worst thing to ever happen if Morgan were to get her hands on Erica again… And finally, of course, I didn’t want to hurt Erica, as her body was being stretched during this mini tug-of-war. It wasn’t a true tug-of-war, of course, but the worry was still there; it wouldn’t be the first time that some playful rough-housing had resulted in injury.
Fortunately, fate intervened on my behalf and eliminated that decision for me, as Ally, noticing Erica’s efforts and wanting to know the juicy gossip, got up off her chair, and walked over to us. With her back to the middle of the room, Erica had no idea Ally was approaching.
“Oh no you don’t,” Ally said as she reached us before planting her finger into the hollows of Erica’s exposed underarms with a hearty “Kootchie kootchie coo”. Erica lost her grip of my wrist immediately, her arms jetting down to her sides to protect her vulnerable armpits from Ally’s attack.
I had to catch Erica as she fell from my grip so she wouldn’t land on her face, but that allowed me to “lose my grip” on her much more convincingly. Morgan dragged Erica into the middle of the room where she put Erica’s ankle into a headlock.
I looked over to Ally as she sat back down in her chair and couldn’t help but notice the humongous smile across her face, clearly proud of her work.
Erica, meanwhile, was like a fish out of water, flopping around trying to break free from Morgan’s grip. Morgan was trying to pull Erica’s sneaker off but Erica’s flopping was - for the moment - preventing her from doing so.
“Morgan, please!” Erica begged as she struggled. “Not my feet,” she pleaded. I have to admit one of my favorite Erica “begs” is when she goes with the “Not my feet” line. I just think it’s cute in that it - without fail - accomplishes the exact opposite of what she’s hoping to accomplish.
“Why not your feet?” Morgan asked as she wrestled with Erica trying to get a good grip on her sneaker.
“I’m barefoot in my shoes,” Erica said, answering my earlier question. “Please just not my fee-ahahahahahahahaha,” she bellowed as laughter roared from her mouth.
“Oh my gosh your ankles are ticklish too?” Morgan asked as she fluttered her fingers along the patch of exposed ankle between Erica’s leggings and the top of her Keds.
“YES!” Erica screamed through her laughter. “Please stop!”
“There,” Morgan said, having used the momentary distraction of tickling Erica’s ankles to successfully remove Erica’s sneaker from her foot. As Erica had mentioned, she indeed was not wearing any socks inside her shoes, her barefoot now resting perilously in Morgan’s clutches.
“Not fair!” Erica shouted, still trying to free herself unsuccessfully.
“Are you going to tell us?” Morgan asked, readying herself.
Erica seemed to really give it some thought before sheepishly saying, “Come on Morgan, she swore me to secrecy.”
“Have it your way,” Morgan said, unleashing a full-fledged tickle attack on the bottom of Erica’s exposed sole.
Erica erupted in laughter, instantly, screaming out “I’LL TELL! I’LL TELL!” in between fits of laughter. It had taken all of 0.5 seconds to break her of her will. But it was evident that Morgan wasn’t going to let her off that easily.
“What was that?” she asked, pretending to not understand what Erica had said. “I couldn’t quite make it out.”
But of course as each second passed, more and more laughter spilled out of Erica, eventually making it impossible for her to form the words “I’LL TELL” at all. We heard a few more “STOP!” and “PLEASE!” thrown in there, but she had dissolved into total laughter at this point, unable to say the words that Morgan intimated would end the tickling.
Morgan had a death grip on Erica’s ankle, clutching it in a headlock and holding it as one would an ankle lock in professional wrestling; Erica now lay on her stomach with her right leg bent up at the knee, her right foot encircled in Morgan’s left arm while the fingers on Morgan’s right hand danced away across the sensitive sole. Morgan soon shifted so that she also wrapped her legs around Erica’s right leg, further limiting Erica’s range of motion; it was virtually impossible for her to escape now.
About 15 seconds had passed and Ally was clearly getting impatient.
“See if she’ll tell us,” Ally said, her hunger for gossip overwhelming her.
“Think she will?” Morgan asked, prolonging Erica’s torment.
“Yeah,” Ally said. “Come on,” she urged.
“OK, fine,” Morgan said, clearly unhappy about having to relent in her attack
“Oh my God,” Erica said, catching her breath and being able to form words for the first time over the last 15 seconds. “I’ll tell you!” she pleaded. “Just please stop tickling!”
After another second or two of catching her breath, Erica proceeded to reveal the juicy secret – only the secret wasn’t all that juicy, at all, certainly not up to Morgan and Ally’s standards, that’s for sure.
“That’s it?” Ally asked, disappointed.
“Yeah,” Erica nodded.
“She’s holding out on us,” Morgan said, not believing Erica.
“No, I swear,” Erica begged. “I’m telling you the truth.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” Morgan said. Then, having never relinquished her grip on Erica’s ankle, Morgan resumed her tickle attack on Erica’s trapped right foot, sending Erica into hysterics once again.
I watched as Erica became overwhelmed with laughter, her eyes clenched shut. I looked at the smile on Morgan’s face - a smile of pure euphoria and jubilation - as she tormented her prey. I admired her technique. With Erica’s ankle firmly in clutch, Erica’s foot had little room to even wiggle, and Morgan was dancing her fingers in such a way that the very tips of her fingernails were sweeping along Erica’s arch, almost as if she had been taking mental notes of the most ticklish spots on Erica’s foot in previous incidents.
“I think she might be telling the truth,” Ally said, almost dejectedly - though I’m not sure whether it was because she wanted more gossip or that meant there was no more reason for Morgan to tickle Erica.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Morgan said, slowing her tickling.
“I told you!” Erica said, forcing her words out through the laughter.
“Bummer,” Ally said.
“She was so quick to give up the secret, I wonder what else we can get out of her,” Morgan said to the room, seemingly only just now realizing the true power she held over Erica.
“Please!” Erica screamed through her laughter. “Oh my God, stop!”
“Think we can get her to order us ice cream?” Ally asked. If there was anything Ally liked more than juicy gossip, it was apparently ice cream.
“We have desserts,” Morgan said, not pausing her tickle attack for even a second as she spoke.
“I know, but I’d like some ice cream, too,” Ally said, explaining her request.
“You mean like sundaes?” Morgan asked. “Or a quart from the store?”
I have to admit I somewhat marveled at how nonchalant Morgan was, carrying on a conversation with Ally as if nothing else was happening in the room.
“A sundae would be good,” Ally said, perking up at the thought.
Morgan slowed her tickling as she looked at Erica. “Will you order us sundaes, Erica?” Morgan asked with a laugh. Ally seemed serious about the sundaes while Morgan seemed to think she was kidding.
“Knock it off,” Erica reprimanded as she gasped for breath.
“Suit yourself,” Morgan said, seemingly delighted that Erica had declined the offer, as Morgan began tickling in earnest as soon as Morgan declined.
“No, stop!” Erica screamed, still not recovered from the last round of tickle attacks. “I’ll buy!!” she screamed through her laughter, the second time that the tickling had proven to be too much for her.
Erica dissolved in laughter, trying desperately to agree to buy everyone ice cream sundaes but unable to get the words out through the laughter. It had only been maybe another twenty seconds total on top of the first fifteen seconds, but to Erica it clearly must have felt like an eternity.
“Oh, not this again,” Morgan’s husband said as he walked in the room with his brother and my wife.
“Quiet,” Morgan said, not wanting her husband to end her fun. “She’s agreeing to buy us all sundaes.”
“I’m not paying for no sundaes,” Erica’s husband said, clearly looking to hamstring his wife some.
“Buy the ice cream!” Erica screamed while laughing, unable to cope with yet another obstacle - her stubborn husband - as she tried to end this tickle attack.
“You heard him, Erica,” Morgan said with a smile, seemingly happy that she didn’t have to stop tickling just yet. “I can’t stop until we get sundaes.”
“BABE!” Erica screamed at the top of her lungs, almost as if willing her husband into saying yes to the ice cream. Those last two outbursts had taken all of Erica’s reserve energy, though, and she fell back on the floor laughing uncontrollably as everyone in the room watched.
“We want ice cream!” Ally began chanting, adding to Erica’s plight.
“I’m not Mr. Moneybags over here buying everyone ice cream sundaes,” Erica’s husband retorted, digging his heels in his stance.
“BABE PLEASE!” Erica begged through her laughter.
“I’m just going to keep tickling your wife until we get our ice creams,” Morgan threatened, doing her best to portray an evil henchman from the movies.
“So because my wife is ticklish, I have to buy you ice cream?” Erica’s husband asked.
“Those are the terms of the deal,” Morgan said.
“BABE PLEASE!” Erica pleaded again. “I CAN’T!!!” she bellowed through her laughter.
“Fine,” Erica’s husband said, finally relenting. “I’ll buy the friggin’ ice creams.”
Morgan and Ally both clapped, exchanging high fives while Erica lay on the floor, panting as she tried to catch her breath.
“Why would you be barefoot if you’re so ticklish?” Erica’s husband asked her. I mean, it was a worthwhile question, even if not one you’d necessarily ask someone who had just been tickled.
“She took my shoe off,” Erica said, pointing to Morgan while trying to find her shoe in the room.
"What can I say? I know your wife’s weakness,” Morgan said with a shoulder shrug, justifying her actions.
“You had to be ticklish, huh?” Erica’s husband asked her.
“I can’t help it,” Erica said, both slightly embarrassed and slightly annoyed at the same time.
“So what kind of sundaes are we getting?” Morgan’s husband asked, wanting to shift from the tension that was growing.
“Oh, we don’t need sundaes,” Morgan said, causing both Erica and Ally to do a double-take.
“What?” they both asked, clearly surprised but for different reasons.
“Oh, I just wanted to know how much it would take to get her to agree to buy them,” Morgan said proudly. “Not much, apparently,” she said with a laugh, looking at Erica.
Erica rolled her eyes, clearly not appreciative of the fact that she was the subject of such a science experiment but also not wanting to cause any issues and certainly not wanting to continue tickling as the subject of discussion.
Later on, I found myself in the kitchen alone with Erica, and both as a means to reassure her but also to see what kind of feedback I could pull from her, I said, “You know, I didn’t want an ice cream sundae, anyways”.
“I know your wife’s weakness,” Erica said quietly in her best Spongebob-meme voice.
“Gonna need a session on the couch with the tickle therapist after this one?” I asked.
“Probably,” she laughed as she refreshed her drink before we resumed the natural conversation.
My Own Takeaways
-Ally seemed to turn on Erica very quickly. I wonder how much of that was the desire for either the information/gossip or the ice cream sundae, but I also wonder how much of that is a hope for self-preservation. Ally has clearly mentioned multiple times how ticklish she is; perhaps she’s realizing that she very easily could be the next target and is choosing to side with Morgan? Or it could all just be a coincidence…
-I know I mentioned it in the story but I absolutely love when Erica - or anyone, really - uses the “Not my feet!” (or “Not (wherever)”) as their line of defense. I mean, I know clearly Erica isn’t thinking in the right mind at the moment, but saying something like that only draws attention to that spot. Or maybe she’s just become so defeated to the idea of being tickled that her last hope is for Morgan to not target her most ticklish spot all the time?
-I know I shouldn’t be at this point, but I continue to be blown away by how ticklish Erica is. I mean, this whole event couldn’t have lasted more than 1 minute in its entirety - even with the talking. And yet within that 1 minute, Erica had not only given up the secret that she had sworn she wouldn’t share but was also agreeing to purchase ice cream sundaes for everyone – all to get the tickling to stop.
-I openly admit I would also like to see Ally get tickled or I would like to see Morgan get her come-uppance, but please understand that I am not in the position to spearhead anything like that into happening. My role in all of these stories is simple outsider looking in. Aside from accidentally touching Erica’s ankle once, I’ve never participated in any tickling and it’s just something I simply am not in a position to do.
Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
