maryallison
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Feb 22, 2006
- Messages
- 74
- Points
- 0
My college days are long behind me, just as my tickling fetish was. I would have forgotten all the details except that I posted the stories on TMF. They are still here. But I am not a college girl anymore. I have a career and responsibilities and very little time for fun. So it was a surprise that I signed up for a whitewater rafting trip on the Decatur River in Tennessee. It's not my thing but summer is ending and I had few options.
So I went down. The first day I knew nothing and it showed: I dropped the paddle, I put the helmet on backwards, I was petrified of falling in, even with a life jacket. I was so overdressed barely anything showed. The second day was a little better and i grew more confident. I put on just a bikini top and a t-shirt, and cut off jeans, and of course the life jacket and helmet that everyone had to wear. We rafted down the Decatur and came to the class III and class IV rapids, and the river splashed us over and over, and we nearly flipped at one point, and after two hours everyone in my boat, including me, was soaked. We got back on the bus and went to camp, and the sun was going down, and the weekend was over, and I did not know what to do except drive home.
But I didn't. I had pitched my little solo tent near a group of others, and as I was about to pull up everything and pack they invited me over. They had done the Decatur as well, and it was party time. They had built a fire and the sun was going down over the trees, and there was one chair left - a recliner that someone had brought by mistake. They offered me a beer and I hesitated, but took it. There were maybe ten guys and five women there, maybe married, maybe not, all ages up to about fifty, so I fit in. They passed around hot dogs and burgers like it didn't matter who had paid for them. Chips. Salsa. and a feeling that they (we?) had accomplished something and deserved to let loose.
After a hour of drinking and chatter and random insults tossed across the campfire, someone passed around a joint. I had not done that in so long I was surprised they still existed, like this was a frat party or sorority party in which I had - oh, never mind. You can read the details on the stories page if you want. I took a toke; do they still call it that? - and passed it to the next person. The crowd began singing some song I didn't know. The blonde girl I had been glancing at now glanced at me as well, and brought me a bottle of something. Tequila, Whiskey, I don't know. I drank and the joint came around and I took another hit. Suddenly I blurted out to no one in particular, "I haven't done anything this crazy since college."
And the crowd became quiet. I looked around but could barely see anyone's faces clearly, because the sun was down and the fire flickered across the scene. Someone said, "Such as what?"
"Oh, you know," was my lame answer. The blonde nudged me and handed me her bottle. I glanced at her and drank.
"You don't look like the crazy college girl type," someone else said in the darkness.
Was I being challenged? Was he calling me a liar?
"Well I did a few crazy things but it was fifteen years ago."
And the crowd was still silent.
"Like what?"
Somehow the joint came around to me again. Was it on purpose? I held it a second and took a long inhale, and the smoke filled my lungs and settled like it was taking over my body. And out it came. Everything about the Do Not Enter Room and the Do Not Enter House and the Revenge Reunion. What was I thinking? As soon as I mentioned Tickling Media Forum I could see the glow of cellphones in the dark, and faces staring down, and I had a feeling I had said too much.
I heard a car door open and shut again. A shadow came near. I was still sitting in the recliner and soon a pair of hands took my wrist and tied me to the arm of the recliner, then he or she took my other wrist and tied it down, and another person walked around the fire and put my feet up on a cooler. They flicked a little knob and the recliner went back and I was almost lying flat. Then I remembered what I was wearing: a t-shirt, a bikini top, and cutoffs. Oh what a dumb girl I had suddenly become again.
Someone in the dark pulled off my sneakers - no surprise. I knew what was coming. A finger went across my sole and I flinched. A hand went down on my ankle just enough to keep me still, and another finger went up my other sole. Again I fli9nched and someone gently held me down. The fingers continued across the top of my bare feet and up my legs, then up my thighs, covered only by those cutoffs. I stared up at the trees which loomed above me in the dark. A hand went to my bare forearm, then down across the t-shirt, and my covered ribs, and then ( oh you guessed it by now) the grind of a pair of scissors appeared in the darkness. Snip, snip, snip. One side and then the other and my t-shirt magically lifted away from me. I could do nothing about it: my hands were tied, literally, and in a second more I felt a tug behind me. Was I wearing a string bikini? Oh my god I was. How could I have turned into college girl again? the string opened and I felt it fall, and soon the other strings around my neck wriggled and loosened, and the bikini top lay flay against me, but I knew it could not stay there long. My legs were not tied, just held down, and when I felt another set of fingers glide up my side and slowly pull away my bikini top, I knew what must happen next.
I was topless and tied to a chair, in the dark, surrounded by strangers who had all been soaked by the river, and ready to party. The shadows surrounded me now. Another pair off hands went down my shoulders, across my ribs, and over my poor helpless tummy, and I squealed. But it was late at night in the woods and no one would here me. Another set of hands clipped around me cutoffs and by now I knew what must happen. I wriggled out of them as someone pulled and they took them off before those gentle hands held my ankles down again. Then the tickling grew more intense. I felt a cold sensation - what was it? I couldn't tell until someone started rubbing, and whatever suntan lotion or shampoo they had poured on me now spread all across my tummy and ribs, and then my legs, and my completely defenseless feet. Oh they were wicked. I struggled but I could go nowhere. I looked up to the sky as if to plead for someone to help me, and as if she was answering my prayer the blonde girl, who had shared the bottle of liquor, now stood over me with a grin. Was she going to stop this?
She pulled out a feather. like a blue jay feather or a robin's feather, as if she had found one in the campsite that day and was going to take it home as a souvenir. But now it was a weapon. She knelt beside me and started to sign, with that innocent grin turned evil, a song I was familiar with:
"Momma, Just killed a man....Put a gun against his head...." and soon others in the faceless crowd joined it. It was Bohemian Rhapsody, notoriously long, and something almost anyone can sing. And they did so. Then she dipped that bird's feather across my exposed Garden of Eden and I shrieked, but the crowd simply sang above me. Others still ran their fingers up and down my sides, and now across my tits, but all I could think of was that feather and my ridiculous decision to underdress that day.
The crowd sang: "too late, my time has come, sent shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time." She slowed down with the feather, and when the song went faster she went faster, racing across my sweet spot with that sadistic feather and no amount of laughing and begging could stop them. At last they came to a part in the song with just a guitar solo, and I knew it was coming, and when it did she attacked me like she had not done before, and dipped the tip of that that feather into me as my feet and tummy and tits quivered. I could not escape, and by now I did not want to. I exploded with pleasure, and the song went slower again, almost to a whisper, and when she sang the final words. "Anyway the wind blows," and kissed me, I fell back into the reclining chair and sobbed.
So I went down. The first day I knew nothing and it showed: I dropped the paddle, I put the helmet on backwards, I was petrified of falling in, even with a life jacket. I was so overdressed barely anything showed. The second day was a little better and i grew more confident. I put on just a bikini top and a t-shirt, and cut off jeans, and of course the life jacket and helmet that everyone had to wear. We rafted down the Decatur and came to the class III and class IV rapids, and the river splashed us over and over, and we nearly flipped at one point, and after two hours everyone in my boat, including me, was soaked. We got back on the bus and went to camp, and the sun was going down, and the weekend was over, and I did not know what to do except drive home.
But I didn't. I had pitched my little solo tent near a group of others, and as I was about to pull up everything and pack they invited me over. They had done the Decatur as well, and it was party time. They had built a fire and the sun was going down over the trees, and there was one chair left - a recliner that someone had brought by mistake. They offered me a beer and I hesitated, but took it. There were maybe ten guys and five women there, maybe married, maybe not, all ages up to about fifty, so I fit in. They passed around hot dogs and burgers like it didn't matter who had paid for them. Chips. Salsa. and a feeling that they (we?) had accomplished something and deserved to let loose.
After a hour of drinking and chatter and random insults tossed across the campfire, someone passed around a joint. I had not done that in so long I was surprised they still existed, like this was a frat party or sorority party in which I had - oh, never mind. You can read the details on the stories page if you want. I took a toke; do they still call it that? - and passed it to the next person. The crowd began singing some song I didn't know. The blonde girl I had been glancing at now glanced at me as well, and brought me a bottle of something. Tequila, Whiskey, I don't know. I drank and the joint came around and I took another hit. Suddenly I blurted out to no one in particular, "I haven't done anything this crazy since college."
And the crowd became quiet. I looked around but could barely see anyone's faces clearly, because the sun was down and the fire flickered across the scene. Someone said, "Such as what?"
"Oh, you know," was my lame answer. The blonde nudged me and handed me her bottle. I glanced at her and drank.
"You don't look like the crazy college girl type," someone else said in the darkness.
Was I being challenged? Was he calling me a liar?
"Well I did a few crazy things but it was fifteen years ago."
And the crowd was still silent.
"Like what?"
Somehow the joint came around to me again. Was it on purpose? I held it a second and took a long inhale, and the smoke filled my lungs and settled like it was taking over my body. And out it came. Everything about the Do Not Enter Room and the Do Not Enter House and the Revenge Reunion. What was I thinking? As soon as I mentioned Tickling Media Forum I could see the glow of cellphones in the dark, and faces staring down, and I had a feeling I had said too much.
I heard a car door open and shut again. A shadow came near. I was still sitting in the recliner and soon a pair of hands took my wrist and tied me to the arm of the recliner, then he or she took my other wrist and tied it down, and another person walked around the fire and put my feet up on a cooler. They flicked a little knob and the recliner went back and I was almost lying flat. Then I remembered what I was wearing: a t-shirt, a bikini top, and cutoffs. Oh what a dumb girl I had suddenly become again.
Someone in the dark pulled off my sneakers - no surprise. I knew what was coming. A finger went across my sole and I flinched. A hand went down on my ankle just enough to keep me still, and another finger went up my other sole. Again I fli9nched and someone gently held me down. The fingers continued across the top of my bare feet and up my legs, then up my thighs, covered only by those cutoffs. I stared up at the trees which loomed above me in the dark. A hand went to my bare forearm, then down across the t-shirt, and my covered ribs, and then ( oh you guessed it by now) the grind of a pair of scissors appeared in the darkness. Snip, snip, snip. One side and then the other and my t-shirt magically lifted away from me. I could do nothing about it: my hands were tied, literally, and in a second more I felt a tug behind me. Was I wearing a string bikini? Oh my god I was. How could I have turned into college girl again? the string opened and I felt it fall, and soon the other strings around my neck wriggled and loosened, and the bikini top lay flay against me, but I knew it could not stay there long. My legs were not tied, just held down, and when I felt another set of fingers glide up my side and slowly pull away my bikini top, I knew what must happen next.
I was topless and tied to a chair, in the dark, surrounded by strangers who had all been soaked by the river, and ready to party. The shadows surrounded me now. Another pair off hands went down my shoulders, across my ribs, and over my poor helpless tummy, and I squealed. But it was late at night in the woods and no one would here me. Another set of hands clipped around me cutoffs and by now I knew what must happen. I wriggled out of them as someone pulled and they took them off before those gentle hands held my ankles down again. Then the tickling grew more intense. I felt a cold sensation - what was it? I couldn't tell until someone started rubbing, and whatever suntan lotion or shampoo they had poured on me now spread all across my tummy and ribs, and then my legs, and my completely defenseless feet. Oh they were wicked. I struggled but I could go nowhere. I looked up to the sky as if to plead for someone to help me, and as if she was answering my prayer the blonde girl, who had shared the bottle of liquor, now stood over me with a grin. Was she going to stop this?
She pulled out a feather. like a blue jay feather or a robin's feather, as if she had found one in the campsite that day and was going to take it home as a souvenir. But now it was a weapon. She knelt beside me and started to sign, with that innocent grin turned evil, a song I was familiar with:
"Momma, Just killed a man....Put a gun against his head...." and soon others in the faceless crowd joined it. It was Bohemian Rhapsody, notoriously long, and something almost anyone can sing. And they did so. Then she dipped that bird's feather across my exposed Garden of Eden and I shrieked, but the crowd simply sang above me. Others still ran their fingers up and down my sides, and now across my tits, but all I could think of was that feather and my ridiculous decision to underdress that day.
The crowd sang: "too late, my time has come, sent shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time." She slowed down with the feather, and when the song went faster she went faster, racing across my sweet spot with that sadistic feather and no amount of laughing and begging could stop them. At last they came to a part in the song with just a guitar solo, and I knew it was coming, and when it did she attacked me like she had not done before, and dipped the tip of that that feather into me as my feet and tummy and tits quivered. I could not escape, and by now I did not want to. I exploded with pleasure, and the song went slower again, almost to a whisper, and when she sang the final words. "Anyway the wind blows," and kissed me, I fell back into the reclining chair and sobbed.
