DOPEFIEND21
TMF Novice
- Joined
- May 9, 2005
- Messages
- 61
- Points
- 6
It is true I lurk here entirely too much. Having been around since before the forum was converted into its current incarnation (Psycho4048 running a message board with a black background and red type or something if memory serves? If not correct me as I've been trying to remember what it looked like in 1999!), I really should contribute more. With that in mind I thought given I enjoy this section of the TMF quite a bit, why not pick my own brain and share some tickling incidents?
The first of such that sprang to mind takes us back to the spring of odd-one (2001). In the UK, we don't have 'college' like the US does - that we call university. I was 18, at our version of 'college', which is essentially the last two years of high school but with the all the drink, drugs and sex of university. A fine time of life it was.
My group of friends all lived in and around the same quaint northern town in which the college was located. A buddy of mine had rich parents with a large house who were away on vacation on the week in question. This had led to a somewhat open door policy at the house where everyone came and went as they pleased. I was there most of the week, leaving only to get more booze and/or weed as needed.
One morning after a heavy drink the night before, I was resting in the living room on one of the large leather couches which surrounded a very thick rectangular Persian style rug in the center of the room. Opposite me on one of the other couches was a blonde girl I knew well from college; we will call her Lorna. Lorna was 18, about 5'5, blue eyes, with large D-cup breasts. I would not call her athletic of body type, but she was well put together. One thing I recall was that her hair that day was braided in an almost viking style. She could have introduced herself as 'Helga' from somewhere in Germany and you would have bought it - a bit like the girl on the St Pauli's beer bottle. She was wearing a tight band t-shirt (Hole maybe) emphasizing her bust, green cord trousers and Vans.
We laid for sometime without a word, the sounds of the grounds outside coming in from the open patio door. I stirred, reaching out for a nearby table upon which my rolling papers and bag of white widow sat, and began to make a joint. Lorna, who did not smoke, made a comment about how much I smoked, correctly saying too much. Then, a male friend of mine called Joe came in and sat next to me and chatted generally waiting for me to finish rolling. Lorna and Joe talked playfully back and forth while I finished. Lorna then really started mocking Joe for some reason that escapes me now. The reason it escapes me is halfway through Joe sitting down I had concocted a plan and was gearing up to put it into motion; the adrenaline was flowing.
Once I had finished the joint I exclaimed "you know Joe, we should probably just roll this cheeky cow up in that rug and smoke her!". Joe laughing agreed, we both got up and made a move over to Lorna who had put her hands up defensively but did not run. We dragged her off the couch into the middle of the rug - naturally being a foot/tickle guy I positioned myself by her legs and feet (still in her Vans at this point).
Despite some struggle we easily overpowered her, rolling her up in the rug, which fit brilliantly to wrap her up preventing any movement. Once flipped and locked in, it was time to go to work. While Joe busied himself with messing with her hair and taunting her, I reached for her Vans which were just about protruding from the end of the rug. I ripped them off one by one, revealing a pair of green-socked feet around size 6 (7US). I could hear some loud protestation, but could not at that point tell whether it was due to my removing her shoes or just her general predicament.
That changed sharply when I began skittering my fingers over both of her socked feet. She began kicking against rug as best she could, attempted a shout for help but could not quite get it out before her ticklishness took over and choked the shout with manic laughter. This was just a few touches and the reaction was primal. I was unsure how long this could go on, so I moved quickly and whipped her right sock off and began rub-tickling/exploring with two fingers up her sole to her toes then wiggling between them. The one exposed foot was one of the softest to this day I've ever touched. She had wide feet with very high arches that were not red or worn in any way it seemed, almost had a blonde hue to it to match her hair I thought. Her foot was slightly slick with sweat from being in her Vans/socks, making it so easy and satisfying to glide my fingers up her arch.
Lorna went ballistic on having her bare foot tickled. Kicking with more fury against the rug, babbling incoherent threats in between howls of laughter and desperate toe-flexing. Joe had turned around briefly at this point but only laughed encouragingly at what I was doing and continued messing with her hair, poking her etc. I continued raking up and down her exposed foot, having grabbed it with my left hand and tickling the sole and toes with my right, mesmerized. I drew back the toes, got in between those slick beautiful things.
This went on for about a minute and a half. Sadly I didn't get the other foot bared. Lorna was so ticklish that after this time of being tickled on one bare foot along with Joe messing with her, the 'joke' had plainly worn thin and it was in the best interest of all to let her out, which we did. She took it reasonably well, if threatening to kill me if I ever did that to her again is evidence of taking something well.
Anyway, that is a memory that unsurprisingly has always stuck with me. I see her maybe every other year or so these days, so naturally the thought pops into my head as to whether she is still as wildly ticklish.
I'll try and sporadically post the odd thing here as there are a few more from that time of life and otherwise that might be of interest.
Best to you all
Dopefiend
The first of such that sprang to mind takes us back to the spring of odd-one (2001). In the UK, we don't have 'college' like the US does - that we call university. I was 18, at our version of 'college', which is essentially the last two years of high school but with the all the drink, drugs and sex of university. A fine time of life it was.
My group of friends all lived in and around the same quaint northern town in which the college was located. A buddy of mine had rich parents with a large house who were away on vacation on the week in question. This had led to a somewhat open door policy at the house where everyone came and went as they pleased. I was there most of the week, leaving only to get more booze and/or weed as needed.
One morning after a heavy drink the night before, I was resting in the living room on one of the large leather couches which surrounded a very thick rectangular Persian style rug in the center of the room. Opposite me on one of the other couches was a blonde girl I knew well from college; we will call her Lorna. Lorna was 18, about 5'5, blue eyes, with large D-cup breasts. I would not call her athletic of body type, but she was well put together. One thing I recall was that her hair that day was braided in an almost viking style. She could have introduced herself as 'Helga' from somewhere in Germany and you would have bought it - a bit like the girl on the St Pauli's beer bottle. She was wearing a tight band t-shirt (Hole maybe) emphasizing her bust, green cord trousers and Vans.
We laid for sometime without a word, the sounds of the grounds outside coming in from the open patio door. I stirred, reaching out for a nearby table upon which my rolling papers and bag of white widow sat, and began to make a joint. Lorna, who did not smoke, made a comment about how much I smoked, correctly saying too much. Then, a male friend of mine called Joe came in and sat next to me and chatted generally waiting for me to finish rolling. Lorna and Joe talked playfully back and forth while I finished. Lorna then really started mocking Joe for some reason that escapes me now. The reason it escapes me is halfway through Joe sitting down I had concocted a plan and was gearing up to put it into motion; the adrenaline was flowing.
Once I had finished the joint I exclaimed "you know Joe, we should probably just roll this cheeky cow up in that rug and smoke her!". Joe laughing agreed, we both got up and made a move over to Lorna who had put her hands up defensively but did not run. We dragged her off the couch into the middle of the rug - naturally being a foot/tickle guy I positioned myself by her legs and feet (still in her Vans at this point).
Despite some struggle we easily overpowered her, rolling her up in the rug, which fit brilliantly to wrap her up preventing any movement. Once flipped and locked in, it was time to go to work. While Joe busied himself with messing with her hair and taunting her, I reached for her Vans which were just about protruding from the end of the rug. I ripped them off one by one, revealing a pair of green-socked feet around size 6 (7US). I could hear some loud protestation, but could not at that point tell whether it was due to my removing her shoes or just her general predicament.
That changed sharply when I began skittering my fingers over both of her socked feet. She began kicking against rug as best she could, attempted a shout for help but could not quite get it out before her ticklishness took over and choked the shout with manic laughter. This was just a few touches and the reaction was primal. I was unsure how long this could go on, so I moved quickly and whipped her right sock off and began rub-tickling/exploring with two fingers up her sole to her toes then wiggling between them. The one exposed foot was one of the softest to this day I've ever touched. She had wide feet with very high arches that were not red or worn in any way it seemed, almost had a blonde hue to it to match her hair I thought. Her foot was slightly slick with sweat from being in her Vans/socks, making it so easy and satisfying to glide my fingers up her arch.
Lorna went ballistic on having her bare foot tickled. Kicking with more fury against the rug, babbling incoherent threats in between howls of laughter and desperate toe-flexing. Joe had turned around briefly at this point but only laughed encouragingly at what I was doing and continued messing with her hair, poking her etc. I continued raking up and down her exposed foot, having grabbed it with my left hand and tickling the sole and toes with my right, mesmerized. I drew back the toes, got in between those slick beautiful things.
This went on for about a minute and a half. Sadly I didn't get the other foot bared. Lorna was so ticklish that after this time of being tickled on one bare foot along with Joe messing with her, the 'joke' had plainly worn thin and it was in the best interest of all to let her out, which we did. She took it reasonably well, if threatening to kill me if I ever did that to her again is evidence of taking something well.
Anyway, that is a memory that unsurprisingly has always stuck with me. I see her maybe every other year or so these days, so naturally the thought pops into my head as to whether she is still as wildly ticklish.
I'll try and sporadically post the odd thing here as there are a few more from that time of life and otherwise that might be of interest.
Best to you all
Dopefiend
