Hi Guys, Squeak here. I plan on posting some fictional stories in the near future. I'm currently in the process of preliminary character diagnosis and development, and should start working on a draft of some flash tickle fiction soon. I write for a living, and I'm not only a person who edits constantly, but I'm also a notorious procrastinator, so who knows when I'll actually have the first one done! In the meantime and possibly concurrently, I wanted to share some short autobiographical narratives about myself and my tickling history, in a few parts. This one, being the first. I hope you enjoy it.
P.S: This story is focused more on my initial reaction and burgeoning desire than it is on the initial act. Just so you know. I don't go into so much detail on the tickling, though expect that in another story.
P.P.S. I don't know if these stories need any type of content warning, but I do talk about masturbation and my vagina, mostly in a metaphorical sense, using figurative language to describe them, so uh. . . beware!
Squeak’s Tickling Story Part 1: The Inciting Incident: or How I Learned to Quit Worrying and Love the Laughter.
P.S: This story is focused more on my initial reaction and burgeoning desire than it is on the initial act. Just so you know. I don't go into so much detail on the tickling, though expect that in another story.
P.P.S. I don't know if these stories need any type of content warning, but I do talk about masturbation and my vagina, mostly in a metaphorical sense, using figurative language to describe them, so uh. . . beware!
Squeak’s Tickling Story Part 1: The Inciting Incident: or How I Learned to Quit Worrying and Love the Laughter.
Learning about my predilection for tickling was absolutely accidental. I bet you’re saying, “And how in the hell do you accidentally learn about something like this? This isn’t like finding a new sandwich, Squeak.” But I did. Easily. Prior to actually stumbling onto this kink, I had never even known that sexual desires could extend to things like this. If you had asked me the day before if it was possible, I would’ve say no emphatically, and on my worst day I might’ve would’ve raised my eye in soft judgment. Don’t curse past me too harshly, that judgment would’ve come from a place of innocence.
I first learned I liked tickling during my first year of college. NC State University. At the time, I’m 18 years old, an English major, writing a second draft of my first manuscript. On this particular day I’m at a friends apartment. It’s February and it had been snowing ever so softly. Not much at all, but in certain parts of NC, when it snows for 4 seconds, we’re ready to cancel everything. Including classes, which was the case on this day. I was at a friend’s apartment. For the sake of this story, let’s call her. . . Keisha. Keisha, one of my best friends, whom I also had a huge secret crush on. I’m a lesbian, but at this point, nobody knew. Or at least, I hadn’t told anybody. Turns out lots of people already knew! Regardless. That’s the situation. I’m at her house, and we’re watching t.v. I can’t for the life of me remember what it was, not that that matters. This was just like any other day. Me an her chillin’ and joking around.
At some point while watching t.v, we start arguing about something. Not in an unfriendly way. In a jovial sense. One of the key parts of our relationship, still present to this day, is a constant stream of pointless arguments. We’re both opinionated and loud mouths. This is common for us, I’ve know her for. . . decades at this point, and our hangin’ out time often devolves into silly stuff like this. . . well not exactly like this. We like being contentious, but it’s all in good fun. At some point, she’s get in my face and starts waggin' her head back and forth. So I reach up and pluck her on the nose. She jumps on me. and we’re rolling on the floor. Total chaos.
We were playfighting, I was losing for the most part, when she got on top of me, hemmed me up and started tickling me. I’m very short, and though I do have some curvature around my chest and hips area, I’m very light as well. It doesn’t take much for a person to render me mostly stationary. I tried to get free, that’s the natural reaction whenever someone is being tickled. It’s really a part of your fight or flight to try and escape. I was moving in a frenzy. However, even though I wanted to escape, I realized in my mind, I was really enjoying it and getting turned on. The inability to escape has this conflicting connecting reaction. It’s terrifying, but also exhilarating. Two minutes into tickling for me, and it feels like I’m about to die! But it’s also feels good. I assume all of us who like to be tickled already know this, and people who don’t. . . probably never will. The thought of that simply terrifies them. So I’ll move on. Regardless I was really enjoying myself, while begging for a reprieve. It didn’t come, me squirming and shifting and trying to kick, wasn’t working. She had her legs pinning my legs down down, and one hand holding both of my wrists. I’m 4'9 and I’ve never been heavier than 110 pounds, so I had absolutely no way of moving. She went back and forth between my armpit, my stomach, and my foot. She tickled me for a good seven minutes I think. It felt like 2 hours, I don’t know if this is common amongst people who get tickled, but there’s definitely a time distortion whenever I do. I don’t know if it’s because I’m in terror, euphoria, or both. Keisha’s always been the obnoxious type, and usually it can grate on me, but this time it worked in my favor. And I’m not being dramatic when I say, when she finally stopped and got off of me, I set up to an entirely new world. Keisha just when and got something to drink, she was totally oblivious to. . . the room’s increase in moisture.
The rest of the time in her apartment was very awkward. Not for her, for me. It was actually pretty cold that day, but now there was an undeniable heat in the room. An intoxicating atmosphere surrounding me, and emanating from within. Though there was a good 10 feet between us, but I could feel her as if she was right beside me. It was weird. I tried to go back to watching the show with her, she was trying to tell me about it or something. I don’t know , I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was that seven minutes of. . . well heaven. I can say that now, but at the time I guess I felt kind of. . . gross. And dirty and a little bit shameful. I know better now, but this is my 18 year old brain talking. Anyway I couldn’t focus on anything. And I damn sure didn’t care about whatever that VH1 show as. Only that earlier seven minutes, and wanting to do it again. I wanted to unplug the t.v. dive on the ground and say “Please tickle me, and whatever I do, don’t stop!" And that desire made my skin crawl and had me paradoxically wanting to leave as fast as possible. Which I eventually did, excusing myself, lying and saying I was tired and needed some rest.
When I got back to my own apartment, my parents paid for me to stay in an apartment slightly off campus, I was feeling conflicted about myself. My parents have always been supportive of me and my lifestyle, they both had already known I was a lesbian before I told them that next year and had no problem with it, but I didn’t know that at the time. I was afraid to tell them because of what they might think. Though I’ve always had lots of friends, they weren’t any help with my sexual thoughts and questions either. Mainly because I never really talked about it. Not because of judgment, my friends are and always have been far on the liberal side of these kind of things. I just never knew where to start, so I never did.
My point is, whenever I had a thought about my sexuality, I never talked about it openly. I instead agonized internally. About what it meant for me, what it mean for my mind, was I crazy, was I psychotic. I mean I knew from the moment it started that I liked to be tickled, but though I don’t believe this now, I thought there was something legitimately wrong with me at the time. This isn’t something that I need to explain to people who have weird likes and desires. Definitely no one on this site, I’m guessing. Where as I’m pretty sure that plenty of you all have said directly and say it proud and out loud, what you like and be damn all judgment, I know there are people who have never told anyone for fear of judgment. It makes sense. Mainstream media frequently and constantly makes fun of divergent sexual desires and trivializes them. And I was already hiding a part of my orientation, I knew I couldn’t tell anyone about this.
Well actually I could, I just thought I couldn’t. Once a few people in my life found out, yes including my parents(In an extremely embarrassing story that I might tell later), they didn’t care. Initially shocked, but not judgmental. But at the time I thought I was alone in this, plus I had just learned this about myself. So what did I do? Go to the Internet of course! Not for porn, not yet anyway. Initially I was trying to find some information about this. . . well I used fetish at the time, but I don’t really agree with that word choice anymore. Fetish is a word that gets thrown around too quickly by people, even me occasionally. Just because you enjoy something, doesn’t make it a fixation. It’s just a part of your sexuality. I mean, sometimes people need certain stuff to have sex or be sexual, and that is a fixation. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that! But tickling a part of my sexuality. Possibly my favorite part, I LOVE it, I just don’t know if it’s a fixation. Or maybe it is a fetish and I’m just in denial!
Anyway I tried to do some research about the ‘fetish’ and came up with basically nothing. I tried to find out why my brain might respond to this stuff sexually, remember at the time I thought there might be something wrong with me. Now I know it’s just a part of my desires, but back then I was looking for some psychological reason. Plus I wanted to convince myself that I didn’t really like it. That I just enjoyed being with my crush, though that was of course wrong. I found basically nothing. Just a few articles that basically just namechecked it. A single line amounting to, ‘You know some people actually like being tickled in bed, but we don’t know why.’ So that got me no where, not that I really expected much. I was just trying to come to grips with this newly discovered part of myself.
I also felt a bit guilty too. Something inside made me think it was wrong to so utter enjoy that. Maybe it was because it was my friend/crush at the time, and she didn’t know what she had done to me internally. But I almost felt like I had taken advantage of her. She was just playing around, having fun. She didn’t know she was. . . revving me up. I mean I didn’t either, but it felt like I had corrupted our relationship. Messed with the purity of it, by enjoying that time so much. I know now it wasn’t my fault. I literally couldn’t control my reaction, nor did I instigate it. When I eventually told Keisha that I liked tickling, she brought the initial incident up. She had a Eureka moment. “So that’s why she acted like that?” My brown skin was as red as it could possibly be. At the time, she had no idea that was why I acted so strange, but that’s the only reason why she even remembered that incident. My strange behavior. I cursed my inability to play it cool, then I apologized. Holding my head down. She told me, I didn’t have to apologize, it’s not my fault I enjoyed It, plus she started it. I thanked her for not judging me, and we embraced. Keisha was always an accepting person, I should’ve known better. Also she would’ve been a hypocrite for judging me. Little did I know that Keisha herself had her own kink. She was a burgeoning domme. I was totally unaware of that. I maybe should’ve realized with the quickness and skill that she pinned me down, but I didn’t. Though I would be made aware of that fact in great detail. . . through experience. But that is of course a story for another day.
Though I tried very hard, my research mission was a bust. So I let that go for the time being and. . . well my computer was already on. And I lived alone. . . so yeah. You know where this is going. On Pornhub, there was a plethora of different tickling videos. I’ve since discovered several markets for this and I always pay for my clips now, but you know first timer. NOT for Pornhub, no I has been all over their lesbian porn section. But not for tickling, which until now I didn’t even consider a possibility, let alone an actual thriving category. I ended up finding three specific videos that appealed to me. One was Mistress Delilah from Tickleabuse. One was London Andrews from Tickle Challenge. And last Ruby from UK Tickling. So did I like them? Without being too explicit, if you had walked in on me right then, you would’ve thought I was doing a magic trick and making my arm disappear. Sitting there, naked in my computer chair, arm drenched in fluid, I realized that there wasn’t any mistaking it. And there damn sure wasn’t any denying. This was something I liked, really liked. . . and I wanted more. I wanted to experience it again, myself. And I had absolutely no idea how to get it. Though I would learn. . . much sooner than later.
End of part 1
Coming Soon Part 2 or The Awkwardness and Beauty in My First Tickle Session
I first learned I liked tickling during my first year of college. NC State University. At the time, I’m 18 years old, an English major, writing a second draft of my first manuscript. On this particular day I’m at a friends apartment. It’s February and it had been snowing ever so softly. Not much at all, but in certain parts of NC, when it snows for 4 seconds, we’re ready to cancel everything. Including classes, which was the case on this day. I was at a friend’s apartment. For the sake of this story, let’s call her. . . Keisha. Keisha, one of my best friends, whom I also had a huge secret crush on. I’m a lesbian, but at this point, nobody knew. Or at least, I hadn’t told anybody. Turns out lots of people already knew! Regardless. That’s the situation. I’m at her house, and we’re watching t.v. I can’t for the life of me remember what it was, not that that matters. This was just like any other day. Me an her chillin’ and joking around.
At some point while watching t.v, we start arguing about something. Not in an unfriendly way. In a jovial sense. One of the key parts of our relationship, still present to this day, is a constant stream of pointless arguments. We’re both opinionated and loud mouths. This is common for us, I’ve know her for. . . decades at this point, and our hangin’ out time often devolves into silly stuff like this. . . well not exactly like this. We like being contentious, but it’s all in good fun. At some point, she’s get in my face and starts waggin' her head back and forth. So I reach up and pluck her on the nose. She jumps on me. and we’re rolling on the floor. Total chaos.
We were playfighting, I was losing for the most part, when she got on top of me, hemmed me up and started tickling me. I’m very short, and though I do have some curvature around my chest and hips area, I’m very light as well. It doesn’t take much for a person to render me mostly stationary. I tried to get free, that’s the natural reaction whenever someone is being tickled. It’s really a part of your fight or flight to try and escape. I was moving in a frenzy. However, even though I wanted to escape, I realized in my mind, I was really enjoying it and getting turned on. The inability to escape has this conflicting connecting reaction. It’s terrifying, but also exhilarating. Two minutes into tickling for me, and it feels like I’m about to die! But it’s also feels good. I assume all of us who like to be tickled already know this, and people who don’t. . . probably never will. The thought of that simply terrifies them. So I’ll move on. Regardless I was really enjoying myself, while begging for a reprieve. It didn’t come, me squirming and shifting and trying to kick, wasn’t working. She had her legs pinning my legs down down, and one hand holding both of my wrists. I’m 4'9 and I’ve never been heavier than 110 pounds, so I had absolutely no way of moving. She went back and forth between my armpit, my stomach, and my foot. She tickled me for a good seven minutes I think. It felt like 2 hours, I don’t know if this is common amongst people who get tickled, but there’s definitely a time distortion whenever I do. I don’t know if it’s because I’m in terror, euphoria, or both. Keisha’s always been the obnoxious type, and usually it can grate on me, but this time it worked in my favor. And I’m not being dramatic when I say, when she finally stopped and got off of me, I set up to an entirely new world. Keisha just when and got something to drink, she was totally oblivious to. . . the room’s increase in moisture.
The rest of the time in her apartment was very awkward. Not for her, for me. It was actually pretty cold that day, but now there was an undeniable heat in the room. An intoxicating atmosphere surrounding me, and emanating from within. Though there was a good 10 feet between us, but I could feel her as if she was right beside me. It was weird. I tried to go back to watching the show with her, she was trying to tell me about it or something. I don’t know , I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was that seven minutes of. . . well heaven. I can say that now, but at the time I guess I felt kind of. . . gross. And dirty and a little bit shameful. I know better now, but this is my 18 year old brain talking. Anyway I couldn’t focus on anything. And I damn sure didn’t care about whatever that VH1 show as. Only that earlier seven minutes, and wanting to do it again. I wanted to unplug the t.v. dive on the ground and say “Please tickle me, and whatever I do, don’t stop!" And that desire made my skin crawl and had me paradoxically wanting to leave as fast as possible. Which I eventually did, excusing myself, lying and saying I was tired and needed some rest.
When I got back to my own apartment, my parents paid for me to stay in an apartment slightly off campus, I was feeling conflicted about myself. My parents have always been supportive of me and my lifestyle, they both had already known I was a lesbian before I told them that next year and had no problem with it, but I didn’t know that at the time. I was afraid to tell them because of what they might think. Though I’ve always had lots of friends, they weren’t any help with my sexual thoughts and questions either. Mainly because I never really talked about it. Not because of judgment, my friends are and always have been far on the liberal side of these kind of things. I just never knew where to start, so I never did.
My point is, whenever I had a thought about my sexuality, I never talked about it openly. I instead agonized internally. About what it meant for me, what it mean for my mind, was I crazy, was I psychotic. I mean I knew from the moment it started that I liked to be tickled, but though I don’t believe this now, I thought there was something legitimately wrong with me at the time. This isn’t something that I need to explain to people who have weird likes and desires. Definitely no one on this site, I’m guessing. Where as I’m pretty sure that plenty of you all have said directly and say it proud and out loud, what you like and be damn all judgment, I know there are people who have never told anyone for fear of judgment. It makes sense. Mainstream media frequently and constantly makes fun of divergent sexual desires and trivializes them. And I was already hiding a part of my orientation, I knew I couldn’t tell anyone about this.
Well actually I could, I just thought I couldn’t. Once a few people in my life found out, yes including my parents(In an extremely embarrassing story that I might tell later), they didn’t care. Initially shocked, but not judgmental. But at the time I thought I was alone in this, plus I had just learned this about myself. So what did I do? Go to the Internet of course! Not for porn, not yet anyway. Initially I was trying to find some information about this. . . well I used fetish at the time, but I don’t really agree with that word choice anymore. Fetish is a word that gets thrown around too quickly by people, even me occasionally. Just because you enjoy something, doesn’t make it a fixation. It’s just a part of your sexuality. I mean, sometimes people need certain stuff to have sex or be sexual, and that is a fixation. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that! But tickling a part of my sexuality. Possibly my favorite part, I LOVE it, I just don’t know if it’s a fixation. Or maybe it is a fetish and I’m just in denial!
Anyway I tried to do some research about the ‘fetish’ and came up with basically nothing. I tried to find out why my brain might respond to this stuff sexually, remember at the time I thought there might be something wrong with me. Now I know it’s just a part of my desires, but back then I was looking for some psychological reason. Plus I wanted to convince myself that I didn’t really like it. That I just enjoyed being with my crush, though that was of course wrong. I found basically nothing. Just a few articles that basically just namechecked it. A single line amounting to, ‘You know some people actually like being tickled in bed, but we don’t know why.’ So that got me no where, not that I really expected much. I was just trying to come to grips with this newly discovered part of myself.
I also felt a bit guilty too. Something inside made me think it was wrong to so utter enjoy that. Maybe it was because it was my friend/crush at the time, and she didn’t know what she had done to me internally. But I almost felt like I had taken advantage of her. She was just playing around, having fun. She didn’t know she was. . . revving me up. I mean I didn’t either, but it felt like I had corrupted our relationship. Messed with the purity of it, by enjoying that time so much. I know now it wasn’t my fault. I literally couldn’t control my reaction, nor did I instigate it. When I eventually told Keisha that I liked tickling, she brought the initial incident up. She had a Eureka moment. “So that’s why she acted like that?” My brown skin was as red as it could possibly be. At the time, she had no idea that was why I acted so strange, but that’s the only reason why she even remembered that incident. My strange behavior. I cursed my inability to play it cool, then I apologized. Holding my head down. She told me, I didn’t have to apologize, it’s not my fault I enjoyed It, plus she started it. I thanked her for not judging me, and we embraced. Keisha was always an accepting person, I should’ve known better. Also she would’ve been a hypocrite for judging me. Little did I know that Keisha herself had her own kink. She was a burgeoning domme. I was totally unaware of that. I maybe should’ve realized with the quickness and skill that she pinned me down, but I didn’t. Though I would be made aware of that fact in great detail. . . through experience. But that is of course a story for another day.
Though I tried very hard, my research mission was a bust. So I let that go for the time being and. . . well my computer was already on. And I lived alone. . . so yeah. You know where this is going. On Pornhub, there was a plethora of different tickling videos. I’ve since discovered several markets for this and I always pay for my clips now, but you know first timer. NOT for Pornhub, no I has been all over their lesbian porn section. But not for tickling, which until now I didn’t even consider a possibility, let alone an actual thriving category. I ended up finding three specific videos that appealed to me. One was Mistress Delilah from Tickleabuse. One was London Andrews from Tickle Challenge. And last Ruby from UK Tickling. So did I like them? Without being too explicit, if you had walked in on me right then, you would’ve thought I was doing a magic trick and making my arm disappear. Sitting there, naked in my computer chair, arm drenched in fluid, I realized that there wasn’t any mistaking it. And there damn sure wasn’t any denying. This was something I liked, really liked. . . and I wanted more. I wanted to experience it again, myself. And I had absolutely no idea how to get it. Though I would learn. . . much sooner than later.
End of part 1
Coming Soon Part 2 or The Awkwardness and Beauty in My First Tickle Session
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