The Outernet
TMF Master
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2006
- Messages
- 889
- Points
- 16
illustrations by suikdoken
Gretchen put on her best puppy dog face.
"Oh Trisha, come with me, pleeeeeeeeease! It won't be the same without you!"
Trisha had her arms folded tight and was determined to hold firm; no meant no.
"Come oooooon, it's gonna be fun!"
Gretchen wanted them to go out to some club to hang with a couple of guys she'd met. Or maybe it was just one guy she'd met....and his friend. Trisha was unsure and Gretchen was vague about the whole thing. Trisha hated when she would be dragged out on nights like these. Inevitably, Gretchen would have designs on one of the guys, and Trish would be stuck with the wingman with whom she'd have nothing in common. And that was on a good night. Other nights....well....other nights, Trisha would have to bail Gretchen out of some situation, often an unsavory one that almost included pissed-off drunk guys, angry that Trish was pulling a hot, willing drunk "sure thing" away from them. Trish got a small satisfaction seeing their designs for her friend go up in smoke...but not enough satisfaction to make her want to do it again and again every weekend.
So it was with all this in mind when Trisha reluctantly agreed with a half-hearted "ok".
"There's only one thing you have to promise me." Trisha said hesitantly
Gretchen leaned in, concerned. "Of course, anything, you know that."
Trisha took a deep breath.
"You have to promise you won't drink too much. Please?"
Gretchen smiled. "Of course, silly!" She laughed. "That's it? Of course I won't drink too much! Look, we'll probably be home by eleven. Or, ok, maybe not eleven, but like... one, one thirty. Something like that. Let's say between, like, midnight and two. Nothing crazy. Three o'clock tops!"
Trisha opened her mouth to speak, but didn't know what to say. So she settled for "Ok. We'll take my car."
"Yeah, I think that would be best." Gretchen said, already putting on her lip gloss. "Awww, Trish, you are my best friend!" She went over to Trish and the two hugged cheek to cheek.
"Ok, I'll pick you up at seven."
"Seven? More like nine thirty! Actually, better make it ten!"
********************************
When they arrived, it immediately wasn't the scene Gretchen had told her about. For one thing, it wasn't a club, it was a bar. And it wasn't just two guys; it was four guys. Four boisterous guys laughing it up and who seemed to know everyone else in the joint, so maybe it was more than four guys they were going to be hanging with. It was probably going to be the whole bar. Great, just great, Trisha thought to herself. She counted just three other women in the entire place, including the barmaid.
"Trisha, this is Tim!" Gretchen shouted over the music. Trisha looked up. Ok, at least he was cute. The others were clownish and whooping it up, but he was the more quiet one leaning up against the bar, grinning cool and mellow at his buds' antics.
"Hi, I'm Trisha!"
"Larissa?"
"Trisha! Trish! With a T!" she smiled.
"Carissa? What?"
"Forget it." Trisha looked away and frowned. So this is how it was going to be. All she could think of was her cozy couch and the Friends rerun she could be watching. But when the song on the jukebox faded, he leaned down.
"I'm sorry, it's just hard to hear in this place. Do-over.... my name's Tim."
Trisha perked up at the sound of his sincerity, crooked a grin and extended her hand.
"Trisha! Nice to meet you!"
"Can I get you a drink?"
"No, thank you!"
"Not even a water?"
"Ok, I will have a water!" She started swaying happily to the next song on the jukebox, trying to look like she was having a good time. She was starting to relax. Almost.
"Your friends look like they're having fun!" she said, pointing to the three palookas.
He looked over at his buddies, one of whom was balancing a glass of beer on his nose while the other three - and Gretchen - egged him on.
"Yeah, they're pretty crazy." Then he added, reassuringly. "They're all right guys though, you don't have to worry." Trisha heaved a sigh of relief.
"Is it written on my face? It's just that....you know.... she's my friend. We have to look out for each other, right?"
"Sure."
"Thanks for the water" she said shyly.
"What's your name again?"
"Trish. It's Trish. Like Patricia." This was some conversation she was having.
"Hey Trish. You want to know something? Tonight's my birthday!"
"Oh my god! I mean....happy birthday, Tim!" She felt embarrassed, she hoped she hadn't been noticeably rude to him so far and extended her hand.
"Oh c'mon, it's my birthday! Hug!"
Tim leaned in and she offered the limpest, furthest "friend" hug possible - with just her arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders, keeping their bodies at a distance from each other. He patted her back as she kept repeating flatly "Ok. Ok. Uh-huh. Ok."
"See, that wasn't so bad!" he joshed when they broke apart. "You know you don't have to drink just water, I can buy you a drink, I'm gainfully employed!"
Trisha laughed. "Ok, fair enough. Can you order me a Shirley Temple?!"
"A Shirley Temple? C'mon Trisha, have a drink! It's Saturday night! It's Saturday night and I just got paid...you know that song?"
"Elvis!"
"The King!"
"My dad likes Elvis."
"Have a beer!"
"He has all his songs."
"Have a beer!"
"He plays them sometimes."
Tim got closer. "Have....a...beer!"
"Ok.....I'll have a Shirley Temple.....then a beer." She looked over at Gretchen who was chug-a-lugging hers, while the guys cheered her on. "Just one beer, though."
"A Shirley Temple for my new friend, here" Tim told the barmaid. "With extra cherries." He winked at Trisha, and she thought awwww, what a nice guy. He's not so bad, right?
She turned to look at what her friend was up to. Gretchen was laughing hysterically at the guys antics, and starting to participate in them, too.
"Here, I think I can do it!" Gretchen insisted.
"Start with an empty bottle first!"
Gretchen stepped into the open, tilted her head back slightly, and tried to figure out how she was going to do this. Meanwhile, the palookas surrounded her and began playing a little game of "Poke Gretchen" as soon as she'd raise her arms to try to put the bottle on her head. Gretchen for her part eeked and twisted and tried to put up a defense but the fingers kept reaching her sweet spots, spinning her around to see who was tickling her, only to be attacked from her back, or side, or both, again. She just kept giggling "Stoooop!"
Trish rolled her eyes and thought here we go again. This is how it always started. Some guy finding out Gretchen was ticklish. Guy deciding to tickle Gretchen more. Gretchen laughing and trying to get away. Gretchen eventually making out with guy to get him to stop. Trisha tapping on Gretchen's shoulder to tell her it's time to go home. Gretchen ignoring Trisha. Hilarity ensues. This time it wasn't one guy, but three guys.
Eventually they gave her break and Gretchen announced "I deserve a beer!"
"Body shots! Body shots! On Gretchen!" The room roared with agreement and two of the guys started poking Gretchen's sides again, causing her to twist away.
"Ok, ok! Give me a second to get on the bar, will ya? Eek!!!!"
Trisha whirled around to Tim. "Oh my god, you have to stop them."
"Aw, she'll be ok."
Gretchen extended her hand demurely and the guys helped her on to the bar. As she lay down and her shirt pulled up to reveal a heartbreakingly sexy midriff, she started hiccupping with giggles, presumably in anticipation of having some guy's mouth all over her tummy. The bartender snapped into action, getting all the accoutrements ready.
Suddenly, unable to wait, one of the guys lunged forward and buried his head in her belly. Gretchen shrieked into shocked laughter, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her.
"Wait wait wait!!!! Oh noooooo!" she wailed as his furry face lapped up her navel. His beard was driving her crazy, and so were his lips which were pursed and blowing and buzzing and flapping across her ticklish tummy skin as if life as if he were a human vacuum cleaner. Gretchen's hands splayed open, her eyes squeezed shut with laughter, looking like she couldn't believe this was really happening to her. Trish started to get panicked and again anxiously turned to Tim.
"Can't you see she can't breathe?"
"I don't know....looks like she's having a good time to me!" He laughed with a fascinated smile on his face, watching his friends play with Gretchen.
Trisha balked.
Gretchen started screaming through the giggles, "Somebody help me!"
Trish had seen enough. "Ok, look, I want you to stop them."
Tim winced. "What are you crazy?" He turned to her but his sour face turned gentle and, looking up at him, Trisha suddenly got won over by the cuteness of Tim. It was his reassuring, knowing, kind eyes....but kinda distant.....mysterious. And he was so tall! Maybe she should just relax. Gretchen had said there'd be cute boys here, and here was one right in front of her......
Trish knew all too well about tickling; not only had she endured it herself over the years, but over the years she'd had to watch Gretchen (and her other friends) get toyed with, teased and tickled by their boyfriends, dates and flirts as well. She didn't see why guys had to tickle them all the time, she really didn't. It was mean. It frightened her. It was annoying. Why did guys always want to do that? She was ticklish...and it wasn't funny. Trouble was she could never project that indignation during the act itself; her automatic reaction to getting tickled was to drop all defenses and succumb immediately to the laughter, with no fight in her whatsoever.
At least Tim, it seemed, was indifferent to all the tickling. Evidently, he was the only one in his group who was. The others looked like yahoos and were now taking turns blowing on Gretchen's navel.
"I am Godzilla! You are Japan!" one of them bellowed before roaring his face all over her belly.
"Stop it!" Gretchen screamed through the laughter jag until it was just a guttural gasp: "Stop it! Stop it!"
The guy finished his thorough mouth-scan of her mid-section, threw his head back and pounded his chest like Tarzan, the others cheering him on. Seeing her chance, Trisha leaned over and extended her hand, which Gretchen took for assistance getting herself off the bar.
"Oh no you don't!" the guy bellowed, obviously with other ideas in mind. He pushed her back down to the bar, leaned down, and started nibbling her sides. Gretchen eeked and writhed at every bite, his teeth lightly grazing her smooth side curves.
"Aiiiii! Don't use your teeth!" she squealed, and the bar roared with laughter. Finally, he puckered up and gave her belly button a deep kiss and big suck, he took a bow to the cheering barflies. Gretchen sat herself up and even she clapped for him.
Before the applause died down, Gretchen put her hand on his arm, leaned in and said something to him with a big smile on her face. Trisha could see immediately that Gretchen had made her pick for the night and that this was the guy she liked. He smiled back at her and started his rap, helping her off the bar. The bartender stood stonefaced and a little annoyed, holding a bottle and a lemon in each hand; despite all the mouthplay that had just gone on, Gretchen never did get that body shot that had laid her across the bar in the first place.
"Hey look, there's a booth open!"
Triumphant, the group moved en masse, the guys escorting Gretchen as if she were the guest of honor, followed by Trish and Tim, who had to pull up chairs as the horseshoe-shaped booth was all filled up. Introductions were made, there was a Charlie (the bearded one), a Kyle (who seemed to be Gretchen's pick), and some guy with a weird nickname Trish didn't catch. Although Trish and Tim were on the outside of the booth in chairs, Gretchen was in the middle of the table, almost holding court, surrounded by guys and playing the coquette. At one point, in mid-sentence, she suddenly buckled over and wriggled around, laughing and snorting. Kyle, who was sitting next to her, and had probably just done something to Gretchen's leg, looked like the cat who ate the canary...but was trying to look innocent about it.
"That tickles." Gretchen said under her breath, embarrassed.
"Don't look at me!" Kyle deadpanned and the table laughed.
Gretchen and Kyle canoodled, his arm around her neck; he started whispering things into her ear to make her crack up while the other guys ignored them and got boisterous with their drinking games. One particular antic resulted in Trisha dodging splashes of beer, backing her chair up and holding her hands up to ward off the incoming threat.
"Last call!"
The whole bar started to boo. Trish was relieved, she was exhausted and anxious, and couldn't wait to get home. The guys, however, were in no mood for the night to end...and neither was Gretchen. When the guys suggested - insisted - that the girls go back to their frat house, Gretchen didn't miss a beat.
"Sure, let's do it!"
"Gretchen, I really think we should be going home now." Trish, the voice of reason, warned her friend.
"Oh, Trish, please, let's go! These guys are so funny! It'll be fine!"
"Gretchen, I really want to go home."
"We'll just stay for a little bit. C'mon, it'll be fun!"
Tim leaned in. "Hey....I'll keep an eye on everything, don't worry. They're good boys, there's nothing to worry about."
Trish looked at him and wanted to believe, but the guys were so boisterous.
"Where are we going? I'm a little tipsy, I don't know if I can drive right now."
Tim smiled and said "I'm ok to drive, I haven't drank anything for the last hour. It's just up the road."
Trish didn't even time to protest; the group simply got up and duly lumbered out of the bar. Trish followed, glum and resigned to the inevitable.
******************************
It must have been assumed by the others that Trisha was now paired off with Tim and so should naturally have the front seat because the three other guys automatically opened up the door to the back seat and piled in. Gretchen peered inside and tried to figure out where she was going to sit. "I guess I'll just have to...." but before she could finish, one of them barked: "Get inside!".
A hand reached out and yanked her into the back. They jostled her around a bit until she was lying flat on her back, longways across the three dudes' laps. And with her long legs across the guys laps, Charlie - who was at the end - immediately started playing with her toes.
"Oh, Charlie don't do that!" she giggled, shifting around on their laps.
"Ah, so you like that, huh?"
"Oh Charlie please don't touch my feet!", she pleaded urgently through building giggles.
Charlie cradled her ankles and started doing exactly that, touching all around her instep....any space that her shoe allowed for him to tickle, and that put her into deep laughter. And all he was doing was touching, light caressing, running the pads of his fingers around the sides of her foot. He started to push his finger in to her shoe, and graze her instep steadily with the side of his fingernail. Her ticklish foot trapped still trapped in her shoe, Gretchen went crazy, wriggling around on their laps, but their big arms were resting on her and she couldn't do a thing about it other than face the ceiling, feel the tickles and try in vain to let out all the laughter that was in her before his fingers could manufacture more. The guys, loving everything about the situation, cheered Charlie on, and made sure she couldn't get away at all. This was too easy.
"Oh my poor feet!" Gretchen shrieked with laughter. Trisha put the sun visor down and was frantically looking in the mirror.
"Trisha, make him stop!" Gretchen babbled, her eyes squeezed shut, her nose wrinkled, perceiving every little movement his fingers made, every micro tickle-spot on her foot he was now touching, and exactly how he was touching it.
"Oh please not there!" she suddenly screamed, and her laughter became desperate and urgent.
Charlie smiled knowingly. "Oh you mean right here?"
Trisha's heart started to race. "Tim, make them stop."
Tim was driving, and laughing at the whole situation.
"Oh, she'll be fine, c'mon..." he looked over at Trish reassuringly. "Ignore those idiots, talk to me.... I'm up here, right?"
Trisha smiled wanly, and sunk deeper into her seat, trying to ignore what was going on in the back seat.
"Oh please Charlie, don't take off my shoe! Don't take off my shoe!" Gretchen begged. Trisha closed her eyes and tried to think of something else.
The laughter died down, broken by Charlie's aggravated voice. "What am I doing wrong here?"
"You have to undo the strap." Gretchen helpfully offered. Trisha couldn't believe it. She was assisting the guy who was torturing her?!!!! She was helping him get her shoe off so that he could....what? do whatever he wanted to her foot?
Gretchen's laughter started up again, softly at first, graduating to full throated bray, elevating to higher pitched, and then suddenly even more higher pitched laughter, urgent stacatto yips until she fell into silent laughter, with only gutural "stop its" making it out. Trisha didn't know what the hell they were doing to her back there but it sounded awful.
Gretchen DID know what they were doing back there. Charlie was tickling her foot, for one thing. He had one shoe off, and was taking his time, exploring every nook and cranny of her extremely soft, sensitive sole. And that included the toes. He started caressing up her toes with his fingers, breaking into little flurries of tickles when he got to the soft toepads, and along the ridge right under them. Then suddenly, she felt the other two guys' arms tighten and envelop her even more, and she started to feel their fingers start walking across her stomach. The tickling sensation shot through her entire body and she exploded with an entirely new realm of laughter. It was if she were in one long tickle tube, and had no wiggle room. She was too weak to even lift her neck.
"Get her!" one of the guys extorted, and it certainly sounded like they were "getting her" to Trisha.
"Kyle, not you too!" Gretchen cried.
"Yes, me too!" Kyle laughed, and the three dudes went all in to tickle Gretchen.
At last, Trisha could stand no longer to hear her friend manhandled, so she whirled around and shouted angrily: "That's enough, you assholes!!!! Leave her alone!!!!!"
The back seat contingent was shocked by Trisha's outburst and everyone froze. Luckily, there was no time to contemplate because, at that very moment, Tim smoothly pulled the car into the driveway and grandly announced "We're here!"
Everyone piled out of the car, Trisha giving Gretchen a hand getting off the guys' laps. Everyone stretched and started filing into the front door of a not very big one floor house. Gretchen, missing one shoe, tipsy and tickled silly, wobbled uneasily and Trisha steadied her with her arm as they went up the three little steps into the house.
"I'm getting tickled a lot tonight!" Gretchen chirped, slurring her words a bit. "It's weird, a guy actually kept tickling me last night at this party. Ha! I just remembered!"
"Oh Gretchen...." Trisha just rolled her eyes.
****************************
As soon as they entered the house, Trish knew she was in the lions' den. It was a small little dimly-lit dump of a living room, and there was a whole new set of guys already sitting in every chair, seemingly disinterested in their new visitors, and watching a seemingly endless video compilation of hockey fights on a big screen TV that was way too large for the room, so she and Gretchen sat Indian-style on the floor, and the other guys from the bar sat on the floor around them. A small glass bong was going around.
"No thanks" Trish demurred, as the contraption was offered to her.
"I"ll take a hit." a voice came from right behind her; it was Tim, who was sitting against the wall with his knees up. Trish could practically lean back and use them for support. Tight-lipped, Trish passed the drug-fiend device to Tim and listened to the bubbling of bongwater, then winced when she was enveloped by a cloud of pot smoke. She held her nose, lest she inhale any of it.
"Man, you gotta relax, girl." Tim reached over and with his two big hands began vigorously rubbing her shoulders. She immediately melted back; the present situation she was in or not, his strong fingers felt soooooooo good, and she told him so.
"Ooooooooooh, that........feels.....wonderful." she moaned, and although she was not about to throw caution to the wind, she went with it for the moment. Why shouldn't she feel good in an otherwise miserable situation?
Gretchen was uncharacteristically silent, like a babe in the woods. Kyle had gone off somewhere and Trisha was currently having her shoulders rubbed by Tim, so she was basically alone, surrounded by a bunch of distracted he-men. To the naked eye, no one was taking much notice of the two girls. But as she rolled her neck around from the massage, Trish happened to notice the eyes of one of the guys that was sitting behind Gretchen kept darting downwards. At first, she didn't know what he was looking at, but following his eyes Trish realized that it was Gretchen's soles, tucked under her as she knelt in her little spot on the floor, that the guy couldn't stop checking out. Amused at the power of something so innocent as a woman's feet could have over a big, burly dude, Trish noted that his face looked bothered, almost as if he had eaten something sour.
For a moment, the guy seemed to snap out of it, and look around the room at the goings-on. But quickly, his eyes snapped back to her feet. Now his attitude changed to fuck it, and he just let himself ogle Gretchen's soles while taking swigs from his beer bottle. Every few seconds, he'd dart his eyes up to her face, looking pretty and oblivious to the lust her feet were creating. Then back down to the sensitive skin that was creating the whole commotion. Trisha gasped and yet stifled any comment as she saw him tentatively reach over in front of him, and drag his finger across the middle of Gretchen's long, soft sole.
Gretchen immediately laughed and lunged forward, then turned around, shy and embarrassed, to look at whom ever had just tickled her. Revealing her shyness only emboldened him and he reached out, grinning, and once again tickled her foot....but this time with all his fingers.
"Stooooop!" she giggled, covering her soles with her hand. "I'm very ticklish."
The guy grinned and waved his hands around, then would dart a pointed finger towards her; Gretchen flinched away just in the nick of time whenever he did it, and held up her hands in defense.
"Doooon't" she begged, slapping his hands away, when all of a sudden she burst out giggling and whirled back around. Now it was another grinning guy poking at her, and Gretchen readjusted herself to fend off both handsy dudes.
"Ok guys, seriously....they already tickled me before and.....eek!" Gretchen twisted away as one of them made contact with her side. Both were lunging in with pointed fingers, and the more she tried to fight them off, the more they tried to tickle her. Worse, she was starting to get the attention of all the other guys in the room, some who were starting to laugh and whoop it up and egg them on. The pointed fingers started coming fast and furious, and Gretchen started to giggle, twist and eek like a baby guinea pig. One lunged in and squeezed her thigh, and she squealed, then another tickled her foot, and she yelped and tried to cover her soles again. This left her sides with no defense, and all of a sudden another guy leaned down from the chair he was sitting in and pinched her waist. Gretchen writhed away, laughing. And then suddenly it was really on.
"Yo, you should see how ticklish this girl is. Try it!"
Gretchen knew what was coming next and curled up into a ball as the guys pounced on her. She tried to keep her arms tight to her sides, but she was no match for three muscle-heads. Charlie slowly pulled her arms up until they were over her head.
"Free shot!" he announced, and the other two dove in. The sensation was immediate and electric. Feeling completely vulnerable - almost naked, strangely - with her arms high above her head, she had four hands dancing on her stomach, teasing her into hysterics, big dudes' hands, stirring up the warm giddy feeling in her tummy, bubbling into her deepest laughter, as if laughing would make it all stop, all twenty fingers on her midsection, playing with all her tickle spots, and nothing at all she could do about it.
Trisha, leaning back on Tim's legs, started to get panicky. What should she do? She wanted to yell, but remembered how that had gone over in the car. She wanted to ask Tim to be heroic, for once during this night, and get his friends in line. She knew she couldn't do that either. What a dud he turned out to be.
"Hang in there, friend." she weakly called out.
All of a sudden, she felt an electric sensation under her arms and the urge to laugh rapidly bubbling up within herself. What the....? Tim was tickling her? Her?!! Trisha started to panic.
"Oh Tim don't!!" was all she got out before she submerged into deep ticklish laughter. Trisha had no medium setting; she went right to high-pitched giggles and was frozen stiff, unable to move, frozen by the giddy sensation shooting through her body. In her hyper-excited state, she managed just one clear thought, her inner voice screaming: Oh my god, he's got me!
Trisha tried to raise her head and get a glimpse of her best friend. For a split second she could the guys surrounding Gretchen, bent over her, their arms reaching down to get her, with only her frantic, kicking legs visible. Tim wedged his fingers deeper under her arms and Trisha's eyes squeezed shut as she sunk further down to the floor.
"Tim" she babbled through deep laughter. "Don't do that!"
But Tim was grinning peacefully at her, their eyes locked, her eyes pleading, his eyes calm, her face in panic, his face indifferent. He was inscrutable except for one thing: she could see it made him happy to tickle her.
Gretchen, on the other hand, was happy to be the center of all this attention, even if it meant being tortured. They were touching her. Her! Their hot tickle lust was strong, it was thick in the air and palpable, she could almost taste it. And the more they forced her arms up, and the more vulnerable they made her feel, she felt like a delicious offering for them to just devour, do as they wished with her, and her tears of laughter be damned.
Under her arms. Squeezing her thighs. More raspberries. Making out with her armpits. It was as if they were doing thorough explorations of each of these scenarios. Suddenly she felt both her legs hiked up and before she knew it, she felt scurrying fingertips all over her both her feet. She shrieked with laughter it tickled so bad.
"My feet!" she screamed giddy and then moaned through the laughter. "Oh my poor feet." And then simply: "It tickles!!!!!!!"
It did tickle, Trisha thought. It tickled badly. Tim was not stopping, determined to keep her hysterical and in the deepest state of laughter he could. To Tim, Trisha's face was one of complete surrender to smiles and giggles. She might have been mad or even scared.....but all her face registered was utter joy....and he thought she must be loving it. And it was all in his fingertips. He pressed her and she laughed, it was that simple. This girl had been a cold fish all night....and now she was nothing but warm. He brought his arms around and plunged his hands all over her belly, causing Trisha to hiccup with laughter and excitedly trail her hands over his, always too late to stop him. Ahhhh, this was fun.
All of a sudden, Trisha felt herself airborne; she didn't know how, but she was flat on her back and in motion.
"Tickle fight! Tickle fight! Tickle fight!" the guys chanted like he-men.
She was suddenly deposited gently on the bed, and Gretchen, already kneeling on it, was nervously looking around the room at all the alpha-males surrounding the bed. Trisha did the same and, realizing there was no way out of this, glared at her best friend , all the while repeating a mantra: "Great. Just great."
Gretchen bit her lip. "Trisha.....I'm sorry I got you into this."
"Gretchen.......I'm going to kill you when we get outta here."
"Tickle fight! Tickle fight" the walls of the room rang with the thundering of the mob, the two friends could feel it in their chest.
The girls feebily tried to oblige......they were worn out from laughing, frightened of the aggro energy of the guys......and neither particularly wanted to tickle the other.
And so, fed up with the inaction, the boys just piled on the bed like unruly rioters.....and tickle attacked. At first Trisha curled up in a happy little ball, then was held down for a while......at one point, her body was being nibbled, driving her into hysterics......at another point, she and Gretchen found themselves able to squiggle off the bed, and the gang chased them both around the house a bit, before catching them..........the last thing Trisha remembered was being manhandled and turned over, only to wind up face to face with Gretchen, the two friends laughing hysterically together as the dudes held down and touched their ticklish bodies with impunity.
*****
It was almost 6 a.m. when the two girls did the walk of shame. It was just a mile up the road back to Trish's car, and all the guys were too unconscious or too out of it to give them a lift back. Trisha's hair was a mess. Gretchen was holding her ribs.
"Ooooo, I'm so sore from laughing." she complained.
Trish was livid. "I'm never letting you talk me into doing anything like this ever again, Gretchen! Ever."
"Really? And I was thinking the whole night how you and Tim made a cute couple! Go figure!"
-the end- 😉
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