blur_5
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- Joined
- Apr 14, 2006
- Messages
- 35
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- 18
In the late 90s, I had a girlfriend. Gorgeous, with a great laugh and beautiful feet. I tickled her a few times, but this story isn’t about her. It’s about her older sister.
Vania was pretty, only two years older, about 5’6”, with curly hair that fell somewhere between her shoulders and chin. She was always kind to me. I didn’t know how ticklish she was, though I wondered. For obvious reasons, I never dared to find out. But a few times I watched my girlfriend poke her sides. She’d jump and throw up her hands defensively. That told me enough.
I spent a lot of time at their house. We’d watch movies, play board games. Jenga was a favorite. They’d taunt whoever’s turn it was, saying “how ticklish are you?” while wiggling their fingers in mock threat. But they never followed through, much to my disappointment.
One afternoon, a cousin stopped by asking for Vania. Sandra, my girlfriend, told her she was napping in her room. The cousin chatted with us for a minute or two, then headed straight for Vania’s bedroom.
I stayed in the living room with Sandra, absently flipping through a book on their shelf, when I heard a muffled scream. Then laughter. Kicking against the bed frame. More laughter. “Stop it!” Begging.
I tried my best not to react to what I was hearing.
Then silence. The doorknob turning. A voice said something I couldn’t make out, followed by: “No, wait, don’t! I didn’t mean it!” More laughter. More kicking. Struggle. And me, dying inside, desperate to peek through that door.
Sandra didn’t say anything. She just stood up, giggling, and walked toward the room.
“Sandra, help me!”
“No, what are you doing… aaaaahahahaha!”
I sat frozen. I thought about joining them, but their mother caught my eye from the kitchen and shot me a look that said don’t you dare.
More struggle. More laughter. Then it ended.
All three emerged, breathing hard. Vania was flushed and sweaty, her hair a mess.
Then we played Risk. I usually won, but that night I lost badly. I was too distracted, stuck in a mental loop, to pay attention to anything at all.
Vania was pretty, only two years older, about 5’6”, with curly hair that fell somewhere between her shoulders and chin. She was always kind to me. I didn’t know how ticklish she was, though I wondered. For obvious reasons, I never dared to find out. But a few times I watched my girlfriend poke her sides. She’d jump and throw up her hands defensively. That told me enough.
I spent a lot of time at their house. We’d watch movies, play board games. Jenga was a favorite. They’d taunt whoever’s turn it was, saying “how ticklish are you?” while wiggling their fingers in mock threat. But they never followed through, much to my disappointment.
One afternoon, a cousin stopped by asking for Vania. Sandra, my girlfriend, told her she was napping in her room. The cousin chatted with us for a minute or two, then headed straight for Vania’s bedroom.
I stayed in the living room with Sandra, absently flipping through a book on their shelf, when I heard a muffled scream. Then laughter. Kicking against the bed frame. More laughter. “Stop it!” Begging.
I tried my best not to react to what I was hearing.
Then silence. The doorknob turning. A voice said something I couldn’t make out, followed by: “No, wait, don’t! I didn’t mean it!” More laughter. More kicking. Struggle. And me, dying inside, desperate to peek through that door.
Sandra didn’t say anything. She just stood up, giggling, and walked toward the room.
“Sandra, help me!”
“No, what are you doing… aaaaahahahaha!”
I sat frozen. I thought about joining them, but their mother caught my eye from the kitchen and shot me a look that said don’t you dare.
More struggle. More laughter. Then it ended.
All three emerged, breathing hard. Vania was flushed and sweaty, her hair a mess.
Then we played Risk. I usually won, but that night I lost badly. I was too distracted, stuck in a mental loop, to pay attention to anything at all.
