Hi folks. This is my first post after lurking for years. Don't know why I'm coming out now...but I've got some old stories I feel like telling.
Deborah was one of my best friends from the time I was around 13 years old. She was in the grade below me, and part of a group of girls who all thought thought I was cute...if only I had known then what I came to know long afterwards! I was always awkward around them, which I found out from Deb years later only made them like me more. But when Deb and I started becoming friends she was awkward around me too, and I understood that she had a crush on me, but I never knew how to act on it.
Well, that's not quite right. I didn't ever ask her to be my girlfriend, but I wasn't without any ideas. We used to hang out and get stoned together, listen to music, and talk for hours and hours. A regular thing, whenever we were at her apartment and no one was home, was for me to give her a massage. Ah, the good old days, when you could offer to give a girl a massage, and she'd so willingly and unsuspectingly lie on her stomach, let you sit on her butt, and rub her shoulders...and back...and down her back...and "accidentally" tickle her around the sides 🙂 I still remember well every girl from my group in those days, fifteen or twenty of them, and I could tell you like it was yesterday which ones were ticklish, and how much, and where. "C.H." was only moderately ticklish around her sides, but if I got my hands in her armpits she'd buck like a bronco. "D.C." was one of the prettiest girls, and every guy was after her, but she wasn't ticklish at all -- and so I had barely any interest in her.
Deb was pretty, with soft brown hair, big brown eyes, and pale skin. She used to get compared to Winona Ryder, and this was back when "Heathers" was in the theaters. Deb's skin was silky soft, and ultra sensitive. You could tickle her easily with the lightest touch from one finger, and she would twitch and giggle softly, but never pull away. This was long before the internet, and I had no idea there were girls who wanted to be tickled as much as I wanted to tickle them; once I discovered the TMF years later, I came to understand that Deb was a hard-wired 'lee, as much as I was a hard-wired 'ler.
But still, I would never tickle Deb for more than a moment or two. Maybe four or five seconds at the most. My ultimate fantasy, of course, was just to start tickling and not stop -- the thought of just tickling, on and on, would make me dizzy back then. I wondered what would happen to a girl if you tickled for more than a few seconds, was fascinated, even obsessed with the thought, but to actually do it was so far out of the question that I never seriously considered doing it for real.
That is, of course, until that one day when...
Fast-forward a few years, I'm 19, Deb is 18, and she's about to go off to her first semester at college. I go over to her apartment to help her pack, which takes hours longer than it should have, and by two in the morning we're not even close to finished. I don't know why her parents weren't home, but we had the place to ourselves, and I guess I felt pretty confident no one would come in to interrupt us. Deb was stressed out, and getting more and more agitated as it got later and later and we still weren't finished getting her ready to leave in the morning. I tried reassuring her, saying "don't worry, it'll be okay, you're not going off into the middle of nowhere. If you forget to bring something, you can always find someplace to buy it up there."
"I know, I'm just so nervous, this is such a big change...I'm so tense about it."
"C'mere, lie down, let me give you a massage."
Readily she lay down on her stomach, on her bed, and I straddled her with my legs around her lower back, sitting on her butt. I don't think I spent more than ten seconds on her shoulders, only a cursory pretense of actually giving her a massage, before letting my hands wander down her back and around her sides. She started laughing, that soft giggle, and made a half-hearted effort to block my hands with her arms. But I had my legs placed where she couldn't reach around them, so she just lay there and laughed. I teased her, saying things like "see, doesn't that make you feel better?" and "stop squirming, you're making it harder for me to give you a massage!"
And then finally, I said the thing that I knew would let me pursue the fantasy:
"You know what? You don't need a massage--" I could barely get the words out, my breathing had become so shallow with the excitement of anticipation "--you need to be....tickled!"
With that, the gates were opened. I slid my hands up under her shirt, feeling the soft skin on the small of her back, which was especially ticklish. She let out a squeal and then a soft scream, protesting through her laughter "no wait -- I can't -- wait -- I can't move!" But I was near delerious with the sensation of no longer holding back. "I know! That's the idea! Makes it easier to...do...THIS!" and I thrust my hands up around her sides, softly stroking her creamy smooth skin, making her squirm harder than I'd ever made her squirm before. For years I'd tickled her with gentle caresses, which were all that were necessary to make her laugh and twitch; now for the first time I was digging in, really tickling vigorously, this hyper-ticklish girl who was stuck underneath me and completely at my mercy...
I don't know how long it went on. Maybe only two minutes, which now seems like a tolerably short time but back then it was an eternity. But I remember the way her protests increased with intensity, from "no-no-no!" and "oh-my-god!" to "I...can't...breathe!" and then, finally "somebody help me!!!"
Those were the words that did it: "somebody help me." I'd gone too far, pushed her into real desperation. We were close friends; for years she had let me tickle her, hundreds of times; she trusted me. But she had no idea what to expect from what I was doing to her, didn't know if or when I would stop, and it scared her. It scared me too. I had an odd physical reaction to it: the right side of my face began to twitch, and a convulsion went through my body. I can only describe it as an orgasm without coming. But she felt it in my body, since I was pressed up so firmly against her. I stopped tickling her immediately, and we both sat there on the bed, both of us breathless, both of us not knowing what to say, both of us more aware of something than we'd ever been before. In all the years of my tickling her, we'd never once spoken about it. Never said the word. But now something was out in the open, at least more so than it had ever been before.
She did leave for college, and though we stayed in touch and stayed friends, we never did speak about it. Years later she moved away, and we lost touch completely. Understanding what I understand now, I wouldn't be surprised to find she's a member of this forum. I heard she got married and was living on the west coast.
Deborah was one of my best friends from the time I was around 13 years old. She was in the grade below me, and part of a group of girls who all thought thought I was cute...if only I had known then what I came to know long afterwards! I was always awkward around them, which I found out from Deb years later only made them like me more. But when Deb and I started becoming friends she was awkward around me too, and I understood that she had a crush on me, but I never knew how to act on it.
Well, that's not quite right. I didn't ever ask her to be my girlfriend, but I wasn't without any ideas. We used to hang out and get stoned together, listen to music, and talk for hours and hours. A regular thing, whenever we were at her apartment and no one was home, was for me to give her a massage. Ah, the good old days, when you could offer to give a girl a massage, and she'd so willingly and unsuspectingly lie on her stomach, let you sit on her butt, and rub her shoulders...and back...and down her back...and "accidentally" tickle her around the sides 🙂 I still remember well every girl from my group in those days, fifteen or twenty of them, and I could tell you like it was yesterday which ones were ticklish, and how much, and where. "C.H." was only moderately ticklish around her sides, but if I got my hands in her armpits she'd buck like a bronco. "D.C." was one of the prettiest girls, and every guy was after her, but she wasn't ticklish at all -- and so I had barely any interest in her.
Deb was pretty, with soft brown hair, big brown eyes, and pale skin. She used to get compared to Winona Ryder, and this was back when "Heathers" was in the theaters. Deb's skin was silky soft, and ultra sensitive. You could tickle her easily with the lightest touch from one finger, and she would twitch and giggle softly, but never pull away. This was long before the internet, and I had no idea there were girls who wanted to be tickled as much as I wanted to tickle them; once I discovered the TMF years later, I came to understand that Deb was a hard-wired 'lee, as much as I was a hard-wired 'ler.
But still, I would never tickle Deb for more than a moment or two. Maybe four or five seconds at the most. My ultimate fantasy, of course, was just to start tickling and not stop -- the thought of just tickling, on and on, would make me dizzy back then. I wondered what would happen to a girl if you tickled for more than a few seconds, was fascinated, even obsessed with the thought, but to actually do it was so far out of the question that I never seriously considered doing it for real.
That is, of course, until that one day when...
Fast-forward a few years, I'm 19, Deb is 18, and she's about to go off to her first semester at college. I go over to her apartment to help her pack, which takes hours longer than it should have, and by two in the morning we're not even close to finished. I don't know why her parents weren't home, but we had the place to ourselves, and I guess I felt pretty confident no one would come in to interrupt us. Deb was stressed out, and getting more and more agitated as it got later and later and we still weren't finished getting her ready to leave in the morning. I tried reassuring her, saying "don't worry, it'll be okay, you're not going off into the middle of nowhere. If you forget to bring something, you can always find someplace to buy it up there."
"I know, I'm just so nervous, this is such a big change...I'm so tense about it."
"C'mere, lie down, let me give you a massage."
Readily she lay down on her stomach, on her bed, and I straddled her with my legs around her lower back, sitting on her butt. I don't think I spent more than ten seconds on her shoulders, only a cursory pretense of actually giving her a massage, before letting my hands wander down her back and around her sides. She started laughing, that soft giggle, and made a half-hearted effort to block my hands with her arms. But I had my legs placed where she couldn't reach around them, so she just lay there and laughed. I teased her, saying things like "see, doesn't that make you feel better?" and "stop squirming, you're making it harder for me to give you a massage!"
And then finally, I said the thing that I knew would let me pursue the fantasy:
"You know what? You don't need a massage--" I could barely get the words out, my breathing had become so shallow with the excitement of anticipation "--you need to be....tickled!"
With that, the gates were opened. I slid my hands up under her shirt, feeling the soft skin on the small of her back, which was especially ticklish. She let out a squeal and then a soft scream, protesting through her laughter "no wait -- I can't -- wait -- I can't move!" But I was near delerious with the sensation of no longer holding back. "I know! That's the idea! Makes it easier to...do...THIS!" and I thrust my hands up around her sides, softly stroking her creamy smooth skin, making her squirm harder than I'd ever made her squirm before. For years I'd tickled her with gentle caresses, which were all that were necessary to make her laugh and twitch; now for the first time I was digging in, really tickling vigorously, this hyper-ticklish girl who was stuck underneath me and completely at my mercy...
I don't know how long it went on. Maybe only two minutes, which now seems like a tolerably short time but back then it was an eternity. But I remember the way her protests increased with intensity, from "no-no-no!" and "oh-my-god!" to "I...can't...breathe!" and then, finally "somebody help me!!!"
Those were the words that did it: "somebody help me." I'd gone too far, pushed her into real desperation. We were close friends; for years she had let me tickle her, hundreds of times; she trusted me. But she had no idea what to expect from what I was doing to her, didn't know if or when I would stop, and it scared her. It scared me too. I had an odd physical reaction to it: the right side of my face began to twitch, and a convulsion went through my body. I can only describe it as an orgasm without coming. But she felt it in my body, since I was pressed up so firmly against her. I stopped tickling her immediately, and we both sat there on the bed, both of us breathless, both of us not knowing what to say, both of us more aware of something than we'd ever been before. In all the years of my tickling her, we'd never once spoken about it. Never said the word. But now something was out in the open, at least more so than it had ever been before.
She did leave for college, and though we stayed in touch and stayed friends, we never did speak about it. Years later she moved away, and we lost touch completely. Understanding what I understand now, I wouldn't be surprised to find she's a member of this forum. I heard she got married and was living on the west coast.
