ticklebrowse26
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The Ticklish Wife (mmm/f) Part 1
Ever have one of those moments when you're having a normal day, maybe even a slow day, when the tickle meteor suddenly falls on you?
Well, I hadn't.
Except for the time when I accidentally picked a rap song during karaoke (never again), I'd never been shocked and forced to quickly recover and make some fast decisions under pressure.
Anyways, enough build-up.
My wife is a sales-rep for a plastics manufacturer. Now as a vendor, her personality and physique fits her job very well. Standing at 5'3, her petite athletic frame belies an explosive personality, which she expertly wields in sales. The girl can move inventory like no one else. As a result she travels a lot and is invited to all sorts of conferences.
She always says she doesn't get these sales by flirting, though she is very pretty. But she'll smile and wink and say that being pretty "doesn't hurt". She has fair skin, curly brown hair, and blue eyes. Her small but athletic legs end in size seven always pedicured feet with dark red toes. She preens and take care of herself well. She just turned thirty but resembles a woman in her mid twenties.
This past week she flew to some ridiculous corporate building retreat where she would meet the other sales reps and do team building exercises.
The way she has described the retreats to me, the exercises are kept under a tight leash by management. People don't drink. They take them very seriously, at times over-competitively, including by my tiny fireball of a wife. But there is an undercurrent of goofballness, which can sometimes overpower the seriousness. And I think that's the point. The reps interact with each other, forge friendships over ridiculous tasks, and then unwind in the evening over drinks.
So on the first day Tina called me (names changed) in the late afternoon. For a very articulate girl, she was unusually coy:
"How are things?" I asked.
"Good... how are you?" she replied.
"Fine."
Long, weird silence.
"Why are you all so quiet?"
"Well today we had our first meet-and-greet and did some drills."
"Yup."
"And we had to give each other silly nicknames," she continued.
"Ah-ha." I wasn't completely listening. I had half my mind on the oven. Couldn't, WOULDN'T burn salmon.
"And they nicknamed me Ticklish!" she blurted out, somewhat excitedly.
Second, long, weird silence.
"What?"
"TIcklish."
"Wait, why?" My mouth was going dry.
"I don't know! We were all going around the room and saying something embarassing about ourselves. I said I was ticklish. So when it came time to nickname me, the other guys voted on 'Ticklish'."
"That's weird." I took a long deep breath. Not a big deal. I added "All guys in your group, huh?"
"Pretty much."
"Well alright. So why are you so quiet?" I was a little stunned, but I could still focus on the oven time.
"Well you know how these corporate things are. People goof off...."
"Yeah..."
"And one of them said I had to earn my nickname tonight," she paused.
"So..."
"So they're probably gonna try tickling me."
I froze. The devils was in the details.
"Well..."
"It would be just horsing around. Believe me I wouldn't let them at me willingly."
"Them? More than one?" My heart was racing.
"Yeah they were saying how they were gonna get me drunk and then attack me."
"You mean tickle you."
"Well yes."
Long, pause.
"You should not get drunk if you have one or more men trying to tickle you," I reasoned.
"Ok I'll stay sober," she replied quickly. "I thought you would be ok with this. You're always going on and on about how hot it is when I get tickled."
She was right. I had to make some quick decisions.
"They're normal company guys," she added.
"How does that make anything different?"
"They have to behave. And you kind of want this," she said matter of factly.
I did.
"I'll have my two girlfriends with me."
I paused again.
The salmon was burning.
I sat down.
"You know these guys?"
"I do. It's Ron, Tim and Derek."
"Fine. But no kissing, no sex, no tying up."
"Of course."
"And you have to tell me EVERYTHING that happens."
She said "Ok. Are you excited over there?"
I was.
"Yup."
"Good. Will you be ok sitting around at home while a few guys are trying to tickle me?" she wasn't concerned now; she was being playful. I could hear her smiling through the phone.
"I can take it. I'm not sure you can."
"Oh I can take it." Her competitive streak was coming out. I could tell. It was just like when she said she could wake up every morning to go running at 5 AM for a week, and she did.
"Really? On your feet?"
"My shoes aren't coming off," she replied quickly, her voice half an octave higher than before.
"Oh," I said. I wonder if I sounded disappointed.
"Do you WANT them to take my shoes off?" Now she was definitely winding me up.
"You'll pee on yourself. You can't take foot tickling." MY voice was dropping into a whisper.
"That wasn't the question. Do you want THEM to take my shoes off and tickle the soles of MY feet?"
This was out of control hot. I couldn't get a response out of my mouth.
"Oh I bet you want them to get their fingers all over my squirmy feet. Boy that would give you a woody from there all the way to Sacramento, wouldn't it? God you wouldn't stop talking about it until we retired! And maybe even afterwards." Tina liked to speak sometimes like she was from the nineteenth century South. she thought it made her sound cuter. It did.
I remained quiet on the phone, thinking about male fingers touching her footbottoms.
I spoke up eventually "Last I checked the Ramada isn't an S & M club."
"I know hon."
I didn't reply.
"Ok Mister, then I'm wearing the fancy flip flops tonight. And I JUST got a pedicure too so my soles are extra soft," she said in businesslike voice.
Wow. This would be deliberate.
"You're gonna get it tonight if you prance around with your toes showing."
"Maybe, but ladies don't prance. And don't pretend you don't like this. Bye hon." And with that she hung up.
To be continued
Ever have one of those moments when you're having a normal day, maybe even a slow day, when the tickle meteor suddenly falls on you?
Well, I hadn't.
Except for the time when I accidentally picked a rap song during karaoke (never again), I'd never been shocked and forced to quickly recover and make some fast decisions under pressure.
Anyways, enough build-up.
My wife is a sales-rep for a plastics manufacturer. Now as a vendor, her personality and physique fits her job very well. Standing at 5'3, her petite athletic frame belies an explosive personality, which she expertly wields in sales. The girl can move inventory like no one else. As a result she travels a lot and is invited to all sorts of conferences.
She always says she doesn't get these sales by flirting, though she is very pretty. But she'll smile and wink and say that being pretty "doesn't hurt". She has fair skin, curly brown hair, and blue eyes. Her small but athletic legs end in size seven always pedicured feet with dark red toes. She preens and take care of herself well. She just turned thirty but resembles a woman in her mid twenties.
This past week she flew to some ridiculous corporate building retreat where she would meet the other sales reps and do team building exercises.
The way she has described the retreats to me, the exercises are kept under a tight leash by management. People don't drink. They take them very seriously, at times over-competitively, including by my tiny fireball of a wife. But there is an undercurrent of goofballness, which can sometimes overpower the seriousness. And I think that's the point. The reps interact with each other, forge friendships over ridiculous tasks, and then unwind in the evening over drinks.
So on the first day Tina called me (names changed) in the late afternoon. For a very articulate girl, she was unusually coy:
"How are things?" I asked.
"Good... how are you?" she replied.
"Fine."
Long, weird silence.
"Why are you all so quiet?"
"Well today we had our first meet-and-greet and did some drills."
"Yup."
"And we had to give each other silly nicknames," she continued.
"Ah-ha." I wasn't completely listening. I had half my mind on the oven. Couldn't, WOULDN'T burn salmon.
"And they nicknamed me Ticklish!" she blurted out, somewhat excitedly.
Second, long, weird silence.
"What?"
"TIcklish."
"Wait, why?" My mouth was going dry.
"I don't know! We were all going around the room and saying something embarassing about ourselves. I said I was ticklish. So when it came time to nickname me, the other guys voted on 'Ticklish'."
"That's weird." I took a long deep breath. Not a big deal. I added "All guys in your group, huh?"
"Pretty much."
"Well alright. So why are you so quiet?" I was a little stunned, but I could still focus on the oven time.
"Well you know how these corporate things are. People goof off...."
"Yeah..."
"And one of them said I had to earn my nickname tonight," she paused.
"So..."
"So they're probably gonna try tickling me."
I froze. The devils was in the details.
"Well..."
"It would be just horsing around. Believe me I wouldn't let them at me willingly."
"Them? More than one?" My heart was racing.
"Yeah they were saying how they were gonna get me drunk and then attack me."
"You mean tickle you."
"Well yes."
Long, pause.
"You should not get drunk if you have one or more men trying to tickle you," I reasoned.
"Ok I'll stay sober," she replied quickly. "I thought you would be ok with this. You're always going on and on about how hot it is when I get tickled."
She was right. I had to make some quick decisions.
"They're normal company guys," she added.
"How does that make anything different?"
"They have to behave. And you kind of want this," she said matter of factly.
I did.
"I'll have my two girlfriends with me."
I paused again.
The salmon was burning.
I sat down.
"You know these guys?"
"I do. It's Ron, Tim and Derek."
"Fine. But no kissing, no sex, no tying up."
"Of course."
"And you have to tell me EVERYTHING that happens."
She said "Ok. Are you excited over there?"
I was.
"Yup."
"Good. Will you be ok sitting around at home while a few guys are trying to tickle me?" she wasn't concerned now; she was being playful. I could hear her smiling through the phone.
"I can take it. I'm not sure you can."
"Oh I can take it." Her competitive streak was coming out. I could tell. It was just like when she said she could wake up every morning to go running at 5 AM for a week, and she did.
"Really? On your feet?"
"My shoes aren't coming off," she replied quickly, her voice half an octave higher than before.
"Oh," I said. I wonder if I sounded disappointed.
"Do you WANT them to take my shoes off?" Now she was definitely winding me up.
"You'll pee on yourself. You can't take foot tickling." MY voice was dropping into a whisper.
"That wasn't the question. Do you want THEM to take my shoes off and tickle the soles of MY feet?"
This was out of control hot. I couldn't get a response out of my mouth.
"Oh I bet you want them to get their fingers all over my squirmy feet. Boy that would give you a woody from there all the way to Sacramento, wouldn't it? God you wouldn't stop talking about it until we retired! And maybe even afterwards." Tina liked to speak sometimes like she was from the nineteenth century South. she thought it made her sound cuter. It did.
I remained quiet on the phone, thinking about male fingers touching her footbottoms.
I spoke up eventually "Last I checked the Ramada isn't an S & M club."
"I know hon."
I didn't reply.
"Ok Mister, then I'm wearing the fancy flip flops tonight. And I JUST got a pedicure too so my soles are extra soft," she said in businesslike voice.
Wow. This would be deliberate.
"You're gonna get it tonight if you prance around with your toes showing."
"Maybe, but ladies don't prance. And don't pretend you don't like this. Bye hon." And with that she hung up.
To be continued
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