I tend to choose my recipients based on a spur of the moment decision. I favor women who aren't expecting to be tickled and are not prepared for it. I'm not interested in consensual tickling "sessions," and even less interested in relationships based on tickling. For me it is all about the element of surprise, the spasmodic reactions, and the process of recovery. 😀
For example - this past weekend, I was doing a gig at one of the many venues here in Austin. There was a pretty, young bartender who was all of 22 years old. Though her attire and her demeanor both gave the impression of a rough and tumble redneck girl, her face was beautiful and almost angelic. She was sporting short shorts (what used to be commonly known as "daisy dukes") a thin flannel shirt that was open but still tucked into her shorts. Under her flannel she had on a sky blue wifebeater. And to top it all off, a baseball cap that said Texas Rangers.
Our singer Don has a peculiar style of hitting on a girl. He picks out something about her and feeds her constant shit about it. Not my style, but he does experience a degree of success that I wouldn't have expected from such a strategy. After our sets were done, the guitarist and bassist immediately bolted. Singer Don and drummer Ron and I were drinking beers and knocking back shots out on the porch with various people, including the now off-duty bartender. Don was of course teasing her relentlessly about the Coors Light she was drinking. I asked her if I could get her a shot and she smiled and said she could really use a "Royal Fuck." She watched for me for a reaction. I just gave her a half smile and said in my best James Bond, "One Royal Fuck coming up."
I had no idea what was in a Royal Fuck, but the on-duty bartender immediately knew what it was and who it was for. As I brought her drink back (plus one for me as I was curious) she was telling a story with great and avid detail, almost like a comedian on stage. Her back was to me as her whole body contributed to the story-telling, which culminated in her victory over the antagonist of her story. At this point she threw her hands straight up in the air, the way an umpire declares a touchdown. Having set the drinks down, I reached out and gave her ribs a good one-second, eight finger tickle. She let out a soft shriek and flinched so severely she nearly collapsed to the floor. She looked at me with eyes blazing.
"Hey, you asked for a Royal Fuck," I said. "That was the best I could manage in mixed company." I held out her drink. "Well, that and this drink."
As quickly as that, she was back to her grinning sassy self, called me an asshole and thanked me for the drink. About an hour later when I was leaving, she gave me a very sweet hug and told me, "I'm here tomorrow."
Maybe Don's method and my own aren't all that different after all.