OldEnglish
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Apr 21, 2001
- Messages
- 235
- Points
- 18
Hey everyone,
Looks like we got the answer to one of the questions many of us, myself included, were wondering… Is Morgan ticklish, too? It happened on Thanksgiving Day.
Before I share the story, just a couple of quick things…
The actual tickling that takes place is literally less than one second long. Apologies to those who do not like a lot of writing before and after the tickling, but that is what this story will contain.
It was Thanksgiving Day, a day looked forward to by many for various reasons. As someone who does not necessarily like turkey, someone who does not watch football, and someone who does not want to go anywhere near the stores when they’re crowded like on Black Friday, Thanksgiving to me has usually just been a day to get through in order to get to a long weekend.
That we also spend Thanksgiving Day at the in-laws doesn’t do anything to add to the day, either, other than adding in the possibility of something happening with Morgan, Erica, and Ally. As all three were planning to be there for Thanksgiving, I crossed my fingers in hope of something possibly happening.
Now since my last post, there have been a couple of incidents - nothing that I have shared on TMF, but that I have been sharing with some individuals with whom I speak on here. It’s been more of the standard fare - Morgan tickling Erica, Erica later lamenting about being Morgan’s victim one more time. It’s been entertaining but nothing necessary to add to the context of the story I am about to share.
One wrinkle that has become present over the last few weeks or so, though, is a seeming unwillingness on Morgan’s part to be barefoot in any way when in mixed company. Now, of course, the TMFer in all of us must immediately wonder - “OMG what’s she hiding?”. Naturally, though, it could just very well be that she just preferred not to be barefoot. Indeed, we’re never really at her house, so perhaps she doesn’t like being barefoot at other people’s houses. But since I am a TMFer, I quickly noticed how often Morgan had been wearing boots and thich, knee-high socks in recent months.
Therefore, it came as somewhat of a surprise when I saw Morgan at the in-laws on Thanksgiving. She was dressed to impress, as always. She had on a pair of graphite gray dress pants that were flared at the bottom and a white blouse to complement. A gray cardigan sweater was draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, which I assumed was hers. Morgan completed her outfit with a pair of heels - classic black pumps, around three or four inches, I would say. But it was what was under those heels that truly caught my eye - nylons. I’d seen Morgan wear nylons before from time to time, but it was a rare enough occurrence that it caught my eye immediately. I mean, if I’m being honest, that sort of thing would catch my eye immediately no matter what, but it was certainly a relatively rare occurrence to see Morgan wearing them.
Not that that in and of itself was any guarantee that something would happen, of course. But I had to logically assume that the chances of Morgan keeping those heels on her feet throughout the duration of the evening were slim to none.
Except as the minutes turned into hours, those heels remained secured to her feet the entire time. Sure, there was the occasional instance where she’d pop her heel out of the shoes when she was sitting down, but that was seemingly the most Morgan was willing to budge.
And then…
“Family picture time!” my wife’s aunt yelled out over everyone, a declaration that was met with a chorus of groans. It was the first time everyone had been together in some time, so they wanted to grab a picture of everyone together, naturally. We all crammed our way into the living room to sit in front of the Christmas tree. My wife’s aunt organized people as best she could, shorter people up front and taller people in the back. To make the tree visible, she asked everyone to get down on their knees. Because there were so many people in a relatively small space, my wife’s aunt didn’t necessarily put too much thought into keeping families together; wherever you were was wherever you would end up.
As luck would have it, Morgan ended up in front of me. Her row had been instructed to crouch down in the front while my row had been instructed to stand on our knees behind them. In the meantime, everyone is goofing off - making jokes, not looking in the same direction; it’s just a giant cluster. My wife’s aunt is now on the opposite end of the room trying to rearrange everyone back into the order she had asked.
As that is going down, I look in front of me and see that Morgan has kind of altered her position in a way so that now her left knee is sitting on the ground but she’s still “bent-knee” with her right leg - kind of like an MLB catcher position, if you can picture it. But in this position, Morgan’s left heel has popped out of her pump, and with the way she is sitting, the bottom of her left foot from her heel to the ball of her foot is now totally exposed.
Now, I basically pride myself, to a degree, on the fact that I never initiate any kind of tickling with any of these women, Erica included. I try to be as passive as possible, letting whatever may come occur naturally. It just makes for a much more seamless experience all around.
Now having said that, I would be lying if I said the TMFer in me wasn’t taking over a bit here. To this point, we had had on confirmation of whether or not Morgan was even ticklish. Of all the times she had tortured Erica, we didn’t have so much as a hint of confirmation that Morgan was even ticklish; she was truly the elusive white whale throughout this entire series of stories.
And yet now here she was apparently completely oblivious to how vulnerable she was in the moment, no doubt enjoying some relief of having her feet not completely in her pumps for even one moment, not realizing that someone behind her had not only noticed that fact but was also busy putting imaginary bullseyes right in the center of her foot.
For a moment, I paused, hoping someone else might also notice the situation and look to take advantage. There was such chaos in the room at that moment that no one would notice if someone were to reach down and casually swipe against Morgan’s foot. But no one seemed to be taking notice.
And then I thought… If the situations were reversed… If it were Morgan in the second row and someone else sitting there in a vulnerable position in front of her, I had no doubt that Morgan would be the one to take advantage of such a situation. And I thought about how Morgan seemed to always go out of her way to make sure that she herself wasn’t in such a vulnerable situation. Realizing how rare this was, I knew this might be the one chance to do it, not knowing when another chance might pop up.
I carefully reached down to extend my finger to her exposed sole… only to find that she had popped her foot back into the high heel. I had waited too long debating and had missed the opportunity.
Or so I thought…
For not even five seconds later, I looked down again and found the bottom of her foot was once again exposed, her entire foot except for her toes popping out of that heel. Knowing I had almost lost my chance before from too much internal debate, I went for it as soon as I heard another round of laughter in the room. I reached down and struck, drawing a quick little circle with the top of my finger right on her exposed arch.
Goldmine.
Shouting a loud “Ahhhh!” as her body processed the touch, Morgan jumped practically 10 feet in the air, toppling over on the ground in front of her. She had jumped so much and with such a paroxysm that she had actually lost the shoe that she had been popping her foot out of.
Naturally, everyone looked over to Morgan to see the spectacle, laughing at what they had seen but - fortunately - seemingly having no idea what had happened.
“I just lost my balance,” Morgan said, as she recovered herself, playing it off like it was just an accident. Everyone in the room laughed at her and began making jokes about it as she shot me an absolute death glare - one of those “don’t you dare say anything” looks.
She grabbed her shoe and put it back on her foot and found her spot back in line. This time, she sat with her knees on the ground and her legs sticking out behind her, so that the bottom of her feet were facing up but so that both of her shoes remained on.
Eventually, the picture was taken, much to everyone’s delight, and dessert was announced, as everyone jumped up quickly to make their mad dash into the other room.
I was halted, though, by Morgan holding her hand out, like an officer directing traffic. When the last person left the room and it was just the two of us in the room, Moran began punching me. Playfully, of course, but with weight behind them.
“Are you even kidding me?” she asked between punches. “You are the absolute worst.”
I played dumb as I tried to block the punches. “What are you even talking about?” I asked.
“Oh you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said.
“Oh, that,” I said, pretending to now be on the same page as her. “I was doing you a favor,” I explained. “You had a piece of dust on your foot and I was trying to get it off for you.”
Morgan actually laughed at the ridiculousness of that explanation, which I was happy to hear to confirm that she wasn’t truly angry with me no matter how hard those punches were being delivered. But she became “serious” again and said, “No one better find out about that” in her most menacing voice possible.
Do you know how there are some people who will just steadfastly refuse to admit to being ticklish? No matter how great the evidence to the contrary… And how there are some people who will go out of their way to avoid even saying the word? I could tell that Morgan definitely fell into this camp. Already out of my comfort zone, I figured “in for a penny, in for a pound”, and thought I’d see if I could extend this a little bit more. I knew there would be no way I’d ever work up the courage to do this again, after all.
“Find out about what?” I asked, again playing dumb. “That you’re ticklish? I don’t think it’s that big a deal,” I said.
“I’m not…” she said in her serious tone, stopping again before she could even say the word. “I just lost my balance. That was all that happened.”
“You seemed to have lost your balance the second that I touched your foot,” I said, pointing out the coincidence.
“You just startled me,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I lost my balance, like I said.”
“I don’t know why you won’t admit that it tickled you,” I said.
“Because I’m not ticklish,” she said quickly and quietly, saying the word for the first time. “I just lost my balance.”
“So if I go in the other room,” I said, “and tell everyone in there that you’re claiming that you’re not ticklish, you’d be OK if they all tried to test that claim?”.
The look of seriousness on her face totally changed. “You wouldn’t,” she said, as if trying to call my bluff.
“Because you know that’s EXACTLY what they’d all do,” I said, pointing out the obvious. “Especially with the alcohol flowing now.”
Morgan tried her best to hide her look of panic. She knew I was right. If I went into the other room and said that Morgan claimed she wasn’t ticklish, no fewer than four people would IMMEDIATELY jump at that challenge. There was, of course, literally no way I would actually do that, but this was a poker game, and Morgan wasn’t chancing my bluff.
“Don’t you dare,” she said.
“Or maybe I’ll just let Erica know,” I said as an alternative. “I'm sure she'd be very interested to hear about how you're not ticklish".
That was apparently all Morgan needed to hear. "OK OK,” she said, no longer showing that look of strength. “. If I admit it to you, will you not tell anyone else?"
"I could be persuaded to forget what happened," I said.
Morgan let out a sigh and said, "Fine. No use in trying to hide it anyways. You saw yourself."
And I said "I saw what?" because I REALLY just wanted to hear her admit it.
Morgan shot me another death glare - she was really good at them, apparently, and clarified: “You saw how ticklish I am,” she said.
"Oh, are you ticklish?” I asked. “I hadn't noticed," I said, just trying to keep the mood light
Naturally, that afforded me another death glare. "I don't even know how you were able to get me," she said. "You caught me at a moment of weakness, I guess."
"Oh, are your feet your weakness?" I asked, just fishing to see what else I might be able to pry from her.
Yet another death glare. "I'm not saying anything else," Morgan said in protest.
"OK," I said, and pretended to start calling for Erica.
"OK OK OK," she says. "Yes, my feet are my weakness,” she announced. “Just don't go broadcasting that, OK?"
“So how is it fair that you get to tickle Erica all the time and she doesn't get to know about you?" I asked.
Morgan smiled and said, "Haven't you ever heard of do unto others before they do unto you?".
Wow. This woman really HAD been thinking all of this through
At this point, Ally came in and asked if we were coming for dessert.
"Oh yeah, sorry,” I said. “I was just helping Morgan here. She lost her balance a little while ago."
"Oh yeah I saw,” Ally said. “You poor thing. Here, let me help you" and she took a hold of Morgan and started walking her into the other room.
And the desserts tasted especially good that evening…
So that’s that. As I said, I did venture outside of my comfort zone a bit in doing this, but it seemed like something that needed to be done, even if nothing more comes of it. And to be sure, I don’t envision myself taking any more chances like this in the future. I kind of leaned into the “Hey, you do it to everyone else” mentality in gaining the courage to even do this one.
It does give me pause, though, as to how I should proceed with this information as far as Erica goes. On one hand, Morgan was fairly adamant that I not let anyone else know about this. But on the other hand, I feel like I’m more “Team Erica” in this battle, and if it did come out that I had found out about this and didn’t tell Erica, she might wonder why I didn’t tell her. Of course, I realize I am putting way too much thought into that dilemma, as well. We’ll see what happens.
Looks like we got the answer to one of the questions many of us, myself included, were wondering… Is Morgan ticklish, too? It happened on Thanksgiving Day.
Before I share the story, just a couple of quick things…
The actual tickling that takes place is literally less than one second long. Apologies to those who do not like a lot of writing before and after the tickling, but that is what this story will contain.
It was Thanksgiving Day, a day looked forward to by many for various reasons. As someone who does not necessarily like turkey, someone who does not watch football, and someone who does not want to go anywhere near the stores when they’re crowded like on Black Friday, Thanksgiving to me has usually just been a day to get through in order to get to a long weekend.
That we also spend Thanksgiving Day at the in-laws doesn’t do anything to add to the day, either, other than adding in the possibility of something happening with Morgan, Erica, and Ally. As all three were planning to be there for Thanksgiving, I crossed my fingers in hope of something possibly happening.
Now since my last post, there have been a couple of incidents - nothing that I have shared on TMF, but that I have been sharing with some individuals with whom I speak on here. It’s been more of the standard fare - Morgan tickling Erica, Erica later lamenting about being Morgan’s victim one more time. It’s been entertaining but nothing necessary to add to the context of the story I am about to share.
One wrinkle that has become present over the last few weeks or so, though, is a seeming unwillingness on Morgan’s part to be barefoot in any way when in mixed company. Now, of course, the TMFer in all of us must immediately wonder - “OMG what’s she hiding?”. Naturally, though, it could just very well be that she just preferred not to be barefoot. Indeed, we’re never really at her house, so perhaps she doesn’t like being barefoot at other people’s houses. But since I am a TMFer, I quickly noticed how often Morgan had been wearing boots and thich, knee-high socks in recent months.
Therefore, it came as somewhat of a surprise when I saw Morgan at the in-laws on Thanksgiving. She was dressed to impress, as always. She had on a pair of graphite gray dress pants that were flared at the bottom and a white blouse to complement. A gray cardigan sweater was draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, which I assumed was hers. Morgan completed her outfit with a pair of heels - classic black pumps, around three or four inches, I would say. But it was what was under those heels that truly caught my eye - nylons. I’d seen Morgan wear nylons before from time to time, but it was a rare enough occurrence that it caught my eye immediately. I mean, if I’m being honest, that sort of thing would catch my eye immediately no matter what, but it was certainly a relatively rare occurrence to see Morgan wearing them.
Not that that in and of itself was any guarantee that something would happen, of course. But I had to logically assume that the chances of Morgan keeping those heels on her feet throughout the duration of the evening were slim to none.
Except as the minutes turned into hours, those heels remained secured to her feet the entire time. Sure, there was the occasional instance where she’d pop her heel out of the shoes when she was sitting down, but that was seemingly the most Morgan was willing to budge.
And then…
“Family picture time!” my wife’s aunt yelled out over everyone, a declaration that was met with a chorus of groans. It was the first time everyone had been together in some time, so they wanted to grab a picture of everyone together, naturally. We all crammed our way into the living room to sit in front of the Christmas tree. My wife’s aunt organized people as best she could, shorter people up front and taller people in the back. To make the tree visible, she asked everyone to get down on their knees. Because there were so many people in a relatively small space, my wife’s aunt didn’t necessarily put too much thought into keeping families together; wherever you were was wherever you would end up.
As luck would have it, Morgan ended up in front of me. Her row had been instructed to crouch down in the front while my row had been instructed to stand on our knees behind them. In the meantime, everyone is goofing off - making jokes, not looking in the same direction; it’s just a giant cluster. My wife’s aunt is now on the opposite end of the room trying to rearrange everyone back into the order she had asked.
As that is going down, I look in front of me and see that Morgan has kind of altered her position in a way so that now her left knee is sitting on the ground but she’s still “bent-knee” with her right leg - kind of like an MLB catcher position, if you can picture it. But in this position, Morgan’s left heel has popped out of her pump, and with the way she is sitting, the bottom of her left foot from her heel to the ball of her foot is now totally exposed.
Now, I basically pride myself, to a degree, on the fact that I never initiate any kind of tickling with any of these women, Erica included. I try to be as passive as possible, letting whatever may come occur naturally. It just makes for a much more seamless experience all around.
Now having said that, I would be lying if I said the TMFer in me wasn’t taking over a bit here. To this point, we had had on confirmation of whether or not Morgan was even ticklish. Of all the times she had tortured Erica, we didn’t have so much as a hint of confirmation that Morgan was even ticklish; she was truly the elusive white whale throughout this entire series of stories.
And yet now here she was apparently completely oblivious to how vulnerable she was in the moment, no doubt enjoying some relief of having her feet not completely in her pumps for even one moment, not realizing that someone behind her had not only noticed that fact but was also busy putting imaginary bullseyes right in the center of her foot.
For a moment, I paused, hoping someone else might also notice the situation and look to take advantage. There was such chaos in the room at that moment that no one would notice if someone were to reach down and casually swipe against Morgan’s foot. But no one seemed to be taking notice.
And then I thought… If the situations were reversed… If it were Morgan in the second row and someone else sitting there in a vulnerable position in front of her, I had no doubt that Morgan would be the one to take advantage of such a situation. And I thought about how Morgan seemed to always go out of her way to make sure that she herself wasn’t in such a vulnerable situation. Realizing how rare this was, I knew this might be the one chance to do it, not knowing when another chance might pop up.
I carefully reached down to extend my finger to her exposed sole… only to find that she had popped her foot back into the high heel. I had waited too long debating and had missed the opportunity.
Or so I thought…
For not even five seconds later, I looked down again and found the bottom of her foot was once again exposed, her entire foot except for her toes popping out of that heel. Knowing I had almost lost my chance before from too much internal debate, I went for it as soon as I heard another round of laughter in the room. I reached down and struck, drawing a quick little circle with the top of my finger right on her exposed arch.
Goldmine.
Shouting a loud “Ahhhh!” as her body processed the touch, Morgan jumped practically 10 feet in the air, toppling over on the ground in front of her. She had jumped so much and with such a paroxysm that she had actually lost the shoe that she had been popping her foot out of.
Naturally, everyone looked over to Morgan to see the spectacle, laughing at what they had seen but - fortunately - seemingly having no idea what had happened.
“I just lost my balance,” Morgan said, as she recovered herself, playing it off like it was just an accident. Everyone in the room laughed at her and began making jokes about it as she shot me an absolute death glare - one of those “don’t you dare say anything” looks.
She grabbed her shoe and put it back on her foot and found her spot back in line. This time, she sat with her knees on the ground and her legs sticking out behind her, so that the bottom of her feet were facing up but so that both of her shoes remained on.
Eventually, the picture was taken, much to everyone’s delight, and dessert was announced, as everyone jumped up quickly to make their mad dash into the other room.
I was halted, though, by Morgan holding her hand out, like an officer directing traffic. When the last person left the room and it was just the two of us in the room, Moran began punching me. Playfully, of course, but with weight behind them.
“Are you even kidding me?” she asked between punches. “You are the absolute worst.”
I played dumb as I tried to block the punches. “What are you even talking about?” I asked.
“Oh you know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said.
“Oh, that,” I said, pretending to now be on the same page as her. “I was doing you a favor,” I explained. “You had a piece of dust on your foot and I was trying to get it off for you.”
Morgan actually laughed at the ridiculousness of that explanation, which I was happy to hear to confirm that she wasn’t truly angry with me no matter how hard those punches were being delivered. But she became “serious” again and said, “No one better find out about that” in her most menacing voice possible.
Do you know how there are some people who will just steadfastly refuse to admit to being ticklish? No matter how great the evidence to the contrary… And how there are some people who will go out of their way to avoid even saying the word? I could tell that Morgan definitely fell into this camp. Already out of my comfort zone, I figured “in for a penny, in for a pound”, and thought I’d see if I could extend this a little bit more. I knew there would be no way I’d ever work up the courage to do this again, after all.
“Find out about what?” I asked, again playing dumb. “That you’re ticklish? I don’t think it’s that big a deal,” I said.
“I’m not…” she said in her serious tone, stopping again before she could even say the word. “I just lost my balance. That was all that happened.”
“You seemed to have lost your balance the second that I touched your foot,” I said, pointing out the coincidence.
“You just startled me,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I lost my balance, like I said.”
“I don’t know why you won’t admit that it tickled you,” I said.
“Because I’m not ticklish,” she said quickly and quietly, saying the word for the first time. “I just lost my balance.”
“So if I go in the other room,” I said, “and tell everyone in there that you’re claiming that you’re not ticklish, you’d be OK if they all tried to test that claim?”.
The look of seriousness on her face totally changed. “You wouldn’t,” she said, as if trying to call my bluff.
“Because you know that’s EXACTLY what they’d all do,” I said, pointing out the obvious. “Especially with the alcohol flowing now.”
Morgan tried her best to hide her look of panic. She knew I was right. If I went into the other room and said that Morgan claimed she wasn’t ticklish, no fewer than four people would IMMEDIATELY jump at that challenge. There was, of course, literally no way I would actually do that, but this was a poker game, and Morgan wasn’t chancing my bluff.
“Don’t you dare,” she said.
“Or maybe I’ll just let Erica know,” I said as an alternative. “I'm sure she'd be very interested to hear about how you're not ticklish".
That was apparently all Morgan needed to hear. "OK OK,” she said, no longer showing that look of strength. “. If I admit it to you, will you not tell anyone else?"
"I could be persuaded to forget what happened," I said.
Morgan let out a sigh and said, "Fine. No use in trying to hide it anyways. You saw yourself."
And I said "I saw what?" because I REALLY just wanted to hear her admit it.
Morgan shot me another death glare - she was really good at them, apparently, and clarified: “You saw how ticklish I am,” she said.
"Oh, are you ticklish?” I asked. “I hadn't noticed," I said, just trying to keep the mood light
Naturally, that afforded me another death glare. "I don't even know how you were able to get me," she said. "You caught me at a moment of weakness, I guess."
"Oh, are your feet your weakness?" I asked, just fishing to see what else I might be able to pry from her.
Yet another death glare. "I'm not saying anything else," Morgan said in protest.
"OK," I said, and pretended to start calling for Erica.
"OK OK OK," she says. "Yes, my feet are my weakness,” she announced. “Just don't go broadcasting that, OK?"
“So how is it fair that you get to tickle Erica all the time and she doesn't get to know about you?" I asked.
Morgan smiled and said, "Haven't you ever heard of do unto others before they do unto you?".
Wow. This woman really HAD been thinking all of this through
At this point, Ally came in and asked if we were coming for dessert.
"Oh yeah, sorry,” I said. “I was just helping Morgan here. She lost her balance a little while ago."
"Oh yeah I saw,” Ally said. “You poor thing. Here, let me help you" and she took a hold of Morgan and started walking her into the other room.
And the desserts tasted especially good that evening…
So that’s that. As I said, I did venture outside of my comfort zone a bit in doing this, but it seemed like something that needed to be done, even if nothing more comes of it. And to be sure, I don’t envision myself taking any more chances like this in the future. I kind of leaned into the “Hey, you do it to everyone else” mentality in gaining the courage to even do this one.
It does give me pause, though, as to how I should proceed with this information as far as Erica goes. On one hand, Morgan was fairly adamant that I not let anyone else know about this. But on the other hand, I feel like I’m more “Team Erica” in this battle, and if it did come out that I had found out about this and didn’t tell Erica, she might wonder why I didn’t tell her. Of course, I realize I am putting way too much thought into that dilemma, as well. We’ll see what happens.
Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
