Meister1957
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Summer camp Tickle - Part 2
Rachel protested to Sue and myself, but I took some delight in pointing out that she had lost fair and square - and would she have helped me if the roles were reversed?
Eventually she gave up and walked over to the lawn where the kids were waiting with the ropes. She lay on the ground, with a non too happy look on her face.
‘Not so fast’ I called after her. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?
‘What?’ she said puzzled.
‘ I was told that the loser has to strip before they are tied up. At least the men always had to take their shirts off, so why should you be the exception?’
‘No way’ Rachel shouted. But the kids started yelling, especially the boys of course, and even Sue pointed out that it was only fair. ‘Besides’ she said, ‘your shirt would only get ruined with all the water and gunk.’
I had already arranged with the bys that before the messy stuff started Rachel would get a good tickling. I knew from our school days that she was ticklish, and hated it. I never had the chance to tickle her myself very much ( we were just friends after all) , but10 years later I had the chance to live that particular dream.
Reluctantly Rachel gave in and pulled off her Sweatshirt. She cringed and tried to cover up, but that was of course impossible. The boys eyes were bulging at the sight:
Dressed in only a Bikini top and jogging bottoms Rachel looked gorgeous. As I said, she was not exactly fat, but her midriff did show some extra poundage. Her substantial breasts were swelling in the Bikini top and altogether she looked smashing, especially with that golden tan ( she sunbathed in private by all accounts).
Quickly the kids had her on her back and tied her hands and feet to the stakes. Rachel was now spread eagled, displayed in her semi-nakedness, and did not look happy at all.
‘Ok, lets get this over with.’ she said.
‘No rush, we have an hour!’ I teased, which got me a particularly dirty look.
Rachel obviously expected the water treatment and all the other things she had always witnessed her male collegues to endure, but as arranged with the lads she had a surprise coming.
Two of the boys knelt by her feet and started tickling them.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ Rachel yelled, but already she could not suppress some laughter. They really raked her bare soles and she started writhing on the floor, but tied as she was she could barely move.
The kids enjoyed the reaction and a few of them gathered around her and started tickling her exposed ribs and tummy.
Rachel started yelling for them to stop, but even more hands were attacking her soft fleshy sides, She pulled desperately on her bonds but had no chance to escape the torturous tickling.
Even some of the girls were joining in now, and so many kids were crowded around their poor victim that I struggled to keep a good view. As tempting as it was to tickle her myself, I decided just to enjoy the show and give some directions.
‘Try under her arms’ I shouted, knowing they were her most sensitive spots.
While the other kids continued to tickle her feet and midriff a couple of the boys knelt down by her head and began to run their fingers down her bare arms, starting at the wrists. I have to say, these boys were expert ticklers and knew how to prolong her agony.
Rachel squirmed and tried in vain to pull her arms down, which made her biceps flex in her upper arms. Inevitably the boys hands reached her armpits and they began to stroke lightly over the very sensitive skin.
‘You could have at least shaved, Miss.’ one of the boys teased. Rachel went red with embarrassment. In the week at Camp she hadn’t bothered to shave, especially since she always wore the baggy shirts. So by now her underarms sported some dark stubble which I found strangely arousing. ( unshaven armpits were not unusual in Germany in those days).
Satisfied with her reaction the boys proceeded to tickle all around her exposed underarms, only just stopping short of reaching her breasts. I’m sure the boys had the time of their lives, having this voluptuous beauty at their mercy.
The armpit tickling really got to Rachel, who was now nearly screaming with what seemed like agony. Kids can be so cruel, can’t they. They took absolutely no pity and continued to tickle the crap out of her, baying and laughing all the while.
It was a hot summers day and with all her struggling Rachel had broken out in quite a sweat. Her face and exposed upper body were covered in a sheen of perspiration, which did not seem to bother the kids much.
For another few minutes she had to endure dozens of fingers stroking and tickling every inch of her bare skin, shrieking and begging all the time for them to stop.
Finally the kids ended that part of her torture, and proceeded with the other stuff. Rachel told me later the buckets of cold water were a welcome relief. She even eventually forgave me for what she described as the worst hour of her life.
Rachel protested to Sue and myself, but I took some delight in pointing out that she had lost fair and square - and would she have helped me if the roles were reversed?
Eventually she gave up and walked over to the lawn where the kids were waiting with the ropes. She lay on the ground, with a non too happy look on her face.
‘Not so fast’ I called after her. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?
‘What?’ she said puzzled.
‘ I was told that the loser has to strip before they are tied up. At least the men always had to take their shirts off, so why should you be the exception?’
‘No way’ Rachel shouted. But the kids started yelling, especially the boys of course, and even Sue pointed out that it was only fair. ‘Besides’ she said, ‘your shirt would only get ruined with all the water and gunk.’
I had already arranged with the bys that before the messy stuff started Rachel would get a good tickling. I knew from our school days that she was ticklish, and hated it. I never had the chance to tickle her myself very much ( we were just friends after all) , but10 years later I had the chance to live that particular dream.
Reluctantly Rachel gave in and pulled off her Sweatshirt. She cringed and tried to cover up, but that was of course impossible. The boys eyes were bulging at the sight:
Dressed in only a Bikini top and jogging bottoms Rachel looked gorgeous. As I said, she was not exactly fat, but her midriff did show some extra poundage. Her substantial breasts were swelling in the Bikini top and altogether she looked smashing, especially with that golden tan ( she sunbathed in private by all accounts).
Quickly the kids had her on her back and tied her hands and feet to the stakes. Rachel was now spread eagled, displayed in her semi-nakedness, and did not look happy at all.
‘Ok, lets get this over with.’ she said.
‘No rush, we have an hour!’ I teased, which got me a particularly dirty look.
Rachel obviously expected the water treatment and all the other things she had always witnessed her male collegues to endure, but as arranged with the lads she had a surprise coming.
Two of the boys knelt by her feet and started tickling them.
‘Hey, what are you doing?’ Rachel yelled, but already she could not suppress some laughter. They really raked her bare soles and she started writhing on the floor, but tied as she was she could barely move.
The kids enjoyed the reaction and a few of them gathered around her and started tickling her exposed ribs and tummy.
Rachel started yelling for them to stop, but even more hands were attacking her soft fleshy sides, She pulled desperately on her bonds but had no chance to escape the torturous tickling.
Even some of the girls were joining in now, and so many kids were crowded around their poor victim that I struggled to keep a good view. As tempting as it was to tickle her myself, I decided just to enjoy the show and give some directions.
‘Try under her arms’ I shouted, knowing they were her most sensitive spots.
While the other kids continued to tickle her feet and midriff a couple of the boys knelt down by her head and began to run their fingers down her bare arms, starting at the wrists. I have to say, these boys were expert ticklers and knew how to prolong her agony.
Rachel squirmed and tried in vain to pull her arms down, which made her biceps flex in her upper arms. Inevitably the boys hands reached her armpits and they began to stroke lightly over the very sensitive skin.
‘You could have at least shaved, Miss.’ one of the boys teased. Rachel went red with embarrassment. In the week at Camp she hadn’t bothered to shave, especially since she always wore the baggy shirts. So by now her underarms sported some dark stubble which I found strangely arousing. ( unshaven armpits were not unusual in Germany in those days).
Satisfied with her reaction the boys proceeded to tickle all around her exposed underarms, only just stopping short of reaching her breasts. I’m sure the boys had the time of their lives, having this voluptuous beauty at their mercy.
The armpit tickling really got to Rachel, who was now nearly screaming with what seemed like agony. Kids can be so cruel, can’t they. They took absolutely no pity and continued to tickle the crap out of her, baying and laughing all the while.
It was a hot summers day and with all her struggling Rachel had broken out in quite a sweat. Her face and exposed upper body were covered in a sheen of perspiration, which did not seem to bother the kids much.
For another few minutes she had to endure dozens of fingers stroking and tickling every inch of her bare skin, shrieking and begging all the time for them to stop.
Finally the kids ended that part of her torture, and proceeded with the other stuff. Rachel told me later the buckets of cold water were a welcome relief. She even eventually forgave me for what she described as the worst hour of her life.
