So, I haven't been around here lately, mostly due to the fact that I was involved with quite possibly the longest and most painful breakup I've ever experienced. And then I got mono and actually had to be put on medical leave from school for the rest of the year, so I'm living at home again, and blah, blah, blah. This guy I went to high school with is home, too, because he's waiting for an assignment because he's with the armed forces and such...and now I'm just starting to ramble, ha ha. This was all well over a month ago. To make a long story very, very short, we ended up spending tons of time together, whether it was going for runs around town, or him bringing me food when I was too sick to get out of bed. The night of the day I was considered to not be contagious anymore, we went out for drinks, and hooked up. We've been dating ever since, and he's the most amazing guy I've ever met.
So, the other day, we were at his house, making out on the couch, and my shirt kinda started riding up, so he reached down to slide it back down for me, knowing how much I hate it when my shirt rides up, and his hand accidentally brushed against my side. Reflexively, I latched my arms down by my sides and gasped. He gave me somewhat of a concerned frown, smirking a little bit.
"What's wrong?" He asked, and I quickly put my arms back in the position they'd been in earlier, shaking my head.
"Nothing." I said, and tried to kiss him again, when he pulled his head back, smirking.
"Wait, Kristin, you're not...you're not ticklish, are you?" He asked, and put a hand around my wrists, which were positioned above my head, where I always put them when we're making out.
"No, what are you talking about?" I asked, trying to free my arms from his grip, but he tightened it too quick, and I couldn't get them out. He grinned down at me, and I tried to hide the panic in my eyes.
"You know," He started, giving me a light poke in the side, "part of my training, for the militia, was how to tell if someone is lying..." He said, and I chewed my lip, trying not to let myself start giggling nervously as his hand hovered above my exposed belly.
"Really?" I said, trying to sound as interested as I could, hoping to distract him and possibly free myself from his grip. He nodded, still grinning evilly at me.
"So, if you're not ticklish..." He trailed off, wiggling his fingers above my stomach, causing me to start giggling, "this should do nothing." He said, and spidered his fingers around my belly, making me shriek.
"No! Please, baby, if you love me, you won't do this!" I pleaded, and he grinned, leaning over to kiss me.
"I love you. But you're just too cute to not do this to." He said, and continued to tickle me for a good ten minutes while I begged and pleaded for him to stop. Finally, his older sister walked in through the kitchen and punched him in the shoulder.
"Stop torturing the poor girl, you ass." She said, and with what seemed like no effort at all (she's been in the militia for a good two years now), hauled him off of me. "The girl weighs ninety pounds and just got over mono. Her skinny ass may be able to outrun your skinny ass and take you down on the rugby pitch, but don't torture her." She said, laughing, and turned to me. "I'll teach you how to fight him. You've got to agree to gain at least ten pounds first, though, twig." (She was the captain of the rugby team at our high school when I was in grade eleven, and then the county team over the summer that just passed. Twig is a nickname given to me because I'm so tiny.) She said, and smiled at me, and then whispered, "Wanna get him back? Attack his ribs."
...I'm still waiting for the perfect chance to get my revenge.
So, the other day, we were at his house, making out on the couch, and my shirt kinda started riding up, so he reached down to slide it back down for me, knowing how much I hate it when my shirt rides up, and his hand accidentally brushed against my side. Reflexively, I latched my arms down by my sides and gasped. He gave me somewhat of a concerned frown, smirking a little bit.
"What's wrong?" He asked, and I quickly put my arms back in the position they'd been in earlier, shaking my head.
"Nothing." I said, and tried to kiss him again, when he pulled his head back, smirking.
"Wait, Kristin, you're not...you're not ticklish, are you?" He asked, and put a hand around my wrists, which were positioned above my head, where I always put them when we're making out.
"No, what are you talking about?" I asked, trying to free my arms from his grip, but he tightened it too quick, and I couldn't get them out. He grinned down at me, and I tried to hide the panic in my eyes.
"You know," He started, giving me a light poke in the side, "part of my training, for the militia, was how to tell if someone is lying..." He said, and I chewed my lip, trying not to let myself start giggling nervously as his hand hovered above my exposed belly.
"Really?" I said, trying to sound as interested as I could, hoping to distract him and possibly free myself from his grip. He nodded, still grinning evilly at me.
"So, if you're not ticklish..." He trailed off, wiggling his fingers above my stomach, causing me to start giggling, "this should do nothing." He said, and spidered his fingers around my belly, making me shriek.
"No! Please, baby, if you love me, you won't do this!" I pleaded, and he grinned, leaning over to kiss me.
"I love you. But you're just too cute to not do this to." He said, and continued to tickle me for a good ten minutes while I begged and pleaded for him to stop. Finally, his older sister walked in through the kitchen and punched him in the shoulder.
"Stop torturing the poor girl, you ass." She said, and with what seemed like no effort at all (she's been in the militia for a good two years now), hauled him off of me. "The girl weighs ninety pounds and just got over mono. Her skinny ass may be able to outrun your skinny ass and take you down on the rugby pitch, but don't torture her." She said, laughing, and turned to me. "I'll teach you how to fight him. You've got to agree to gain at least ten pounds first, though, twig." (She was the captain of the rugby team at our high school when I was in grade eleven, and then the county team over the summer that just passed. Twig is a nickname given to me because I'm so tiny.) She said, and smiled at me, and then whispered, "Wanna get him back? Attack his ribs."
...I'm still waiting for the perfect chance to get my revenge.
