@torturoustickle 's post takes me back to a story of mine that is kinda similar.
So, for a brief time, I used to live in "The Middle of Nowhere," Pennsylvania. It was for my father's job, and I thought I hated living there. Looking back, I didn't. M.O.N. Pennsylvania was beautiful.
But I do remember the nephew/son of a family, who I'll call Timmy to keep his privacy.
Younger Sunrise and Timmy REALLY couldn't stand each other. We fought all the time, and I mean it! We fought in Sunday school. We fought when our families got together for the holidays. We fought on whatever playing field we met on. We were highly competitive. I don't remember us getting along the entire time that our families visited each other through grade school and middle school.
So, when I was in high school, my parents decided to drive us up one fall from Atlanta to "M.O.N.," PA, and I was looking forward to it. I wanted to feel that cold, crisp snap in the air that we hardly ever felt in the south. I wanted to play in piles of fallen fiery leaves. Most of all, I wanted to eat whatever their mother baked. She baked the most delectable desserts. Piles upon piles of cookies, brownies, endless rows of pies and cakes lined the counter. If you ever dream of sweets, just know where most people had living rooms filled with knickknacks, at her house, every corner of every table had some sugary morsel. It was like a yummy dream, and I couldn't wait to partake. (I can still see the desserts when I close my eyes TO THIS DAY!)
It would be fun to see how the cousins, sisters, and brothers had grown over the years. I couldn't wait to see the crisscross of the hills covered in farmland. I couldn't wait to see smoke curling from chimneys. I couldn't help but wish for snow.
When we arrived there was nothing but hugs and squeezes. The room was filled with joy, and I could tell that although we had changed physically, nothing else had. The mother had cooked all day. Everyone had grown so much! I was probably munching on a snickerdoodle or something when in walked my nemesis, Timmy... Oh Timothy, now! My goodness, he was gorgeous!
He was tall, muscular, quiet-spoken... He had the bluest eyes I had ever seen! We both recognized each other immediately, for sure. I'm positive my mouth was agape, and he just smiled at me and then said hello to everyone else.
We spent the rest of the afternoon playing football outside with some of his friends as our parents caught up. I don't really remember dinner or even dessert. I just remember that after dinner, Timothy suggested that we continue playing football downstairs in the basement. Of course, we said yes.
So, we were in the basement, and I remember that we removed all the cushions from the couches. I remember everyone taking turns trying to get from one end to the other and tacking each other on the cushions to prevent the other team from getting a touch down.
After awhile, everyone else left the basement, and only Timothy and I remained. I was (and still am) fairly strong, but I enjoyed the feeling of flying through the air to get by him. I enjoyed the feeling of him catching me, wrapping me around my waist, and slamming down on those cushions more. Eventually, we kept allowing ourselves to get caught. And we laid on each other face to face way too long for a simple tackle. Then, when Timothy tackled me and goosed my sides, I melted. My competitiveness gave way to uncontrollable giggles.
I was on offense the remainder of the time. And he tickled me every single time he tackled me. Goodness, I loved it! It didn't matter where he tickled me... sides, armpits, ribs over and over, knees, thighs, and feet (We both were in our socks). Every touch worked. He would tickle me, and I would collapse, drop the ball, and try to protect myself with the throw pillows.
We played until we were called upstairs. I don't know how long we played alone. I'm pretty sure it was for a couple of hours, and I am also sure I was blushing and breathless when we trudged reluctantly away from each other and off to bed. The rest of our visit was a blur. I just know that he tickled me, and I was in love with that Timothy for at least 3 months when I went back to Atlanta. (LOL LOL LOL)
It's been decades, but I'll never forget how a night of tackle football changed enemies to friends.
It's probably also why I love wrestling around and tickling more than ANYTHING else.
Bondage is great, and often necessary, but pick me up, pin me down, tickle me and I'm yours. (for a moment)
Good times.
