XAsMoXDeUsX
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Sep 30, 2006
- Messages
- 142
- Points
- 16
I love stories where a girl gets tricked into being tickled.
Fortunately, while my immediate family was fairly small, I had a much larger extended family with many cousins, and so throughout childhood I was presented with wonderful tickling opportunities.
There was one trick I tried on and off over the years that always met with amazing results (which was frankly very surprising to me):
I would tell my victim that I had read about a new relaxation technique, and ask them if they wanted to test it out.
They would say yes, and then I would tell them to lie down, close their eyes, and take a deep breath.
Then, I would tell them to count to ten, VEEEEERY slowly.
Then, as they were counting, I would crouch down right next to their feet . . . I would reach out my fingers, bringing them closer and closer to the soft, vulnerable soles of their bare feet . . .
….and once they got to 10, without warning I would hold down their ankles with one hand and mercilessly TICKLE their bare feet, nonstop, watching them squirm and writhe, first with shock, then from trying to resist the torturous sensations. I usually didn’t carry on for TOO long, but just enough to watch them get a bit flustered 😉
I’ve done this many times (ah, to be young and be able to get away with (al)most everything), so a lot of the experiences, while wonderful for me, would read too similarly to warrant writing up separate accounts of each. Instead, I’ve decided to write about one memorable one. NOTE: while the majority of these experiences happened when I was way younger, this one I am posting about occurred when I was 18, with a cousin who was two years older than me, so there are no minors involved. This was one of the last times I tried this technique, and I'm surprised I was able to pull it off!
a)This experience concerns a cousin I’ll call Tammy. When I was younger, she and her two sisters lived right next door to my family, so we were often over at each other’s houses. Tammy about 5’6, very thin and pale, with long, wavy brown hair and brown eyes. She was pretty much your typical California beach girl; she usually wore flip flops, and always kept her toes painted.
I’d spent the night at my cousins’ house, and woke up to find it was only me and Tammy (her mom had gone out, and one of her sisters was at school, while the other was at a friend’s house).
Upon realizing this, I decided to try the “relaxation” ruse on Tammy, as I knew from previous experiences that she had ticklish feet. Years before, she’d brought a friend of hers over to watch a movie with the rest of us, and at one point they ended up sitting at opposite ends of the couch (so each of their legs reached close to the other’s chest, if that makes sense). Tammy was wearing white cotton socks, and all of a sudden the guy asked, “Ticklish?” and began gently poking her soles.
I watched with sudden interest as the poking got quicker and more frequent, and how Tammy’s poor feet instantly began to squirm and twitch.
“Yup,” she said, inhaling sharply immediately after the second poke, “yup,yup,YUP!” she gasped with each successive poke.
Eventually it got to be too much for her, and she ended up having to shift her position to protect herself.
All of this lasted only a few seconds, but I was intrigued, and wondered if I would ever have the opportunity to tickle Tammy’s feet for myself.
Well, fast forward a few years later. I was about to find out.
As we had both woken up some time ago, we were still in our pjs (and, I was pleased to note that Tammy was wearing fluffy slippers, but no socks).
We were both in the living room, sipping tea, and then I started a “random” conversation about how it’s interesting that the internet has made it so much easier to find really helpful advice on a seemingly unlimited number of topics.
She agreed.
“The trouble is,” I said, “it can be written by anybody, and so some of it is pretty . . . strange.”
Again she agreed, and started to tell me about some of the allegedly delicious recipes she’d tried that had turned out disastrously.
Not to be swayed, I continued on about how there were also those bits of advice that seemed strange at first, but were actually really helpful—
--like this one relaxation technique I’d stumbled upon a few weeks back.
She asked what it was, and I told her that it was a kind of directed breathing exercise that someone helped you through. I told her how I was skeptical about it when I first ran into it, but how I’d consented to have a friend help me through it, and I’d discovered that it really worked (of course that part was bullshit).
She seemed a bit suspicious, but ultimately decided to give it a go.
I told her to lie face down on the couch.
She thought that part was weird (I don’t blame her!), but I managed to imrpov some bullshit about how the slightly more uncomfortable position actually enabled you to relax more in the end, and (this is where that incredulity about how I actually convinced people to go through with this really kicked in) she did it, kicking off her slippers and lying, face down, on the couch, with her bare feet now freshly exposed. I noticed her toes were painted a very bright shade of red.
I told Tammy to close her eyes.
I told her to take a deep breath , and then exhale slooooowly.
“Now,” I said, “count to 10, out loud, also very slowly.”
She began to count.
“1 . . .”
I stayed still, just eyeing her toes.
“2 . . .”
“3 . . .”
They began to curl up, just a little.
“4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . .”
I began to walk over to the edge of the couch . . .
“7 . . .”
More unconscious twitching, I prepared myself . . .
“8 . . . “
Here goes, I thought . . .
“ 9 . . . “
Immediately after, I sat right on her ankles—
“te—Hey, what th----AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”
I immediately began scrabbling my fingers,frantically, all over the soles of her feet, watching them wrinkle, twist, and squirm helplessly, listening to her SHRIEK.
And I don’t know how else to describe the sound Tammy was making—it really was a SHRIEK. She was so ticklish that she didn’t even laugh, she just SCREAMED.
Eventually I stopped and got up.
“You . . . are . . . a jerk!” she said, her face red.
She was smiling though, so no hard feelings.
Anybody else have any stories involving being tricked into tickling?
Fortunately, while my immediate family was fairly small, I had a much larger extended family with many cousins, and so throughout childhood I was presented with wonderful tickling opportunities.
There was one trick I tried on and off over the years that always met with amazing results (which was frankly very surprising to me):
I would tell my victim that I had read about a new relaxation technique, and ask them if they wanted to test it out.
They would say yes, and then I would tell them to lie down, close their eyes, and take a deep breath.
Then, I would tell them to count to ten, VEEEEERY slowly.
Then, as they were counting, I would crouch down right next to their feet . . . I would reach out my fingers, bringing them closer and closer to the soft, vulnerable soles of their bare feet . . .
….and once they got to 10, without warning I would hold down their ankles with one hand and mercilessly TICKLE their bare feet, nonstop, watching them squirm and writhe, first with shock, then from trying to resist the torturous sensations. I usually didn’t carry on for TOO long, but just enough to watch them get a bit flustered 😉
I’ve done this many times (ah, to be young and be able to get away with (al)most everything), so a lot of the experiences, while wonderful for me, would read too similarly to warrant writing up separate accounts of each. Instead, I’ve decided to write about one memorable one. NOTE: while the majority of these experiences happened when I was way younger, this one I am posting about occurred when I was 18, with a cousin who was two years older than me, so there are no minors involved. This was one of the last times I tried this technique, and I'm surprised I was able to pull it off!
a)This experience concerns a cousin I’ll call Tammy. When I was younger, she and her two sisters lived right next door to my family, so we were often over at each other’s houses. Tammy about 5’6, very thin and pale, with long, wavy brown hair and brown eyes. She was pretty much your typical California beach girl; she usually wore flip flops, and always kept her toes painted.
I’d spent the night at my cousins’ house, and woke up to find it was only me and Tammy (her mom had gone out, and one of her sisters was at school, while the other was at a friend’s house).
Upon realizing this, I decided to try the “relaxation” ruse on Tammy, as I knew from previous experiences that she had ticklish feet. Years before, she’d brought a friend of hers over to watch a movie with the rest of us, and at one point they ended up sitting at opposite ends of the couch (so each of their legs reached close to the other’s chest, if that makes sense). Tammy was wearing white cotton socks, and all of a sudden the guy asked, “Ticklish?” and began gently poking her soles.
I watched with sudden interest as the poking got quicker and more frequent, and how Tammy’s poor feet instantly began to squirm and twitch.
“Yup,” she said, inhaling sharply immediately after the second poke, “yup,yup,YUP!” she gasped with each successive poke.
Eventually it got to be too much for her, and she ended up having to shift her position to protect herself.
All of this lasted only a few seconds, but I was intrigued, and wondered if I would ever have the opportunity to tickle Tammy’s feet for myself.
Well, fast forward a few years later. I was about to find out.
As we had both woken up some time ago, we were still in our pjs (and, I was pleased to note that Tammy was wearing fluffy slippers, but no socks).
We were both in the living room, sipping tea, and then I started a “random” conversation about how it’s interesting that the internet has made it so much easier to find really helpful advice on a seemingly unlimited number of topics.
She agreed.
“The trouble is,” I said, “it can be written by anybody, and so some of it is pretty . . . strange.”
Again she agreed, and started to tell me about some of the allegedly delicious recipes she’d tried that had turned out disastrously.
Not to be swayed, I continued on about how there were also those bits of advice that seemed strange at first, but were actually really helpful—
--like this one relaxation technique I’d stumbled upon a few weeks back.
She asked what it was, and I told her that it was a kind of directed breathing exercise that someone helped you through. I told her how I was skeptical about it when I first ran into it, but how I’d consented to have a friend help me through it, and I’d discovered that it really worked (of course that part was bullshit).
She seemed a bit suspicious, but ultimately decided to give it a go.
I told her to lie face down on the couch.
She thought that part was weird (I don’t blame her!), but I managed to imrpov some bullshit about how the slightly more uncomfortable position actually enabled you to relax more in the end, and (this is where that incredulity about how I actually convinced people to go through with this really kicked in) she did it, kicking off her slippers and lying, face down, on the couch, with her bare feet now freshly exposed. I noticed her toes were painted a very bright shade of red.
I told Tammy to close her eyes.
I told her to take a deep breath , and then exhale slooooowly.
“Now,” I said, “count to 10, out loud, also very slowly.”
She began to count.
“1 . . .”
I stayed still, just eyeing her toes.
“2 . . .”
“3 . . .”
They began to curl up, just a little.
“4 . . . 5 . . . 6 . . .”
I began to walk over to the edge of the couch . . .
“7 . . .”
More unconscious twitching, I prepared myself . . .
“8 . . . “
Here goes, I thought . . .
“ 9 . . . “
Immediately after, I sat right on her ankles—
“te—Hey, what th----AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!”
I immediately began scrabbling my fingers,frantically, all over the soles of her feet, watching them wrinkle, twist, and squirm helplessly, listening to her SHRIEK.
And I don’t know how else to describe the sound Tammy was making—it really was a SHRIEK. She was so ticklish that she didn’t even laugh, she just SCREAMED.
Eventually I stopped and got up.
“You . . . are . . . a jerk!” she said, her face red.
She was smiling though, so no hard feelings.
Anybody else have any stories involving being tricked into tickling?
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Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
