The Self-diagnosing Tickler

You already know my fetish, it’s not about feet, or orgasms, or screaming. It’s about laughter. Helpless, uncontrollable, body-wracking laughter. Tickling is my favorite tool, the most beautiful. But it’s not the only one. I have others, crueler tools, to extract laughter, to push the body...

There’s something about laughter. I don’t mean the polite kind or the fake chuckles we all toss out in conversations. I mean the real kind. The kind that takes over her whole body like a wave. The kind that leaves her breathless, writhing, completely undone. When a woman laughs like that...

I was maybe four or five, in kindergarten. Stuck in a clunky wheelchair, oversized for my body and unmoving. The other kids were running wild, laughing, climbing, roughhousing, all things I couldn’t do. I sat in front of the sandbox. Observing. Always observing. And then it happened. Two boys...