Now then, I stress first thing that this is NOT my story, but it’s apparently based on a true experience. It’s from blue a fellow TMFer called ShadowTickler, and can be found on the forum several times. However, the first time I read this story - over 20 years ago now - it stuck with me, and showed the power that a well written tickling story can have. It was a huge influence on my writing style, and every so often I revisit it just to remember that first time of reading it. With no further ado, I give you ‘Ticklish Aunt Sarah’. Enjoy!
Aunt Sarah was about the most ticklish person I ever knew. Also, at my age at the time, I didn't know too many other women, but today, as a grown man, I can honestly say that still. Aunt Sarah wasn't really my aunt; she was my mother's best friend and I only knew her as Aunt Sarah. She would often baby-sit my younger brother Pete and I. She was so pretty. She had long, brown hair and a slim, sleek body with curves in all the right places. I always found her feet particularly attractive. She liked to take her shoes off in the house and walk around in her stockings. Her feet looked so sheen, so deliciously smooth and soft in those black stockings she used to wear. Aunt Sarah always dressed well. She would wear skirts and heels and tight fitting shirts. My libido was intense back then, and as my sexuality was forming, my hormones raced like moray eels through my body, electrifying me with fervent desire. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that anything having to do with tickle torture seemed to ignite my loins with the most intense feelings. I often fantasized about rendering aunt Sarah helpless and then tickling her slowly. I imagined how she would react; begging me through a continuous stream of womanly laughter--that mature, deep and hearty laughter that only a full-grown woman could produce. Those thoughts filled many a night as I lay, nursing my raging, young erection, in my bed.
I had heard her laugh like that before at a party my parents had at the house. I was supposed to be asleep, but I snuck downstairs from my bedroom when the loud sounds of people talking and laughing, turned into a solo of laughing, screaming fits! I can spot the sound of beautiful, yet urgent laughter anywhere; even then! What I heard was sheer music. I got a hard-on so fierce from the sound that I had to scurry down the stairs to see what was happening. What I would see would change my life forever. There she was, this beautiful lady that had been the focus of so many late-night tickling fantasies, pinned down by my mother and some other friends, all obviously drunk beyond reasonable inhibitions, while two other women and a man tickled her on her sides and stomach. She was frantic! She was laughing like crazy and begging them to stop the tickling. My mind was racing at the sight of this ticklish, beautiful woman being subjected to such horrific, yet delightful torture. It was obvious that she couldn't stand to be tickled. She thrashed and screamed. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut one moment and sprang wide the next, followed by a flood of perpetual giggling and breathless pleading! Despite her incredible desperation, the group would not stop tickling her.
I had heard aunt Sarah laugh heartily during conversations with my Mom, which was previously the fuel stoking my imaginative fires, but this was different! Even in my fantasies, I could not have imagined the sounds that emanated from her smooth, long throat. Such melody; the depth and intonation of her laughter was a rich mixture concocted from deep within her abdomen and thrust forward with such force, that the sound felt as though it reverberated within my body cavity! I saw my mother abandon the spot where she was holding Aunt Sarah and go down to her feet. Aunt Sarah released an ear-splitting scream when she felt mom remove her left shoe. Aunt Sarah shrieked with pitiful cries, begging my mother to stop as she removed her right shoe. To watch my own mother do what she did next, was the breaking point for me. Aunt Sarah's attention had shifted completely to what my mother was about to do next. She squealed and struggled with renewed strength as my mother used her long fingernails to gently tickle from the heels to toes of Aunt Sarah's stocking feet. The barrage of laughter that would result from that attack was deafening! Aunt Sarah went into a panic and struggled with great force. She threatened to leap off of the floor. It would be necessary for another person to aid in holding her down for this excruciating tickling assault. Aunt Sarah screamed with renewed laughter and her body flailed wildly while my mother prolonged her attack on this woman's poor, helpless feet.
My ears began to heat up and ring with excitement and I felt my stomach drop through the floor. This was the most exciting thing I had ever seen. The way Sarah begged so pitifully made me insane with excitement! As I sat out of sight on the stairway, I continued to stare at the fantastic spectacle. What a delightful laugh she had. It was turning high-pitched and her screams would linger long and loud before melting into a crescendo of staccato giggling. The sound went through my loins like a hot knife through butter. When they finally let her up, I ran back upstairs and played with myself again and again, until I was washed over with that familiar shivering sensation that made me feel so good. I couldn't believe my brother slept through the whole thing.
Mom & Dad Take a Trip
Now, this would be the weekend that Aunt Sarah would baby-sit us. I couldn't wait to see her. I had been replaying her ordeal in my mind over and over, all week just thinking about that night I had seen her being tickled to such a crazy state. I just knew I wouldn't be able to look at her without getting weak-kneed!Pete, my brother, and I decided we were going to get one really good shot at Aunt Sarah. She was baby-sitting for us on a Friday night and Mom and Dad wouldn't be home until Sunday. Quite frankly, we felt we were both way too old for a babysitter, but we didn’t complain. Oh, what a delicious plan we had. We were going to play "Spy" and we would get Aunt Sarah to be the "Spy!"
It had gotten pretty late, by our normal standards, and Aunt Sarah was hinting that it was almost time for bed. We whined and complained about how we weren't done playing our game yet. I told Aunt Sarah that we were playing spy, but we didn't have anyone to be the spy. I asked her if she would volunteer, but she said "No." A bit more persisting and she finally agreed to play the spy if we promised to go to bed afterward. We readily agreed and the plan was off to a great start! Pete and I convinced Aunt Sarah that we were going to have to tie her up to a wooden chair like in the James Bond movies and question her about the secret formula. She agreed and we sat her comfortably in a heavy wooden chair that we planned to use for just this occasion. We wrapped rope around her upper arms, her wrists and ankles. Pete had the idea to tie her knees together. He said that she would not be able to go anywhere.
Aunt Sarah giggled at the handiwork we were spinning with the rope. She said she couldn't believe how involved we got with this game. When she was secured, the fun would be about to begin! Pete and I scurried around to the back of the chair and pulled it backward. Aunt Sarah shrieked and scolded us to put her down, which we promptly did...on her back! Aunt Sarah was completely vulnerable and helpless. She seemed a bit uneasy about her inescapable position, and said "Okay guys, you've had your fun, now, let me up." Pete, realizing that we had better make our move now if we were going to make it at all, began the interrogation.
"Okay spy!" he said with child-like mischief. "Where is the formula?"
"I don't know." she said coyly.
Pete asked again, this time with more deliberation in his voice.
"We know you are hiding the secret formula. Now tell us where it is!"
Aunt Sarah began to go along with the game, realizing the futility of her escape and started struggling and pouting like the helpless farm girl in a scene from "Scaramouche."
"I'll never tell you where the formula is!"
Pete and I looked at each other with the most evil grin. It must have been somewhat apparent to Aunt Sarah, because she wanted to call an end to this little game of ours.
"Okay, guys. We've played long enough. It's time for bed. Now untie me, okay?"
Each of us sat down at one of Aunt Sarah's feet. Aunt Sarah struggled hard at this point and strained to keep us in her sight. I guess the psychological teasing of not being able to see what we were doing was starting to get to her, because she made a second attempt to disrupt our game.
"I'm not kidding guys. You untie me right now. It's past your bed time!"
Ignoring her warnings, Pete continued with his ultimatum to our "spy."
"If you do not tell us where the formula is right now, we will have no choice but to torture you until you do, you evil spy!"
Aunt Sarah stiffened momentarily and then began to struggle mightily at the sound of such a threat. She wasn't sure what we had up our sleeves, but she was sure she didn't want to find out. We had obviously done an excellent job in binding her, because she could not get away, no matter how hard she tugged and pulled at the ropes.
"N-Now boys...that's enough! Do you hear me?"
We said nothing.
"What are you doing down there? Let's untie Aunt Sarah, O- okay?"
Pete and I nodded to each other as we sat comfortably on the floor at Aunt Sarah's trapped feet. We each pulled off a shoe, slowly and deliberately. Aunt Sarah clenched her toes tightly in an attempt to keep the shoes on her pretty feet, but a little more tugging and we achieved our goal, exposing her wiggling, stocking feet. Aunt Sarah renewed her struggling attempts at freedom. Pete and I placed the shoes on either side of Aunt Sarah. She could see each of our hands reach out to place a shoe on either side of her, but she still could not see what we were doing down there. Each of us tugged gently at the toes of her stocking material. Her burst of thrashing and pulling told us she had a very good idea what type of torture we were about to administer, but she dare not utter the words, for fear of placing herself in an even more "ticklish" position.
Our fingers were poised for the attack. Aunt Sarah's feet wriggled and twitched involuntarily. Perhaps some deep seeded fear of having her feet bared caused this uncontrollable action. She curled her toes time and time again as she attempted to reason with us, but it would be too late!
"I-I don't know what you're planning guys, b-but you had better not do anything. I-I'm warning you. Wait until your parents get ho-ho-ho-HEE HEE HA HA HA HAAA AAAIIIEEE YAAAHA HA HA HA HA HA HAAA NO! NOOOOOO! AAAAIIIEEE AHA HA HA HA HAHA!"
The tickling had caught her so by surprise that she flinched violently against the ropes with panic, before letting out a piercing scream, laced with maniacal laughter. We continued the foot tickling, scratching up and down her silken soles, making her literally rigid with wrenching laughter.
"AAAAAA HA HA HA HA AHWWWAAHAHA HA HA HA HAAAAIIIIEEEE! NO! NO! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA HAHA HA AHPPLLEASE PLEASE! NO! DON'T TICKLE ME! DON'T TICKLE MEEEE HE HEEEHE HE HA HA HA HA HAHA!"
I asked her again -
"Where is the formula you bad spy?"
She just continued screaming with laughter because Pete had pulled the toe of her stocking back to make her sole taut, so his fingers would glide over the hyper ticklish foot. I asked again. My tormenting question was repeated by Pete who would stop tickling momentarily to ask. She would take that time to beg for mercy. All she got was a renewal of her tickling torture. As we continued tickling Aunt Sarah with abandon, flashes of that night on the stairway ran through my mind. My goal would be to emulate those very same shrieks of insanity that had so excited me on that fateful evening. Not even Pete, who was obviously enjoying himself, could know just how obsessed I had become. Pete and I giggled mischievously as our fingers scampered aimlessly about Aunt Sarah's violently cringing soles. Her laughter had reached a new plateau and she would become nearly hysterical before we gave her a rest!
"Y-Y-Y-YOU'VE G-GOTTA STO-HOP! I CAN'T STAND IT! LET ME GO NOW! LET ME GO (gasp)! YOU WIN! I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FORMULA IS! YOU WIN! OKAY? OKAY? OK-A-AAAIIIIEEEEEE NOOOOOO! NOT THERE! AHA HAHA HA HA HA HAHAAAAIIIIIIEEEEE YYYYAAAHHH WWAH SHS HA HA HA HAH AH A HA HA HA HA HA HAH AH A HA HA HA HAAAA AAAAA! PLEEEEZZZZEEEE!"
We began again with the tickling and the interrogation. Aunt Sarah pleaded with forceful desperation. We had gotten her to the point of hysteria that I wanted; now, I wanted to take her beyond! I wanted this to be the memory that forever stayed branded in her mind as the worst/best tickling she has ever received! I wanted it to be me she remembered! It had to be me! I searched for spots on her feet that would elicit excited, desperate cries of laughter. Again, we began the interrogation, asking the same question time and time again.
"Where is the formula? We will tickle you until you tell us!"
Aunt Sarah could no longer protest. She had become feeble from the continued tickling and her voice was becoming steadily hoarse. Her laughter had elevated to near silence, occasionally interrupted a force of air that resembled a silent scream. We began again!
"I-I-I CA-CA-CA-CAN'T STA-A-A-A-A-AAAAAAIIIIII AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAA AAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEEE YAAAAA HAAA HAAA!"
Pete and I had determined that if we tickled Aunt Sarah's toes and heels at the same time, she would laugh more uncontrollably than ever. We used this technique to psychologically torture her into madness, threatening to implement this horrible weapon each and every time she gave us the wrong answer. Aunt Sarah had become so frantic by this time, that she was naming anything she could think of as the hiding place for the formula. Unfortunately for her, it didn't work. We simply renewed the tickling of her heels and toes! Her laughter had transformed into what sounded like some kind of demonic possession. She was uncontrolled and grunting and squealing. That beautiful laughter had turned to witch-like cackling! Her body was thrusting and heaving and straining against the ropes. Pete and I immediately stopped for fear that we were hurting Aunt Sarah. She screamed.
"D-DON'T S-S-STOP HA AHA HA HA HA HA! DON'T S- STOP! I'LL NEVER TALK! NEVER! NEVER! NE- NOOOO! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAH A HAHAAA!"
Hearing that was like music to our ears. We re-administered the tickling with even more evil intent. Aunt Sarah was bucking wildly against the ropes. I had never seen anything like that before. we didn't know what to make of it, so we kept tickling! In about 1 minute, Aunt Sarah stiffened all at once and let out a howling cry. Her body broke into what looked like seizures. Tiny little seizures that made her twitch rapidly and uncontrollably. When we finally stopped and untied her, we had to put ourselves to bed, because she was just lying there moaning and sighing. Her hair was frazzled and disheveled. Pete and I knew we were in trouble now. We had gone too far! Wait until my parents get home, I thought!
The next day was a very rainy Saturday. There wasn't much to do around the house and we didn't see much of Aunt Sarah. She must have really been mad at us. Suddenly, about noon, she emerged from my parent's bedroom wearing shorts and a tube top (they were "in" then). She was wearing "flip flop" slippers and her toenails were painted a bright red. Her feet looked delicious! She walked away from us toward our bedroom. We followed. She sat on the bed and, next to her was some more rope! She looked at us sternly. We knew we were going to get it now! She said
"I just want you boys to know that what you did last night was terrible!" Her voice softened. "I can't believe what you did!"
Her eyes stared right through us. I was afraid to even look at her from embarrassment, but something...made me.
"You allowed a spy to go free with valuable information. How do you know I wouldn't just go to the other side and give the formula to them?"
Our eyes sprang wide opened. What was I hearing? She was reprimanding us for not completing the job?! This was insane. Aunt Sarah picked up the rope and handed it to us.
"Lucky for you, that I was re-captured by the guards as I tried to escape. Without the secret formula, you guys can't save the world! So, how are you going to get it?"
Nothing else needed to be said! We jumped at the opportunity and immediately started what would be the second edition of Aunt Sarah's ticklish ordeal. Aunt Sarah would spend the rest of that rainy afternoon tied to the frame of our bed, laughing and screaming and pleading for mercy as we tickled her bare feet with a vengeance. Her bare feet were even more ticklish than her stocking feet. She would not be so lucky this time around. It was a weekend we would never forget!
Still a classic now...!
Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
Aunt Sarah was about the most ticklish person I ever knew. Also, at my age at the time, I didn't know too many other women, but today, as a grown man, I can honestly say that still. Aunt Sarah wasn't really my aunt; she was my mother's best friend and I only knew her as Aunt Sarah. She would often baby-sit my younger brother Pete and I. She was so pretty. She had long, brown hair and a slim, sleek body with curves in all the right places. I always found her feet particularly attractive. She liked to take her shoes off in the house and walk around in her stockings. Her feet looked so sheen, so deliciously smooth and soft in those black stockings she used to wear. Aunt Sarah always dressed well. She would wear skirts and heels and tight fitting shirts. My libido was intense back then, and as my sexuality was forming, my hormones raced like moray eels through my body, electrifying me with fervent desire. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that anything having to do with tickle torture seemed to ignite my loins with the most intense feelings. I often fantasized about rendering aunt Sarah helpless and then tickling her slowly. I imagined how she would react; begging me through a continuous stream of womanly laughter--that mature, deep and hearty laughter that only a full-grown woman could produce. Those thoughts filled many a night as I lay, nursing my raging, young erection, in my bed.
I had heard her laugh like that before at a party my parents had at the house. I was supposed to be asleep, but I snuck downstairs from my bedroom when the loud sounds of people talking and laughing, turned into a solo of laughing, screaming fits! I can spot the sound of beautiful, yet urgent laughter anywhere; even then! What I heard was sheer music. I got a hard-on so fierce from the sound that I had to scurry down the stairs to see what was happening. What I would see would change my life forever. There she was, this beautiful lady that had been the focus of so many late-night tickling fantasies, pinned down by my mother and some other friends, all obviously drunk beyond reasonable inhibitions, while two other women and a man tickled her on her sides and stomach. She was frantic! She was laughing like crazy and begging them to stop the tickling. My mind was racing at the sight of this ticklish, beautiful woman being subjected to such horrific, yet delightful torture. It was obvious that she couldn't stand to be tickled. She thrashed and screamed. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut one moment and sprang wide the next, followed by a flood of perpetual giggling and breathless pleading! Despite her incredible desperation, the group would not stop tickling her.
I had heard aunt Sarah laugh heartily during conversations with my Mom, which was previously the fuel stoking my imaginative fires, but this was different! Even in my fantasies, I could not have imagined the sounds that emanated from her smooth, long throat. Such melody; the depth and intonation of her laughter was a rich mixture concocted from deep within her abdomen and thrust forward with such force, that the sound felt as though it reverberated within my body cavity! I saw my mother abandon the spot where she was holding Aunt Sarah and go down to her feet. Aunt Sarah released an ear-splitting scream when she felt mom remove her left shoe. Aunt Sarah shrieked with pitiful cries, begging my mother to stop as she removed her right shoe. To watch my own mother do what she did next, was the breaking point for me. Aunt Sarah's attention had shifted completely to what my mother was about to do next. She squealed and struggled with renewed strength as my mother used her long fingernails to gently tickle from the heels to toes of Aunt Sarah's stocking feet. The barrage of laughter that would result from that attack was deafening! Aunt Sarah went into a panic and struggled with great force. She threatened to leap off of the floor. It would be necessary for another person to aid in holding her down for this excruciating tickling assault. Aunt Sarah screamed with renewed laughter and her body flailed wildly while my mother prolonged her attack on this woman's poor, helpless feet.
My ears began to heat up and ring with excitement and I felt my stomach drop through the floor. This was the most exciting thing I had ever seen. The way Sarah begged so pitifully made me insane with excitement! As I sat out of sight on the stairway, I continued to stare at the fantastic spectacle. What a delightful laugh she had. It was turning high-pitched and her screams would linger long and loud before melting into a crescendo of staccato giggling. The sound went through my loins like a hot knife through butter. When they finally let her up, I ran back upstairs and played with myself again and again, until I was washed over with that familiar shivering sensation that made me feel so good. I couldn't believe my brother slept through the whole thing.
Mom & Dad Take a Trip
Now, this would be the weekend that Aunt Sarah would baby-sit us. I couldn't wait to see her. I had been replaying her ordeal in my mind over and over, all week just thinking about that night I had seen her being tickled to such a crazy state. I just knew I wouldn't be able to look at her without getting weak-kneed!Pete, my brother, and I decided we were going to get one really good shot at Aunt Sarah. She was baby-sitting for us on a Friday night and Mom and Dad wouldn't be home until Sunday. Quite frankly, we felt we were both way too old for a babysitter, but we didn’t complain. Oh, what a delicious plan we had. We were going to play "Spy" and we would get Aunt Sarah to be the "Spy!"
It had gotten pretty late, by our normal standards, and Aunt Sarah was hinting that it was almost time for bed. We whined and complained about how we weren't done playing our game yet. I told Aunt Sarah that we were playing spy, but we didn't have anyone to be the spy. I asked her if she would volunteer, but she said "No." A bit more persisting and she finally agreed to play the spy if we promised to go to bed afterward. We readily agreed and the plan was off to a great start! Pete and I convinced Aunt Sarah that we were going to have to tie her up to a wooden chair like in the James Bond movies and question her about the secret formula. She agreed and we sat her comfortably in a heavy wooden chair that we planned to use for just this occasion. We wrapped rope around her upper arms, her wrists and ankles. Pete had the idea to tie her knees together. He said that she would not be able to go anywhere.
Aunt Sarah giggled at the handiwork we were spinning with the rope. She said she couldn't believe how involved we got with this game. When she was secured, the fun would be about to begin! Pete and I scurried around to the back of the chair and pulled it backward. Aunt Sarah shrieked and scolded us to put her down, which we promptly did...on her back! Aunt Sarah was completely vulnerable and helpless. She seemed a bit uneasy about her inescapable position, and said "Okay guys, you've had your fun, now, let me up." Pete, realizing that we had better make our move now if we were going to make it at all, began the interrogation.
"Okay spy!" he said with child-like mischief. "Where is the formula?"
"I don't know." she said coyly.
Pete asked again, this time with more deliberation in his voice.
"We know you are hiding the secret formula. Now tell us where it is!"
Aunt Sarah began to go along with the game, realizing the futility of her escape and started struggling and pouting like the helpless farm girl in a scene from "Scaramouche."
"I'll never tell you where the formula is!"
Pete and I looked at each other with the most evil grin. It must have been somewhat apparent to Aunt Sarah, because she wanted to call an end to this little game of ours.
"Okay, guys. We've played long enough. It's time for bed. Now untie me, okay?"
Each of us sat down at one of Aunt Sarah's feet. Aunt Sarah struggled hard at this point and strained to keep us in her sight. I guess the psychological teasing of not being able to see what we were doing was starting to get to her, because she made a second attempt to disrupt our game.
"I'm not kidding guys. You untie me right now. It's past your bed time!"
Ignoring her warnings, Pete continued with his ultimatum to our "spy."
"If you do not tell us where the formula is right now, we will have no choice but to torture you until you do, you evil spy!"
Aunt Sarah stiffened momentarily and then began to struggle mightily at the sound of such a threat. She wasn't sure what we had up our sleeves, but she was sure she didn't want to find out. We had obviously done an excellent job in binding her, because she could not get away, no matter how hard she tugged and pulled at the ropes.
"N-Now boys...that's enough! Do you hear me?"
We said nothing.
"What are you doing down there? Let's untie Aunt Sarah, O- okay?"
Pete and I nodded to each other as we sat comfortably on the floor at Aunt Sarah's trapped feet. We each pulled off a shoe, slowly and deliberately. Aunt Sarah clenched her toes tightly in an attempt to keep the shoes on her pretty feet, but a little more tugging and we achieved our goal, exposing her wiggling, stocking feet. Aunt Sarah renewed her struggling attempts at freedom. Pete and I placed the shoes on either side of Aunt Sarah. She could see each of our hands reach out to place a shoe on either side of her, but she still could not see what we were doing down there. Each of us tugged gently at the toes of her stocking material. Her burst of thrashing and pulling told us she had a very good idea what type of torture we were about to administer, but she dare not utter the words, for fear of placing herself in an even more "ticklish" position.
Our fingers were poised for the attack. Aunt Sarah's feet wriggled and twitched involuntarily. Perhaps some deep seeded fear of having her feet bared caused this uncontrollable action. She curled her toes time and time again as she attempted to reason with us, but it would be too late!
"I-I don't know what you're planning guys, b-but you had better not do anything. I-I'm warning you. Wait until your parents get ho-ho-ho-HEE HEE HA HA HA HAAA AAAIIIEEE YAAAHA HA HA HA HA HA HAAA NO! NOOOOOO! AAAAIIIEEE AHA HA HA HA HAHA!"
The tickling had caught her so by surprise that she flinched violently against the ropes with panic, before letting out a piercing scream, laced with maniacal laughter. We continued the foot tickling, scratching up and down her silken soles, making her literally rigid with wrenching laughter.
"AAAAAA HA HA HA HA AHWWWAAHAHA HA HA HA HAAAAIIIIEEEE! NO! NO! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA HAHA HA AHPPLLEASE PLEASE! NO! DON'T TICKLE ME! DON'T TICKLE MEEEE HE HEEEHE HE HA HA HA HA HAHA!"
I asked her again -
"Where is the formula you bad spy?"
She just continued screaming with laughter because Pete had pulled the toe of her stocking back to make her sole taut, so his fingers would glide over the hyper ticklish foot. I asked again. My tormenting question was repeated by Pete who would stop tickling momentarily to ask. She would take that time to beg for mercy. All she got was a renewal of her tickling torture. As we continued tickling Aunt Sarah with abandon, flashes of that night on the stairway ran through my mind. My goal would be to emulate those very same shrieks of insanity that had so excited me on that fateful evening. Not even Pete, who was obviously enjoying himself, could know just how obsessed I had become. Pete and I giggled mischievously as our fingers scampered aimlessly about Aunt Sarah's violently cringing soles. Her laughter had reached a new plateau and she would become nearly hysterical before we gave her a rest!
"Y-Y-Y-YOU'VE G-GOTTA STO-HOP! I CAN'T STAND IT! LET ME GO NOW! LET ME GO (gasp)! YOU WIN! I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FORMULA IS! YOU WIN! OKAY? OKAY? OK-A-AAAIIIIEEEEEE NOOOOOO! NOT THERE! AHA HAHA HA HA HA HAHAAAAIIIIIIEEEEE YYYYAAAHHH WWAH SHS HA HA HA HAH AH A HA HA HA HA HA HAH AH A HA HA HA HAAAA AAAAA! PLEEEEZZZZEEEE!"
We began again with the tickling and the interrogation. Aunt Sarah pleaded with forceful desperation. We had gotten her to the point of hysteria that I wanted; now, I wanted to take her beyond! I wanted this to be the memory that forever stayed branded in her mind as the worst/best tickling she has ever received! I wanted it to be me she remembered! It had to be me! I searched for spots on her feet that would elicit excited, desperate cries of laughter. Again, we began the interrogation, asking the same question time and time again.
"Where is the formula? We will tickle you until you tell us!"
Aunt Sarah could no longer protest. She had become feeble from the continued tickling and her voice was becoming steadily hoarse. Her laughter had elevated to near silence, occasionally interrupted a force of air that resembled a silent scream. We began again!
"I-I-I CA-CA-CA-CAN'T STA-A-A-A-A-AAAAAAIIIIII AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAA AAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HA HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEE HEEEE YAAAAA HAAA HAAA!"
Pete and I had determined that if we tickled Aunt Sarah's toes and heels at the same time, she would laugh more uncontrollably than ever. We used this technique to psychologically torture her into madness, threatening to implement this horrible weapon each and every time she gave us the wrong answer. Aunt Sarah had become so frantic by this time, that she was naming anything she could think of as the hiding place for the formula. Unfortunately for her, it didn't work. We simply renewed the tickling of her heels and toes! Her laughter had transformed into what sounded like some kind of demonic possession. She was uncontrolled and grunting and squealing. That beautiful laughter had turned to witch-like cackling! Her body was thrusting and heaving and straining against the ropes. Pete and I immediately stopped for fear that we were hurting Aunt Sarah. She screamed.
"D-DON'T S-S-STOP HA AHA HA HA HA HA! DON'T S- STOP! I'LL NEVER TALK! NEVER! NEVER! NE- NOOOO! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAH A HAHAAA!"
Hearing that was like music to our ears. We re-administered the tickling with even more evil intent. Aunt Sarah was bucking wildly against the ropes. I had never seen anything like that before. we didn't know what to make of it, so we kept tickling! In about 1 minute, Aunt Sarah stiffened all at once and let out a howling cry. Her body broke into what looked like seizures. Tiny little seizures that made her twitch rapidly and uncontrollably. When we finally stopped and untied her, we had to put ourselves to bed, because she was just lying there moaning and sighing. Her hair was frazzled and disheveled. Pete and I knew we were in trouble now. We had gone too far! Wait until my parents get home, I thought!
The next day was a very rainy Saturday. There wasn't much to do around the house and we didn't see much of Aunt Sarah. She must have really been mad at us. Suddenly, about noon, she emerged from my parent's bedroom wearing shorts and a tube top (they were "in" then). She was wearing "flip flop" slippers and her toenails were painted a bright red. Her feet looked delicious! She walked away from us toward our bedroom. We followed. She sat on the bed and, next to her was some more rope! She looked at us sternly. We knew we were going to get it now! She said
"I just want you boys to know that what you did last night was terrible!" Her voice softened. "I can't believe what you did!"
Her eyes stared right through us. I was afraid to even look at her from embarrassment, but something...made me.
"You allowed a spy to go free with valuable information. How do you know I wouldn't just go to the other side and give the formula to them?"
Our eyes sprang wide opened. What was I hearing? She was reprimanding us for not completing the job?! This was insane. Aunt Sarah picked up the rope and handed it to us.
"Lucky for you, that I was re-captured by the guards as I tried to escape. Without the secret formula, you guys can't save the world! So, how are you going to get it?"
Nothing else needed to be said! We jumped at the opportunity and immediately started what would be the second edition of Aunt Sarah's ticklish ordeal. Aunt Sarah would spend the rest of that rainy afternoon tied to the frame of our bed, laughing and screaming and pleading for mercy as we tickled her bare feet with a vengeance. Her bare feet were even more ticklish than her stocking feet. She would not be so lucky this time around. It was a weekend we would never forget!
Still a classic now...!
Cheers, everybody,
SmashTV
Last edited:
I must have missed it twenty years ago. 
