Eternal Tomboy
TMF Master
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2001
- Messages
- 980
- Points
- 18
Hotchytick posted his “Nothing will ever top this experience” story, which reminded me of a boyfriend I had when I was a teenager. I posted a little snippet on his thread, but I’ll expound more on that experience here - wouldn’t want to be labeled a thread hijacker ;-)
Growing up on Long Island, one of the best summer jobs to have (mostly for the teen to early 20’s set) was to work at Jones Beach. They paid well, although it was a bit grueling to watch everyone sunning themselves on the beach while you were stuck wearing long black pants and serving up fast food at the concession stand. But it had a great social scene among the workers (a lot of after hours parties), and most of the time, we all had fun goofing around with each other during work hours too.
I was on a break and went to visit a girlfriend of mine who was working in the ice cream parlor (ICP to those in the know). It was there that I first saw D (not using his full name here). He was tall, cute, and had a full head of dark hair… although it was a bit difficult to see beneath that silly paper hat they made him wear. During my visit with K (girlfriend), D and I traded innocent flirtations and smiles, but nothing of note. After my shift was over, I casually mentioned to K that I thought D was pretty cute and sent her on a mission to “feel him out” and see if he would be interested in dating me. I’m not sure why teenagers can’t voice their own interests (fear of outright rejection, would be my guess), but back then a girl almost always had a cohort that was willing to go behind enemy lines and find out any information she could about the object of her friend’s affection.
The next day I was pleased to find out (from my little spy) that D returned my interest. So much so, that he started peppering K with a slew of questions to find out more about me… one of which (in particular) sent chills down my spine. He had actually asked K if I was ticklish. Never before in my young history had a guy shown equal interest (to my own) in that particular area – I was stunned (and thrilled, and terrified, and excited, etc.)! K, being the traitor that she is, gave up the fact that yes, I was definitely ticklish. She also gave D my phone number, which he used later that night.
Like most High School budding romances, much of the relationship goes on over the phone – D and I would spend HOURS talking on the phone. He lived a few towns over from my own, so seeing him on a regular basis was difficult. We talked about everything, but always in the back of my mind was that ONE particular question he had asked K… I was on pins and needles waiting to see if he would bring it up with me directly. It was during our second or third phone conversation that he finally did.
When he brought it up, he said “So, K told me something interesting about you….” , and then left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.
I knew instantly what he was referring to – my stomach did a series of summersaults and then sprang to life with a flurry of butterflies. I was so glad that he was on the other end of a phone because he couldn’t see me blushing and grinning like an idiot. “Oh?” was all I could say in return.
“Yeah, she told me that you were really ticklish.” He said, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice.
I giggled, more out of sheer nervousness than actual humor. “Yeah, well she’s been known to LIE a lot.” I joked.
He laughed. “Oh, so you’re NOT ticklish?” He said in a tone of voice that made no effort in hiding the fact that he thought I was full of shit.
I was beyond amazed that I was having this conversation with a guy. All of the other guys I had dated had found out I was ticklish through actually tickling me, so no real conversation on the subject had ever taken place before. But because D and I had a phone cord between us, all of the normal physical discoveries had been verbal up until that point. Which was awkward for a teenage girl who NEVER discussed those kinds of things in fear of actually dying of embarrassment.
“I don’t think I should answer that.” I said, with another nervous giggle.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself then.” He said with another auditory smile.
He seemed content to let the subject drop, and the rest of the conversation went on with no more mention about tickling. We made plans to hang out the next day – although we were both scheduled to work, the forecast was rain, and that meant that there was a very good chance that we would both be “called off” (one of the pitfalls of working at the beach – not being able to work in inclement weather – great for the social life, hell on the paycheck). When I woke-up the next day, I was never so happy to see wet, grey skies before.
Since this was during my pre-driver’s license days, I found out the bus schedule, and called D, letting him know which bus to expect me on. He met me at the drop-off, and walked me back to his house (we decided to stay indoors because of the crappy weather outside). Both of his parents were at work, leaving us alone in the house – a prospect that I had mixed feelings about.
At first, we just talked, and watched TV – there was very little physical contact. I had picked a show to watch that he hated (I forget what it was, but I can remember him making fun of it – it was either a cheesy talk show or soap opera, not sure which). Then after my program was over, to bug me, he turned on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood – which even when I was a little kid, I found annoying.
“NO WAY am I watching this crap!” I joked and went to grab for the remote.
“But I LOVE Mr. Rogers.” He teased and held the remote out of my reach.
“You do NOT!” I laughed and continued to try to get the remote away from him.
A wrestling match ensued, and because he was much bigger than me, he was winning without much effort. That was when the tickling began (bet you were wondering when the hell I was going to get to this part, huh? lol). I started it, as I often did back then, just to get the tickling ball rolling. Although I got the feeling that with D, I wasn’t going to have to try nearly as hard as I normally did with other boys. It was obvious from our phone conversation that he had just as much interest in this area as I did. When I tickled him, I got a fairly ticklish reaction. But because of our size difference, all I got out of him was a quick laugh before he restrained my hands.
“Oh, you want to go there?” He asked, and began an all out tickling attack. He found out very quickly just how ticklish I was. “I knew you were lying over the phone when you said you weren’t ticklish.” He teased and continued to tickle the hell out of me.
Back then (late 80’s, early 90’s), the style was the wear your jeans with both of the knees ripped out. D took the opportunity to go after my exposed knees, and seemed to delight in the insanely ticklish reaction he got out of me. During this wrestling/tickling match, he accidentally ripped one of the knee holes even more than it was already – giving him even more access than he had before. I feigned anger that he had ruined my favorite pair of jeans, but couldn’t do so seriously because I was laughing too hard. This went on for the remainder of the afternoon, taking breaks for kissing, catching our breath, and watching other TV programs (that didn’t involve anything on PBS).
His Dad came home from work, and D gave us a quick introduction. I was paranoid about my appearance – after wrestling around all afternoon, I knew my hair was probably all over the place, and I had one knee hole that was ripped considerably more than the other. But his dad didn’t seem too suspicious of us, and made no quarrels when D said that he and I were going to go up to his room.
I laid down on his bed (on my stomach), and grabbed one of his Calvin & Hobbes comic books (my favorite at the time). He seated himself at the foot of the bed, and scooped up both of my feet and placed them in his lap. I had long since kicked off my sneakers by that point, and only had on a pair of white socks. I don’t know if he was just trying to distract me from my reading, or if he had as much of an interest in feet as he did in tickling (I suspect that it was the latter), but he started to very gently tickle my feet. Not enough to make me pull them away, but just enough to make them squirm in his lap, and get a few giggles out of me. Every so often, he would pick of the pace to get some real laughter out of me, but otherwise seemed content to just keep me on the edge between relaxation and ticklishness.
It was after about an hour of this teasing tickle play when he posed the question, “You love being tickled, don’t you?”
Up until that point, I had never been blatantly confronted about my fetish. It sparked another flurry of butterflies in my stomach, and I knew by the heat of my face that I was turning bright red. I quickly looked over at him, despite the fact that I knew I was red-faced and probably grinning like little kid on Christmas morning, only to see him grinning just as widely as I was. There wasn’t a chance in hell that I could either confirm or deny his allegation without sounding like and idiot, so I just turned back around and pretended to keep reading the comic – even though there was no chance in hell of actually being able to concentrate on reading at that point.
Thankfully, he just let the subject drop, probably because by that point, he knew more about me from my actions than I could ever express verbally. Had the same situation happened now (that I’m an adult), things may have gone in another direction, but back then, I was SO far in the closet about my fetish that I couldn’t even utter the word “tickle” (or any variation of it), much less discuss it at length with a guy.
Sadly, our relationship didn’t last very long – as is probably true with most teenage romances. It was in part the distance between us, it made getting together difficult since neither of us had our license at that point. Also, he came into my life at a time when I was still in and on-again-off-again relationship with another guy – making me even more emotionally confused than usual. But he will always remain in my memory as the first guy to ever share my love of tickling.
Last I heard, he had moved to California (certainly out of reach for this NY girl). So D.B, if you happen to STILL love tickling now as much as you did back then, and are lurking somewhere on these TMF boards (what are the odds of THAT happening?!), drop me a PM and we can take a stumble down memory lane together.
Growing up on Long Island, one of the best summer jobs to have (mostly for the teen to early 20’s set) was to work at Jones Beach. They paid well, although it was a bit grueling to watch everyone sunning themselves on the beach while you were stuck wearing long black pants and serving up fast food at the concession stand. But it had a great social scene among the workers (a lot of after hours parties), and most of the time, we all had fun goofing around with each other during work hours too.
I was on a break and went to visit a girlfriend of mine who was working in the ice cream parlor (ICP to those in the know). It was there that I first saw D (not using his full name here). He was tall, cute, and had a full head of dark hair… although it was a bit difficult to see beneath that silly paper hat they made him wear. During my visit with K (girlfriend), D and I traded innocent flirtations and smiles, but nothing of note. After my shift was over, I casually mentioned to K that I thought D was pretty cute and sent her on a mission to “feel him out” and see if he would be interested in dating me. I’m not sure why teenagers can’t voice their own interests (fear of outright rejection, would be my guess), but back then a girl almost always had a cohort that was willing to go behind enemy lines and find out any information she could about the object of her friend’s affection.
The next day I was pleased to find out (from my little spy) that D returned my interest. So much so, that he started peppering K with a slew of questions to find out more about me… one of which (in particular) sent chills down my spine. He had actually asked K if I was ticklish. Never before in my young history had a guy shown equal interest (to my own) in that particular area – I was stunned (and thrilled, and terrified, and excited, etc.)! K, being the traitor that she is, gave up the fact that yes, I was definitely ticklish. She also gave D my phone number, which he used later that night.
Like most High School budding romances, much of the relationship goes on over the phone – D and I would spend HOURS talking on the phone. He lived a few towns over from my own, so seeing him on a regular basis was difficult. We talked about everything, but always in the back of my mind was that ONE particular question he had asked K… I was on pins and needles waiting to see if he would bring it up with me directly. It was during our second or third phone conversation that he finally did.
When he brought it up, he said “So, K told me something interesting about you….” , and then left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air.
I knew instantly what he was referring to – my stomach did a series of summersaults and then sprang to life with a flurry of butterflies. I was so glad that he was on the other end of a phone because he couldn’t see me blushing and grinning like an idiot. “Oh?” was all I could say in return.
“Yeah, she told me that you were really ticklish.” He said, and I could almost hear the smile in his voice.
I giggled, more out of sheer nervousness than actual humor. “Yeah, well she’s been known to LIE a lot.” I joked.
He laughed. “Oh, so you’re NOT ticklish?” He said in a tone of voice that made no effort in hiding the fact that he thought I was full of shit.
I was beyond amazed that I was having this conversation with a guy. All of the other guys I had dated had found out I was ticklish through actually tickling me, so no real conversation on the subject had ever taken place before. But because D and I had a phone cord between us, all of the normal physical discoveries had been verbal up until that point. Which was awkward for a teenage girl who NEVER discussed those kinds of things in fear of actually dying of embarrassment.
“I don’t think I should answer that.” I said, with another nervous giggle.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself then.” He said with another auditory smile.
He seemed content to let the subject drop, and the rest of the conversation went on with no more mention about tickling. We made plans to hang out the next day – although we were both scheduled to work, the forecast was rain, and that meant that there was a very good chance that we would both be “called off” (one of the pitfalls of working at the beach – not being able to work in inclement weather – great for the social life, hell on the paycheck). When I woke-up the next day, I was never so happy to see wet, grey skies before.
Since this was during my pre-driver’s license days, I found out the bus schedule, and called D, letting him know which bus to expect me on. He met me at the drop-off, and walked me back to his house (we decided to stay indoors because of the crappy weather outside). Both of his parents were at work, leaving us alone in the house – a prospect that I had mixed feelings about.
At first, we just talked, and watched TV – there was very little physical contact. I had picked a show to watch that he hated (I forget what it was, but I can remember him making fun of it – it was either a cheesy talk show or soap opera, not sure which). Then after my program was over, to bug me, he turned on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood – which even when I was a little kid, I found annoying.
“NO WAY am I watching this crap!” I joked and went to grab for the remote.
“But I LOVE Mr. Rogers.” He teased and held the remote out of my reach.
“You do NOT!” I laughed and continued to try to get the remote away from him.
A wrestling match ensued, and because he was much bigger than me, he was winning without much effort. That was when the tickling began (bet you were wondering when the hell I was going to get to this part, huh? lol). I started it, as I often did back then, just to get the tickling ball rolling. Although I got the feeling that with D, I wasn’t going to have to try nearly as hard as I normally did with other boys. It was obvious from our phone conversation that he had just as much interest in this area as I did. When I tickled him, I got a fairly ticklish reaction. But because of our size difference, all I got out of him was a quick laugh before he restrained my hands.
“Oh, you want to go there?” He asked, and began an all out tickling attack. He found out very quickly just how ticklish I was. “I knew you were lying over the phone when you said you weren’t ticklish.” He teased and continued to tickle the hell out of me.
Back then (late 80’s, early 90’s), the style was the wear your jeans with both of the knees ripped out. D took the opportunity to go after my exposed knees, and seemed to delight in the insanely ticklish reaction he got out of me. During this wrestling/tickling match, he accidentally ripped one of the knee holes even more than it was already – giving him even more access than he had before. I feigned anger that he had ruined my favorite pair of jeans, but couldn’t do so seriously because I was laughing too hard. This went on for the remainder of the afternoon, taking breaks for kissing, catching our breath, and watching other TV programs (that didn’t involve anything on PBS).
His Dad came home from work, and D gave us a quick introduction. I was paranoid about my appearance – after wrestling around all afternoon, I knew my hair was probably all over the place, and I had one knee hole that was ripped considerably more than the other. But his dad didn’t seem too suspicious of us, and made no quarrels when D said that he and I were going to go up to his room.
I laid down on his bed (on my stomach), and grabbed one of his Calvin & Hobbes comic books (my favorite at the time). He seated himself at the foot of the bed, and scooped up both of my feet and placed them in his lap. I had long since kicked off my sneakers by that point, and only had on a pair of white socks. I don’t know if he was just trying to distract me from my reading, or if he had as much of an interest in feet as he did in tickling (I suspect that it was the latter), but he started to very gently tickle my feet. Not enough to make me pull them away, but just enough to make them squirm in his lap, and get a few giggles out of me. Every so often, he would pick of the pace to get some real laughter out of me, but otherwise seemed content to just keep me on the edge between relaxation and ticklishness.
It was after about an hour of this teasing tickle play when he posed the question, “You love being tickled, don’t you?”
Up until that point, I had never been blatantly confronted about my fetish. It sparked another flurry of butterflies in my stomach, and I knew by the heat of my face that I was turning bright red. I quickly looked over at him, despite the fact that I knew I was red-faced and probably grinning like little kid on Christmas morning, only to see him grinning just as widely as I was. There wasn’t a chance in hell that I could either confirm or deny his allegation without sounding like and idiot, so I just turned back around and pretended to keep reading the comic – even though there was no chance in hell of actually being able to concentrate on reading at that point.
Thankfully, he just let the subject drop, probably because by that point, he knew more about me from my actions than I could ever express verbally. Had the same situation happened now (that I’m an adult), things may have gone in another direction, but back then, I was SO far in the closet about my fetish that I couldn’t even utter the word “tickle” (or any variation of it), much less discuss it at length with a guy.
Sadly, our relationship didn’t last very long – as is probably true with most teenage romances. It was in part the distance between us, it made getting together difficult since neither of us had our license at that point. Also, he came into my life at a time when I was still in and on-again-off-again relationship with another guy – making me even more emotionally confused than usual. But he will always remain in my memory as the first guy to ever share my love of tickling.
Last I heard, he had moved to California (certainly out of reach for this NY girl). So D.B, if you happen to STILL love tickling now as much as you did back then, and are lurking somewhere on these TMF boards (what are the odds of THAT happening?!), drop me a PM and we can take a stumble down memory lane together.
. 
I agree that it was a bit hard to find someone who I could fully connect with back then. Since it was before the internet, I definitely felt like the only person on the planet who loved tickling. By the way, good luck finding L again... or at least someone like her. 
