Here's the story of this gentleman tickler's first long-term tickle victim. She was my college girlfriend Joyce. When Joyce was around, my "major" was TICKLING. . .
Joyce and I met at college through mutual friends. The first time we got together I tickled Joyce repeatedly. She laughed, squirmed and, to my delight, did not get mad. As we continued dating, tickling Joyce was as common as kissing. Even when I made her mad, she never left or threatened to break up with me. Joyce was under my thumb - and the rest of my fingers that were tickling her.
It was easy enough to hold Joyce on the sofa and tickle her midsection. She was maybe 5'4," a slim 105 lbs. with no muscle. How many times I tickled that year we dated, I can't count.
Joyce lived literally around the corner from me. That made it easy to see her daily, and that meant I tickled her daily. One time Joyce said she liked being with me, "except when you tickle me." Her plea did no good. When a woman wants you, she will put up with a heck of a lot!
The best tickling fun I had with Joyce came under the guise of giving her a back massage. I would get her relaxed but before long the tickling started. Joyce would remove her shirt and lay on her stomach on my bed or hers. I would straddle her, unsnap her bra and start massaging her back. Then I would fold back her arms, holding her wrists together with one hand while I tickled either side with the other. Joyce would squirm, then wriggle, saying, "Stop . . . STOP . . .," inevitably followed by her delightful scream as she shook, trying to free herself!
Ah, Joyce . . . I can't believe how many times you accepted my offer of a massage, not to mention how many times you asked me for a massage! You must have known what was coming!
Being college students, Joyce and I had roommates. Privacy was not always guaranteed. But one time Joyce and I were alone in a home she was housesitting. That may have been the most intense massage-tickle I put her through. I had Joyce screaming and thrashing about as I held those wrists, tickling her sensitive sides. She was really mad! But you know what? She did not tell me to leave.
Sometimes during a massage-tickle I would reach back and tickle Joyce's feet. That really drove her berserk. She kicked like a mule, so getting her feet did not last long.
We were drinking one night alone at her place when the subject of bondage came up. Joyce consented to let me tie her arms behind her back because she wanted a rape fantasy. As I went to tie her up, she looked at me, non-verbally communicating all the tickles I had put her through. She said, "If you tickle me, I will never trust you
again."
As any guy should know, you always respect a woman's limits. I could push Joyce pretty far but if I took advantage of her this time, I would exceed her limit. As hard as it was to resist, I did not tickle Joyce when she was tied up. Instead, I did the play-rape routine she wanted, lightly slapping her, unbuttoning her shirt and kissing & fondling her breasts. Then I freed her.
It was Joyce's turn. She tied my arms behind my back. A look of "at last" came over her. Joyce wanted revenge for all the tickling I had put her through! Unfortunately for poor Joyce, her tickle techniques were so poor that, despite being very ticklish, I did not laugh when she tickled my ribs and stomach. As I was drunk, my senses may have been dulled. That, along with bodily defense mechanisms (I'm less ticklish when restrained), made Joyce's attempted revenge a flop. Disappointed, she untied me.
If I had asked, Joyce would have married me. And as perfect a tickle victim as Joyce was, I didn't want her for the rest of my life. But sometimes when I wish I had a girl to tickle, I wonder if I should have married Joyce!
Joyce and I met at college through mutual friends. The first time we got together I tickled Joyce repeatedly. She laughed, squirmed and, to my delight, did not get mad. As we continued dating, tickling Joyce was as common as kissing. Even when I made her mad, she never left or threatened to break up with me. Joyce was under my thumb - and the rest of my fingers that were tickling her.
It was easy enough to hold Joyce on the sofa and tickle her midsection. She was maybe 5'4," a slim 105 lbs. with no muscle. How many times I tickled that year we dated, I can't count.
Joyce lived literally around the corner from me. That made it easy to see her daily, and that meant I tickled her daily. One time Joyce said she liked being with me, "except when you tickle me." Her plea did no good. When a woman wants you, she will put up with a heck of a lot!
The best tickling fun I had with Joyce came under the guise of giving her a back massage. I would get her relaxed but before long the tickling started. Joyce would remove her shirt and lay on her stomach on my bed or hers. I would straddle her, unsnap her bra and start massaging her back. Then I would fold back her arms, holding her wrists together with one hand while I tickled either side with the other. Joyce would squirm, then wriggle, saying, "Stop . . . STOP . . .," inevitably followed by her delightful scream as she shook, trying to free herself!
Ah, Joyce . . . I can't believe how many times you accepted my offer of a massage, not to mention how many times you asked me for a massage! You must have known what was coming!
Being college students, Joyce and I had roommates. Privacy was not always guaranteed. But one time Joyce and I were alone in a home she was housesitting. That may have been the most intense massage-tickle I put her through. I had Joyce screaming and thrashing about as I held those wrists, tickling her sensitive sides. She was really mad! But you know what? She did not tell me to leave.
Sometimes during a massage-tickle I would reach back and tickle Joyce's feet. That really drove her berserk. She kicked like a mule, so getting her feet did not last long.
We were drinking one night alone at her place when the subject of bondage came up. Joyce consented to let me tie her arms behind her back because she wanted a rape fantasy. As I went to tie her up, she looked at me, non-verbally communicating all the tickles I had put her through. She said, "If you tickle me, I will never trust you
again."
As any guy should know, you always respect a woman's limits. I could push Joyce pretty far but if I took advantage of her this time, I would exceed her limit. As hard as it was to resist, I did not tickle Joyce when she was tied up. Instead, I did the play-rape routine she wanted, lightly slapping her, unbuttoning her shirt and kissing & fondling her breasts. Then I freed her.
It was Joyce's turn. She tied my arms behind my back. A look of "at last" came over her. Joyce wanted revenge for all the tickling I had put her through! Unfortunately for poor Joyce, her tickle techniques were so poor that, despite being very ticklish, I did not laugh when she tickled my ribs and stomach. As I was drunk, my senses may have been dulled. That, along with bodily defense mechanisms (I'm less ticklish when restrained), made Joyce's attempted revenge a flop. Disappointed, she untied me.
If I had asked, Joyce would have married me. And as perfect a tickle victim as Joyce was, I didn't want her for the rest of my life. But sometimes when I wish I had a girl to tickle, I wonder if I should have married Joyce!
