Ah, the casual cruelty of college friends (F/M)

[Wade1]

What happened this Thanksgiving

It was a small and motley gathering this year, composed primarily of people who didn't or couldn't or wouldn't travel home to see their families (this included me, my fiancee, and her sister) and also a couple of people who didn't want to see their families and so traveled here instead (this included my old college tormentor Sarah).

I wouldn't have been surprised if I'd never seen Sarah again after college, since we were never close, brought together chiefly by mutual connections and a drive to irritate one another. But we've actually gotten chummier since then--she's mellowed, and probably so have I. Besides, she knows and likes my fiancee, so once again I find myself bonded to Sarah through a girlfriend.

Dinner was over and everyone was sitting around talking idly. I was at the corner of the table with Sarah to my right; my fiancee's sister sat across from me, next to her boyfriend. My fiancee sat next to him.

I was teasing my future sister-in-law mercilessly about something (maybe I haven't mellowed or matured after all) and she was jokingly beseeching me to stop. "Sarah," she cried across the table, "Can't you control him?"

"I don't know," Sarah said in that wry and throaty voice of hers. "Maybe."

I should've seen this next part coming; I should've fled when I had the chance.

Next thing I knew I felt Sarah's fingers playing at my right side, scampering roughly down my ribs and across my waist and back up again.

Needless to say, I convulsed and shrieked.

"Guess I can control him, a little bit," Sarah said as she began to dart both her hands at my twitching abdomen and sides, me twisting in my seat and trying to smack her hands away.

"Oh, that's right," my future sister-in-law said. "Wade's really ticklish," I heard her say to her boyfriend, and just as I had successfully scooted my chair back away from the table enough to be able to spring away and escape, I discovered her standing to my left, her fingers crawling mischievously under my arm and across my ribs.

Giggling, I squealed "No! Please! Stop!" One or both of the women torturing me must have shot a glance--seeking permission?--over at my fiancee, because through my own hysterical giggles I could hear her say something like "Don't stop on my account." Or "Sounds like he likes it." Or something like that... I wasn't exactly concentrating.

If you've ever been tickled relentlessly while sitting in a chair you'll probably recognize this next part: as the twenty fingers continued their easy and merciless assault against my writhing abdomen I started that pointless slow-motion slide out of the chair and toward the floor, that maneuver that's less an escape strategy than it is a surrender to gravity. Their hands followed me guffawing all the way down--the slender, manicured, insidiously scuttling fingers of my fiancee's sister, and the brusque and assertively efficient big strong hands of Sarah. By this time I was emitting a mortifying sound that I can only roughly approximate here as GYEE HEE HEE, GYEE HEE HEE.

Next thing I knew I was on the rug, half under the table, the women looming over me, their hands still darting at whichever ticklish spot I was failing to defend at any given moment.

Then someone suggested opening another bottle of wine and they both abruptly stopped tickling me in order to partake.

I laid off teasing my fiancee's sister, at least for the rest of that evening...

 

[sole seeker1]

Damn fine thread!

Personally, I think you should have taken a shot at her feet. Just because she's not ticklish on her ribs and armpits doesn't mean she's tickle free.

 

[Wade1]

Tempting advice. Sarah did say she'd probably be coming back through town around Christmas. On the other hand, history shows that every time I try to take such advice, it just turns into yet another opportunity for Sarah to reduce me to a ticklish mass of pudding.

Fact is, my fiancee's sister is wildly ticklish, and I have managed to get the upper hand with her a few times. But of course on this occasion by the time she'd entered the fray I was in no position to take the offensive; I was pretty much helpless to do anything but shriek and hope the two of them stopped soon...

 

[Wade1]

I haven't gotten a chance to relate it here yet, but when Sarah came through town over the holidays, against my better judgment, I yet again followed the advice of folks on here and tried tickling her again.

The big news: turns out she is ticklish, significantly ticklish, in (apparently) exactly one place.

But the story doesn't end as you'd think it would.

Or maybe it ends exactly as you think it would.

Anyway, more details when I get the time to write 'em down...

 

[milagros317]

Do post the details when you have the time, Wade. Your true stories are always worth reading. :yellowsta

 

[TicklishDom]

I haven't gotten a chance to relate it here yet, but when Sarah came through town over the holidays, against my better judgment, I yet again followed the advice of folks on here and tried tickling her again.

The big news: turns out she is ticklish, significantly ticklish, in (apparently) exactly one place.

But the story doesn't end as you'd think it would.

Or maybe it ends exactly as you think it would.

Anyway, more details when I get the time to write 'em down...

So what happen?

 

[jj82277]

I haven't gotten a chance to relate it here yet, but when Sarah came through town over the holidays, against my better judgment, I yet again followed the advice of folks on here and tried tickling her again.

The big news: turns out she is ticklish, significantly ticklish, in (apparently) exactly one place.

But the story doesn't end as you'd think it would.

Or maybe it ends exactly as you think it would.

Anyway, more details when I get the time to write 'em down...

oh please have mercy. this thread has been dripping with antagonistic tension since it started, we have to know how it ends.

 

[jj82277]

bump to the top

 

[Wade1]

Okay, here ya go:

So. As expected, Sarah came through town for the holidays. Mostly stayed at my fiancee's place, but her last night in town she crashed on my sofa, for sundry convoluted and boring reasons (my fiancee's sister was staying with her that night and both of them were getting up insanely early the next morning to catch a flight, etc. etc. etc.)

So we're all hanging out at my place and my fiancee and her sister leave to go back to her place and there's Sarah sitting on my sofa. Intermittently over the previous couple of days I'd looked for an opening to try what others on this board had kept urging me to do--find her ticklish spot, she must have one somewhere, and then seize the opportunity to punish her for her frequent and merciless attacks on me in the past.

Opportunity never really presented itself, though. I knew her sides and abdomen were impervious. She never took her shoes off. Chances to poke under her arms were rare, and if my aim was off just a little it could come off very, very awkwardly.

But time was running out, and the idea of getting revenge was oh so tempting, and there she was sitting on the sofa idly reading, completely unsuspecting.

So I sat down next to her and firmly seized both of her knees.

Success!

Sarah pitched forward on the sofa, her book flying across the room, and gripped my forearms desperately. I held on to her knees for dear life and kept squeezing and tweaking. And she laughed. Instantly, wildly and helplessly. A giddy and high-pitched squeal of a laugh. In all the years I'd known Sarah I'd heard her laugh many times, sometimes heartily, but it was always a deep and throaty laugh, a laugh commensurate with her gravitas and demeanor. But this was a whooping, helpless, girlish giggle, and I think the mortifying sound of it pouring from her own mouth had as much to do with the embarrassed pink flush rising to Sarah's cheeks as anything else did.

She lurched back into the sofa cushions, eyes squeezed shut tight, unable to speak through her constant stream of giggles, her hands clasping my arms and struggling mightily to pull my hands from her knees--I fight I was winning, but barely, because Sarah's a strong girl.

She was trying to say something that started with "G," but her own laughter prevented her; it kept coming out as geeheehee, geeheehee. My determination to keep tickling her knees went beyond mere revenge at this point; I knew if I stopped she'dturn instantly to the task of destroying me.

Failing to pry my grip from her knees, Sarah let go, her hands flying helplessly up to her chest, elbows bent, palms up, an unintentional and automatic posture of surrender, one I recognized from having been driven into it many times myself, sometimes by Sarah--which kept me tickling.

I'd never heard her laugh like this. Her cheekbones were bright pink as she twisted and arched her back, her giggles a shrill and musical cascade. She started sliding slowly off the sofa and toward the floor, shirt riding up on her pale belly; I followed, of course, because to release her knees for even a second would mean my own doom. But leaning forward, staggering to follow her, reduced my position of strength, and as she finally landed on her back I had one foot on the floor and my other knee on the couch, trying to jockey for a more advantageous position. But she grabbed my arms and pulled and I tumbled onto my left shoulder next to her, no longer in contact with her vulnerable knees.

A lively and desperate scuffle ensued; lots of grabbing of wrists and shouldering of ribs, each of us fighting as if for our life. I'm not even sure what happened, specifically; I was focused entirely on trying to resist Sarah's weighted assaults and on trying to get my hands back on her knees.

Didn't work out though.

In the end, I found myself in the completely awkward position of lying on my back on the floor with Sarah sitting on my chest--with her back to me! In other words, her ass was close to my face--closer, anyway, than any face wants an ass to be if that ass doesn't belong to a girlfriend or wife. But obviously, ass/face proximity was, at that moment, absolutely the least of my worries.

I don't know if Sarah had any more idea how we'd ended up in this position than I did; our impromptu wrestling match had been so fevered and chaotic that I don't think she'd planned this outcome, at least not far in advance. But obviously it placed her at a distinct advantage.

I, of course, panicked. I felt more panicky about the prospect of this impending tickling than I'd ever felt before; I was humiliated that my whole body was writhing in alarmed anticipation, but I couldn't possibly stop it.

"Sarah Sarah Sarah Sarah," I said. "I'm sorry I'm so sorry I apolo--!"

And that's when I felt her fingers on my abdomen, ten fingers, free and unimpeded, scrambling briskly in aimless circles on my stomach and sides. I shrieked. I shrieked and shrieked. If Sarah thought her melodious and girlish giggling was embarrassing, it had nothing on the ignominy of my helpless and animalistic shrieking.

Fingers on my stomach, fingers on my sides, fingers on my stomach and sides and stomach and sides for I don't know how long until...

Sarah lifted her hands from me. I couldn't see her face but there was barely a hint of a smile in her voice when she said, darkly, "I think you want me to do this to you."

"No I don't No I don't--"

"Why else would you be such a brat? You must like it. You must like it when I do this."

Which maybe meant she was going to stop!! This was promising.

"So I guess all I can do is tickle you and tickle you until you can't stand it anymore, until you never ever want it to happen to you again."

"NO Sarah PLEASE...!"

She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder. "And if that's not it? If you don't want me to do this? If you really just hate it? Well, then this is gonna be really bad." She turned away again. "Sorry 'bout that," she said. And more fingers on my stomach and my sides and my stomach and my sides.

My legs kicked and flailed pointlessly as I burst again into hysterical laughter. There was nothing else for me to do. Sarah's fingers scampered up and down my ribs, across my abdomen, past my love handles , because she wanted to make me squeal and writhe, and I had no choice: I had to squeal and writhe for as long as she wanted to make me do it.

How long was it before she stopped again? No idea. But she stopped again and I jumped in before she could say anything: "Sarah, please, I'll do anything you want, please no more, I'll do anything you want."

This seemed to interest and appease her. "You'll do anything I want, huh?"

"Anything, please yes, I promise."

"Well, okay," Sarah said. "I want you to suffer." Fingers on my ribs my sides my stomach my ribs my stomach my sides; giggles emitted from me in surprised and helpless protest.

She stopped again. "Which is good," she said, "because you're such a freakin' girl, it's easy to make you suffer."

"Sarah pleHEEHEEHEE--!" Stomach sides ribs ribs stomach sides.

Finally she stopped again. I was panting. I said, "Sarah, I promise, I'll never tickle you again."

"Um," she said, "no duh! I know you won't. That's not even an issue. I'm just trying to remember something."

What? But I wasn't about to ask, to enable her with clueless questions.

"This is what really kills you, isn't it?" she said as I felt her pulling my shirt up, exposing my abdomen. "This is what really used to kill you."

More involuntary writhing on my part. "Sarah, PLEASE...!"

"God, some things don't change, why are you still so freaking furry?" she said contemptuously. "You know there are places you can go to take care of that!"

And then the fresh and intolerable brushing of her fingertips across my bare skin, relentless, indomitable, so so so very ticklish! I was in renewed hysterics, reduced to nothing but the effects of her touch on my bare sides and stomach. Her fingers were warm and nimble and deft and strong and even in the haze of my hysteria I remember thinking "nothing in the universe could tickle more than this ever!"

"You know, Wade, you should take up bellydancing. I think you've got some aptitude." Her fingers scrambling in circles on either side of my navel, up to my rib cage and back down again, forcing my abdominal muscles to quiver and twitch, to recede and convulse under each swift touch. My laughter began to sound like blithering. "UNCLE!" I screamed. But apparently that doesn't work in real life.

The next coherent thought that arose incongruously in my brain was when I hoped, hoped so much, hoped fervently that she didn't notice the way my hysteria rose in pitch and desperation each time her fingers scampered across my love handle areas. But even as I thought that, as if she could read my mind, I felt her hands move to those areas and dwell there, fluttering and galloping in place, tickling and tickling and tickling and tickling. She could tell that this is what I couldn't stand: tickling fingers on my bare sides just above my waist, and so that was what she was gonna do to me, relentlessly, cruelly. I don't know if I've ever been so helpless in my life as I was at that moment, completely unable to do anything to stop the fluttering fingertips on my bare love handles; I felt like I was nothing but laughter, like laughter was all I was and all I could do. The torture, the constant laughter, began to go beyond giddy intolerability, to become almost bearable by becoming just a state of being: I am ticklishness, laughter is what I do. Almost.

Then. Finally. FINALLY. She stopped. And she said, "We have an understanding. You never tickle me again. You never try to tickle me again. You never allude to my being ticklish, around other people or just between us. Right?'

"Absolutely," I gasped.

"We have an understanding?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Because if you don't do that, I don't have to do this." Scampering up my abdomen; a fresh peal of involuntary giggles from me.

"I promise I PROMISE!" I coughed. "We have an understanding."

"Good. Because when you do that, and I do this, it reduces me. Takes me back to the old angry mean Sarah that I've been trying to leave behind. Right?"

"--Okay," I said.

"I'm probably gonna have to spend two therapist sessions just on having done this to you," she complained. "My therapist is gonna be all over this."

I don't think I even knew Sarah was in therapy. "--Sorry?" I said.

"And you don't ever annoy me in any way again, by being bratty or anything else," she said.

"How, how am I supposed to--?" But I was interrupted by renewed tickling above my waist; I convulsed and squealed. "YES I PROMISE I PROMISE!"

"Good." She sat back, pretty much crushing my chest under her, but I breathed shallowly and chose not to complain. She rested her hands on her hips, a job well done. "In college I wondered sometimes what it would be like if you got tickled until you couldn't take it anymore," she said. "Always people around in college, though, they would think it was weird. They'd think we had a flirtation or something stupid like that, think we liked each other or something, they wouldn't get it. Not like we get it."

"We have," I said, "an understanding."

Sarah flashed a merry smile at me over her shoulder. "Damn right," she said.

 

[sockticklingirl]

she got you good wade you have to be tougher and keep lock on those knees and if you get her where she cant fight back get those shoes off if you guys go at it again im cheering for you wade is the biggest ticklefight underdog

 

[MistressValerie1]

OMG, that was HOT! 😱

 

[Wade1]

Y'know, it didn't occur to me at the time--as I was distracted, not to mention frantic--but I did think to myself later, some time after Sarah had left town, "That was a scenario MistressValerie probably could have appreciated."

 

[Wade1]

wade is the biggest ticklefight underdog

That's actually a pretty apt description of me, whether I like it or not...

 

[sockticklingirl]

well i hope to hear more in the sarah and the ticklefight underdog saga

 

[Wade1]

well i hope to hear more in the sarah and the ticklefight underdog saga

No way, man. My days of incurring the wrath of Sarah's wicked fingers are over. She extorted that promise out of me and I'd have to be self-destructive not to keep it!

 

[sockticklingirl]

well when she said you and her have always had a understanding it seems like she may not be done and i kind of hope she isnt i love these stories

 

[Wade1]

So I spoke briefly with Sarah not too long ago when she called my financee's while I was there. I asked her if she'd wound up having to talk about me with her therapist.

"Yes," she said. "It was so annoying."

What did her therapist say, I asked?

"She kept asking me things like, 'When someone's very ticklish like that, don't you think holding them down and tickling them qualifies as cruel?' And I was like 'YES! That's why I DID it!'"

Apparently she's supposed to try and not do things like that anymore...

 

[Wade1]

I forgot maybe the funniest part:

Apparently Sarah said to her therapist something like: "You have no idea how annoying he can be! If you were there you would've done it too!"

 

[His Divine Shadow]

I forgot maybe the funniest part:

Apparently Sarah said to her therapist something like: "You have no idea how annoying he can be! If you were there you would've done it too!"

Well? Are you or are you not annoying? Maybe she is justified. 😛 Been lovin' these stories; your luck with getting targeted is something I'd love to have.

 

[sockticklingirl]

well i hope you are annoying to the pint she breaks and gives you a good tickling

 

[Wade1]

Well? Are you or are you not annoying? Maybe she is justified. 😛 Been lovin' these stories; your luck with getting targeted is something I'd love to have.

O, my powers of annoyingness are unparalleled. Which doubtless has something to do with when, how often and how furiously I get tickled. But I prefer to blame most of that on the sadism of others...

well i hope you are annoying to the pint she breaks and gives you a good tickling

I'm on my good behavior with her now!!

 

[sockticklingirl]

well for me you shouldnt be so i can read another funny story of you being a giggly puddle

 

[Wade1]

A few days ago there was a group on Facebook that declared it International Tickle Day.

So of course I messaged the link to Sarah.

Who emailed me and said "Don't make me come after you."

I'm very brave about being a brat to her when she's a few states away.

 

[Ave_Luna]

I just want to say that your stories are amazing. Your writing abilities are also amazing. Thanks for sharing with us.

Oh and even though I'm mostly a 'lee, I would love to get my hands on you. I have a bit of a mean streak myself. :ggrin:

 

[Wade1]

I just want to say that your stories are amazing. Your writing abilities are also amazing. Thanks for sharing with us.

Oh and even though I'm mostly a 'lee, I would love to get my hands on you. I have a bit of a mean streak myself. :ggrin:

Your flattering words are too too kind! I am not worthy.

Women with mean streaks... how is it that I manage to surround myself with them, against all interests of my self-preservation and dignity? And why are they so completely appealing?