tklsh_student
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My brother Patrick invented a game which he discovered one afternoon by plucking a fluffy feather from a pillow, and dragging it absent-
mindedly along his chin. Here's how it worked: We would flip a coin to decide who would be the "torturer" and who the "torturee." Whoever lost the
coin toss would have to lie down on his bed, his arms at his sides. Then the torturer would use the feather to tickle the face of the torturee. The
rules were, the tickler could only tickle the ticklee's face from ear to ear, and not above the hairline or below the chin. The torturee had to
remain completely still, and he couldn't blow on the feather; if he wiggled any part of his body, including his face, as a result of the tickling,
then the torturer would win, and he would stop the watch to see how long it took, then it would be the other's turn.
Now, to be successful at this game, you had to develop advanced tickling techniques. Well, my brother and I became experts pretty quickly,
and had mapped all the nerves of the face better than an acupuncturist. But Patrick became the true Expert Torturer. He acquired a knowledge of which
areas of the face were so sensitive to the feather's touch, that they would quiver almost immediately. But as we played this game longer, we both
developed a high tickle-tolerance, which meant that tickling no single area of the face, no matter how sensitive, would guarantee a win.
And Patrick, a true student of this game, quickly figured this out. He discovered that to win the game, he had to tickle the face in multiple
areas in quick succession. He would start out by ever so gently touching the feather to my left cheek. This was his way of saying, "I know this
doesn't tickle too much, but I want your imagination to run wild thinking about how much your face is about to get tickled." Then, I would feel the
feather brush from my cheek to my ear. The feather would swirl along my ear until the sensation would get so intense that my brain would scream to my
hands to scratch it! So I would try to think intently of something else to distract myself from the tickling; I would think of shooting hoops, or
playing my keyboard; but as I'm thinking of these things, Patrick would deftly begin to tickle my right ear also; now both ears are on fire, saying
"scratch me, you fool, this tickles like crazy!"
At this point, my breath quickens as my desperation increases. It was at this point that Patrick would cleverly tickle my nose, upper lip and
chin in quick succession with deft movements of the fluffy down feather. Finally, my nose or lip or cheek would wiggle or twitch, thus signalling
victory for Patrick, who would stop the watch. I would then realize that my brother could break me in under three minutes with a fluffy down feather.
It was this game, I think, that sparked my fetish for tickling.
mindedly along his chin. Here's how it worked: We would flip a coin to decide who would be the "torturer" and who the "torturee." Whoever lost the
coin toss would have to lie down on his bed, his arms at his sides. Then the torturer would use the feather to tickle the face of the torturee. The
rules were, the tickler could only tickle the ticklee's face from ear to ear, and not above the hairline or below the chin. The torturee had to
remain completely still, and he couldn't blow on the feather; if he wiggled any part of his body, including his face, as a result of the tickling,
then the torturer would win, and he would stop the watch to see how long it took, then it would be the other's turn.
Now, to be successful at this game, you had to develop advanced tickling techniques. Well, my brother and I became experts pretty quickly,
and had mapped all the nerves of the face better than an acupuncturist. But Patrick became the true Expert Torturer. He acquired a knowledge of which
areas of the face were so sensitive to the feather's touch, that they would quiver almost immediately. But as we played this game longer, we both
developed a high tickle-tolerance, which meant that tickling no single area of the face, no matter how sensitive, would guarantee a win.
And Patrick, a true student of this game, quickly figured this out. He discovered that to win the game, he had to tickle the face in multiple
areas in quick succession. He would start out by ever so gently touching the feather to my left cheek. This was his way of saying, "I know this
doesn't tickle too much, but I want your imagination to run wild thinking about how much your face is about to get tickled." Then, I would feel the
feather brush from my cheek to my ear. The feather would swirl along my ear until the sensation would get so intense that my brain would scream to my
hands to scratch it! So I would try to think intently of something else to distract myself from the tickling; I would think of shooting hoops, or
playing my keyboard; but as I'm thinking of these things, Patrick would deftly begin to tickle my right ear also; now both ears are on fire, saying
"scratch me, you fool, this tickles like crazy!"
At this point, my breath quickens as my desperation increases. It was at this point that Patrick would cleverly tickle my nose, upper lip and
chin in quick succession with deft movements of the fluffy down feather. Finally, my nose or lip or cheek would wiggle or twitch, thus signalling
victory for Patrick, who would stop the watch. I would then realize that my brother could break me in under three minutes with a fluffy down feather.
It was this game, I think, that sparked my fetish for tickling.
