Captain Satan
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Mar 24, 2011
- Messages
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I'm going to preface this with a little warning to the more impressionable of you:
Electric Picnic is Ireland's largest annual music festival. I've gone to it every year since 2009 and am now classified under the "weathered veteran" category.
A lot of crazy shit goes down at this festival because it's primarily aimed at folks in my age group (25-35). I say this because we're far more nihilistic and libertine than Gen X and less concerned with our own well-being than younger millenials. We're bastards, but we don't know any better.
This year's Electric Picnic was particularly nihilistic and libertine. And I have to admit that even I feel guilty about this one.
We were on acid at Death Grips when Ciara and her boyfriend, Joseph, started to get spooked. Ciara wasn't used to being on hallucinogens in public, let alone at the total sonic assault of a Death Grips gig. Ciara wanted out. Joseph did not.
Ciara is a little 5'0 wildcard with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and cute little nose piercing, and a smile and laugh that could melt the polar ice caps and send us all straight to a watery grave. She's a professional hippie, and by that I don't mean she's really good at bongos and reiki - I mean she's a 9-5er with a great job who is also a total bohemian at heart. She's 22 years old, five years younger than me, but she has a maturity way beyond her years.
She's really petite and I like the way her body fits perfectly against mine.
Joseph is a raging prick, so I wasn't surprised when he refused to take his girlfriend back to their tent. She had taken a turn for the worse and desperately needed to get out of this place. It was painful to watch the girl so shook.
I told her I'd take her back to her tent and give her some Xanax to take the edge off her worsening trip. We left immediately. Joseph didn't look very happy with us, but fuck Joseph - the intolerable arsehole.
Ciara held onto my hand as the two of us pushed through a seemingly endless sea of bodies.
Ciara had relaxed a little by the time we got back to our little tent village. None of our friends were around, so the two of us settled into fold out chairs.
It turned out that I had no Xanax left, just an empty blister pack, so we just chatted instead. I made her laugh and relax more by pretending to use a banana as a phone. It's the oldest joke in the book and I'll never stop using it.
The night slipped past us as we just talked and joked and smoked rollies until the acid began to wear off. It got cold, so Ciara suggested we get into my tent. There was no sign of Joseph anywhere. Was I about to enter into some skullduggery? Some monkeyshines? Was I to be the lunch meat an adulterous sandwich?
I was too buzzed to care. Fuck Joseph - the rat bastard.
We climbed into the tent, zipped it up, and cracked open some beer. She was still talking about how acid intensifies everything. She did this while slipping out of her (size 8?) converse shoes to reveal two tiny feet covered up in white ankle socks. The slight dirt of her socks created an impression of her toes and heel. I was already infatuated with her entire body, so this was the icing on the cake.
We talked more about these "intense situations" and I thought this was how it began - this was the conversation that would lead to us fucking like wild animals. But it didn't.
She was laying down with her legs across mine when the light bulb sparked. I was gonna take the chance.
"You mean like tickling?" I asked.
She raised herself up and smiled at me.
"I don't know, I've never been tickled on drugs before" she replied, that flirty smile still on her face. She wrinkled her nose and that really turned me for some reason.
"Then we should find out, for science" I said.
"For science" she agreed.
I wasted no time in digging into her ribs and she immediately buckled into a giggling foetal position. There was no building response - just howling laughter from the get-go.
I poked her ribs, grabbed her sides, and squeezed her knees. I don't think I've ever covered so much of someone's body in such a short amount of time, but this lady was shooooort.
She was just letting it all happen. Giggling and laughing madly but making no attempt to stop me from my work. I know that she liked me touching her body, even if it was torture.
Her light black cardigan and Nirvana t-shirt raised up to reveal her soft, bare belly and I wondered how appropriate it would be for me to tickle her there. Was I crossing a line? Had the two of us not already crossed a couple of lines this evening? Are we going to cross some more later on?
I went against my better judgement and poked her exposed belly, which made her giggle in delight - to my delight.
She tried to fend me off with her feet, but that was a monumental mistake. It felt good when she wiggled her toes with her cold feet pressed against my chest.
I grabbed her ankle and she immediately knew it was a mistake too.
Here's another thing you should know about music festivals. They're dirty. And festival feet are no exception. And although her feet were clean, they were still a bit clammy. No complaints though.
"Science fucking sucks!" she laughed as I began spidering my fingers under her foot.
She tried to hold it in until I began fluttering over her toes, then I was drinking her hysterics.
I had pulled off her sock and was having my way with her tiny bare sole tucked under my arm when she began to laugh so loudly that a friend in the next tent screamed at us to shut up.
I stopped tickling her and she stopped laughing. We looked at each other like two naughty children and then erupted into laughter again.
We kissed for a little while before she pulled on her socks, shoes, and jacket, and went back to her tent - back to that raging wank pheasant Joseph.
I lay awake thinking about our chat, our playing, our tickling - and what could have been if she wasn't with that piece of festering arse sweat.
But I didn't spend too long thinking about it because I was going to see The Prodigy later that weekend and had four more hits of acid to worry about.
Do not drop acid before a Death Grips concert.
Electric Picnic is Ireland's largest annual music festival. I've gone to it every year since 2009 and am now classified under the "weathered veteran" category.
A lot of crazy shit goes down at this festival because it's primarily aimed at folks in my age group (25-35). I say this because we're far more nihilistic and libertine than Gen X and less concerned with our own well-being than younger millenials. We're bastards, but we don't know any better.
This year's Electric Picnic was particularly nihilistic and libertine. And I have to admit that even I feel guilty about this one.
We were on acid at Death Grips when Ciara and her boyfriend, Joseph, started to get spooked. Ciara wasn't used to being on hallucinogens in public, let alone at the total sonic assault of a Death Grips gig. Ciara wanted out. Joseph did not.
Ciara is a little 5'0 wildcard with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and cute little nose piercing, and a smile and laugh that could melt the polar ice caps and send us all straight to a watery grave. She's a professional hippie, and by that I don't mean she's really good at bongos and reiki - I mean she's a 9-5er with a great job who is also a total bohemian at heart. She's 22 years old, five years younger than me, but she has a maturity way beyond her years.
She's really petite and I like the way her body fits perfectly against mine.
Joseph is a raging prick, so I wasn't surprised when he refused to take his girlfriend back to their tent. She had taken a turn for the worse and desperately needed to get out of this place. It was painful to watch the girl so shook.
I told her I'd take her back to her tent and give her some Xanax to take the edge off her worsening trip. We left immediately. Joseph didn't look very happy with us, but fuck Joseph - the intolerable arsehole.
Ciara held onto my hand as the two of us pushed through a seemingly endless sea of bodies.
Ciara had relaxed a little by the time we got back to our little tent village. None of our friends were around, so the two of us settled into fold out chairs.
It turned out that I had no Xanax left, just an empty blister pack, so we just chatted instead. I made her laugh and relax more by pretending to use a banana as a phone. It's the oldest joke in the book and I'll never stop using it.
The night slipped past us as we just talked and joked and smoked rollies until the acid began to wear off. It got cold, so Ciara suggested we get into my tent. There was no sign of Joseph anywhere. Was I about to enter into some skullduggery? Some monkeyshines? Was I to be the lunch meat an adulterous sandwich?
I was too buzzed to care. Fuck Joseph - the rat bastard.
We climbed into the tent, zipped it up, and cracked open some beer. She was still talking about how acid intensifies everything. She did this while slipping out of her (size 8?) converse shoes to reveal two tiny feet covered up in white ankle socks. The slight dirt of her socks created an impression of her toes and heel. I was already infatuated with her entire body, so this was the icing on the cake.
We talked more about these "intense situations" and I thought this was how it began - this was the conversation that would lead to us fucking like wild animals. But it didn't.
She was laying down with her legs across mine when the light bulb sparked. I was gonna take the chance.
"You mean like tickling?" I asked.
She raised herself up and smiled at me.
"I don't know, I've never been tickled on drugs before" she replied, that flirty smile still on her face. She wrinkled her nose and that really turned me for some reason.
"Then we should find out, for science" I said.
"For science" she agreed.
I wasted no time in digging into her ribs and she immediately buckled into a giggling foetal position. There was no building response - just howling laughter from the get-go.
I poked her ribs, grabbed her sides, and squeezed her knees. I don't think I've ever covered so much of someone's body in such a short amount of time, but this lady was shooooort.
She was just letting it all happen. Giggling and laughing madly but making no attempt to stop me from my work. I know that she liked me touching her body, even if it was torture.
Her light black cardigan and Nirvana t-shirt raised up to reveal her soft, bare belly and I wondered how appropriate it would be for me to tickle her there. Was I crossing a line? Had the two of us not already crossed a couple of lines this evening? Are we going to cross some more later on?
I went against my better judgement and poked her exposed belly, which made her giggle in delight - to my delight.
She tried to fend me off with her feet, but that was a monumental mistake. It felt good when she wiggled her toes with her cold feet pressed against my chest.
I grabbed her ankle and she immediately knew it was a mistake too.
Here's another thing you should know about music festivals. They're dirty. And festival feet are no exception. And although her feet were clean, they were still a bit clammy. No complaints though.
"Science fucking sucks!" she laughed as I began spidering my fingers under her foot.
She tried to hold it in until I began fluttering over her toes, then I was drinking her hysterics.
I had pulled off her sock and was having my way with her tiny bare sole tucked under my arm when she began to laugh so loudly that a friend in the next tent screamed at us to shut up.
I stopped tickling her and she stopped laughing. We looked at each other like two naughty children and then erupted into laughter again.
We kissed for a little while before she pulled on her socks, shoes, and jacket, and went back to her tent - back to that raging wank pheasant Joseph.
I lay awake thinking about our chat, our playing, our tickling - and what could have been if she wasn't with that piece of festering arse sweat.
But I didn't spend too long thinking about it because I was going to see The Prodigy later that weekend and had four more hits of acid to worry about.
Thanks for sharing the experience here. 
