Saga of Sonja
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When I was a teen I spent a few summers at international language camps/schools, where you go to the UK for 2-3 weeks and do a mix of lessons and other activities with other teens from across Europe. If you’re Nordic or Western European you’ll know what I mean. When I was a uni student, I found myself employed as a course leader, i.e. someone bilingual who essentially helps ferry the students from your own country to the UK, and sort of supervise them for the duration. The vast majority of staff were/are pretty young, both the summer teachers and activity coordinators/ course leaders, so there was a big social element to things and quite a bit of drinking. Honestly, if the students’ parents knew they might think twice about us being the ones looking after their kids lol. Here's two stories from two different years of me doing this.
***
On my first summer of doing this, I was staying at a cheap residential hostel thing where the company put up a number of staff- one of those places where the rooms are just a sink and a few creaky iron frame bunk beds. Within a week of being there, I’d befriended one of the local activity leaders, a redhead called Emma. She was about my age, thick, slightly curly ginger hair, extremely pale, and a few inches taller than me. Emma was planning on going into the military (which I think she did in the end), and certainly had a stubborn, feisty temperament- she could really shout at the students haha.
One evening we had some time to kill, and so were just sat on the floor in her dorm room, rolling a tennis ball back and forth to each other and generally chatting. I was lying down on a pillow, whilst Emma sat with her legs wide and outstretched, her bare feet facing me. Even by the standards of her body, her feet were pale, although her soles a little more pinky-orange. I found Emma cute and there was definitely a chemistry with us, so being the freak that I am, I had to know if she was ticklish. And so, when she was in mid sentence, I reached out and lightly ran my nails up the arch of her left foot. She let out a loud peel of laughter and kicked my hand away, although barely moved her foot.
“You’re ticklish?” I asked her innocently, making her go red.
“I guess a bit,” she said awkwardly.
Over the next twenty or so minutes I did quick tickle attacks at least twice more, getting the same loud burst of laughter from her before she kicked my hand away and her face went red again. She never did move her feet though- I don’t know if that was her trying to maintain a degree of toughness/composure that it didn’t really affect her, or if she genuinely didn’t mind.
I tickled her feet once more the following week, again in the dorms. In the kitchen bit on the level there was a high table with high chairs around it, and I walked in once to see Emma laying back in a chair with her ankles resting on the table top. She was in pyjamas- a vest and shorts, and had very thick gray socks on. As I sat down opposite her she said “Hope you don’t mind my feet on the table.”
“No,” I replied, pausing and then finding the courage to say, “but remember I know how ticklish you are.”
Emma was very easy to embarrass, and her face flushed the same color as her hair again. “I’m not that ticklish,” she replied.
After a few minutes chatting I found the courage to place one of my fingers on one of her soles and start tracing patterns. Emma immediately tensed, not quite laughing straight away, with her thick socks offering some protection, but after a few seconds I started getting reluctant giggles from her. As before, she tried to act unphased, and so I spent what must have been a couple of minutes just tracing my finger around her foot, making it twitch and her giggle, sometimes managing to control herself to avoid laughing, although much like on my own feet, the area around her toes seemed most sensitive and the surest way to get a reaction from her. I’m honestly still surprised she never pulled away, and again, perhaps a planned future army officer she didn’t want to give the impression that something as silly as tickling could be a weakness for her.
After those few minutes the kitchen door creaked open, and Emma, perhaps too embarrassed from the idea of someone else seeing her having her feet tickled, jerked her legs off of the table. That was pretty much it with her, at least from my end. During a game of twister I did see one of the guys we were with grab her ankle and tickle her socked foot getting a very loud burst of laughter from her, but that was it. My gaydar/bi-dar was going off a bit with her, but I couldn’t tell if she would have been interested in me or not and things would have had the potential to go further. She did make a few vague comments that suggested she might have been bi, but nothing too overt. We never really spoke after that summer, although I’m still friends with her on social media. She did join the army but unclear if she still is- I like to think she experienced some sort of tickling related hazing ritual.
***
The following summer I was back doing trip/course leading again for my fellow scandis. One of the other Swedish course leaders was a girl called Klara, just over a year younger than me. We bonded pretty quickly, both being black mixed-race, and with us both being quite dorky. Klara has dark frizzy hair, skin the same tone as mine, a sort of slight punk vibe, and is quite thicc, to use the phrase. She was always chewing on snus too (if you’re Scandi you’ll know what I mean).
Klara was another who set my bi-dar off a bit, although I still always find it hard to tell and have the courage to make any move myself. We’d hang out in limited free time however, spend a while checking out each other's fancy dress outfits (there were a lot of fancy dress occasions), and danced with each other at the nearby nightclub. I was unsure if anything was going to go anywhere or not, even when at a pub one night when we were sat next to each other she linked her arm around mine and we were sat like that for ages (this is the classic bi/lesbian dilemma- is she just being friendly or is she into you??).
Klara, like myself was staying with a ‘host family’ on the other side of town this year, and so I walked down to the bus stop with her at the end of the night. It was pretty late, dark, and we were alone, and so we just chatted for a bit. I was leaning with my back against a pillar with her just in front of me, and she was very close. We feel silent for a bit, sort of half making eye contact and then smiling nervously and looking away. It was pretty cute in retrospect, but in the moment I wasn’t sure what it meant, so partly because I wanted to, and partly to break the silence, I leant in and kissed her. She reciprocated, and moved in, and we made out against the piller, her pressing me against it. Her hands started exploring around my waist/belly, and it did tickle- not a huge amount or enough to make me laugh, but enough to make me squirm a bit. I exaggerated my reactions to this a little as well, as I wanted it to be obvious that I was ticklish. Klara picked up on this, broke off the kiss, grinned, and made some comment that I can’t quite remember but which pointed out that I was ticklish. Klara has a slightly sadistic sense of humor (for example, we did a prank on someone a few days prior that got them kicked out the nightclub), and so she started tickling my sides a bit more forcefully and overtly, which got a lot more genuinely reactions from me as I started laughing, caught between her and the pillar.
We spent five minutes with a mix of making out and her tickling my sides. I was enjoying it, although a group of younger teen guys came along before long and my self awareness got the better of me and I didn’t want to be tickled in front of them so I grabbed her wrists to stop her. They did comment on her having a nice ass (again, thicc), but luckily the bus came before they made any further comments.
Klara and I were alone for most of the bus ride, sat at the back in the corner. We resumed making out, and she also resumed tickling me a bit, against going for my sides and also my belly. I could only laugh, and at one point squirmed so much I fell off the seat onto the floor. I’ve no idea if the busdriver could see us or not in the mirror. Klara’s stop soon came up, and so the night ended there for us, with me unsure if I should message straight away or not.
The next day neither of us mentioned the previous night at all, and we kinda just acted as we had done around each other, slightly awkward but not addressing the make out sessions. I wouldn’t say I find boys easy, but I’m a lot less shy around boys than girls, and Klara was no exception.
There was another social event that same evening, and I did find the courage to ask Klara if she wanted to have a few drinks in the nearby park beforehand. I found the courage to do this by telling myself it wasn’t explicitly a date at all, just an invite, so it didn’t feel like I was asking her out or anything.
We had a couple of cocktail tins beneath a tree in the back, semi-secluded. It was pretty nice in the early summer, and we chatted and ended up holding hands, neither of us verbally acknowledging it. This probably reads like we were both really awkward, and that’s because we were, both of us having pretty limited experiences with girls. We soon had a very similar near repeat of the previous night, falling into silence, half staring at each other, and then breaking the silence by moving in to kiss. We were both getting into it- Klara was quite an aggressive kisser, liking to bite my tongue (most gently, but not always), and whilst making out she moved to sort of straddle me. Once again her hands were caressing my waist, not deliberate tickling, but I’m so sensitive there I couldn’t help but squirm.
“I forgot you were ticklish,” she grinned evilly after noticing.
“Yeah I’d hoped you’d forgotten,” I lied. Still grinning, Klara managed to sort of pin one of my arms down with her knee, and began using both hands to tickle and prod my stomach, drawing laughter and protests from me, as I half-heartedly tried to bat her away with my free hand.
“We’re in public,” I complained, and she told me she didn’t care. I was getting pretty horny from the whole thing, including from the potential nearby witnesses (despite it being pretty empty/quiet), but still managed to free my other hand and secure hers.
Over the next week and a half of us both being in the UK we found several more opportunities to “hang out,” with there luckily being a few occasions where one of the host homes in which we were staying at was empty for a bit, allowing more private quality time. It was mostly just making out and fondling, with no serious sex as times of the month etc, although she did eat me out once. There were quite a few instances during these hangouts of her tickling me- Klara was stronger, and quite enjoyed pinning me down and tickling my belly or sides or ribs. She never went for my feet, always my sides and areas, but she would really go for it, once as we were sort of play wrestling pinning me on my front, sitting on my back, and with having free access to my helpless sides, tickled between my ribs very mercilessly until I said uncle.
You might be wondering if Klara was ticklish herself. The answer is yes, although she never once admitted it. I tried tickling back a fair bit, and she was much better at holding back reactions, although I got her laughing a few times from tickling her own sides and stomach, until she found the strength to overthrow me or tickle me back. Her feet also seemed pretty sensitive, and a few times I managed to half lie on her legs or ankles, and tickle her soles, both in socks and bare, making her desperately try to escape and grit her teeth together.
“You have really ticklish feet,” I teased her at least twice, to which on both occasions she denied this and said “no I don’t, I just find it weird having them touched.”
“You’re definitely ticklish,” I’d repeat, to which she’d say “I’m really not!”
I kinda wish I had the chance to tie her up and force her to admit that she was, but alas.
That was more or less that with us in that part of the summer. She seemed pretty kinky generally, with one of her turn ons being getting off from having her nipples bitten on fairly firmly. Once she got pretty giggly from this, pushed me away, and managed to steady herself, and I didn’t manage to get that reaction again.
The only other memorable time on this trip was at the pub one night, where a bunch of us staff were going out, but Klara and I got there first, alongside Jane, one of the teachers who was definitely one of the older members of staff being in her late 40s or early fifties. Us three were on a both, me sandwiched between them, and I really can’t recall for my life how it came up, but for whatever reason Klara decided to tell Jane I was really ticklish, and Jane (who had implied she was quite adventurous herself in her youth) started goosing my sides, obviously making me laugh and causing Klara to join in at the otherside. It was only about twenty seconds, but with it being in such a public place I felt very self-conscious, and Jane remarked after “aww look how flushed she is.”
The time as course leaders soon came to a close. “So are you going to ask me out properly when we’re back in Sweden?” Klara asked me on the last night.
“Why don’t you ask me?” I replied.
She shrugged shyly.
We did go on a few dates across the remaining weeks of our uni summer breaks, although she lived a fair bit more North than me so it wasn’t easy. She drove, at least, and at once point we were parked overlooking the coast, and she began tickling me again, as usual going for the tried and tested spots of my stomach and sides, making me thrash and writhe in my seat. After she stopped I struck back however, and managed to actually get her sort of ensnared in her seat belt and pinned down that she was somewhat stuck, and I got some pretty hard loud laughter from her, although she still denied that she was ticklish, instead jokingly threaten to scream and tell passerby I was assaulting her (coward). Another time in the car, parked somewhere more secluded, I found her tongue between my legs again (I relate a lot to Chappell Roan’s Casual here), and I got pretty giggly, although managed to control myself and not break the mood too much.
We didn’t really manage to keep things going and I sort of pushed for us to mutually call it off, especially with me going back to the UK for uni and her not. We didn’t really speak for about two years after that, although have actually hung out a few times purely as friends in the last year, with tickling only being brought up once with me reminder her about how much she used to tickle me and her grinning and going “I remember” (if you’ve read my other stories, my gaslight behaviour is getting people to tickle me and then making them out to be the tickle obsessive weirdos >🙂 )
***
Anyhow, I really must be nearing the end of all my post-18 tickle experiences by this point, with college experiences all posted and most non-colleges ones up. I’ve got enough from my relationship with my BF to get several posts up, but not sure when I’ll get around to that and might do another fiction story first.
***
On my first summer of doing this, I was staying at a cheap residential hostel thing where the company put up a number of staff- one of those places where the rooms are just a sink and a few creaky iron frame bunk beds. Within a week of being there, I’d befriended one of the local activity leaders, a redhead called Emma. She was about my age, thick, slightly curly ginger hair, extremely pale, and a few inches taller than me. Emma was planning on going into the military (which I think she did in the end), and certainly had a stubborn, feisty temperament- she could really shout at the students haha.
One evening we had some time to kill, and so were just sat on the floor in her dorm room, rolling a tennis ball back and forth to each other and generally chatting. I was lying down on a pillow, whilst Emma sat with her legs wide and outstretched, her bare feet facing me. Even by the standards of her body, her feet were pale, although her soles a little more pinky-orange. I found Emma cute and there was definitely a chemistry with us, so being the freak that I am, I had to know if she was ticklish. And so, when she was in mid sentence, I reached out and lightly ran my nails up the arch of her left foot. She let out a loud peel of laughter and kicked my hand away, although barely moved her foot.
“You’re ticklish?” I asked her innocently, making her go red.
“I guess a bit,” she said awkwardly.
Over the next twenty or so minutes I did quick tickle attacks at least twice more, getting the same loud burst of laughter from her before she kicked my hand away and her face went red again. She never did move her feet though- I don’t know if that was her trying to maintain a degree of toughness/composure that it didn’t really affect her, or if she genuinely didn’t mind.
I tickled her feet once more the following week, again in the dorms. In the kitchen bit on the level there was a high table with high chairs around it, and I walked in once to see Emma laying back in a chair with her ankles resting on the table top. She was in pyjamas- a vest and shorts, and had very thick gray socks on. As I sat down opposite her she said “Hope you don’t mind my feet on the table.”
“No,” I replied, pausing and then finding the courage to say, “but remember I know how ticklish you are.”
Emma was very easy to embarrass, and her face flushed the same color as her hair again. “I’m not that ticklish,” she replied.
After a few minutes chatting I found the courage to place one of my fingers on one of her soles and start tracing patterns. Emma immediately tensed, not quite laughing straight away, with her thick socks offering some protection, but after a few seconds I started getting reluctant giggles from her. As before, she tried to act unphased, and so I spent what must have been a couple of minutes just tracing my finger around her foot, making it twitch and her giggle, sometimes managing to control herself to avoid laughing, although much like on my own feet, the area around her toes seemed most sensitive and the surest way to get a reaction from her. I’m honestly still surprised she never pulled away, and again, perhaps a planned future army officer she didn’t want to give the impression that something as silly as tickling could be a weakness for her.
After those few minutes the kitchen door creaked open, and Emma, perhaps too embarrassed from the idea of someone else seeing her having her feet tickled, jerked her legs off of the table. That was pretty much it with her, at least from my end. During a game of twister I did see one of the guys we were with grab her ankle and tickle her socked foot getting a very loud burst of laughter from her, but that was it. My gaydar/bi-dar was going off a bit with her, but I couldn’t tell if she would have been interested in me or not and things would have had the potential to go further. She did make a few vague comments that suggested she might have been bi, but nothing too overt. We never really spoke after that summer, although I’m still friends with her on social media. She did join the army but unclear if she still is- I like to think she experienced some sort of tickling related hazing ritual.
***
The following summer I was back doing trip/course leading again for my fellow scandis. One of the other Swedish course leaders was a girl called Klara, just over a year younger than me. We bonded pretty quickly, both being black mixed-race, and with us both being quite dorky. Klara has dark frizzy hair, skin the same tone as mine, a sort of slight punk vibe, and is quite thicc, to use the phrase. She was always chewing on snus too (if you’re Scandi you’ll know what I mean).
Klara was another who set my bi-dar off a bit, although I still always find it hard to tell and have the courage to make any move myself. We’d hang out in limited free time however, spend a while checking out each other's fancy dress outfits (there were a lot of fancy dress occasions), and danced with each other at the nearby nightclub. I was unsure if anything was going to go anywhere or not, even when at a pub one night when we were sat next to each other she linked her arm around mine and we were sat like that for ages (this is the classic bi/lesbian dilemma- is she just being friendly or is she into you??).
Klara, like myself was staying with a ‘host family’ on the other side of town this year, and so I walked down to the bus stop with her at the end of the night. It was pretty late, dark, and we were alone, and so we just chatted for a bit. I was leaning with my back against a pillar with her just in front of me, and she was very close. We feel silent for a bit, sort of half making eye contact and then smiling nervously and looking away. It was pretty cute in retrospect, but in the moment I wasn’t sure what it meant, so partly because I wanted to, and partly to break the silence, I leant in and kissed her. She reciprocated, and moved in, and we made out against the piller, her pressing me against it. Her hands started exploring around my waist/belly, and it did tickle- not a huge amount or enough to make me laugh, but enough to make me squirm a bit. I exaggerated my reactions to this a little as well, as I wanted it to be obvious that I was ticklish. Klara picked up on this, broke off the kiss, grinned, and made some comment that I can’t quite remember but which pointed out that I was ticklish. Klara has a slightly sadistic sense of humor (for example, we did a prank on someone a few days prior that got them kicked out the nightclub), and so she started tickling my sides a bit more forcefully and overtly, which got a lot more genuinely reactions from me as I started laughing, caught between her and the pillar.
We spent five minutes with a mix of making out and her tickling my sides. I was enjoying it, although a group of younger teen guys came along before long and my self awareness got the better of me and I didn’t want to be tickled in front of them so I grabbed her wrists to stop her. They did comment on her having a nice ass (again, thicc), but luckily the bus came before they made any further comments.
Klara and I were alone for most of the bus ride, sat at the back in the corner. We resumed making out, and she also resumed tickling me a bit, against going for my sides and also my belly. I could only laugh, and at one point squirmed so much I fell off the seat onto the floor. I’ve no idea if the busdriver could see us or not in the mirror. Klara’s stop soon came up, and so the night ended there for us, with me unsure if I should message straight away or not.
The next day neither of us mentioned the previous night at all, and we kinda just acted as we had done around each other, slightly awkward but not addressing the make out sessions. I wouldn’t say I find boys easy, but I’m a lot less shy around boys than girls, and Klara was no exception.
There was another social event that same evening, and I did find the courage to ask Klara if she wanted to have a few drinks in the nearby park beforehand. I found the courage to do this by telling myself it wasn’t explicitly a date at all, just an invite, so it didn’t feel like I was asking her out or anything.
We had a couple of cocktail tins beneath a tree in the back, semi-secluded. It was pretty nice in the early summer, and we chatted and ended up holding hands, neither of us verbally acknowledging it. This probably reads like we were both really awkward, and that’s because we were, both of us having pretty limited experiences with girls. We soon had a very similar near repeat of the previous night, falling into silence, half staring at each other, and then breaking the silence by moving in to kiss. We were both getting into it- Klara was quite an aggressive kisser, liking to bite my tongue (most gently, but not always), and whilst making out she moved to sort of straddle me. Once again her hands were caressing my waist, not deliberate tickling, but I’m so sensitive there I couldn’t help but squirm.
“I forgot you were ticklish,” she grinned evilly after noticing.
“Yeah I’d hoped you’d forgotten,” I lied. Still grinning, Klara managed to sort of pin one of my arms down with her knee, and began using both hands to tickle and prod my stomach, drawing laughter and protests from me, as I half-heartedly tried to bat her away with my free hand.
“We’re in public,” I complained, and she told me she didn’t care. I was getting pretty horny from the whole thing, including from the potential nearby witnesses (despite it being pretty empty/quiet), but still managed to free my other hand and secure hers.
Over the next week and a half of us both being in the UK we found several more opportunities to “hang out,” with there luckily being a few occasions where one of the host homes in which we were staying at was empty for a bit, allowing more private quality time. It was mostly just making out and fondling, with no serious sex as times of the month etc, although she did eat me out once. There were quite a few instances during these hangouts of her tickling me- Klara was stronger, and quite enjoyed pinning me down and tickling my belly or sides or ribs. She never went for my feet, always my sides and areas, but she would really go for it, once as we were sort of play wrestling pinning me on my front, sitting on my back, and with having free access to my helpless sides, tickled between my ribs very mercilessly until I said uncle.
You might be wondering if Klara was ticklish herself. The answer is yes, although she never once admitted it. I tried tickling back a fair bit, and she was much better at holding back reactions, although I got her laughing a few times from tickling her own sides and stomach, until she found the strength to overthrow me or tickle me back. Her feet also seemed pretty sensitive, and a few times I managed to half lie on her legs or ankles, and tickle her soles, both in socks and bare, making her desperately try to escape and grit her teeth together.
“You have really ticklish feet,” I teased her at least twice, to which on both occasions she denied this and said “no I don’t, I just find it weird having them touched.”
“You’re definitely ticklish,” I’d repeat, to which she’d say “I’m really not!”
I kinda wish I had the chance to tie her up and force her to admit that she was, but alas.
That was more or less that with us in that part of the summer. She seemed pretty kinky generally, with one of her turn ons being getting off from having her nipples bitten on fairly firmly. Once she got pretty giggly from this, pushed me away, and managed to steady herself, and I didn’t manage to get that reaction again.
The only other memorable time on this trip was at the pub one night, where a bunch of us staff were going out, but Klara and I got there first, alongside Jane, one of the teachers who was definitely one of the older members of staff being in her late 40s or early fifties. Us three were on a both, me sandwiched between them, and I really can’t recall for my life how it came up, but for whatever reason Klara decided to tell Jane I was really ticklish, and Jane (who had implied she was quite adventurous herself in her youth) started goosing my sides, obviously making me laugh and causing Klara to join in at the otherside. It was only about twenty seconds, but with it being in such a public place I felt very self-conscious, and Jane remarked after “aww look how flushed she is.”
The time as course leaders soon came to a close. “So are you going to ask me out properly when we’re back in Sweden?” Klara asked me on the last night.
“Why don’t you ask me?” I replied.
She shrugged shyly.
We did go on a few dates across the remaining weeks of our uni summer breaks, although she lived a fair bit more North than me so it wasn’t easy. She drove, at least, and at once point we were parked overlooking the coast, and she began tickling me again, as usual going for the tried and tested spots of my stomach and sides, making me thrash and writhe in my seat. After she stopped I struck back however, and managed to actually get her sort of ensnared in her seat belt and pinned down that she was somewhat stuck, and I got some pretty hard loud laughter from her, although she still denied that she was ticklish, instead jokingly threaten to scream and tell passerby I was assaulting her (coward). Another time in the car, parked somewhere more secluded, I found her tongue between my legs again (I relate a lot to Chappell Roan’s Casual here), and I got pretty giggly, although managed to control myself and not break the mood too much.
We didn’t really manage to keep things going and I sort of pushed for us to mutually call it off, especially with me going back to the UK for uni and her not. We didn’t really speak for about two years after that, although have actually hung out a few times purely as friends in the last year, with tickling only being brought up once with me reminder her about how much she used to tickle me and her grinning and going “I remember” (if you’ve read my other stories, my gaslight behaviour is getting people to tickle me and then making them out to be the tickle obsessive weirdos >🙂 )
***
Anyhow, I really must be nearing the end of all my post-18 tickle experiences by this point, with college experiences all posted and most non-colleges ones up. I’ve got enough from my relationship with my BF to get several posts up, but not sure when I’ll get around to that and might do another fiction story first.
