Snail Shell
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The following story is true. I'm posting it here to initiate a conversation about tickling as a fetish when compared to other fetishes. The names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent and my own unique voice of common sense has been inserted (in brackets) for comedic effect. That being said, I proudly present:
MY SINFUL SATURDAY: A Comedy of Errors, or maybe a Tragedy of Triumphs
by Snail Shell
Most people I've seen on these forums aren't particularly happy about how ticklephiles are seen in society. This point of view along with my anticipation of the next tk gathering lead me to Sinful Saturday (sounds friendly enough). Sinful Saturday is apparently an annual underground fetish party in downtown Toronto which welcomes fetishists of all kinds to a safe, open forum (makes me wonder why I have to sign a waiver to get in.) The rule that everyone tends to go by is ‘I'll indulge your fetish if you indulge mine'. Fair enough.
Of course, I'm sitting here thinking ‘what could possibly be stranger than a special interest in tickling?' (I never said I was bright).
I head into the club not knowing exactly what to expect but still thinking of finding a tk victim for some of the evening. I think I caught more attention upon my arrival than I expected seeing as how I was the only person NOT wearing all black. (So much for singing The Rainbow Connection for karaoke).
I walk around, mostly keeping to myself as I usually do in these situations. I got a drink at the bar and smiled quietly to myself. I would have been totally at ease in this place if it hadn't been for the screaming pain in my left arm. I spin around and there's this short little redhead there smiling who says her name is Brittany. Still a little more shocked than anything else, I ask ‘what was that?'. She says, ‘that was a little introduction. I'm a biter.' (To hell with first impressions, this is a first permanent mark.) We continued the conversation from there as she told me about how teeth are sexual organs and how I have a good solid tooth colour, but my tooth pattern could use work. (Orthodontist in the making?)
I decided to keep my skin intact and move on. A little while later, in a small group conversation, a girl named Amy starts chatting with me and we got onto the topic of the evening. It turns out she wasn't ticklish which she thought was really too bad. (I thought so too). Why? Here's one for the historic book of quotes. She says to me, "You seem like a really nice guy and I was really looking forward to having your abortion." Yep, her fetish was the idea of getting pregnant and doing away with the embryo. (I'm guessing she's Pro-Choice).
A few hours and several bizarre conversations later about licking, tattoos, piercings, metal, sunburns, furry costumes and more types of bondage than I knew could possibly exist (what the hell's an ‘Uncle Sam's Corkscrew'?), I take a seat on a vacant couch to realize I'm in over my head here (I'm somewhere in between ‘I need a drink', ‘I need a shower' and ‘I need a revolver'.) I probably would have given up and left had it not been for the girl on the next couch sitting alone reading a book. I figure one last try and then I'll pack it in (Rocky didn't go down, why should I?)
Upon talking to this girl, Vanessa, she actually acted more nervous about being there than I did. We chatted aimlessly for a while and got the awkward small talk out of the way. Turns out it was her first time at the party too. (It's of note that at this time, someone across the room yelled ‘OW! YOU BIT ME!').
I started the ball on the fetish talk. She actually thought tickling might be fun, so I asked if she wanted to try it. She was interested, but she didn't think I'd be interested in hers. (All power to shields Mr. Worf. Brace for impact). She has what she called a medical fetish (any specific virus or will any one do?). I asked her to enlighten me.
After almost 24 years of a rather interesting life, not to mention the previous four hours or so, I thought I was ready for just about anything. But nothing really prepares you for a shy, sweet Lisa-Loeb-looking bookworm saying, "I can't have an orgasm unless my partner is actively bleeding." (Check please. Sloop John B wants to go home.)
Instead of acting like I'd been struck by lightening, which may well have been wise, I instead asked, "But, don't most guys need their blood to perform in bed?". We both had a really good laugh about that one, after which she acted all shy and embarrassed again.
I don't know why I did what I did, but it's too late now I guess. I asked her, "is there anywhere specific your partner needs to be bleeding?" Never in my life have I ever seen a girls face light up with hope so fast as Vanessa's did when I asked this. She says it helps if she can see it. (Which, during sex, narrows it down to THE FACE. :S). Something deep down inside said ‘I've bled for worse'. We went off to find a private room.
Counting breaks to catch her breath, I tickled her for about an hour and a half. She wasn't horribly ticklish (like some others I could name. You know who you are.), but it was still lots of fun and I got some good giggles out of her.
As for what happened next, I won't go into the gory (no pun intended) details, but suffice it to say I held up my end of the bargain. (If I pass out during, don't take it personally. In fact, call an ambulance.)
Afterwards, we determined that a relationship isn't what either of us want and we've decided on ‘good friends with occasional privileges'. We're keeping in touch and soforth.
I bring this story up because while most ‘normal' people would think the tk community is weird, those in the fetish community think of it as totally acceptable and, to be honest, rather tame. What do you think of THAT?
1st moral of the story: The next time someone calls you a weirdo, freak or worse remember, you're totally not.
2nd moral of the story: It's always the quiet ones...
Snail Shell
PS - I don't think me and Vanessa qualify as ‘love' per sey, but I still think this song applies. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRDi67G0Siw&search=white stripes
MY SINFUL SATURDAY: A Comedy of Errors, or maybe a Tragedy of Triumphs
by Snail Shell
Most people I've seen on these forums aren't particularly happy about how ticklephiles are seen in society. This point of view along with my anticipation of the next tk gathering lead me to Sinful Saturday (sounds friendly enough). Sinful Saturday is apparently an annual underground fetish party in downtown Toronto which welcomes fetishists of all kinds to a safe, open forum (makes me wonder why I have to sign a waiver to get in.) The rule that everyone tends to go by is ‘I'll indulge your fetish if you indulge mine'. Fair enough.
Of course, I'm sitting here thinking ‘what could possibly be stranger than a special interest in tickling?' (I never said I was bright).
I head into the club not knowing exactly what to expect but still thinking of finding a tk victim for some of the evening. I think I caught more attention upon my arrival than I expected seeing as how I was the only person NOT wearing all black. (So much for singing The Rainbow Connection for karaoke).
I walk around, mostly keeping to myself as I usually do in these situations. I got a drink at the bar and smiled quietly to myself. I would have been totally at ease in this place if it hadn't been for the screaming pain in my left arm. I spin around and there's this short little redhead there smiling who says her name is Brittany. Still a little more shocked than anything else, I ask ‘what was that?'. She says, ‘that was a little introduction. I'm a biter.' (To hell with first impressions, this is a first permanent mark.) We continued the conversation from there as she told me about how teeth are sexual organs and how I have a good solid tooth colour, but my tooth pattern could use work. (Orthodontist in the making?)
I decided to keep my skin intact and move on. A little while later, in a small group conversation, a girl named Amy starts chatting with me and we got onto the topic of the evening. It turns out she wasn't ticklish which she thought was really too bad. (I thought so too). Why? Here's one for the historic book of quotes. She says to me, "You seem like a really nice guy and I was really looking forward to having your abortion." Yep, her fetish was the idea of getting pregnant and doing away with the embryo. (I'm guessing she's Pro-Choice).
A few hours and several bizarre conversations later about licking, tattoos, piercings, metal, sunburns, furry costumes and more types of bondage than I knew could possibly exist (what the hell's an ‘Uncle Sam's Corkscrew'?), I take a seat on a vacant couch to realize I'm in over my head here (I'm somewhere in between ‘I need a drink', ‘I need a shower' and ‘I need a revolver'.) I probably would have given up and left had it not been for the girl on the next couch sitting alone reading a book. I figure one last try and then I'll pack it in (Rocky didn't go down, why should I?)
Upon talking to this girl, Vanessa, she actually acted more nervous about being there than I did. We chatted aimlessly for a while and got the awkward small talk out of the way. Turns out it was her first time at the party too. (It's of note that at this time, someone across the room yelled ‘OW! YOU BIT ME!').
I started the ball on the fetish talk. She actually thought tickling might be fun, so I asked if she wanted to try it. She was interested, but she didn't think I'd be interested in hers. (All power to shields Mr. Worf. Brace for impact). She has what she called a medical fetish (any specific virus or will any one do?). I asked her to enlighten me.
After almost 24 years of a rather interesting life, not to mention the previous four hours or so, I thought I was ready for just about anything. But nothing really prepares you for a shy, sweet Lisa-Loeb-looking bookworm saying, "I can't have an orgasm unless my partner is actively bleeding." (Check please. Sloop John B wants to go home.)
Instead of acting like I'd been struck by lightening, which may well have been wise, I instead asked, "But, don't most guys need their blood to perform in bed?". We both had a really good laugh about that one, after which she acted all shy and embarrassed again.
I don't know why I did what I did, but it's too late now I guess. I asked her, "is there anywhere specific your partner needs to be bleeding?" Never in my life have I ever seen a girls face light up with hope so fast as Vanessa's did when I asked this. She says it helps if she can see it. (Which, during sex, narrows it down to THE FACE. :S). Something deep down inside said ‘I've bled for worse'. We went off to find a private room.
Counting breaks to catch her breath, I tickled her for about an hour and a half. She wasn't horribly ticklish (like some others I could name. You know who you are.), but it was still lots of fun and I got some good giggles out of her.
As for what happened next, I won't go into the gory (no pun intended) details, but suffice it to say I held up my end of the bargain. (If I pass out during, don't take it personally. In fact, call an ambulance.)
Afterwards, we determined that a relationship isn't what either of us want and we've decided on ‘good friends with occasional privileges'. We're keeping in touch and soforth.
I bring this story up because while most ‘normal' people would think the tk community is weird, those in the fetish community think of it as totally acceptable and, to be honest, rather tame. What do you think of THAT?
1st moral of the story: The next time someone calls you a weirdo, freak or worse remember, you're totally not.
2nd moral of the story: It's always the quiet ones...
Snail Shell
PS - I don't think me and Vanessa qualify as ‘love' per sey, but I still think this song applies. Enjoy!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRDi67G0Siw&search=white stripes
