chickles_:)
1st Level Red Feather
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- Jan 1, 2004
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Hiya everyone!:happy:
Have you ever had a tickle experience as a result of some pick-up sports??
After experiencing a tickle moment I had some weeks ago while attending an international religious studies certificate week with friends it got me wondering how often this sort of thing happens with adults.
I’m calling it the “Barry's Painted Belly” which will make sense as you read on.
Among the under-30 year olds there were 6 guys and 10 women. I think it was Wednesday or Thursday, we finished up our afternoon sessions early and the guys challenged us to a game of three-pitch. (softball in which each team supplies its own pitcher). Given the level of our respective athletic skill the number ratio promised to make the game well, less lopsided. LOL.
The good news for me was that, while I know very little of playing American football, baseball related games are my thing. But of course, I wasn’t about to say much especially when we agreed the stakes would be that the winners could claim the losers as slaves for the evening. It was all intended as good fun and it made the game that much more interesting.
Anyway, skipping ahead in the story, after the agreed upon 7 innings we were ahead by a handy 5 runs! It turned out that having only 6 players proved more of a liability than the guys had thought -especially since all us girls, though not as good as the guys, at least had enough familiarity with the game to get hits and catch easy throws.
So what happened. Well our team-captain, Gill, who came from the central US, decided that to show that we’d won we should paint an eyeshadow face on the losing team captain, Barry’s, belly!
Naturally, he protested loudly insisting that it was beyond the spirit of the slave-deal. "No problem," our captain said. “If we paint your belly, the rest of the guys go free.” As Gill surmised, the other guys immediately sided with us. Seeing the tables had turned, Barry said we’d have to catch him first and bolted.
But not far. A few steps and he was tripped up by one of his friends who told him as we all pounced on him, that he had to get a picture of Barry with eyeshadow! LOL
Even though Barry was down it was NOT over. I swear, the guy had arms as thick as my legs!
Seemed like anyways. I say that because I immediately went for his right arm to help hold him down. I grabbed his wrist and basically fell on his arm pasting it to the grass –for a moment. The next thing I knew I was airborne!
Barry lifted my whole squealing body off the ground and pitched me off him like I was paper! Fortunately plunking to earth didn’t cost me my grip on his wrist. And when he tried to roll over to push another girl off his chest I hung on and flattened his arm to his body. Then amid our collective giggling and teasing and Barry’s grunts and furious protests I put my whole weight on his wrist and worked myself forward levering my shin between his elbow and side until I basically sat atop his arm as though I were riding a broom.
Aided by Barry’s distraction with so many women trying to pin him from every side, I was able to let my weight slide me between his arm and his side and to force even his thick arm back to the grass. Having learned my lesson I sat all my weight on his upturned forearm with my knees on either side and clutched his wrist in a death grip.
Then I went for the TT secret weapon.
...“Hey everybody," i called out, "lets see if he’s ticklish!”
No sooner had Barry wailed in desperate horror than several gleeful female hands and nails were poking and teasing every available inch of his hunky body searching for weak-spots.
And there were many! LOL. Sadly my only contribution was drawing my “sisters’” attention to the tickle tactic. It took all my effort just to keep Barry’s arm from escaping my clutches. But it worked out okay. To keep him pinned I not only had to maintain my death-grip on his wrist, I had to straddle Barry’s powerful -and frantically wriggling- arm between my legs. !
Minutes passed and all-too-soon a breathless and red-faced Barry was begging us to put a happy face on his tummy if it would only stop the tickle torture. Sadly we complied. Well sort of. *heehee* Every time he complained or moved or made any sound of displeasure we used it as a reason to tickle him a little more.
Though she did her best to drag the ordeal out, Gill eventually had painted a nice round happyface over Barry’s washboard abs highlighting it with strings of hair, a goatee and wide expressive eyes. Barry nearly went crazy when she coloured the inside of his belly button for the nose. LOL
For the rest of the night, Barry the very manly Baseball captain, was a walking work of art and a testament to our female victory over the guys!
....
Well, thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed the story!
Now what about you? What’s your story? Why not share it here!
Many blessings,
Have you ever had a tickle experience as a result of some pick-up sports??
After experiencing a tickle moment I had some weeks ago while attending an international religious studies certificate week with friends it got me wondering how often this sort of thing happens with adults.
I’m calling it the “Barry's Painted Belly” which will make sense as you read on.
Among the under-30 year olds there were 6 guys and 10 women. I think it was Wednesday or Thursday, we finished up our afternoon sessions early and the guys challenged us to a game of three-pitch. (softball in which each team supplies its own pitcher). Given the level of our respective athletic skill the number ratio promised to make the game well, less lopsided. LOL.
The good news for me was that, while I know very little of playing American football, baseball related games are my thing. But of course, I wasn’t about to say much especially when we agreed the stakes would be that the winners could claim the losers as slaves for the evening. It was all intended as good fun and it made the game that much more interesting.
Anyway, skipping ahead in the story, after the agreed upon 7 innings we were ahead by a handy 5 runs! It turned out that having only 6 players proved more of a liability than the guys had thought -especially since all us girls, though not as good as the guys, at least had enough familiarity with the game to get hits and catch easy throws.
So what happened. Well our team-captain, Gill, who came from the central US, decided that to show that we’d won we should paint an eyeshadow face on the losing team captain, Barry’s, belly!
Naturally, he protested loudly insisting that it was beyond the spirit of the slave-deal. "No problem," our captain said. “If we paint your belly, the rest of the guys go free.” As Gill surmised, the other guys immediately sided with us. Seeing the tables had turned, Barry said we’d have to catch him first and bolted.
But not far. A few steps and he was tripped up by one of his friends who told him as we all pounced on him, that he had to get a picture of Barry with eyeshadow! LOL
Even though Barry was down it was NOT over. I swear, the guy had arms as thick as my legs!
Seemed like anyways. I say that because I immediately went for his right arm to help hold him down. I grabbed his wrist and basically fell on his arm pasting it to the grass –for a moment. The next thing I knew I was airborne!
Barry lifted my whole squealing body off the ground and pitched me off him like I was paper! Fortunately plunking to earth didn’t cost me my grip on his wrist. And when he tried to roll over to push another girl off his chest I hung on and flattened his arm to his body. Then amid our collective giggling and teasing and Barry’s grunts and furious protests I put my whole weight on his wrist and worked myself forward levering my shin between his elbow and side until I basically sat atop his arm as though I were riding a broom.
Aided by Barry’s distraction with so many women trying to pin him from every side, I was able to let my weight slide me between his arm and his side and to force even his thick arm back to the grass. Having learned my lesson I sat all my weight on his upturned forearm with my knees on either side and clutched his wrist in a death grip.
Then I went for the TT secret weapon.
...“Hey everybody," i called out, "lets see if he’s ticklish!”
No sooner had Barry wailed in desperate horror than several gleeful female hands and nails were poking and teasing every available inch of his hunky body searching for weak-spots.
And there were many! LOL. Sadly my only contribution was drawing my “sisters’” attention to the tickle tactic. It took all my effort just to keep Barry’s arm from escaping my clutches. But it worked out okay. To keep him pinned I not only had to maintain my death-grip on his wrist, I had to straddle Barry’s powerful -and frantically wriggling- arm between my legs. !
Minutes passed and all-too-soon a breathless and red-faced Barry was begging us to put a happy face on his tummy if it would only stop the tickle torture. Sadly we complied. Well sort of. *heehee* Every time he complained or moved or made any sound of displeasure we used it as a reason to tickle him a little more.
Though she did her best to drag the ordeal out, Gill eventually had painted a nice round happyface over Barry’s washboard abs highlighting it with strings of hair, a goatee and wide expressive eyes. Barry nearly went crazy when she coloured the inside of his belly button for the nose. LOL
For the rest of the night, Barry the very manly Baseball captain, was a walking work of art and a testament to our female victory over the guys!
....
Well, thanks for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed the story!
Now what about you? What’s your story? Why not share it here!
Many blessings,
