Tickle-ist1
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- Aug 19, 2004
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So these particular instances was when I was at the height of my tickling adventures; I think everyday there was some occurrence in which I tickled someone, and the last few days of school were no exception. My plan was this: tickle the chicks that signed my yearbook so that when they signed it they wrote some reference (that was hopefully paragraphs long) of all the times I tickled them. Sometimes it failed miserably as far as the reference, but others were a success. Well, readers, these are the three best times in which my plan worked:
1) This girl who was one of my friends asked me to come over to her house later because she had “no time at school whatsoever, man.” I thought to myself “Sweet!” because 1) it’s so much easier to tickle someone alone and 2) She was one of my best friends at the time, so she had a lot to write and I had a lot of time to tickle. So I went over that afternoon to find this short, blond hair, freckled girl was sitting in her chair studying her finals. From what I can remember she was wearing blue jeans, some weird striped shirt since she always wore that and some really soft, fuzzy, short, white socks.
“Sign this thing!” I jokingly commanded as I tossed her my book.
“Fine, but this will take a while,” she said.
“Oh it’s okay,” I said chucking. This was going to be sweet. So she took out all of her different colored pens and began to write and I jumped across her room and landed right below her feet. I did not make any sly move, and when I caught sight that she crossed her legs, thus elevating her right foot, I attacked and lightly stroked her size 6 foot. Her socked feet were indeed soft and fuzzy, and as I scratched the bottom of her foot I looked up to see her reaction.
“Oh, God!” She said. “Don’t tickle my feet! I’m going to mess up!” With that she didn’t kicked away but simply moved her foot back and forth to avoid my tickling fingers. She started to giggle as she wrote on, and I started to become frustrated; I wanted good tickling! And to me god tickling was hysterical laughter and such. So I sat up, bent my knees so that they would be like a stool, and grabbed her feet and placed them on my lap. She looked at me and shook her head, as if to say “geez kid” or something like that. Any, as she wrote on I took off her socks, exposing her bare feet. Then she wiggled her toes, like she was daring me to tickle. And so I did, I began to scratch her soles, and all she did was move them back and forth, but this time she was belly laughing like crazy. This went on for a few minutes until she finally finished.
“Thanks,” I said
“Well, it’s kinda hard when you’re tickling my feet.”
I left her house and went back to my car, but before I left I looked at her entry. I was quite delighted at that moment to find that at the end of her paragraph she went on for another half page, which was titled “What I was thinking when you were tickling my feet.” It had phrases like “NOOOO, Stop it! Hahahahaha!” and “Not my feet! Don’t tickle my feheheheet!” This mission was a damn good success.
2) Another tall, blond, swimmer girl and I hung out one day after school, and since my yearbook was in the back seat I asked her to sign it.
“Go in the back and sign it!” I said
“With you hear?”
“I won’t look,” I said, and with that she go out of the passenger seat and went in the back, and once she did that I went around on the other side and joined her, and fortunately her legs across the whole seat, so I took advantage of the situation and picked them up and set them in my lap.
“I got an idea,” I said as she continued to write. “Let me tickle your feet while your signing my yearbook!”
“Why?” she asked.
“Just because.” And with that I took off her sandals to see her lovely size 8 feet. I then tickled her soft bottoms, but at the first touch she kicked and her blow landed on my face.
“Who kicks!?” I asked, then grabbing her legs with one arm to restrain them.
“Well, I AM ticklish,” she replied.
“Oh that’s it, you’re going to get it now,” and with that attacked her feet. She then dropped the book and began to scream with laughter. She tried to kick to break free, but I had a good hold and continued to tickle. This went on for a minute until she broke free.
“Wow, that was intense,” she said, breathing a little heavier then before.
“And what of your stomach, my dear?” I said, then I attacked her ribs, in which then cried out again, but to my surprise she didn’t hit me away; she just solely twisted back and forth. Soon I finished and then she went back to finish her entry. After she finished I took her home, and looked in my book to find “Remember the time you gave me the worst feet tickling ever!? I didn’t know how ticklish they were, but watch out, you still gotta sign mine.” Another success I thought to myself.
3) Summer had ended but I luckily still had my book in the car, and when I saw a girl at school registration I asked her to come back to my car to sign it. She was also a tall, blond girl, but her feet were a friggin sweet size nine, which I occasionally gave quick tickles to that year for we ended up in the same class. I opened the door to my back seat, and to my surprise she jumped in and landed on her stomach, and while face down and her feet sticking out the door began to write. From there I crouched down, took off her sandals (luckily all my friends like to wear sandals) held her legs down with one hand and began to tickle her feet.
“Hey! Ha ha ha!” She laughed as she turned to see her feet being tickled. “Don’t do that! I can’t write!”
“Oh, just do your best,” I said and continued. She couldn’t really break away for she was in a bad position to do so; therefore she just laughed and wrote on occasionally saying, “This is really hard.” When she finished she crawled out the other side and ran up to me with arms wide open, saying she had to go. I gave her a hug and ventured to my yearbook to see the contents. It read: “Obviously you had to go for worst spot. I gotta say I’m powerless to do anything when I am tickled on my feet….wait I shouldn’t tell you of all people about that. Oh well, just don’t exploit it okay?” My mouth was wide open when I saw that, and I said outloud, “Friggin sweet!”
Well there you have it. More stories to follow when I think of them.
1) This girl who was one of my friends asked me to come over to her house later because she had “no time at school whatsoever, man.” I thought to myself “Sweet!” because 1) it’s so much easier to tickle someone alone and 2) She was one of my best friends at the time, so she had a lot to write and I had a lot of time to tickle. So I went over that afternoon to find this short, blond hair, freckled girl was sitting in her chair studying her finals. From what I can remember she was wearing blue jeans, some weird striped shirt since she always wore that and some really soft, fuzzy, short, white socks.
“Sign this thing!” I jokingly commanded as I tossed her my book.
“Fine, but this will take a while,” she said.
“Oh it’s okay,” I said chucking. This was going to be sweet. So she took out all of her different colored pens and began to write and I jumped across her room and landed right below her feet. I did not make any sly move, and when I caught sight that she crossed her legs, thus elevating her right foot, I attacked and lightly stroked her size 6 foot. Her socked feet were indeed soft and fuzzy, and as I scratched the bottom of her foot I looked up to see her reaction.
“Oh, God!” She said. “Don’t tickle my feet! I’m going to mess up!” With that she didn’t kicked away but simply moved her foot back and forth to avoid my tickling fingers. She started to giggle as she wrote on, and I started to become frustrated; I wanted good tickling! And to me god tickling was hysterical laughter and such. So I sat up, bent my knees so that they would be like a stool, and grabbed her feet and placed them on my lap. She looked at me and shook her head, as if to say “geez kid” or something like that. Any, as she wrote on I took off her socks, exposing her bare feet. Then she wiggled her toes, like she was daring me to tickle. And so I did, I began to scratch her soles, and all she did was move them back and forth, but this time she was belly laughing like crazy. This went on for a few minutes until she finally finished.
“Thanks,” I said
“Well, it’s kinda hard when you’re tickling my feet.”
I left her house and went back to my car, but before I left I looked at her entry. I was quite delighted at that moment to find that at the end of her paragraph she went on for another half page, which was titled “What I was thinking when you were tickling my feet.” It had phrases like “NOOOO, Stop it! Hahahahaha!” and “Not my feet! Don’t tickle my feheheheet!” This mission was a damn good success.
2) Another tall, blond, swimmer girl and I hung out one day after school, and since my yearbook was in the back seat I asked her to sign it.
“Go in the back and sign it!” I said
“With you hear?”
“I won’t look,” I said, and with that she go out of the passenger seat and went in the back, and once she did that I went around on the other side and joined her, and fortunately her legs across the whole seat, so I took advantage of the situation and picked them up and set them in my lap.
“I got an idea,” I said as she continued to write. “Let me tickle your feet while your signing my yearbook!”
“Why?” she asked.
“Just because.” And with that I took off her sandals to see her lovely size 8 feet. I then tickled her soft bottoms, but at the first touch she kicked and her blow landed on my face.
“Who kicks!?” I asked, then grabbing her legs with one arm to restrain them.
“Well, I AM ticklish,” she replied.
“Oh that’s it, you’re going to get it now,” and with that attacked her feet. She then dropped the book and began to scream with laughter. She tried to kick to break free, but I had a good hold and continued to tickle. This went on for a minute until she broke free.
“Wow, that was intense,” she said, breathing a little heavier then before.
“And what of your stomach, my dear?” I said, then I attacked her ribs, in which then cried out again, but to my surprise she didn’t hit me away; she just solely twisted back and forth. Soon I finished and then she went back to finish her entry. After she finished I took her home, and looked in my book to find “Remember the time you gave me the worst feet tickling ever!? I didn’t know how ticklish they were, but watch out, you still gotta sign mine.” Another success I thought to myself.
3) Summer had ended but I luckily still had my book in the car, and when I saw a girl at school registration I asked her to come back to my car to sign it. She was also a tall, blond girl, but her feet were a friggin sweet size nine, which I occasionally gave quick tickles to that year for we ended up in the same class. I opened the door to my back seat, and to my surprise she jumped in and landed on her stomach, and while face down and her feet sticking out the door began to write. From there I crouched down, took off her sandals (luckily all my friends like to wear sandals) held her legs down with one hand and began to tickle her feet.
“Hey! Ha ha ha!” She laughed as she turned to see her feet being tickled. “Don’t do that! I can’t write!”
“Oh, just do your best,” I said and continued. She couldn’t really break away for she was in a bad position to do so; therefore she just laughed and wrote on occasionally saying, “This is really hard.” When she finished she crawled out the other side and ran up to me with arms wide open, saying she had to go. I gave her a hug and ventured to my yearbook to see the contents. It read: “Obviously you had to go for worst spot. I gotta say I’m powerless to do anything when I am tickled on my feet….wait I shouldn’t tell you of all people about that. Oh well, just don’t exploit it okay?” My mouth was wide open when I saw that, and I said outloud, “Friggin sweet!”
Well there you have it. More stories to follow when I think of them.
