Watching ‘Tickled’

By Chance

 

Part 1

 

So, it’s been a while. So much has happened. Actually not very much has happened at all but if you imagine that it all happened in one day rather than 18 months then it’s incredibly impressive. I turned 30 and then 31 (as tends to happen), got a new job (turns out that most of my being a miserable fucker was because I hated my old job; crazy, right?), got engaged and then quickly non-engaged (my favourite text from this period was “You’re an asshole and not in a charming way”) and cut right back on the booze and drugs (then un-cut-right-back). I’ve also been hitting the gym hard so I’m less of a skinny loser. Now I’m a fit loser. This is all context for this story, apart from the stuff that has nothing to do with anything.

Now that the rambling opening paragraph is out of the way, let’s get on to the meat. On Saturday I was round at my friend Jake’s house. Quick aside – I had to go back and read my old stories because I’d forgotten what fake name I’d given him. You can thank me for the consistency later. Jake lives with another couple, Tommy and Jim. It’s the most overly-gay house that I have ever been in. They’re all loud, flamboyant, touchy-feely and completely annoying when they’re drunk. Jake’s on-off boyfriend is a grumpy old shit so he tends to balance them out when he’s around. He and Jake were clearly “off” this weekend because Jake was flying solo, and drinking even more than usual. Jake’s boyfriend hates me, so his absence was a good thing. I’ve never got to the bottom of exactly why he hates me but I have a hunch it’s because he’s a total cock. Or maybe it’s because if Jake flirted with me any more intensely then I’d be pregnant.

Anyway, I digress. I’m round at Jake’s house and we’re drinking wine and looking for something to watch because otherwise all they’d do is argue about exactly what had happened last night. This was basically every conversation they had. Jim suggested “Tickled” which, as I’m sure we all know, is the new documentary about Jane O’Brien Media. I’d actually really wanted to see it but my interest was tempered by the feeling that it was going to be weird watching something that I found sexual in front of three people who don’t. I was correct and it was weird. As things kicked off my film-companions were making comments like, “What the fuck is this? I don’t get it” and “This gets people off?” I was agreeing with them, so really doing my bit for fetish advocacy. I felt like Peter, denouncing Jesus three times before the cock crowed. Luckily the film then got really fucked up so I could actually honestly agree with them as to how odd it was.

We’re about halfway through the film, everyone is pretty drunk, and it’s time to pause for a wine bottle replacement. I’m sitting on one couch, with Jake sitting next to me, his back to the arm and his legs slung over me. Tommy and Jim were on the other couch at right angles to use, but Jim’s in the kitchen opening another bottle of red. The remaining three of us started to discuss the film.

“I don’t understand the competition part of the endurance tickling. How are they competing? What do they win?” This was Tommy, focusing on the important stuff as usual.
“Maybe David was doing all this shit to try and find the person who could last the longest, so he could create the Tickle Olympics”. That was me, thinking big.
“Would you ever do something like that? For a couple of thousand dollars?”, Tommy asked me.
“Fuck no. I don’t need the money.”
“And you’re so ticklish that you’d die after 30 seconds”, Jake chimed in.
“45 seconds” I countered, skillfully using my humour to deflect the comment. Sadly my humour proved ineffective.
“How ticklish are you?” Tommy asked, with far more interest in his voice than I would like. I knew that it was time for drastic measures.
“About this ticklish” I answer, grabbing one of Jake’s socked feet by the ankle and scribbling my nails over the middle of his sole. Jake responded by shrieking and kicking me very hard in the ribs with his left foot. This was as painful as it sounds, and I now have an impressive bruise to show for it, but I am hardcore and did not let go. Instead I called him something very rude, dragged him on to the ground and went for his sides. Jake is laughing and screaming at me to get off him. Tommy is mocking Jake for being such a little pussy and Jim is probably drinking the entire bottle of wine in the kitchen, the alcoholic fuck. Thanks to my gym-hitting I am now more than a match for X. I’ve pinioned him to the ground between my knees and I can more than tolerate him smashing me around the head and torso with his frenzied fists. My hands moved up to his pits, which were vulnerable due to his trying to punch me off of him. I don’t know if I hit a particularly sensitive spot or if he just found some desperate hidden strength, but pretty much as soon as my scrabbling fingers reached his skin, woefully protected by his thin t-shirt, he shouted “fuck you!” and jerked his knee up and right into my balls. So I’ve now been kicked in the ribs and basically castrated. Successful evening. I let out a wheezing gasp of agony, fell sideways off him and quickly found myself pinioned under a gleeful X.

“I’m injured, this isn’t fair!” I managed to get out between agonized gasps for air. Jake ignored me.
“Tommy, start a timer”.
“What for? What the fuck for?” I asked frantically, trying to scramble out from under him. This didn’t go well as Jim grabbed my wrists, yanked them up and knelt on my hands. That’s as painful as it sounds by the way. I definitely don’t think that they were following the Ticklers Restraint Code of Conduct that day. I hear that kicking ribs, kneeing balls and kneeling on hands is frowned upon. With Jake sitting on my thighs, I was only really able to smash my head against the carpet or lift my feet about a cm off the ground. Neither of these things did me much good.
“We’re going to see if you can last 45 seconds before you crack,” Jake answered.
“I do not consent to this game.”
“You’re lucky we’re not filming it and sticking it on YouTube,” Jake replied.
“One… two…” Tommy began to count. This was terrifying.
“NO. Stop, wait, don’t” I quickly ran through every word for “desist” that I could.
“… three, go!” Tommy finished, as my hell began. Jake went for one of the worst spots first, my stomach. He lightly ran his nails over the skin from my belt to my ribcage, causing me to arch my back and let out a high-pitched whine. My skin had broken out into goosebumps.
“Gotta be quiet, Chance. You’ve lasted a second” Jake told me. I don’t know why I was even playing along but it’s probably because I’m so competitive and I can’t let anything go. I clenched my jaw, slammed my eyes shut and pressed my back to the ground. This was fine. I was fine. I am 31 years old. I am not ticklish. I am not…
X’s fingers moved up my body, pushing my shirt up and scribbled into my pits. I was instantly lost, letting out a “nohohoSTOPhahaha” that was probably heard in space. Jake didn’t stop and kept forcing laughter out of me by pinching my muscle or scratching his nails through my armpit’.
“You are so fucking ticklish!” Tommy laughed. “Oh, and you lasted 28 seconds.”
“I’ve lo-ho-ho-ost! I’VE LO-HA-HA-HA-ST so STO-AHAHAHA-OOOOP” I managed to get out.
“Nah, you’re alright,” Jake told me. I wasn’t alright though. Jake’s fingers moved to flick over my nipples and, although this was still an incredibly ticklish spot, it also started to do funny things to me.
“I don’t like it!” I wailed. Apparently getting my nipples tickled turns me into a fucking child.
“I think you do” Jake said, with a mocking smirk.
“I can’t help it! This is sexual assault!”
“Let’s turn it back into a normal assault then” was Jake’s response, as he grabbed my rib cage and started squeezing. I don’t remember the last time my ribs were tickled but it must’ve been a long time ago because I think I’d recall the feeling of ticklish agony mixed with semi-nausea. I was hysterical, which thankfully Jake found so funny that he doubled over with laughter, and stopped tickling me.
“Please stop. Honestly, I’m going to die.” I begged. With an exaggerated sigh, Jake got off my legs and knelt by my side. Jim released my wrists and I instantly moved to pull my t-shirt down.
“You need to quit your job and start making tickling videos” Jim told me me, as he and Tommy sat back on their couch. “You’d make a killing”.
“He’s too old. No one would buy them”, Jake said with a last drill of his fingers into my ribs.
“GAH-fuck you”, I shouted at him, shakily sitting up and pushing the hair out of my face. I sat back up next to him and Jake slung his legs back over my lap.
“Can I get a foot rub?” he asked, as a glared at him.
“No.”
“Please? I’ll never tickle you again.”
“No.”
“Pleeeeeease?” he again beseeched me, gently grabbing at my sides. This tickled but I could take it, only letting out some mild giggles. It actually felt quite nice.
“Shut the fuck up so we can watch the film!” Jim shouted. Jake withdrew his hand and the tickling stopped. For now.

 

Part 2

 

The film finished, I was drunk and tired and so I went to bed. I was staying the night in Jake’s room since I was far too cheap to get an Uber home. I quickly fell asleep and started having a weird dream. I was a spy, tasked with sneaking around a cottage (that was like something out of a children’s fairytale) to find something undetermined. I had been given an invisibility cloak, which I was wearing. Suddenly I hear someone open the door, so I jump out of a window and hide in the flowerbed (as you do), covering myself with the cloak. I did a shitty job of covering myself though because I left my stomach exposed. Whoever was in the house must’ve looked outside and seen me because I suddenly felt someone very lightly stroking the skin of my stomach with their nails. A fun little fact about me – this is the specific type of tickling that absolutely destroys me. I can’t stand it. Most people that I’ve been with really like having their skin lightly stroked, and to be fair I do in some places. It’s nice on my back (not too near my sides) and inner arms (although this can be pretty ticklish). Very rarely on my stomach though. I was once with a guy who adored having his stomach stroked in the exact way that I hate. He’d lie back, get all goosebumpy and basically purr like a cat. God knows how he could stand it. Anyway, I digress, back to my weird dream. So this mystery figure (I had the invisibility cloak over my head so was effectively blindfolded) starts tickling my stomach and dream-me is trying to hold it together because I don’t want to reveal myself. Clearly I had very faulty dream logic because I was already revealed. I can’t hold it together though and as I start laughing I wake up with a start and realize that it’s Jake who has been perverting my lovely spy/invisibility cloak dream. He was sitting next to me in the bed and had stuck his hand under my t-shirt. I could see the shit-eating grin on his face courtesy of a bedside lamp that he’d kindly switched on. I batted his hand away and got properly under the duvet for safety. Jake sighed dramatically, lay down next to me with his head on my shoulder and asked me, in a terrible Italian accent, why I won’t let him love me. To my great interest I realised that he was very, very drunk. He was much more drunk than me. Here was a situation that I could take advantage of.

“I think that feeling people up in their sleep is a crime.” I said to him, feigning displeasure.
“I wasn’t feeling you up, I was feeling your skin”, he replied, which made no sense. “You’re so uptight. You need to learn to relax and not be such an autistic fuck.” Nice, thanks Jake.
“I’d be much more relaxed if you weren’t trying to tickle me every second.”
“You only hate it because you have to be in control. You need to learn to relax.”
“Most people hate being tickled.” I replied, knowing that this wasn’t strictly true, thank God.
“I don’t. I think it’s fun. You’d be much less jumpy if you weren’t so obsessed with being in control.” Hmm, interesting. This I can use.
“I am not obsessed with being in control.”
“Okay then, let me tickle you for five minutes, lie there, laugh, whatever and lose control.” This was a game that he and I had played years before. It didn’t go well for me. I decided to go along with it for the time being though.
“Tickle me where?” Jake sat up, his face golden in the small amount of light given off by the lamp. He pursed his lips and appeared to think hard. God, he really was a beautiful man, I thought. I’d always been amazed that someone like him would be friends with a twat like me. The fact that he found me attractive was a never-ending source of wonder too. If it wasn’t for the tickling of me and the constant bickering we engaged in, he’d be a perfect person.
“It has to be a really bad spot so… your entire upper body.”
“No. Pick one spot.” That’s it, Jake, keep thinking that I’m actually going to let you do this.
“Your armpits.” Hmm, bit of an unusual choice. I tried to remember if my pits were actually ticklish. Oh yes, thank you horrific flashbacks. They really fucking are.
“Why armpits?”
“Because everyone’s ticklish there.”
“Interesting, tell me more.” Enough buildup, this was it. I pulled the duvet off me, shoved Jake off my shoulder, wrapped the duvet around his waist and straddled him. He was too drunk and surprised to react for a second. I shoved each of his arms under my legs and bent over until my face was only a few inches from his.
“Jake, do you like being tickled? Do you think it’s fun?” He looked back at me with big, mildly-freaked-out eyes and blinked. I could feel him surreptitiously try to free his arms.
“I mean, yeah, it’s fun, right?”
“Yeah it’s fun, right”, I affirmed as I walked my fingers up his ribcage and towards his armpits. This was actually a crappy pit-tickling setup because his arms were close to his sides and he was wearing a shirt. Actually, one of those things could be rectified. I pulled the bottom of his shirt out from under the duvet that trapped his waist and unbuttoned it from the top down. I could see his chest rise and fall as he took in quick, nervous breaths. A light spattering of blonde-brown hair covered his skin, drawing into a thin line that ran down his torso under his pecs. Jake has a great body. He always has. I’d seen him in various states of undress over the many years that we’d known each other but this felt different. It felt new, and more intimate. I know that Jake was thinking the same thing because his breath was becoming more ragged and when I looked up to meet his eyes, he was staring back at me with a slight smile on his face.
‘This is… really fucking hot” he murmured.
“I’d always had you pegged as a dom” I replied, as I finished fanning his shirt open. I could see the edges of his pits now and reckoned that I could get at least one finger in each.
“Eh, I like to switch it around a bit. It’s easy for us normal, non-control freaks”, he said, with a cheeky look.
“You’re making all sorts of trouble for yourself.” I said, as I started to draw little light circles by the spots on his chest closest to his armpits. Instantly Jake’s breath hitched and he tried to brace himself up with his feet. Luckily I am heavy and he was drunk so his efforts were in vain.
“Is this a ticklish spot, Jake?” I asked him in a mocking voice. ‘Jake, how ticklish are you?” Jake has this thing about people overusing his name, so I knew this would add a little extra frisson of annoyance to the situation.
“Stop- heeheehee – using my – ha! – name!” he exclaimed, starting to giggle in earnest as I slowly started scratching towards his nipples.
“What a masculine laugh that is, Jake.” I said, moving to his light brown nipples that were, I noticed, very erect. I lightly flicked my fingertips over them, in much the same way as he had done to me a few hours earlier. The response was good, to say the least. He arched his back as much as he could and his giggles became punctuated with moans.
“STOP! Hee hee hahaha! You’re turning me on-hahahaha.”
“It’s what friends do”, I repiied, as I continued my light flicks of his small, hard nipples. His face was a thing of beauty. Eyes scrunched shut, massive smile on his face and the occasional lip bite. This was much more fun than being tickled and I resolved to be less on the receiving end.
“Jake, are your armpits ticklish?” I asked, continuing my teasing of his nipples.
“Ye-he-he-he-FUCK! YES! Hahahaha” he managed to get out, thrashing his head from side to side and futilely trying to yank his arms out from under me.
“Cool, thanks” I told him, instantly moving my hands to insert my forefingers into his pits. There wasn’t much room to manoeuvre, but it was enough. I gently probed into his skin, feeling his soft pit hairs moving against my finger. He reacted like he’d been electrocuted.
“GET OU-hahahaha STOP PLEASE STOPPPP hehehehe NO PLEASE” he sputtered, slamming his head into the pillows.
“I’d keep your voice down if I were you, Jake. Do you want Tommy and Jim to come in and see you in such a compromising position?”
“YOU’RE A BASTARD HAHAHA” was his reply, with his laughter jumping up in pitch as I clearly moved to a very sensitive spot. I looked down at my best friend, squirming and squealing under me and felt a lurch of lust that took me by surprise. Yes, I’ve always thought that Jake was very attractive and we had long had a flirtatious, touchy-feely (sometimes too touchy-feely) friendship, but this was new territory. Jake was right: I was a bastard. I had been seeing a girl for a couple of weeks and what I was doing went against all of my resolutions made after my last relationship fell apart. No more cheating, no more whoring. Obviously I didn’t want this to stop but it wasn’t right.
“Since you’re too much of a pussy to rein it in, I’m going to have to stop. For the good of the sleeping household.” I cursed inwardly as I released his arms from under my legs and pushed up from my knees so I was no longer sitting on him. Jake’s response was to quickly grab the back of my head with his hands and shove my face down to meet his in a forceful kiss. I had tried so hard but I was weak. I returned the kiss, which was actually difficult because I was having to support myself in a half-pushup, lest I fall completely onto him. He grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt, breaking off the kiss, to pull it over my head. I lifted one arm up to allow him to slip the sleeve off and then the other. I looked down at Jake and felt that same lurch again. I had never wanted another person in the way that I wanted him right then. Since I was only wearing boxer briefs, this much was clear to both of us. Then my stupid fucking morality reared its ugly head and I knew that I couldn’t do this.
“Jake, man…. I can’t do this. Not now. God, I am such a fucking piece of shit.” I rolled off my beautiful friend and laid beside him, hands behind my head. “I need to end things with Jess before anything happens – and God I want you so bad – but I cannot spend my whole life being a piece of human garbage.
“Text her now then”, Jake said. I looked at him, then we both burst into laughter. The extreme sexiness of the moment had passed and now he was my best friend again.
“Not sure that will help me to be less of a piece of human garbage.” I replied.
‘Probably not. Still, Zayn Malik did it and now he’s dating a supermodel”.
“You’re not that good looking.” I told him, with a grin that said he definitely was.
“Anyway, enough time wasting. You owe me five minutes” he suddenly said, sitting up in bed.
“Oh fuck off, no. Not going to happen.” I told him.
“Keeping your word is an important part of not being human garbage” was his response as he knelt by my side. I nervously took my hands from behind my head, and crossed my arms over my body. I was suddenly very aware of how little clothing I was wearing.
“Five minutes of armpit tickles to teach you to be less of a control freak”, Jake continued.
“I’m not a control freak!” I said, trying to put as much outrage as I could into my voice.
“Arms behind the head” he ordered, and I found myself thinking that maybe I should do this. Maybe it’d be fun. Maybe I did need to learn how to relax. Maybe I’d let this happen with my full agreement and suddenly all my ticklishness would vanish. My previous sensitivity was purely down to the fact that I’m a control freak. Clearly it wasn’t just my dream logic that was fucked. I slowly moved my arms back up and behind my head, clasping my fingers together in a death grip. Jake stared at my chest with a very evil look on his face. As he moved his fingers towards my armpits I slammed my eyes shut and tensed my body, This was the first time I’d ever consented to being tickled and this would make all the difference. I would discover that I’m not actually ticklish, just uptight.

This did not happen. As his fingers started scritching in the hollows under my arm, I realised that this was one of the most ticklish things that had ever happened to me. Letting out a stream of (also not very masculine) giggles, I immediately yanked my hands out from behind my head, grabbed Jake in a bear hug and pulled him down onto me.
“Hehehehe STOP! I can’t take it” I sputtered into his shoulder.
“If you say that you’re a ticklish little bitch then I’ll let you off” Jake kindly offered. His fingers had moved down to my hipbones and he was squeezing them.
“Hahahah I’m a ticklish little bitch! STOP!”
“You were such a good dom until this point” Jake said, pulling himself off me and returning to his original spot of lying by my side, his head on my shoulder.
“So long as no one ever touches me I can keep up the façade.”
“No, you’re so cute when you’re tickled that it’d be a crime not to touch you.”
“Er, thanks?” I replied, as I gently stroked his back.
“I am so horny.” Jake said sadly, nuzzling into me.
“Me too.” I agreed.
“Can you send Jess that text now?”
“No.”
“Facetime her?”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to the bathroom to have a wank”, Jake declared, shedding his clothes as he walked towards his en suite. As I stared at his naked body, I felt like the stupidest man in the world. Fuck morals.