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What’s wrong? Is someone… ticklish? Oh, of course not, right? You’re way too old for that… Way too… Mature. Is that it? Oh, look at you with your crossed arms and that adorable little glare. How threatening! Well, if you’re so tough, then I guess you just won’t mind if I poke here, or press this spot riiiiight here, or just run my fingers down this little crevice.
What’s that? Are you laughing? How come? I thought you weren’t ticklish. You’re not? Oh, you just won’t admit it, will you? Then I suppose I’ll have to make you.
Oooh, your eyes just got a whole lot wider, does someone know what I do to girls who don’t listen? To ticklish little lees? I think you do. You’ve made me break you sooo many times. So, how about, you just admit it now, and we won’t have to go through all that trouble this time. Hm?
You still don’t want to? Oh dear. Well, I suppose you asked for it then.
Tsk, tsk… such a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? I gave you a chance. I really did. But nooo, you just had to play tough. Still glaring, still pretending those little twitches and giggles don’t mean anything. That’s fine. You know what they say—actions speak louder than words.
So, let’s see what your body has to say, hmm? Maybe if I just trace right along your sides, like this—oh, there it is. That sweet little flinch. And was that a snort? No? Must’ve imagined it, huh? Or maybe you’re just losing control already.
What’s the matter now? That pout’s starting to wobble. Your arms aren’t so tightly crossed anymore, either… starting to squirm, are we? I haven’t even gotten serious yet. But don’t worry. I will.
All you have to do is admit it. Just one little word—ticklish. Say it. Or don’t… and I’ll keep going until you’re too breathless to speak at all.
Your call, sweetheart.
Oh, you poor thing. You really thought you could outlast me? That your silence was some kind of shield? How cute. But look at you now—your breath’s already hitching, your body trembling every time I so much as hover my fingers near you. You’re hanging on by your fingernails, and we both know it.
Here, let me remind you… right here along your waist—slow, soft circles, just enough to make you twitch. And here’s the best part: I’m barely trying. This? This is just the warm-up, sweetheart. We haven’t even gotten to the part where you’re begging me to stop through the laughter.
Ohhh, and that look you’re giving me? That mix of panic and pride? Delicious. Go ahead, glare all you want. Grit your teeth. Pretend you’re not about to burst. It won’t save you.
Let’s test a theory. If I scribble my fingers like this across your tummy—aha! There it is! That little bark of laughter you tried to smother in your sleeve. Too late. I heard it. You felt it. And now?
Now we’re past pretending.
Still want to act tough? Still think you can win this little game?
Because darling… I’ve already won.