Masseuse Tickler

Recently, I was reminded of how ridiculously ticklish I am.   At first glance you might not believe it, but anyone close to me knows about my big secret.

This would be my first time getting a full body massage.  I'd never tried one before, for fear of being to ticklish. Looking back, i’m not sure what I was thinking.  I knew the deal by now.  My ticklishness crept it's way into every part of my life, and it always had.  It happened ever since I grew up.  Dr's Exams were always a struggle.  I couldn't get a physical without worming and squirming.  I discovered that even the roof of my mouth was very ticklish (which FYI is a very inconvenient place to be ticklish, especially when going to the dentist)   My body's riddled with spots from head to toe.

In any case, I found out just how “sensitivite” I was on vacation.  I was traveling with a group of classmates this year.  There were 15 or so girls, and few guys including myself. We were on the road for much of the trip, moving from spot to spot.  We hotel hoped from night to night, catching the attractions.  Along the way, we stopped at one particular hotel for the night, a spa hotel.  

This was the stop the girls had been awaiting.  In fact, they were discussing this for much of the trip.  I was sitting near the back of the bus, and I could they're voices swirling.
Being one of the few guys on the trip, they asked me what I planned on doing at the spa.

“Urhm,…Probably Nothing…..” I said.  “I mean..I don’t think I’ll get any spa treatments,” I lied.  But actually, I had already peeked at the brochure, and the full body massage caught my eye.  

Most of my classmates got their treatments earlier that day.  I heard some good feedback, so I decided to give it a go.   I was a little apprehensive, so I booked my massage for later that night, hoping everyone would be in bed. That way I wouldn't catch any flack.

It was time.  I walked through the hotel halls, making my way to the bottom floor.  It was dead silent, and most of the others had cleared out for the night.  I arrived to the room they assigned, wearing only a robe, flip flops, and my boxers.   The door was closed, but I could see slivers of light peeking out from underneath.

I was a few minutes early, but I knocked anyway.  

Within a few seconds a woman appeared, standing in the middle of the doorway.  She stared me up and down quickly, smiling.  She was trim, she had long brown hair, and deep brown eyes. She looked to be a few years older than me to. 

“1 hour full body massage right? Come in, Come in,” she said, gesturing me in inside. She seemed friendly enough.  She told me her name, but I can't recall it.

“You can take your robe and the flip flops off, and lay on the table, face down,” she said pointing to the massage table.

I did so.  I dropped my robe in a nearby chair.  

She glaced at me as she spun around, “Ohhhh you’re muscular,” she commented.

I smiled, taking her comment in stride. &nbspLittle did I know, there'd be alot more laughter where that came from.

I kicked my flip flops off my feet and hopped up on the table.  I laid face down, feeling the feeling the cold leather barechest.  

She got right to it.

The masseuses grabbed a bottle of oil from a small cart, sitting in the middle of the room.   She squeezed a good amount into her palms and rubbed them together.

“Scentless massage oils,” she smiled, rubbing her oily palms together.  She was about to start, so I put my head down, sliding it into the face hole in the table.

It began.  

“I’ll start at the shoulders,” she cooed.

Her hands landed on my shoulders, beginning to rub gently.  She massaged my shoulder muscles, kneading into them gently.   Then she trailed up-wards, combing gently over the back of my neck.  

Her fingers swept the nape of my neck, and a certain sensation bubbled up in me.  I was feeling the exact reaction I feared I would.   That familiar feeling crept up my spine; the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I got goosebumps; I flinched and shook as I bit my lip.

“Is something wrong sir?” she breathed, apparently noticing.

“n-Nohh… it’s nothing,” I stuttered, trying to calm myself.

She moved upwards again, rubbing her palms over my ears.  I twitched, but the sensation wasn’t as bad here.

The Masseuse paused for a moment, and I could hear her squeezing more oil into her hands.  I took a deep breath as I waited for her to continue.   The next sensations I felt were along my back.  She moved down my body, making her way to my shoulders again.  I could feel her knuckles pressing into my back muscles, which felt good.  Then her hands began to stroke sideways, and I jumped.   With every stroke across my back, I could feel the tips of her fingers delving into the cusp of my armpits.  They didn't go particularly deep, but they probed just enough to make me react..  My heels knocked into each other at the foot of the table; I jittered and snickered under my breath.  Such light gentle touches under my arms were driving me crazy.

“Ahh…” she exclaimed, "you’re ticklish aren’t you?” she asked, without slowing her pace at all.

I cringed.  I always do whenever I'm as she asked that question, the question with no right answer.  

“No-nOHhW-NooHew…NoI’mnnnNOthaha! NoIImM nOtThh-”  I stuttered, slightly embarrassed that I had been found out.

“Hmm….are you sure?” she hummed.  She almost sounded as though she was mocking me.

“I meann…Uhm….Eheh...m-Maybe A littelhhEeh, Jsut Alit-LillBit,” I fessed up.  

“I see, just a little...... Well i’ll try my best not to tickle you then sir,” she said simply.  

She resumed, continuing downwards.   She trailed down my back, and I felt light touches on the very backs of my ribs.    In no time her fingers had already sniffed out yet another overly ticklish spot.  I resumed struggling to keep still,  barely managing to stop myself from wriggling her table like a fish.

“Ohhhh my….ticklish here to?  Is there any place you aren’t?” she asked sweetly.    Now maybe I was just imagining things, but I got the feeling that she was enjoying this a little to much.  She went back and forth over my ribs multiple times.

She reached the small of my back next.  Now truthfully I'm ticklish all over, but luckily for me, there are some spots that are less so than others.  So, when she got to less sensitive spots like this one, I had a chance to cool off for a bit.  

Even so my rest was short lived,  In the next instant my body came to life abruptly and I felt an electrifying sensation.  The girl was grabbing handfulls of my thighs, squeezing here and there carelessly; I damn near leaped off the massage table.  (I was caught off guard to, which made things even worse.  I didn't expect this particular spot to be so brutally ticklish.   ) My stomach rumbled with the urge to laugh.  My face got warm, and my chest filled up like a bagpipe.  I strained but I couldn't hold it all in this time.  

“C-CANHeYouu GO A LiTTlel LighTer PelASe!  ItASS ReLAyyAhA Bad Right theEhA!” I admitted.

“No problem sir, I'm just trying to work this knot out of your thigh,” she responded, continuing to feel around rather harshly.

"WHh-WhaT KNOTAHAHhhh?"  I breathed, almost panicking.

"You've got a very tight one back here," she cooed without letting up.  I wasn't convinced.

She did ease up eventually, but despite my reactions, she didn’t seem to be in a rush to move.   In fact, she took her sweet time.  She moved terribly slow on this spot, almost  as if she was drawing things out intentionally.    

At this point in the massage, I thought about stopping.  But, on the other hand, I had already paid a good amount of money for this.  

*No….I’m not gonna be a wimp, I'm not gonna wimp out-I can take it-I can take it!* I coached myself.....

She finally left my thighs alone shifting down.   She began to focus on the backs of my knees (which FYI wasn't much easier for me to bare)   With a fair bit of straining, I made it through without laughing.  As she got to my calves, I was able to catch my breath. The Masseuse kept up her pace, gradually descending.  Little did she know that if she moved a little further down,  she would strike pure tickly gold.  

Slowly she was nearing what is arguably my most ticklish spot, my bare upturned feet.  Now would’ve been a great time to stop this, but I stayed quiet.

The instant she grabbed ahold my foot my eyes popped open, and suddenly, I was feeling the worst tickling sensation so far in this “massage=”  

The girl pressed her knuckles deep into my heel, drawing tight round circles on my sole.  Strangely I didn’t laugh aloud, but I could feel the tickling sensation so deeply, even down to my bones.  My muscles tightened, and my body went stiff as a board;  I shut my eyes.  I clenched my teeth together so hard I thought they would shatter  I coughed and grunted and giggled under my breath, doing everything to keep myself from breaking in hysterical giggles..  

Every second spent on my feet was painfully ticklish.  She made her way up and down each foot slowly, starting at the heels.  Her hands slid in and out of my arch groove and she combed over my instep and the ball of my foot.  And the toes….god they were no better.  Each one was stretched out and stretched apart one by one, and her fingers slide between them.

I couldn’t bring myself to open my mouth, because if I did, hysterical laughter would come spewing out.  I just laid there, straining so hard that my eyes began to water.  If she applied even a smidgen more pressure, I was going to burst.

But she stopped.

“Ok sir, this side is all done, turn over for me please,” she said cheerily.

I sat up on the table catching my breath for a moment.  I looked down at my feet, wriggling my toes a bit.  The bottoms were still tingling from her fingers dancing all over them.

“Alright,” I half gasped.  I laid down on my back this time, face up.  

She went over to the stand, squeezing more oil into her palms.  

In no time, she was at it again, starting from the top and working her way down.    She rubbed my neck again, and I got through it with little struggle this time.   Her hands slid downwards, and her oiled palms found my chest.  She slid back and froth over my chest, squeezing the muscles.  To my surprise I had a trouble here to.  I had just discovered another of my unusual ticklsh spots.

I was face up on this go round.  I could see my masseuse's face, and she could see mine.  My struggling was plain as day after my face twisted into a stupid smile

Further down she went.  

The masseuse arrived at my midsection, and she jostled her oily hands along my stomach and my abs.  My muscles tightened as the urge to laugh bubbled up again.  I winced and bit my tongue, realizing that my attempts to bottle myself were starting to fail again slowly.   She was positioned at my side as she pressed into my stomach muscles.  I glanced at her, and I could’ve sworn I saw a big mischievous smile poking out from under those long brown locks.

I looked down, and saw her thumbs breaking away from the rest of her fingers.  I shuddered.  She began thumbing up and down my flanks, and ribs applying more pressure.    I held my breath, and curled my lips but it was not good.  She was peeling muffled giggles out of me like a bananna.

“H-HeoHWW mUchHf LonGer iS tlheEhhEheteMAASSaagge??” I asked choppily.   

“What’s the problem sir? Arn’t you enjoying?” she asked, with the same teasing tone from earlier.  She wouldn't stop, and she wouldn't answer my question either.

She had arrived at my lower body again, focusing on the inner thighs (which are apparently just as ticklish as the backs of my thighs) She made a fist, kneading deep into the tender inner parts.  I was losing my freaking mind, clenching my fists, and smiling like cheshire cat.

“Try to hold still sir. Just relax," she said.  The tickling sensations seemed to worsen as her voice sounded more honey like.

“NnghHG I-Im-Imm TrYIngg ToHhehEAaHh!” ImHTRRyING!"  I spat, almost pleading with her.

There was just something odd about her tone.   She almost seemed giddy about the whole situation.    Even her expression seemed mock me.  She looked surprised as if to say (I’ve never seen a guy this ticklish)

It didn’t matter at the moment though, because by now she had arrived at my feet again.  When I realized, I wanted to scream (NOT MY FEET AGAIN!) so badly, but I was to slow.  I couldn’t brace myself in time, and she jumped right into it.   Her hands slid along my soles, giving them another thorough “rub down.”  

The nerves all all over my body, not to mention my feet were set on fire by ticklishness. I was saturated by it.  I wanted to scream but instead, my reactions dribbled out as muffled strained chuckles. &nbsp I was dying, and laughing myself hysterical in silence.  I did whatever I had to to cope.  I breathed in and out choppily  I dug my fingers into the massage table trying to bear through the sensations.  As her thumbs pressed into my arches, my back buckled into the table.  I felt weak suddenly, and all my strength was sucked clean out of me.  I felt paralyzed.  The situation reminded me of when I play freeze tag as a kid, (wand my friends delighted in tickling me while I was frozen.  So unfair right?  lol)  It was to much to bear.  I demanded my body to get up, but it wouldn’t move.  

She glanced at me seeing a full fledged expression of anguish, but she still didn't stop "massaging" me, not yet.

She did a number on my soles.   She concentrated most of her attention on my arches (which just happens to be one of the most sensitive spots on my feet)  She squeezed and pinched the sides of my feet, and worked my toes.  She crammed her her fingers between each toe, wriggling in the spaces. The sensations on my feet were so intense that they made me feel queasy.  The worst part was, I couldn't relieve myself as I normally would, by bursting with laughter.  

“All finished,” she said rather happily.

This 1 hour massage left me exhausted.  I was winded, and my chest was prickled and burned.   A 1 hour massage? More like a 1 hour tickling session.

I caught  my breath for a moment, composing myself before I sat up.  I stared at the masseuse as she walked over, cleaning her hands.

“It was very nice working with you sir,” she said, leaving the room with a big smile on her face.

I sat there for a moment more before I left.  I gathered my robe and my flip flops.  I slid both back on and I made my way back to my room.  As I walked, I thought about what exactly had just happened.

Thinking back, I got the feeling that every bit of that tickling was intentional. In fact, I was convinced that once that masseuse discovered how ticklish I was,  she couldn’t resist.  Once my secret was exposed, there was blood in the water, and it was open season on my weak points.  I think she enjoyed her little power trip, and she loved the feeling of having a little control over a person, heh.   (Although, I guess I allowed it)

I understand the feeling.  I’m a tickle fanatic, so i'll be the first to admit, I'd never pass up a sweet opportunity like that one. So perhaps my "Masseuse" had a little tickle monster hiding in her.

Whatever the case, she tickled the bejeezus out of me, and of course, I was a good sport about it.  I discovered spots I never  knew I had, and I had fun at the same time.  So it was all fine.