Navel Tickle Story Novels & Stories

Anna Coleman quickly turned around. She saw a black bug that seemed slightly smaller than one’s nail in Alex Rockefeller’s hand. “What… What is this?” Anna was stunned. “Did you make it bite me?” she asked. Alex was speechless. “I removed this from the back of your neck. Have you heard of ticks?” Alex began to explain. Anna shuddered and nodded. Of course, she knew what ticks were. Back when she went on a mission in some primeval forest, she was bitten several times by ticks. Her fever went up to forty-one degrees, and her brain was badly burned.

Tink shivered in the warm water, her tail splashing the surface. While Tink was enjoying herself, Mike was having difficulty finding what he was looking for. Determined, he searched her folds for any trace of a fleshy nub, hoping that his theory about goblin anatomy would prove correct. After a minute of this, he decided to explore something else, pulling her leg wide and pushing a finger inside of her.

"The Granite Gal does not move for the wind." She leaned her head against my knee, closing her eyes. For an hour, we sat in the dim light of the nursery. I told her stories of Navarino fables I made up on the spot about dragons who turned into mountains and weavers who hid secrets in their rugs. But as I spoke, I wasn't just telling stories. I was memorizing the scent of her hair. I was feeling the warmth of her body against my legs. I was Caleb, trapped in a tomb of my own making, watching the woman I loved find peace in the arms of a ghost.

Because Mina didn't let up, and now it was her nails lightly teasing the balls of Nadine's foot. What was that girl doing? Was she looking for distraction from her own predicament, or was she simply feeling mischievous? And did she have any idea how evil this was? Nadine might not have been the most ticklish girl around (unlike some of these poor souls that Mistress loved to make scream themselves hoarse from laughter; Nadine had believed the "torture" in "tickle torture" to be mere hyperbole, until she had seen just how bad it could get; many a slave girl would gladly pick being whipped bloody over an hour in the tickle stocks). However, she wasn't immune to the effects of such devilishly l

They were silent while riding to Rachel's home. It was drizzling a bit outside when they arrived at their destination, but the sun sometimes peeked from the clouds. This reminded Kuya Devin of what our grandmother said before about tikbalang (were-horse in Asian folklore) getting wed. He was looking out the window inside Raquel’s house while he was listening to her story. “Please believe me! It’s real! I saw blood flow from Mama Mary’s head!” Rachel said in a raised voice to her boyfriend and to her friend.

It was soft and real but still made me nervous. I didn’t like being watched. Not when I was supposed to talk but she didn’t ask questions like the other grown-ups. She just said: “Tell me a story.” So I did. Not the one about school or the one about Clara’s house with the glass table I wasn’t allowed to touch. I told her the real one. About the boy in the spaceship. The one who got lost. The one who woke up one day and couldn’t remember where he came from but felt it anyway. Like music you heard once in a dream and then… how one day, he saw a star blinking. And it wasn’t a star, it was a signal.

Ava told me all about things she'd done at school. Mrs. Thompson read them the story about the little girl who had left to have an adventure in the jungle. Ava and her best friend, Lily, played on the playground pretending to be explorers. There was this new boy in the class. He has got a pet turtle, and she wants one now. "Maybe one day we'll get a turtle," I find myself saying as I brush a ringlet from her face. "Can we name him Spike?" she asks with sparkly eyes.

I pulled on black joggers and a black turtle neck sweater before heading towards the well. Sylria was already there, she bent down beside Nelma who was narrating a story to her using a stick on the sand. She noticed my presence. “I’ll listen to the rest of your story later Nelma.” Why? But this is the best part—Oh.” Nelma noticed me too, any enthusiasm she had disappearing her face. “Pretty boy hey-re.” Her lisp getting the better of her last word again. The little one stood up, walking away while casting an evil leer at me. Ridiculous and funny.

I looked behind me as Tamara flew to the bed, jumping on my back and wrapping her arms around my neck. “Help daddy, mommy is being attacked!” Nick turned, saw the other twin and reached for her, tickling her as well. We both rolled over, me being pinned by her, than having Thomas climb on me as well, both of them tickling me. “No…you…two…” I shrieked as Nick joined in. “STOP, please!” I begged, struggling to get free and breathe at the same time. “Ha, no one escapes the King of the Tickle Monsters!” He laughed even more as the kids grabbed each arm and Nick knelled over me, tickling my stomach.

I sat next to him and saw the children sitting on the floor. I waved at them and smiled and they did the same. A few minutes later, they begged James to tell the story again. It's good that I'm not the one being asked, gosh, I'm going to run out of saliva again. "Oh, I'm going to tell a story so listen carefully okay. The title of this story is Bamboo and the turtle."