He ignored me and ran the grass closer and closer to my armpit. "Because I noticed," he said, "you seemed very adverse to having the grass touch you."
"Joel, I yielded. Yes, I'm ticklish," I panted trying to wiggle free.
"Doesn't count now," he said.
"How is that fair? I stopped running when you said 'yield'. It's the polite thing to do," I argued breathlessly as the grass blade travelled down my side.
I let out a peel of strained giggles and tried to buck Joel off. It wasn't working. He was too strong and thought my reaction was much too fun. He continued to slide his chosen device against my ribs, tracing each one.
"How did I never know you were ticklish?" he marveled.
Desperate to distract him from this form of entertainment, I moved my hips to stimulate his erection, which was st
