By Jack
My roommate Zack and I, just before he moved back to the midwest to a different college, used to hang in the living room, drinking sherry (of all things) and shooting craps. We were way into it, and would have some fierce, marathon games, sometimes lasting until dawn. We sorta played by Hoyle, but some rules we made up as we went along. We were very competitive, really rubbed it in when the other guy lost. Zack was especially sadistic when I lost, calling me a wuss and a loser and stuff. We played with stacks of nickels, and the game was over when one guy won all the other guy’s nickels.
Now, Zack is very ticklish, but only his armpits. He is a muscular, wiry guy, 5’8″, 150#’s, smooth, clean-shaven, real handsome, with several tats. Very tough, hot, macho little 24 y.o. dude. Smooth, muscular chest, light wisps of blond hair in his armpits. Hated being tickled. No, I mean really HATED it. Used to tell me horror stories about his baby-sitter tying him up with electrical cord and tickling him until he pissed himself. Also, about his mother and older sister pinning him down with his arms over his head and tickling his armpits until he was screaming and crying. I listened to his stories with mock dread, and always seemed to feel sorry for him. So, yeah, I knew he was ticklish. And I knew he hated it.
But I also knew what a prick he was when I lost to him at craps.
