Thinking about having my belly in a ler's lap, only a thin t-shirt protecting me from gentle pokes all over. They'd know what they were doing of course, no matter how hard I'd try to hold in my smiles and laughter. It'd be easy at first, and I'd get used to the poking until they'd start to sloooooowwwly hike up my shirt so just the area under my belly button is visible. I'd look into their eyes, getting nervous at their little smirk and their own eyes boring back into me. We'd sit there for a little, the most sensitive part of my tummy trembling and exposed as they do nothing more than stare at my rapidly reddening face.

The moment the intense eye contact becomes too much, I'd place my hand over my eyes, and that's when they'd start to scribble a hand over the soft, squishy skin. I'd burst into giggles, despite my best effort, squealing when they'd dip a finger into my soft belly button.

They'd tease in an evil, high pitched voice "ah tickle tickle tickle! Kitchi coo! Poor ticklish tummy! You're giggling like crazy, aren't you?"