Greetings. I kind of let this story die since it was really only suited for a pre-Super Bowl atmosphere, and I couldn't get it finished before the game. However, there were a couple of requests that it continue, and it's only vaguely related to football at this point anyhow.
So, apologies that the storyline is a bit dated. The premise for the tickling still works though, I think
Feedback welcomed and appreciated....
Super Bowl Ticklets
Part 3
It’s a rare situation, to be sure. A girl tied to your bed, nearly naked, daring you to get back to tickle torturing her out of her mind.
Rarer still, probably, is having another girl waiting behind you. Frustrated because she’s not getting tickled tortured first.
God bless the NFL.
Larissa, still panting and sweating heavily from the tickling she had already endured, had another 15 minutes of torture awaiting her before she could claim the Super Bowl ticket I had won. At least that she could’ve claimed before Jen, a fan of the rival Colts, had shown up, offering to submit to 35 minutes of torture for the same ticket.
“Okay Larissa,” I said, nearly delirious with euphoria and power, “You’ve got 15 minutes left. You have to hold out for that long in order to meet the terms of the deal. However, since Jen here has shown up—I’ll have to give her a chance to match the deal. Fair enough, Jen?” I asked, turning to the stunning blond. Jen was beaming, taking in the situation. “Hell yeah!” she said. “This will be fun.”
“You say that now,” Larissa panted, already beginning to twitch nervously again. “Have you ever been tickled when you couldn’t move? It’s fucking torture beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.”
Damn, that was hot. “Yeah,” I said to Jen. “Watch…”
I straddled Larissa on the bed, resting by fingertips on her taut torso. Immediately she began to writhe and twist as much as she could, her eyes squinted closed as a steady flow of “Oh fuck, no; Oh Jesus, please don’t please!” trailing out of her. Jen sat down in the chair at my desk, eyes riveted on the squirming girl, arms now crossed protectively over her chest.
In a move that surprised everyone, I suddenly buried my face in Larissa’s bare, smooth stomach and started blowing raspberries. One after another, I relentlessly wrapped my lips around her little inny of a belly-button and blew for all I was worth. I imagine the sound of it was hideously loud, but it was hard to make it out over Larissa screams. Each exhalation on her belly elicited a high-pitch squeal of desperation along with a wild jolting of the hips in an attempt to toss me off. When I stopped to take in a breath for the next attack, she stopped screaming in turn to beg for anything else. As I delivered another attack to her now pink belly, she pleaded, “Oh, no you can’t! You can’t! That’s… that’s……AAAAH, NO!”
“Holy fucking shit,” Jen said.
When I was finally out of breath---nevermind Larissa’s state of breathing---I decided to explore her ribs. I placed my index fingers on her top ribs, again just underneath the bra, and wiggled ever so slightly. “Oh, shit….you bastard, don’t” Larissa said, frantic to gain some control over the situation. Her face assumed a kind of scrunched-up appearance, as if this was a region of her body requiring fervent concentration while being touched. I took my fingers off the ribs and she relaxed visibly, like someone who had thought they were about to throw up but finally conceded it wasn't coming and released the tension.
Then of course I returned my fingers to her ribs. She scrunched up again, yelling “Fucker!” in the process. I removed them, she relaxed. I put them back, this time allowing them to just rest on the skin with no pressure. “Cuntlicker!” she screamed as I returned—almost in a Tourette’s Syndrome manner. I left them there this time, just sitting on the ribs, applying no pressure. She now expected me to quickly remove them, but I didn’t. Her breathing was becoming heavy, almost a wheeze. “Oh please please please, Jesus, just take them off!” she wailed.
“I’m going to tickle your ribs now, Larissa.” I said. With this, she renewed her effort to tear the bed in half. Her violent attempt to lurch free drove her torso forward, jamming her ribs into my fingers. She screamed bloody murder. It was all I could do to hold my place on her ribs, and this is all that was necessary. My task became similar to holding a ribbon in place on a package for someone tying a knot. I followed her gyrations with the slightest of force, and it was as if the tips of my fingers were lit cigarettes. “OH GOD DAMMIT! GET THEM OFF! STOP! STOP! FUCKING GOD DAMN IT STOP! STOOOOP!”
I had read about this, admittedly with some amount of skepticism. People ticking themselves with their own struggling. Apparently it was possible, though the simple act of my touching her ribs had created a fair amount of discomfort. That area of her body must’ve been one of those zones off-limits to everyone: doctors, lovers, friendly huggers, and above all else—sadistic cuntlicker ticklers Just to test the theory, I lowered my fingers from their top rib position and applied some pressure further down her torso. This elicited a scream so high-pitched I instinctively pulled my hands away. It was so loud that I actually turned to look behind me, half expecting the window would’ve shattered. What I saw behind me knocked me out of my tickle-induced reverie.
Jen had slipped out of my desk chair. Her jeans were unzipped, her knees were splayed wide, and her hand was fidgeting rhythmically behind her pink panties. Even though I had stopped, Larissa was still screaming “Not my ribs! Not my ribs! Anything! Not my ribs!” Mine and Jen’s eyes locked briefly. She was too far gone to be embarrassed---we were all too far gone to feel anything analogous to shame regarding how we were acting. Or reacting.
“Holy fucking shit,” Jen said again, this time with a considerably different tone. I turned to look back at Larissa. She was still flailing and twitching on the bed, desperate to cover herself. Tears were streaming down her face. I glanced at the clock. She had five minutes left. Larissa looked at the clock too, and as she turned to look back at me, she immediately started begging with broken breath. “Please, please fucking God. Just don’t tickle my ribs. I literally can’t take any more. Tickle me anywhere you want, just not there. It’s going to goddam kill me. You can’t do it anymore.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “You’ve still got five minutes left. But I think you’ve put in quite enough time, so I’m willing to make you a deal.” She was nodding hopefully, encouraged by the fact that I could still act sensibly—it had seemed improbable during her torture. “I’ll cut it down to only one more minute, but Jen and I both get to tickle you for that minute.”
“Not my ribs,” Larissa said. “I’ll fucking gut you and smile while you die if you touch my ribs again.”
“Not your ribs,” I said. “What do you think, Jen? You want to tickle her feet? And I’ll check on those armpits again?”
“Holy fucking shit,” Jen said again, slowly standing up. Her panties were wet, but she didn’t seem to mind anyone noticing.
“And then I’ll get the ticket?” Larissa asked, coughing as her breath returned.
“Well, then Jen here gets to match the offer.” She looked at both of us, still shaking slightly, and then slowly nodded. “One minute?” I nodded. “Not my fucking ribs.” I shook my head.
I straddled her again and started trailing my fingers around her armpits. Honestly I was so dazed from Jen getting off on all this that I couldn’t wait to get her in Larissa’s position. But what happened next blew my mind. Jen threw her jeans over my desk chair, got on her hands and knees at the foot of the bed, and started vigorously sucking Larissa’s toes. She scratched at the arch of her right foot as she held it, and sucked and nibbled on the toes as Larissa giggled and moaned. I didn’t know which way to look as I straddled Larissa.
“Holy fucking shit,” I muttered.
At the end of the minute, I managed to disentangle Jen from Larissa’s feet. For a second we all just sat and looked at one another with sweaty brows and mussed hair. Finally Jen said, “So, 25 minutes, and then I get both of you for a bit, right?”
She kicked her panties off and started untying Larissa. At that moment I was a huge Colts fan.
To be continued…..
So, apologies that the storyline is a bit dated. The premise for the tickling still works though, I think
Feedback welcomed and appreciated....
Super Bowl Ticklets
Part 3
It’s a rare situation, to be sure. A girl tied to your bed, nearly naked, daring you to get back to tickle torturing her out of her mind.
Rarer still, probably, is having another girl waiting behind you. Frustrated because she’s not getting tickled tortured first.
God bless the NFL.
Larissa, still panting and sweating heavily from the tickling she had already endured, had another 15 minutes of torture awaiting her before she could claim the Super Bowl ticket I had won. At least that she could’ve claimed before Jen, a fan of the rival Colts, had shown up, offering to submit to 35 minutes of torture for the same ticket.
“Okay Larissa,” I said, nearly delirious with euphoria and power, “You’ve got 15 minutes left. You have to hold out for that long in order to meet the terms of the deal. However, since Jen here has shown up—I’ll have to give her a chance to match the deal. Fair enough, Jen?” I asked, turning to the stunning blond. Jen was beaming, taking in the situation. “Hell yeah!” she said. “This will be fun.”
“You say that now,” Larissa panted, already beginning to twitch nervously again. “Have you ever been tickled when you couldn’t move? It’s fucking torture beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.”
Damn, that was hot. “Yeah,” I said to Jen. “Watch…”
I straddled Larissa on the bed, resting by fingertips on her taut torso. Immediately she began to writhe and twist as much as she could, her eyes squinted closed as a steady flow of “Oh fuck, no; Oh Jesus, please don’t please!” trailing out of her. Jen sat down in the chair at my desk, eyes riveted on the squirming girl, arms now crossed protectively over her chest.
In a move that surprised everyone, I suddenly buried my face in Larissa’s bare, smooth stomach and started blowing raspberries. One after another, I relentlessly wrapped my lips around her little inny of a belly-button and blew for all I was worth. I imagine the sound of it was hideously loud, but it was hard to make it out over Larissa screams. Each exhalation on her belly elicited a high-pitch squeal of desperation along with a wild jolting of the hips in an attempt to toss me off. When I stopped to take in a breath for the next attack, she stopped screaming in turn to beg for anything else. As I delivered another attack to her now pink belly, she pleaded, “Oh, no you can’t! You can’t! That’s… that’s……AAAAH, NO!”
“Holy fucking shit,” Jen said.
When I was finally out of breath---nevermind Larissa’s state of breathing---I decided to explore her ribs. I placed my index fingers on her top ribs, again just underneath the bra, and wiggled ever so slightly. “Oh, shit….you bastard, don’t” Larissa said, frantic to gain some control over the situation. Her face assumed a kind of scrunched-up appearance, as if this was a region of her body requiring fervent concentration while being touched. I took my fingers off the ribs and she relaxed visibly, like someone who had thought they were about to throw up but finally conceded it wasn't coming and released the tension.
Then of course I returned my fingers to her ribs. She scrunched up again, yelling “Fucker!” in the process. I removed them, she relaxed. I put them back, this time allowing them to just rest on the skin with no pressure. “Cuntlicker!” she screamed as I returned—almost in a Tourette’s Syndrome manner. I left them there this time, just sitting on the ribs, applying no pressure. She now expected me to quickly remove them, but I didn’t. Her breathing was becoming heavy, almost a wheeze. “Oh please please please, Jesus, just take them off!” she wailed.
“I’m going to tickle your ribs now, Larissa.” I said. With this, she renewed her effort to tear the bed in half. Her violent attempt to lurch free drove her torso forward, jamming her ribs into my fingers. She screamed bloody murder. It was all I could do to hold my place on her ribs, and this is all that was necessary. My task became similar to holding a ribbon in place on a package for someone tying a knot. I followed her gyrations with the slightest of force, and it was as if the tips of my fingers were lit cigarettes. “OH GOD DAMMIT! GET THEM OFF! STOP! STOP! FUCKING GOD DAMN IT STOP! STOOOOP!”
I had read about this, admittedly with some amount of skepticism. People ticking themselves with their own struggling. Apparently it was possible, though the simple act of my touching her ribs had created a fair amount of discomfort. That area of her body must’ve been one of those zones off-limits to everyone: doctors, lovers, friendly huggers, and above all else—sadistic cuntlicker ticklers
Just to test the theory, I lowered my fingers from their top rib position and applied some pressure further down her torso. This elicited a scream so high-pitched I instinctively pulled my hands away. It was so loud that I actually turned to look behind me, half expecting the window would’ve shattered. What I saw behind me knocked me out of my tickle-induced reverie.Jen had slipped out of my desk chair. Her jeans were unzipped, her knees were splayed wide, and her hand was fidgeting rhythmically behind her pink panties. Even though I had stopped, Larissa was still screaming “Not my ribs! Not my ribs! Anything! Not my ribs!” Mine and Jen’s eyes locked briefly. She was too far gone to be embarrassed---we were all too far gone to feel anything analogous to shame regarding how we were acting. Or reacting.
“Holy fucking shit,” Jen said again, this time with a considerably different tone. I turned to look back at Larissa. She was still flailing and twitching on the bed, desperate to cover herself. Tears were streaming down her face. I glanced at the clock. She had five minutes left. Larissa looked at the clock too, and as she turned to look back at me, she immediately started begging with broken breath. “Please, please fucking God. Just don’t tickle my ribs. I literally can’t take any more. Tickle me anywhere you want, just not there. It’s going to goddam kill me. You can’t do it anymore.”
“Tell you what,” I said. “You’ve still got five minutes left. But I think you’ve put in quite enough time, so I’m willing to make you a deal.” She was nodding hopefully, encouraged by the fact that I could still act sensibly—it had seemed improbable during her torture. “I’ll cut it down to only one more minute, but Jen and I both get to tickle you for that minute.”
“Not my ribs,” Larissa said. “I’ll fucking gut you and smile while you die if you touch my ribs again.”
“Not your ribs,” I said. “What do you think, Jen? You want to tickle her feet? And I’ll check on those armpits again?”
“Holy fucking shit,” Jen said again, slowly standing up. Her panties were wet, but she didn’t seem to mind anyone noticing.
“And then I’ll get the ticket?” Larissa asked, coughing as her breath returned.
“Well, then Jen here gets to match the offer.” She looked at both of us, still shaking slightly, and then slowly nodded. “One minute?” I nodded. “Not my fucking ribs.” I shook my head.
I straddled her again and started trailing my fingers around her armpits. Honestly I was so dazed from Jen getting off on all this that I couldn’t wait to get her in Larissa’s position. But what happened next blew my mind. Jen threw her jeans over my desk chair, got on her hands and knees at the foot of the bed, and started vigorously sucking Larissa’s toes. She scratched at the arch of her right foot as she held it, and sucked and nibbled on the toes as Larissa giggled and moaned. I didn’t know which way to look as I straddled Larissa.
“Holy fucking shit,” I muttered.
At the end of the minute, I managed to disentangle Jen from Larissa’s feet. For a second we all just sat and looked at one another with sweaty brows and mussed hair. Finally Jen said, “So, 25 minutes, and then I get both of you for a bit, right?”
She kicked her panties off and started untying Larissa. At that moment I was a huge Colts fan.
To be continued…..
