jypsyjones
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Hi there,
This story, and others like it, was first posted on www.adultsexygames.com I just thought I'd put them here and see what everyone else thought of them. However, if you're underage or offended by stories written about sexual scenes please do not read this. Similarly, this is a complete and utter work of fiction. Any similarities between this and anybody on the planet is purely coincidental and weird as all hell!
Thanks,
JJ
Friendly Tickle:
The wondrous sounds of Britney Spears came tinkling from out of the bathroom. Unfortunately, they were sung by someone for whom terms like pitch and volume were best ignored. Tracy gritted her teeth and rolled out of bed. She’d been living with Samantha for over a month and the morning sing-along to the last tune her flatmate had heard on the radio was just one of many bad habits Sam inflicted on her friend.
The two girls had been best mates since meeting at Newcastle University in the first week of their first year. Despite being from different backgrounds they’d quickly become firm friends. Tracy was a Northern lass who worked a rubbish job three nights a week to pay her way through uni. Sam was a Southerner, given to spending more, of her generous allowance, on shoes every other week than Tracy could afford in a month! Still, they both shared a love of their subject, history of art, and both saw in the other many things they liked a lot.
Tracy was fairly short, buxom and dark skinned. Sam was tall and thin, though her breasts were more than large enough for her narrow shoulders. Tracy had brown eyes and dark hair, Sam was blue eyed and blond. The Northerner was from a family who’d immigrated into Britain when she’d been a little girl. Samantha’s ancestors had been propping up London’s property market for six generations.
However, despite all their differences, they thrived as friends and both girls’ parents thought the world of them. Each girl wished she had many of the other’s qualities. Sam coveted Tracy’s wonderful skin, her eyes like deep pools, her attention to detail and her ability to meet any deadline. Tracy so wanted to be tall and graceful like her friend, have long blonde hair and eyes like sapphires, boyfriends with country estates and the ability to talk her way out of any trouble that came her way.
Unfortunately, living in a flat had put something of a strain on their relationship… The first year of uni had been spent in halls of residence: large, single person rooms with en suite shower, washbasin and a cleaner who came in twice a week. It was rather like a mediocre hotel, with the added bonus that each building had between one hundred and fifteen hundred first year students of all shapes and sizes who just wanted to party. It had been fun.
Sadly for most of the first years, moving into a flat had not been fun. It had been one disaster after another. Students at Newcastle University were plagued by letting agencies offering ‘the best’ deals on ‘wonderful’ flats. With little to no prior experience of renting and parents in far away cities who were expecting them to ‘just get on with their lives,’ many people moved into flats that were too small, too expensive and lacking in just about every convenience most of the students were used to.
Samantha had been lucky. Upon deciding to move into a two person flat with Tracy midway through their first year, Sam had left just about every decision to her friend. Poor Tracy worked like a galley slave to find them a good place, doing everything right: starting early, using solicitors and talking to former students. She’d finally secured them a year’s contract at a good price on an excellent, recently refurbished property in the trendy district of Jesmond, where most of the students ended up.
Sadly, Sam had not been particularly grateful. She found fault with everything: the hot water that failed to come on upon demand, the central heating which Tracy insisted they didn’t use all the time, the shower that was too weak and bills that seemed to arrive every week were all major problems for the somewhat pampered West Londoner. But it was the lack of a cleaning lady that most negatively affected their relationship.
During her upbringing Sam hadn’t really been expected to do anything. Her mother, a house wife, had a nanny to help out and between them they made sure that all the house work and cleaning was done to a professional level. Unfortunately this meant that Sam didn’t know how to do her own laundry, her own ironing, wash her own plates, clean her own room or pick up after her own mess. Tracy, who’d been brought up in a much poorer house with two working parents and three younger brothers, knew exactly how important it was to do all these things and, within days, found herself doing them for Sam.
Something had to give. By the end of the first month, Tracy was seriously beginning to doubt whether she could live with Sam for any longer. Her flatmate’s incompetence and selfishness were just so unbearable and, as she got up that Saturday morning, she was in the mood for a fight. It would have surprised her hugely to learn that Samantha felt the same way.
‘How could Tracy be so inconsiderate?’ was the Londoner’s exact thought at that particular moment. Sam was looking at her twenty pounds a bottle, exclusively imported, South American shampoo which her so called ‘friend’ had all but finished. Didn’t Tracy know how expensive that stuff was? And Tracy always ate Sam’s food, always borrowed her stuff without asking, always criticised Sam for little things like turning on the heating when it was absolutely freezing! How was Sam supposed to live like that?
Emerging from her bedroom Tracy saw the blurred outline of her friend in the frosted glass of the bathroom door. Muttering to herself about the amount of time Sam spent showering Tracy made her way to the kitchen where she discovered… it. It was the remnants of two meals: Samantha’s supper and Samantha’s breakfast.
The first had been that student favourite baked beans on toast, but the waif like Southerner hadn’t even finished! The leftovers were now stuck like glue to the plate. Tracy went so far as to hold the offending item upside down. Nothing fell off. However, dried on bake beans are as nothing compared to the devilish mixture that is milk and Weetabix… If dried baked beans were the culinary equivalent of glue, that extraordinary combination was the welding of the washing up world. It would take ten minutes heavy scrubbing to remove. It was too much for Tracy. Something had to be done, and now.
Turning out of the kitchen, she made for the bathroom where the strains of Britney’s latest opus had died away. Samantha emerged from the room as unaware of her friend’s ire as Tracy was of hers. The Southerner didn’t notice her Northern flatmate as she left the bathroom else she would’ve given her a piece of her mind. Instead she pulled the towel drying her hair up onto her head with her hands. A truly fiendish thought invaded Tracy’s mind as she saw her friend’s arms rise to her head. ‘That would teach her!’ thought the Northerner. She took a quick step forwards and stuck her fingers into the soft, hairless armpits of the blond.
“AAAGGGH!” yelled Samantha, surprised as all hell. She tried to whip round but her attacker held her still. Tracy, realising her friend was very ticklish, flexed her fingers once more.
“No!” cried Sam, wriggling in her towel, “Hee hee heeeee… no! No! Stop eeeeeeeetttt!” The attractive blonde could do nothing in the face of the mischievous digits digging into the undersides of her arms. She was dressed only in a towel around her torso and one on her head… there was nothing she could do without exposing herself! Who was doing this to her? Tracy, increasingly enjoying the feeling of power the tickling granted her, allowed her hands to run down Samantha’s sides.
“AAAGGGHHH!” cried her friend, “Stop eeet! Hah hah had! Stop eeeet pleaseee!” Desperately trying to preserve her modesty, Sam couldn’t move around to stop the horrible torture. She’d always been very ticklish and found the sensation of being tickled, of losing control, absolutely awful. This was torture! For Tracy, on the other hand, it was wonderful. She pulled Samantha back against her and ran her hands up and down the length of the blonde’s ribs, loving the feeling of the taller girl squirming under her fingers!
“HAH HAH Haaaaaaah!” screamed the Londoner, her composure melting in the face of her attacker’s assault. Tracy tickled her friend through her towel, momentarily considering ripping it off to better access her victim, but she decided against it, instead leaning down low and running her fingernails along the back of Samantha’s thighs. Understandably, the response was immediate.
“OOOOoooaaaahhhahahaa!” cried the girl, “Hah, hah, hah, haaaaaaaah!” Samantha could barely muster the air to cry out! She writhed against the horrendous assault of Tracy’s fingers on the highly sensitive area below her ass and laughed hysterically. Now the Northerner sort to find new spots to attack! She leant forwards, pushing between Sam’s arm and her side so that she could get to her victim’s knees. The Southerner saw her flatmate’s head and realised it was Tracy tickling her! Sadly, that revelation was made at the same time as Tracy grasped the area just above Sam’s knees and squeezed.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” laughed Samantha, “AAAAAAAAGGGHH!” she yelled, barely below a scream. Tracy slowed her assault to allow her victim to breathe.
“Tray… Tracy…! Why are you doing this?” Leaning close to her friend’s ear, the Northerner spoke in a dark, sultry, hot tone.
“This is to teach you to clean up, Sam. But the lesson is not complete…” While Samantha had been recovering, Tracy had leant towards her other side and grabbed at the hairbrush Sam always left lying in the lounge area where all the rooms adjoined. There was only one place the tickling Northerner wished to use that weapon… Samantha was still trying to preserve her modesty which was why she didn’t try and run away when the tickling stopped momentarily… that and her mind was still recovering from the shock. So when she felt the towel on her head slip slightly, she instinctively moved both hands up to stop it. Tracy grabbed both of Samantha’s weakened hands in one of hers.
“What are you doing?” asked Sam, suddenly panicked. Tracy leant close once more, maintaining her grip and speaking in the slow, dark tone she was affecting for the battle… the one that seemed to fit her character as the avenging tickler!
“You always leave this hairbrush lying around here. Now I’m going to teach you never to do it again!”
“No, Trace! No!” yelled Sam, struggling in vain against her attacker’s hold and fearful of being spanked! The alternative proved much worse… Tracy took the brush and swept it against her flatmate’s vulnerable armpit.
“HAH, heAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHH!” cried Sam. “NOOOOoooooaaah! Tracy! Pleaseeeeeee hee hee hee haaaaa!” The firm bristles of the brush flicked against the soft skin of Samantha’s underarm and caused a predictable response. However, with one hand used, Tracy thought that Sam was getting away with not being totally tickled! She leant in as close as possible, feeling her breasts rub against Sam’s back as she reached around her victim’s front. Now the hairbrush was poised against Samantha’s other armpit.
“What are you doing?” yelled the Londoner, “What are yuoooooaaahhhh! HAH HAH HAAAAAAHHHHHhhh!” Tracy, satisfied she could reach, started tickling the other armpit with the brush. Sam laughed hysterically once more but now came Tracy’s second part of the manoeuvre… She pushed her face into the smooth skin of Sam’s right arm and stuck out her tongue against the soft, silky, ticklish area. Her flatmate went supersonic, losing her voice and all ability to stand at that exact moment. The feeling of the rough brush and soft tongue in each of her armpits was just too much!
Samantha all but collapsed into Tracy, who carefully guided her flatmate over to the sofa the landlord had provided. Thinking it was all over, Sam collapsed onto it, still giggling maniacally but little realising things were just starting to heat up. Tracy felt very strange. She’d never been turned on by a woman before and, in her head, she was really angry with Sam… But in her heart the girl would always be her friend and, more importantly, in her breasts and pussy feelings were springing up that needed assuaging. She dropped to the floor and took one of Samantha’s feet, stretching her leg out to its full length.
“No!” the cry was heartfelt and long, but Sam had little strength left to buck against Tracy. The Northerner took her friend’s foot and, with a devilish smile, traced her fingernails along the sole.
“AAAAAAGGGGHHH!” cried Samantha, tears in her eyes. Her attacker paused a moment and slowly transferred the hairbrush from one hand to the next. Sam’s eyes followed the movement, but she was too exhausted to do anything but weakly beg her friend to stop. Tracy listened to the girl’s entreaties and put a look on her face of mock thoughtfulness.
“Do you promise to clean up after yourself for ever and ever?” she asked. Sam, tears in her eyes, could only nod. Tracy slowly raised one of her friend’s feet.
“I’d just like to make sure,” she said and ran the stiff bristles against the soft white flesh of the sole of Sam’s foot. The blonde squealed and screamed but to no avail. She had desperately little energy and was using all of it to try and breathe! Every time she thought she’d got on top of the tickling, her attacker would move the brush to the other foot. Eventually, as even those sensitive areas got tickled out, the Northerner moved further up.
Tracy felt the fire fill her entirely. Having such power over her friend was such a turn on that she couldn’t stop herself from continuing. Her fingers moved up Sam’s legs, bringing out a mixture of laughs and giggles, squirms and shudders. Tracy tickled all the way up the front of Sam’s legs and then suddenly pulled up the blonde’s feet. Poor Samantha anticipated having them being tickled again but the area Tracy attacked was the underside of her thighs, just below her ass!
It was… heavenly! Feeling Tracy’s manicured fingernails running up and down the sensitive area within a few inches of her clit stimulated Samantha in a way far different to the awful sensation of the tickling. She still laughed… her body was so sensitive by that stage that the feeling of Tracy’s breath was ticklish! But now it was so good! God she hoped Tracy didn’t realise…
Her friend didn’t realise… but mainly because she was trying so hard to control her own arousal! The nipples of her large breasts were poking a hole in her nightwear T-shirt while her panties were soaked through with love juices and perspiration! How was she going to break away from Sam and give in to the desire to orgasm that was threatening to overpower her? Tracy leant back a moment, stopping the tickling, allowing one of her hands to drop to her panties for a moment.
Sam, who’d been laughing hard, was appalled! Without realising it, she ground her ass against the sofa, trying to feel the same stimulation once more. This Tracy did notice. Was her friend as turned on as she was? The Northerner decided to find out. She leant back and took one of Samantha’s oh so sensitive feet in her hands. Sam noticed and was worried that the more torturous tickling was about to recommence.
“Nuh, no… Tracy, please no…! I’ll be good! I promise!” But Tracy was no longer thinking of mundane things like cleaning up… she hadn’t got laid for a few months and now she was focussed on breaking that run. Sam had no resistance. Her energy was all but spent and she was feeling so very strange… The sensation of having Tracy tickle her all over was torturous, but the other emotions bubbling through were so good…! Not least the feeling of having her gorgeous, petite flatmate’s breasts rubbing against her back at the beginning… or her fingers tickling her ass… or… At that moment all thought stopped for Samantha… At that moment, Tracy licked the sole of Sam’s foot…
“Huhhhhaaaahahah!” giggled the Londoner, barely able to laugh any more. She tried to kick, to bring her leg back, but the stronger Northern girl wouldn’t let her foot move! Instead, she touched it all over, kissing and licking the soft areas which were so well maintained by their monthly pedicure. To Tracy it was like sucking sweet ambrosia. All she wanted was to make love to Sam, but Sam wasn’t a lesbian, was she?
Samantha wasn’t a lesbian, that was true, but the feelings running around her body weren’t reminding her of that. Before she knew it, her hands were pulling open her sodden towel and revealing her breasts and pussy… touching herself and moaning. The Northerner needed no further encouragement. She kissed and stroked her way up Samantha’s leg, arousing further giggles though far more moans. Licking the Londoner’s inner thigh with her tongue, Tracy felt her own orgasm scream for release. She went past Sam’s pussy and leaned over the other girl, pulling off her T-shirt and revealing her large breasts, the nipples of which were as hard as Sam’s. The Londoner looked up at her friend, the rhapsody of sexual gratification on her face.
“Make love to me Tracy,” she whispered… and the Northerner agreed, pushing her face down hard against her friend’s. They kissed, long and hard, the two girls exploring each other’s mouths for the first time. Breaking away, Tracy slowly spidered her hands down Samantha’s side, her fingers walking down the blonde’s body and touching every hyper-stimulated area. When her fingers reached the Southerner’s pussy, the feeling of bliss was absolute on Sam’s face. The multiple orgasms racked through body one after the other and she returned the favour to Tracy, sucking the other girl’s nipples while her own fingers eagerly entered the Northerner’s most tender areas. They soon fell asleep in each other’s arms on the sofa.
When she awoke, Tracy realised three things: she was naked, she was tied to Sam’s bed and Sam herself was standing in front of her, also naked, her hands behind her back and an euphoric smile on her face. Seeing the questioning look on Tracy’s face, Sam’s smile became fiendish. Slowly, her arms came forwards, bringing with them two foot long feathers. Tracy’s eyes bulged.
“No, Samantha! Come on! Please!” Sam slowly walked forwards and placed both the feathers near Tracy’s armpits.
“Revenge is a dish best served hot!” she exclaimed and dug the feathers in.
Having worked out their differences, and missing lectures for a week, Samantha and Tracy became more than just friends. Although neither referred to themselves as lesbians and both soon found boyfriends, nonetheless they regularly found time for a ‘girls’ night in…’ say three or four times a week! Sam quickly learnt all the skills she needed to live more cleanly and Tracy learnt how to be a bit more patient with her friend and other people in general. They both learnt exactly how to tickle each other to orgasm and went on to get excellent degrees and move in together down in London… where they endeavoured to continue paying each other back for minor misdeeds in the most ticklish of manners…!
THE END
This story, and others like it, was first posted on www.adultsexygames.com I just thought I'd put them here and see what everyone else thought of them. However, if you're underage or offended by stories written about sexual scenes please do not read this. Similarly, this is a complete and utter work of fiction. Any similarities between this and anybody on the planet is purely coincidental and weird as all hell!
Thanks,
JJ
Friendly Tickle:
The wondrous sounds of Britney Spears came tinkling from out of the bathroom. Unfortunately, they were sung by someone for whom terms like pitch and volume were best ignored. Tracy gritted her teeth and rolled out of bed. She’d been living with Samantha for over a month and the morning sing-along to the last tune her flatmate had heard on the radio was just one of many bad habits Sam inflicted on her friend.
The two girls had been best mates since meeting at Newcastle University in the first week of their first year. Despite being from different backgrounds they’d quickly become firm friends. Tracy was a Northern lass who worked a rubbish job three nights a week to pay her way through uni. Sam was a Southerner, given to spending more, of her generous allowance, on shoes every other week than Tracy could afford in a month! Still, they both shared a love of their subject, history of art, and both saw in the other many things they liked a lot.
Tracy was fairly short, buxom and dark skinned. Sam was tall and thin, though her breasts were more than large enough for her narrow shoulders. Tracy had brown eyes and dark hair, Sam was blue eyed and blond. The Northerner was from a family who’d immigrated into Britain when she’d been a little girl. Samantha’s ancestors had been propping up London’s property market for six generations.
However, despite all their differences, they thrived as friends and both girls’ parents thought the world of them. Each girl wished she had many of the other’s qualities. Sam coveted Tracy’s wonderful skin, her eyes like deep pools, her attention to detail and her ability to meet any deadline. Tracy so wanted to be tall and graceful like her friend, have long blonde hair and eyes like sapphires, boyfriends with country estates and the ability to talk her way out of any trouble that came her way.
Unfortunately, living in a flat had put something of a strain on their relationship… The first year of uni had been spent in halls of residence: large, single person rooms with en suite shower, washbasin and a cleaner who came in twice a week. It was rather like a mediocre hotel, with the added bonus that each building had between one hundred and fifteen hundred first year students of all shapes and sizes who just wanted to party. It had been fun.
Sadly for most of the first years, moving into a flat had not been fun. It had been one disaster after another. Students at Newcastle University were plagued by letting agencies offering ‘the best’ deals on ‘wonderful’ flats. With little to no prior experience of renting and parents in far away cities who were expecting them to ‘just get on with their lives,’ many people moved into flats that were too small, too expensive and lacking in just about every convenience most of the students were used to.
Samantha had been lucky. Upon deciding to move into a two person flat with Tracy midway through their first year, Sam had left just about every decision to her friend. Poor Tracy worked like a galley slave to find them a good place, doing everything right: starting early, using solicitors and talking to former students. She’d finally secured them a year’s contract at a good price on an excellent, recently refurbished property in the trendy district of Jesmond, where most of the students ended up.
Sadly, Sam had not been particularly grateful. She found fault with everything: the hot water that failed to come on upon demand, the central heating which Tracy insisted they didn’t use all the time, the shower that was too weak and bills that seemed to arrive every week were all major problems for the somewhat pampered West Londoner. But it was the lack of a cleaning lady that most negatively affected their relationship.
During her upbringing Sam hadn’t really been expected to do anything. Her mother, a house wife, had a nanny to help out and between them they made sure that all the house work and cleaning was done to a professional level. Unfortunately this meant that Sam didn’t know how to do her own laundry, her own ironing, wash her own plates, clean her own room or pick up after her own mess. Tracy, who’d been brought up in a much poorer house with two working parents and three younger brothers, knew exactly how important it was to do all these things and, within days, found herself doing them for Sam.
Something had to give. By the end of the first month, Tracy was seriously beginning to doubt whether she could live with Sam for any longer. Her flatmate’s incompetence and selfishness were just so unbearable and, as she got up that Saturday morning, she was in the mood for a fight. It would have surprised her hugely to learn that Samantha felt the same way.
‘How could Tracy be so inconsiderate?’ was the Londoner’s exact thought at that particular moment. Sam was looking at her twenty pounds a bottle, exclusively imported, South American shampoo which her so called ‘friend’ had all but finished. Didn’t Tracy know how expensive that stuff was? And Tracy always ate Sam’s food, always borrowed her stuff without asking, always criticised Sam for little things like turning on the heating when it was absolutely freezing! How was Sam supposed to live like that?
Emerging from her bedroom Tracy saw the blurred outline of her friend in the frosted glass of the bathroom door. Muttering to herself about the amount of time Sam spent showering Tracy made her way to the kitchen where she discovered… it. It was the remnants of two meals: Samantha’s supper and Samantha’s breakfast.
The first had been that student favourite baked beans on toast, but the waif like Southerner hadn’t even finished! The leftovers were now stuck like glue to the plate. Tracy went so far as to hold the offending item upside down. Nothing fell off. However, dried on bake beans are as nothing compared to the devilish mixture that is milk and Weetabix… If dried baked beans were the culinary equivalent of glue, that extraordinary combination was the welding of the washing up world. It would take ten minutes heavy scrubbing to remove. It was too much for Tracy. Something had to be done, and now.
Turning out of the kitchen, she made for the bathroom where the strains of Britney’s latest opus had died away. Samantha emerged from the room as unaware of her friend’s ire as Tracy was of hers. The Southerner didn’t notice her Northern flatmate as she left the bathroom else she would’ve given her a piece of her mind. Instead she pulled the towel drying her hair up onto her head with her hands. A truly fiendish thought invaded Tracy’s mind as she saw her friend’s arms rise to her head. ‘That would teach her!’ thought the Northerner. She took a quick step forwards and stuck her fingers into the soft, hairless armpits of the blond.
“AAAGGGH!” yelled Samantha, surprised as all hell. She tried to whip round but her attacker held her still. Tracy, realising her friend was very ticklish, flexed her fingers once more.
“No!” cried Sam, wriggling in her towel, “Hee hee heeeee… no! No! Stop eeeeeeeetttt!” The attractive blonde could do nothing in the face of the mischievous digits digging into the undersides of her arms. She was dressed only in a towel around her torso and one on her head… there was nothing she could do without exposing herself! Who was doing this to her? Tracy, increasingly enjoying the feeling of power the tickling granted her, allowed her hands to run down Samantha’s sides.
“AAAGGGHHH!” cried her friend, “Stop eeet! Hah hah had! Stop eeeet pleaseee!” Desperately trying to preserve her modesty, Sam couldn’t move around to stop the horrible torture. She’d always been very ticklish and found the sensation of being tickled, of losing control, absolutely awful. This was torture! For Tracy, on the other hand, it was wonderful. She pulled Samantha back against her and ran her hands up and down the length of the blonde’s ribs, loving the feeling of the taller girl squirming under her fingers!
“HAH HAH Haaaaaaah!” screamed the Londoner, her composure melting in the face of her attacker’s assault. Tracy tickled her friend through her towel, momentarily considering ripping it off to better access her victim, but she decided against it, instead leaning down low and running her fingernails along the back of Samantha’s thighs. Understandably, the response was immediate.
“OOOOoooaaaahhhahahaa!” cried the girl, “Hah, hah, hah, haaaaaaaah!” Samantha could barely muster the air to cry out! She writhed against the horrendous assault of Tracy’s fingers on the highly sensitive area below her ass and laughed hysterically. Now the Northerner sort to find new spots to attack! She leant forwards, pushing between Sam’s arm and her side so that she could get to her victim’s knees. The Southerner saw her flatmate’s head and realised it was Tracy tickling her! Sadly, that revelation was made at the same time as Tracy grasped the area just above Sam’s knees and squeezed.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!” laughed Samantha, “AAAAAAAAGGGHH!” she yelled, barely below a scream. Tracy slowed her assault to allow her victim to breathe.
“Tray… Tracy…! Why are you doing this?” Leaning close to her friend’s ear, the Northerner spoke in a dark, sultry, hot tone.
“This is to teach you to clean up, Sam. But the lesson is not complete…” While Samantha had been recovering, Tracy had leant towards her other side and grabbed at the hairbrush Sam always left lying in the lounge area where all the rooms adjoined. There was only one place the tickling Northerner wished to use that weapon… Samantha was still trying to preserve her modesty which was why she didn’t try and run away when the tickling stopped momentarily… that and her mind was still recovering from the shock. So when she felt the towel on her head slip slightly, she instinctively moved both hands up to stop it. Tracy grabbed both of Samantha’s weakened hands in one of hers.
“What are you doing?” asked Sam, suddenly panicked. Tracy leant close once more, maintaining her grip and speaking in the slow, dark tone she was affecting for the battle… the one that seemed to fit her character as the avenging tickler!
“You always leave this hairbrush lying around here. Now I’m going to teach you never to do it again!”
“No, Trace! No!” yelled Sam, struggling in vain against her attacker’s hold and fearful of being spanked! The alternative proved much worse… Tracy took the brush and swept it against her flatmate’s vulnerable armpit.
“HAH, heAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHH!” cried Sam. “NOOOOoooooaaah! Tracy! Pleaseeeeeee hee hee hee haaaaa!” The firm bristles of the brush flicked against the soft skin of Samantha’s underarm and caused a predictable response. However, with one hand used, Tracy thought that Sam was getting away with not being totally tickled! She leant in as close as possible, feeling her breasts rub against Sam’s back as she reached around her victim’s front. Now the hairbrush was poised against Samantha’s other armpit.
“What are you doing?” yelled the Londoner, “What are yuoooooaaahhhh! HAH HAH HAAAAAAHHHHHhhh!” Tracy, satisfied she could reach, started tickling the other armpit with the brush. Sam laughed hysterically once more but now came Tracy’s second part of the manoeuvre… She pushed her face into the smooth skin of Sam’s right arm and stuck out her tongue against the soft, silky, ticklish area. Her flatmate went supersonic, losing her voice and all ability to stand at that exact moment. The feeling of the rough brush and soft tongue in each of her armpits was just too much!
Samantha all but collapsed into Tracy, who carefully guided her flatmate over to the sofa the landlord had provided. Thinking it was all over, Sam collapsed onto it, still giggling maniacally but little realising things were just starting to heat up. Tracy felt very strange. She’d never been turned on by a woman before and, in her head, she was really angry with Sam… But in her heart the girl would always be her friend and, more importantly, in her breasts and pussy feelings were springing up that needed assuaging. She dropped to the floor and took one of Samantha’s feet, stretching her leg out to its full length.
“No!” the cry was heartfelt and long, but Sam had little strength left to buck against Tracy. The Northerner took her friend’s foot and, with a devilish smile, traced her fingernails along the sole.
“AAAAAAGGGGHHH!” cried Samantha, tears in her eyes. Her attacker paused a moment and slowly transferred the hairbrush from one hand to the next. Sam’s eyes followed the movement, but she was too exhausted to do anything but weakly beg her friend to stop. Tracy listened to the girl’s entreaties and put a look on her face of mock thoughtfulness.
“Do you promise to clean up after yourself for ever and ever?” she asked. Sam, tears in her eyes, could only nod. Tracy slowly raised one of her friend’s feet.
“I’d just like to make sure,” she said and ran the stiff bristles against the soft white flesh of the sole of Sam’s foot. The blonde squealed and screamed but to no avail. She had desperately little energy and was using all of it to try and breathe! Every time she thought she’d got on top of the tickling, her attacker would move the brush to the other foot. Eventually, as even those sensitive areas got tickled out, the Northerner moved further up.
Tracy felt the fire fill her entirely. Having such power over her friend was such a turn on that she couldn’t stop herself from continuing. Her fingers moved up Sam’s legs, bringing out a mixture of laughs and giggles, squirms and shudders. Tracy tickled all the way up the front of Sam’s legs and then suddenly pulled up the blonde’s feet. Poor Samantha anticipated having them being tickled again but the area Tracy attacked was the underside of her thighs, just below her ass!
It was… heavenly! Feeling Tracy’s manicured fingernails running up and down the sensitive area within a few inches of her clit stimulated Samantha in a way far different to the awful sensation of the tickling. She still laughed… her body was so sensitive by that stage that the feeling of Tracy’s breath was ticklish! But now it was so good! God she hoped Tracy didn’t realise…
Her friend didn’t realise… but mainly because she was trying so hard to control her own arousal! The nipples of her large breasts were poking a hole in her nightwear T-shirt while her panties were soaked through with love juices and perspiration! How was she going to break away from Sam and give in to the desire to orgasm that was threatening to overpower her? Tracy leant back a moment, stopping the tickling, allowing one of her hands to drop to her panties for a moment.
Sam, who’d been laughing hard, was appalled! Without realising it, she ground her ass against the sofa, trying to feel the same stimulation once more. This Tracy did notice. Was her friend as turned on as she was? The Northerner decided to find out. She leant back and took one of Samantha’s oh so sensitive feet in her hands. Sam noticed and was worried that the more torturous tickling was about to recommence.
“Nuh, no… Tracy, please no…! I’ll be good! I promise!” But Tracy was no longer thinking of mundane things like cleaning up… she hadn’t got laid for a few months and now she was focussed on breaking that run. Sam had no resistance. Her energy was all but spent and she was feeling so very strange… The sensation of having Tracy tickle her all over was torturous, but the other emotions bubbling through were so good…! Not least the feeling of having her gorgeous, petite flatmate’s breasts rubbing against her back at the beginning… or her fingers tickling her ass… or… At that moment all thought stopped for Samantha… At that moment, Tracy licked the sole of Sam’s foot…
“Huhhhhaaaahahah!” giggled the Londoner, barely able to laugh any more. She tried to kick, to bring her leg back, but the stronger Northern girl wouldn’t let her foot move! Instead, she touched it all over, kissing and licking the soft areas which were so well maintained by their monthly pedicure. To Tracy it was like sucking sweet ambrosia. All she wanted was to make love to Sam, but Sam wasn’t a lesbian, was she?
Samantha wasn’t a lesbian, that was true, but the feelings running around her body weren’t reminding her of that. Before she knew it, her hands were pulling open her sodden towel and revealing her breasts and pussy… touching herself and moaning. The Northerner needed no further encouragement. She kissed and stroked her way up Samantha’s leg, arousing further giggles though far more moans. Licking the Londoner’s inner thigh with her tongue, Tracy felt her own orgasm scream for release. She went past Sam’s pussy and leaned over the other girl, pulling off her T-shirt and revealing her large breasts, the nipples of which were as hard as Sam’s. The Londoner looked up at her friend, the rhapsody of sexual gratification on her face.
“Make love to me Tracy,” she whispered… and the Northerner agreed, pushing her face down hard against her friend’s. They kissed, long and hard, the two girls exploring each other’s mouths for the first time. Breaking away, Tracy slowly spidered her hands down Samantha’s side, her fingers walking down the blonde’s body and touching every hyper-stimulated area. When her fingers reached the Southerner’s pussy, the feeling of bliss was absolute on Sam’s face. The multiple orgasms racked through body one after the other and she returned the favour to Tracy, sucking the other girl’s nipples while her own fingers eagerly entered the Northerner’s most tender areas. They soon fell asleep in each other’s arms on the sofa.
When she awoke, Tracy realised three things: she was naked, she was tied to Sam’s bed and Sam herself was standing in front of her, also naked, her hands behind her back and an euphoric smile on her face. Seeing the questioning look on Tracy’s face, Sam’s smile became fiendish. Slowly, her arms came forwards, bringing with them two foot long feathers. Tracy’s eyes bulged.
“No, Samantha! Come on! Please!” Sam slowly walked forwards and placed both the feathers near Tracy’s armpits.
“Revenge is a dish best served hot!” she exclaimed and dug the feathers in.
Having worked out their differences, and missing lectures for a week, Samantha and Tracy became more than just friends. Although neither referred to themselves as lesbians and both soon found boyfriends, nonetheless they regularly found time for a ‘girls’ night in…’ say three or four times a week! Sam quickly learnt all the skills she needed to live more cleanly and Tracy learnt how to be a bit more patient with her friend and other people in general. They both learnt exactly how to tickle each other to orgasm and went on to get excellent degrees and move in together down in London… where they endeavoured to continue paying each other back for minor misdeeds in the most ticklish of manners…!
THE END
