ticklishticklr
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Sep 12, 2002
- Messages
- 69
- Points
- 6
Yes, this does take place at a beach, but there definitely a few things you might not expect in this "buried in the sand" story.
This story is m/f with partial nudity and sexual situations. Under 18, ya gots ta leave (please).
As always, feedback is welcome.
ENJOY!
TT
You and Me at the Beach
Walking hand-in-hand, we find a secluded spot where I know no one else goes. I hold you close and kiss you gently but firmly. I slowly remove your skimpy one-piece and lay you gently on the sand. As you lay on your back, you automatically raise your arms over your head, telling me "I am yours. Do what you wish". I sprinkle sand over your underarms and chest. I sprinkle it over your nipples, making them hard. I bend over and tickle your shoulders and neck with kisses.
I go back to drizzling sand over your underarms. You giggle. You look to each side and watch as some sand pools in your underarms while some pours over the sides back onto the beach. You find it so erotic watching the sand pouring over one of your most ticklish spots. You don't want it to stop, so you bite your lower lip to stop the giggles, but some still escape your lips. You close your eyes. All you want is to feel the sand pouring over you, feel the breezes blowing across your nakedness, hear the roar of the ocean waves as the hit the shore.
I love watching your reactions. Seeing you bite your lip, I know how much it tickles. When your eyes close, I know you are escaping into your own erotic world where only you and I exist.
Finally, like a mind reader, you say out loud what I've been thinking all along:
"I think it'd be fun if you buried me in the sand."
The words are barely out of your mouth when I start pushing and shoving sand frantically out of the way. I want to see you restrained in the sand. I want to tickle you in the sand. I want to satisfy you in the sand. I'm sure I have some ideas you never thought of. You help me, fantasizing to yourself all the ways I can tickle you while you're covered.
The hole gets wider and deeper with each push of the sand. Finally, after much effort, it's done. Before getting in, tho, you ask that you be allowed to put your bathing suit on, at least over the lower half of your body.
"I'm not about to start cleaning sand out of my pussy," you laugh.
You get in the hole and, with your hands at your sides, I begin the process of covering your topless body. At one point, I pull a stick out of my pocket and place it in the ground between your legs, almost but not quite touching your crotch area. It's no ordinary stick, tho. It's about 8" high, about 1/2" diameter and has a slightly rough surface.
"What's that for?" you ask.
"Well," I answer, "let's just say you'll be glad it's there when you need it. And you WILL need it."
You look at me with wide, questioning eyes, but you trust me implicitly, and allow me to finish covering you. I cover everything up to your neck, including your feet. I'm almost sorry to cover your beautiful body, but I know that will not last forever. You can barely move under the sand, though, with very slight movement, you can feel the stick slightly against your pussy.
I stand back and look at my handiwork. A very good job indeed! I can only see your head sticking up out of the sand. You look back at me, wondering where the hysterics will start. The obvious place would be the feet, but I covered those pretty well. I walk around your body, slowly, then bend down at your head. I bend over and kiss you. Your mouth willingly takes in my tongue, with which I start tickling all over your mouth.
You giggle and instinctively try to pull away. I take your head gently in my hands, holding it still. Your body tries to move, but the sand holds it fast. My tongue works it's ticklish magic inside your mouth. It's all you can do not to giggle and laugh. I gently pull away from you, nuzzle my face in your neck and flick at it with my tickling tongue. My hands start tickling the other side of your neck and both shoulders. You can't hold it in any longer, and you laugh out loud. Your head shakes from side to side, trying to protect yourself. But it's impossible -- your body is too ticklish, and there's too much to protect.
"HEY," you cry out. "That tickles! No! It's too ticklish!"
I don't answer; rather, I continue my ticklish path down your neck to your shoulders, then down the parts of your arm that are still exposed. Oh, how I know how ticklish you are! How I know how much this is driving you mad with laughter. And lust.
At my tongue's first touch, your pussy begins to moisten. As it reaches your neck, it starts to flow freely. You want, no, you NEED to put your hands there, but they are at your sides immobilized. Now you know what the stick is for. You struggle to move the few millimeters it takes for the stick to make contact with your pussy, but you can't quite make it. You're hysterical now, laughing and struggling to rub your pussy against the stick as my fingers and tongue wreak their ticklish havoc.
I brush some sand away now from your chest, exposing your large but incredibly sexy breasts. Your laughter dies down a bit, but it's only temporary as my fingers lightly tickle the sides of your breasts and ribs. I reach up to tickle your underarms. Even with your arms down, it is still one of the most ticklish areas of your body, and your laughter rises to a new pitch. Your lips are trying to form words, something is coming from your voice, but it is unintelligible as your body is totally out of control now.
"S-S-Sto-o-p" is all you manage to say.
While I tickle your ribs with one hand, I pull something else out of my pocket now--a man's shaving brush. I talk to you matter-of-factly through your hysterics, as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on.
"You know, I had a HELL of a time getting one of these," I say. "Guess men don't use these as much as they used to."
Tears of laughter fall down your face. I can imagine your mind fighting to control your body's reactions to my constant tickle attacks, but failing miserably. And not being able to move even one finger or toe has to be making matters worse. I know how much you love to be tickled, but even this may prove too much for you.
"Give up?" I ask. "NO!" you scream out through your laughter.
Your now-unburied breasts are sitting on top of the sand, just waiting for me to play with them. At least thats what *I* think they want. I stop tickling you and, taking the shaving brush in one hand, I start tickling the now-very-sensitive nipple and surrounding aereola. My other hand is VERY busy exploring whatever ticklish skin is exposed above the sand. As your nipple gets nice and hard, you laughter competes with the sound of the ocean, and is winning very nicely. I don't even have to hold your breast in place; it's (thankfully) large enough that it sits on the sand and, no matter how much you move (which is hardly anywhere), it pretty much stays in place.
I move to the other breast now, tickling the nipple with my fingers and the brush until it grows to match the first. When I finally stop tickling you, I look into your eyes as your laughter begins to wane and your pussy juices flow freely beneath the sand. Your face says it all -- you are struggling to get to that stick buried so close to your pussy; you need that stick right up against you so you can use it as a cat uses a scratching post. You need to satify your clit's need to explode, despite the fact your arms are pinned and my hands are, well, otherwise occupied.
Then I get an idea. You love having your feet tickled, but only if your clit can be tickled at the same time. It always sends you over the orgasmic edge. But now, with no easy way to touch yourself, the tickling alone will only frustrate you and send you into more fits of hysteria with no hope of release. I look at you and smile deviously as I walk to your feet. You return the look, laughter giving way to soft giggles, knowing full well what's about to come. You begin to plead and beg.
"Please, not the feet. Not now. It'll tickle too much if I can't play with myself."
Of course, your pleas fall on deaf ears. I approximate where your feet should be and begin moving sand aside. In no time at all, I see your wiggling toes and feet, already trying to avoid a touch that hasn't started yet. I take the shaving brush and lightly touch across the tips of your toes. The warm sand seems to have increased the ticklishness of those lovely, sexy feet. Your screaming laughter drowns out all other sounds around us. Thank God this is a secluded area, or someone might think I was attacking you. Well, maybe I am! I lightly brush your toes, first the tips, then the bottoms. I put the brush down and bring all my fingers into service. I dig down in the sand a bit more, exposing more of your soles. My fingers do their ticklish dance over your soles and tops.
"Tickle tickle tickle!" I taunt as I elicit more hysterics from you. The taunting seems to make you even more ticklish, if that's possible.
You feet wiggle and try to get away, but to no avail. I watch your face closely, twisted in laughter, tears streaming down. I KNOW you are still trying to reach that stick to rub your pussy against. Suddenly, your teeth clench through your laughter and your eyes open as wide as they can. Your laughter becomes mixed with grunts and moans. It's happening. You've finally moved enough so that the stick is hard against your pussy. Now the challenge is to move your body across it or along its length so that it rubs against your clit. The sand battles back, but you can move JUST enough. My fingers tickle under your toes, between your toes, over the soles, up and down the sides. Almost there ... almost there .... the laughter dies down just a bit as the tickling begins to enhance your orgasmic buildup. As long as you can rub up against that stick, the tickling doesn't make you laugh as much, though it certainly seems that there's no way your laughter will completely end.
Suddenly, you scream out. Your mouth and eyes open wide.
"OH GOD OH GOD," you repeat thru fits of laughter. And that's when I know. You've cum, hard. I see it in your eyes, the waves of orgasm taking over your body, completely relaxing it. I stop tickling your feet as you come down off your sexual high.
I move to your head and kiss you. You want to kiss me back, but your energy is completely sapped. It doesn't matter. Your eyes say it all. They have smiles all their own as they gaze into mine.
I quickly unbury you. When I get to our crotch area, I can't believe what I see. The entire area of your bathing suit is soaked; not just the crotch, but the surrounding areas as well.
"Well," I say, "It looks like SOMEONE had a good time."
You just smile, bask in the sunlight, and wonder to yourself when we can come back.
This story is m/f with partial nudity and sexual situations. Under 18, ya gots ta leave (please).
As always, feedback is welcome.
ENJOY!
TT
You and Me at the Beach
Walking hand-in-hand, we find a secluded spot where I know no one else goes. I hold you close and kiss you gently but firmly. I slowly remove your skimpy one-piece and lay you gently on the sand. As you lay on your back, you automatically raise your arms over your head, telling me "I am yours. Do what you wish". I sprinkle sand over your underarms and chest. I sprinkle it over your nipples, making them hard. I bend over and tickle your shoulders and neck with kisses.
I go back to drizzling sand over your underarms. You giggle. You look to each side and watch as some sand pools in your underarms while some pours over the sides back onto the beach. You find it so erotic watching the sand pouring over one of your most ticklish spots. You don't want it to stop, so you bite your lower lip to stop the giggles, but some still escape your lips. You close your eyes. All you want is to feel the sand pouring over you, feel the breezes blowing across your nakedness, hear the roar of the ocean waves as the hit the shore.
I love watching your reactions. Seeing you bite your lip, I know how much it tickles. When your eyes close, I know you are escaping into your own erotic world where only you and I exist.
Finally, like a mind reader, you say out loud what I've been thinking all along:
"I think it'd be fun if you buried me in the sand."
The words are barely out of your mouth when I start pushing and shoving sand frantically out of the way. I want to see you restrained in the sand. I want to tickle you in the sand. I want to satisfy you in the sand. I'm sure I have some ideas you never thought of. You help me, fantasizing to yourself all the ways I can tickle you while you're covered.
The hole gets wider and deeper with each push of the sand. Finally, after much effort, it's done. Before getting in, tho, you ask that you be allowed to put your bathing suit on, at least over the lower half of your body.
"I'm not about to start cleaning sand out of my pussy," you laugh.
You get in the hole and, with your hands at your sides, I begin the process of covering your topless body. At one point, I pull a stick out of my pocket and place it in the ground between your legs, almost but not quite touching your crotch area. It's no ordinary stick, tho. It's about 8" high, about 1/2" diameter and has a slightly rough surface.
"What's that for?" you ask.
"Well," I answer, "let's just say you'll be glad it's there when you need it. And you WILL need it."
You look at me with wide, questioning eyes, but you trust me implicitly, and allow me to finish covering you. I cover everything up to your neck, including your feet. I'm almost sorry to cover your beautiful body, but I know that will not last forever. You can barely move under the sand, though, with very slight movement, you can feel the stick slightly against your pussy.
I stand back and look at my handiwork. A very good job indeed! I can only see your head sticking up out of the sand. You look back at me, wondering where the hysterics will start. The obvious place would be the feet, but I covered those pretty well. I walk around your body, slowly, then bend down at your head. I bend over and kiss you. Your mouth willingly takes in my tongue, with which I start tickling all over your mouth.
You giggle and instinctively try to pull away. I take your head gently in my hands, holding it still. Your body tries to move, but the sand holds it fast. My tongue works it's ticklish magic inside your mouth. It's all you can do not to giggle and laugh. I gently pull away from you, nuzzle my face in your neck and flick at it with my tickling tongue. My hands start tickling the other side of your neck and both shoulders. You can't hold it in any longer, and you laugh out loud. Your head shakes from side to side, trying to protect yourself. But it's impossible -- your body is too ticklish, and there's too much to protect.
"HEY," you cry out. "That tickles! No! It's too ticklish!"
I don't answer; rather, I continue my ticklish path down your neck to your shoulders, then down the parts of your arm that are still exposed. Oh, how I know how ticklish you are! How I know how much this is driving you mad with laughter. And lust.
At my tongue's first touch, your pussy begins to moisten. As it reaches your neck, it starts to flow freely. You want, no, you NEED to put your hands there, but they are at your sides immobilized. Now you know what the stick is for. You struggle to move the few millimeters it takes for the stick to make contact with your pussy, but you can't quite make it. You're hysterical now, laughing and struggling to rub your pussy against the stick as my fingers and tongue wreak their ticklish havoc.
I brush some sand away now from your chest, exposing your large but incredibly sexy breasts. Your laughter dies down a bit, but it's only temporary as my fingers lightly tickle the sides of your breasts and ribs. I reach up to tickle your underarms. Even with your arms down, it is still one of the most ticklish areas of your body, and your laughter rises to a new pitch. Your lips are trying to form words, something is coming from your voice, but it is unintelligible as your body is totally out of control now.
"S-S-Sto-o-p" is all you manage to say.
While I tickle your ribs with one hand, I pull something else out of my pocket now--a man's shaving brush. I talk to you matter-of-factly through your hysterics, as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on.
"You know, I had a HELL of a time getting one of these," I say. "Guess men don't use these as much as they used to."
Tears of laughter fall down your face. I can imagine your mind fighting to control your body's reactions to my constant tickle attacks, but failing miserably. And not being able to move even one finger or toe has to be making matters worse. I know how much you love to be tickled, but even this may prove too much for you.
"Give up?" I ask. "NO!" you scream out through your laughter.
Your now-unburied breasts are sitting on top of the sand, just waiting for me to play with them. At least thats what *I* think they want. I stop tickling you and, taking the shaving brush in one hand, I start tickling the now-very-sensitive nipple and surrounding aereola. My other hand is VERY busy exploring whatever ticklish skin is exposed above the sand. As your nipple gets nice and hard, you laughter competes with the sound of the ocean, and is winning very nicely. I don't even have to hold your breast in place; it's (thankfully) large enough that it sits on the sand and, no matter how much you move (which is hardly anywhere), it pretty much stays in place.
I move to the other breast now, tickling the nipple with my fingers and the brush until it grows to match the first. When I finally stop tickling you, I look into your eyes as your laughter begins to wane and your pussy juices flow freely beneath the sand. Your face says it all -- you are struggling to get to that stick buried so close to your pussy; you need that stick right up against you so you can use it as a cat uses a scratching post. You need to satify your clit's need to explode, despite the fact your arms are pinned and my hands are, well, otherwise occupied.
Then I get an idea. You love having your feet tickled, but only if your clit can be tickled at the same time. It always sends you over the orgasmic edge. But now, with no easy way to touch yourself, the tickling alone will only frustrate you and send you into more fits of hysteria with no hope of release. I look at you and smile deviously as I walk to your feet. You return the look, laughter giving way to soft giggles, knowing full well what's about to come. You begin to plead and beg.
"Please, not the feet. Not now. It'll tickle too much if I can't play with myself."
Of course, your pleas fall on deaf ears. I approximate where your feet should be and begin moving sand aside. In no time at all, I see your wiggling toes and feet, already trying to avoid a touch that hasn't started yet. I take the shaving brush and lightly touch across the tips of your toes. The warm sand seems to have increased the ticklishness of those lovely, sexy feet. Your screaming laughter drowns out all other sounds around us. Thank God this is a secluded area, or someone might think I was attacking you. Well, maybe I am! I lightly brush your toes, first the tips, then the bottoms. I put the brush down and bring all my fingers into service. I dig down in the sand a bit more, exposing more of your soles. My fingers do their ticklish dance over your soles and tops.
"Tickle tickle tickle!" I taunt as I elicit more hysterics from you. The taunting seems to make you even more ticklish, if that's possible.
You feet wiggle and try to get away, but to no avail. I watch your face closely, twisted in laughter, tears streaming down. I KNOW you are still trying to reach that stick to rub your pussy against. Suddenly, your teeth clench through your laughter and your eyes open as wide as they can. Your laughter becomes mixed with grunts and moans. It's happening. You've finally moved enough so that the stick is hard against your pussy. Now the challenge is to move your body across it or along its length so that it rubs against your clit. The sand battles back, but you can move JUST enough. My fingers tickle under your toes, between your toes, over the soles, up and down the sides. Almost there ... almost there .... the laughter dies down just a bit as the tickling begins to enhance your orgasmic buildup. As long as you can rub up against that stick, the tickling doesn't make you laugh as much, though it certainly seems that there's no way your laughter will completely end.
Suddenly, you scream out. Your mouth and eyes open wide.
"OH GOD OH GOD," you repeat thru fits of laughter. And that's when I know. You've cum, hard. I see it in your eyes, the waves of orgasm taking over your body, completely relaxing it. I stop tickling your feet as you come down off your sexual high.
I move to your head and kiss you. You want to kiss me back, but your energy is completely sapped. It doesn't matter. Your eyes say it all. They have smiles all their own as they gaze into mine.
I quickly unbury you. When I get to our crotch area, I can't believe what I see. The entire area of your bathing suit is soaked; not just the crotch, but the surrounding areas as well.
"Well," I say, "It looks like SOMEONE had a good time."
You just smile, bask in the sunlight, and wonder to yourself when we can come back.
