Hello everyone.
This is a story I published way back in the Israeli tickling forum. Originally in Hebrew of course, it is now translated to English and brought to center stage!
Hope you like it. Enjoy.
***********************
She already knew she wanted it to happen. Wanted it so much.
They had already gone through all the phases. Had turned each other on with computer messages, had melted each other with phone conversations. And now, as she saw him looking at her over the coffee cups on the table – She felt the fast heartbeats, the wave of emotion that flooded her as she realized, within herself, that a border had been crossed, that the day has arrived. The road has come to its end, the dream has become reality.
Just like it was in the beginning, when words flowed between them on the computer screen, they spoke about all the things in the world, but she knew what they came to the small cafe for. Every time the conversation moved to tickling, she could feel her knees and thighs shake, could feel his fingers finding the spots that would thrill her mind with a tempest of laughter. What a word. Tickle… Tickle…
She couldn’t know, couldn't tell it – but even he, the veteran, could already feel her feet, her waist, her belly and underarms, surrendering to his fingertips.
Her sense of security was increasing.
She couldn't bear it, couldn’t wait any longer. He was the man who would take her there.
She rose to her feet, feeling her legs were going to collapse under her. He rose, hugged her, and felt her shaking – as if she expected him to tickle her crazy, right here, right now, in front of the whole world. He felt her excitement threatening to overwhelm him… but only kissed her softly on her mouth. And as the lips and tongues parted after the long, relaxing kiss, she said to him, her voice hoarse with excitement: "I'm ready."
***********************
All the way to her apartment she felt the choking in her throat, the little pinch between her legs, the pokes of anticipation in her underarms and her waist – she felt she must clamp her arms to her body to protect herself from them, and knew that on her bed she would no longer be able to.
She felt totally secure around him by now, but still her hands shook as she inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. He entered after her in silence, carrying the little bag he took from the car with him ("The bag of surprises", he called it when she asked him during the short ride).
Even the distance to her bedroom seemed vast to her as she walked toward it, with him behind her. She felt herself shedding shirt, bra, shoes, socks, pants and panties… behind her she heard soft sounds, and knew that he too was shedding his covers, the covers of the outside world, on the way to being fully released from it.
And still she couldn't dare to look behind and see him, just kept on walking, subconsciously clamping her arms even harder, as if to protect her body from thousands of invisible fingers she imagined had already penetrated and tickled her.
She entered the bedroom, that always gave her the peace the loved so much, and knew that tonight there would not be peace in it, only wall-shattering laughter and ecstasy and movement without control or direction. She turned around and sat on her bed, only then lifting her head and looking at him. He seemed quiet, strong, and in her eyes he was the most beautiful thing she ahs even seen. And he was terrifyingly stimulated.
She shut her eyes and lay down on her back, shivering with anticipation that almost made her scream out the lump in her throat, which was now mixed with a little fear of what was to come. And still her arms clang tight to the sides of her body, and the stings of the imaginary tickling increased in the waist, underarm, breasts, and belly, now all released from the burden of cloth. She had never been tickled like that, open to the winds and defenseless, at the mercy of fingers tickling her whole body.
She heard him pull something out of the bag, felt his hand grasp her ankle and pull it gently aside, the Velcro strap tightening around it, the pull of the tether tying the strap to the corner of the bed. A second elapsed, and her other ankle was also spread aside and tied to the bed's other bottom corner. Now spread apart and open, unable to pull her legs back together, she knew she was already in his hands. That feeling of helplessness, the one she so expected, commandeered her now, and with effort she overcame the invisible fingers in her mind and lifted her arms above her had, expecting the straps that would hold her wrists to the upper corners of the bed.
Suddenly she felt it for the first time. This time it was real. Her feet seemed to send an electric charge to her brain. She blurted out a short surprised laughter, her back arched, her head lurched back facing a random point on the ceiling.
A split-second passed, she lowered her defenses, and then his fingers attacked her feet again, this time not letting go. She was taken by surprise, this she had not expected, her hands were not tied yet! His fingers danced in her insteps. Lightning after lightning struck her brain in dizzying tempo every time his finger glided on her foot. Laughter bubbled out of her, quickly turning into a flood, like a river of laughter she couldn't dam. And still it seemed that the flux of laughter couldn't unload the ticklish strikes that flew from her feet through her whole body. Her upper body, still free, danced on the mattress from side to side, jiggling her breasts. Her nipples grew hard and erect. Her ass hopped as she tried to pull her tied legs, to kick, to stop the tickling that was threatening to overtake her with power. Her hands slapped the mattress again and again.
No, that was too much, she wouldn't be able to take much more! Several times, with immense effort, she tried to sit up and reach the Velcro straps that held her ankles in place… But after a few seconds the non-stop tickling once again took control of her, and her body slammed back onto the mattress with a wild attack of laughter, a laughter that had a will of its own.
When he stopped, it seemed to her to have lasted forever. Or was it only a few seconds? She felt the pleasant heat radiating from her clit, and knew she had found her way. She lay exhausted, huffing and puffing to regain oxygen lost in the incessant laughter that rocked her, and was unable to resist as he stretched her arms over her head and enveloped them in the Velcro straps. Now she was still, spread-eagled, exposed, unable to protect even a single sensitive spot.
He knelt between her legs and watched, seeming to almost explode from what he was seeing… But he knew the evening was still young, and patience would pay. He noticed a first drop dripping between her legs, turning into a thin wet trail.
He stared at her, as if thinking what's next although he knew, paralyzing her with his look, hunting her willing, scared, begging eyes – begging for what? For him to stop – or to continue?
He didn’t stop to ask. Like a skilled rider he mounted her pelvis, and his fingers began caressing her wrists, right under the straps that held them. With the delicacy of a feather his fingers glided on her flesh, in her inner forearms, stimulating and teasing. Her breath was becoming heavier – she knew what was coming…
When his fingers reached the folds of her elbows she stifled a light giggle, tried in vain to fold her stretched arms. Her breathing sped further as his fingers kept sliding on her biceps, toward the beckoning underarms. Her breasts rose and fell, jumping with every breath. Slowly he approached, and when he finally reached the open, inviting underarms – his pace rose in a flash.
Once again the powerful tickling hit her brain, maddening the senses, overpowering the body. Her laughter seemed to rise in tone and strength. She tried to pull her arms down, to close them on his fingers, at least to limit their movement! But to no avail. All she could do was to thrash her head from side to side, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh… Her thighs moved behind him as far as the ankle bonds allowed, but they prevented her from closing them together, so she couldn't even give herself that slight touch that would ease the irritation spreading between them. Her fingers tried to grasp the air.
And he wouldn’t stop. His fingers played in the defenseless underarms, tingling every nerve with a feeling that exploded in her head – a feeling she already knew, but could never get used to. The pace hardly allowed her to catch a breath between one burst of laughter and the next.
"Nowhere to run", the thought passed in her sub-consciousness. He could tickle her forever if he wanted to, and there was nothing she could do, only to receive it and stand it. That thought only intensified the power of the tickling, she began to feel the burn in her diaphragm from the laughter, and still he wouldn’t stop… He was going to take her to the end, the very limit, she knew that – but she didn’t know she would be that ticklish… All she could feel now was tickle, tickle, tickle…
He dismounted from her pelvis to her side, but didn't stop the movement of the fingers, pleasuring and torturing simultaneously.
In her laughter hysteria she suddenly felt his tongue passing over one nipple… then the other… and through the laughter that almost tore her jaws she moaned and threw her head back, stretching her body as much as she could. His tongue kept passing between her breasts, under them, beside them, on her nipples, and down to her belly… her body was already over-sensitized and over-stimulated by the relentless tickling, and every pass of the tongue made her shudder, adding another layer to the sharp tickling sensation, interlacing a loud moan into the tsunami of laughter.
At one time she could hear herself mumbling "nooooo… stop…" into the unstoppable laugh… but most of the time she couldn’t talk at all. She was using all the air in her lungs to laugh.
One of his hands abandoned her right underarm and made her way to her right hip, grabbing, pushing a mischievous finger here and there, making her laugh even louder. Her pelvis, now released from his weight, stopped moving, she bent her body leftwards as much as the cables let her, trying helplessly to defend that poor hip… In the meantime his other hand kept her play in the left underarm, and the asymmetrical tickling was driving her crazy, she couldn’t handle the combined rhythm, didn’t know where he would move next… her laughter has already gone hoarse, the jaws were hurting, the lungs were yearning for oxygen, and between her legs the sweet heat was spreading more and more – who would have thought? Like in her wildest daydreams! The laughter kept flowing from her with a force she couldn’t resist or stop.
He knelt between her legs again, noticing the visible stain that formed on the sheet. His hands now concentrated on her waist and belly. He loved the way she leaned her head, trying to rise… again in vain… Occasionally she would break and lay back down, her head rocking itself, seemingly laughing even louder. In some of the time no voice would come out of her mouth, just air blowing from pushing lungs…
The sight of her breasts rising and falling with her laughter threatened to overtake him, the dance of the thighs and hips trying to keep her waist away from his agile fingers – he thought he wouldn’t be able to resist it much longer. He was a veteran, he had gone through this before, and still it was as good as new every time. She was so beautiful, a sexy nymph dancing and laughing under his fingers…
From time to time his hand left an aching hip or a stimulated belly, and tickled a thigh, where it meets the pelvis… or the back of a knee… or again attacked an underarm she thought had already suffered enough… Every time the surprise was perfect, rewarding him with renewed bursts of laughter and dance moves.
Suddenly, within the tornado of tickling, her back arched, her neck stretches, and she let out a scream-like moan into the laughter, as a bombshell seemed to explode in her skull. His hands were still tickling, moving from waist to thigh, from breast to rib, keeping the laughter flowing in a never-ending wave. But his tongue was tickling between her legs, tickling the labia and clit that were screaming to be touched. Once, twice, thrice his tongue passed…
And then he lifted his head. She was almost desperate… wasn't he going to continue?
She didn’t have much time to think. The tickling continued, rocking her again, the feeling of frustration only adding to the sensation of helplessness.
And there it was again… one, two, three… This time he stayed longer… She could feel the sensations doubling each other, moan intensifying laugh, laugh intensifying moan, that was too much…
And then, at once, he stopped tickling, his hands caressed her breasts, belly, sides, thighs – and his tongue and lips kept working.
At first the laughter continued with the moans, as her sensitized body sent pricks of tickling into her brain, even from his now delicate touch. Slowly the laughter subsided, and she was left only with the delicate hands, and the tongue, and the loving mouth, that brought her closer and closer to the big bang… Here it comes…
And then, without warning, his mouth stopped – and his fingers again assaulted her underarms.
She was caught completely off guard, and opened wide incredulous eyes. A look of frustration, of begging, of fear, of mixed laughing and crying, formed on her face. The laughter that burst out now was stronger, harder, more shouting, the laughter of a woman stimulated and sensitized to the tip of her hair. Tears were forming in her eyes. This can't be happening! Is this another step to the limit? Or perhaps beyond it?
"Stop… Please…" She managed to say before the tickling feeling exploded again, making laughter take her over with extra strength, silencing any possibility to speak, to protest, to beg…
***********************
She couldn't tell how long he held her on the edge of the cliff, preventing her from flying, using the maddening stimulation for stronger, more effective tickling… She was living in another world now, a world consisting only of sensations, of endless tickling and immense passion that drained her power away from her; Several times she thought that there it was, and he, with skill acquired through experience, knew when to retreat – and again to tickle, and tickle, and enjoy her moves, her sounds… sweat covered her whole body, large tears of laughter flowed from her shut eyes onto her face. Feathers and painting brushes – pulled out of the "bag of surprises" in the short pauses that let her breathe in some of the oxygen she was lacking - played between her legs, and she seemingly jumped out of her skin with their every pass on the spread out lips, the overgrown clit; But the biggest damage was done by his fingers, that kept skipping from one sensitive spot to the next, always knowing where to tickle to bring out of her the wildest struggle, the wildest laughter.
And again the hands relaxed, caressed and soothed, his mouth again landing between her legs, above the stain that widened on the sheet.
She felt she could no longer take the overload that flooded her nervous system. "I can't…" she whispered, not for the first time.
His tongue took her farther this time, and she felt herself climbing, climbing... She thought of the frustration that would surely come, the tickling that would follow as she longed to be unloaded of the charge that mounted within her.
She felt herself getting closer and closer… Please, let him not stop now – she would surely cry!
A few more seconds - and finally she could fly off the cliff's edge, her whole body releasing at once with ongoing spasm… She couldn't even hear herself scream.
***********************
When the shivering subsided, the moans turned back to huffing and puffing, she opened her eyes for the first time in a long while. Her body was at the peak of its sensitivity, sending gentle, pleasuring, tickling tingles from everywhere. After such a long tickling episode, and such a powerful orgasm, she longed to sit up, to lower her arms, to close the open underarms, to cover the exposed upper body, to clamp her legs together, and to bend them to her chest to protect the feet.
She lifted her head and saw him again – kneeling between her ankles, looking at her with the expression she had already come to know. She opened her eyes wide in disbelief, knowing what would happen if he tickled her now, when her body was so sensitive.
"No… Please… Not now, wait, please…"
He continued looking at her, and she saw his hands reach forward to caress her inner thighs. She tried to shut her legs together with little success, and he slid down to her knees and shins.
The fountain of laughter simmered again, bubbling, boiling from the center of her belly to her lungs and mouth. With every move of his fingers toward her feet it grew stronger, busting open the cracks in the self control she had only just regained.
"No… I can't… You'll kill me!"
His fingers reached her feet.
***********************
How many times has he brought her to climax? How long has he held her on the edge between them, tickling her senseless, until he untied her, wiped the tears and sweat that washed her face, and hugged her, hyperventilating and shivering all over, to his hungry, yet unsatisfied body? She couldn’t tell, she had lost count.
A few minutes passed until she smiled to his question-mark stare, kissed him, said "I'm alright…" and kissed him again, a warm soft kiss, like the one he felt at the cafe when the evening began – but with an added flavor, a flavor of joy and satisfaction.
A few more minutes passed. Her breath was already relaxed. She looked into his eyes. "I haven't finished the journey yet", she said. Gently, she pushed him onto the bed, his back on the mattress, fastening his wrists and ankles in the straps.
This is a story I published way back in the Israeli tickling forum. Originally in Hebrew of course, it is now translated to English and brought to center stage!
Hope you like it. Enjoy.
***********************
She already knew she wanted it to happen. Wanted it so much.
They had already gone through all the phases. Had turned each other on with computer messages, had melted each other with phone conversations. And now, as she saw him looking at her over the coffee cups on the table – She felt the fast heartbeats, the wave of emotion that flooded her as she realized, within herself, that a border had been crossed, that the day has arrived. The road has come to its end, the dream has become reality.
Just like it was in the beginning, when words flowed between them on the computer screen, they spoke about all the things in the world, but she knew what they came to the small cafe for. Every time the conversation moved to tickling, she could feel her knees and thighs shake, could feel his fingers finding the spots that would thrill her mind with a tempest of laughter. What a word. Tickle… Tickle…
She couldn’t know, couldn't tell it – but even he, the veteran, could already feel her feet, her waist, her belly and underarms, surrendering to his fingertips.
Her sense of security was increasing.
She couldn't bear it, couldn’t wait any longer. He was the man who would take her there.
She rose to her feet, feeling her legs were going to collapse under her. He rose, hugged her, and felt her shaking – as if she expected him to tickle her crazy, right here, right now, in front of the whole world. He felt her excitement threatening to overwhelm him… but only kissed her softly on her mouth. And as the lips and tongues parted after the long, relaxing kiss, she said to him, her voice hoarse with excitement: "I'm ready."
***********************
All the way to her apartment she felt the choking in her throat, the little pinch between her legs, the pokes of anticipation in her underarms and her waist – she felt she must clamp her arms to her body to protect herself from them, and knew that on her bed she would no longer be able to.
She felt totally secure around him by now, but still her hands shook as she inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. He entered after her in silence, carrying the little bag he took from the car with him ("The bag of surprises", he called it when she asked him during the short ride).
Even the distance to her bedroom seemed vast to her as she walked toward it, with him behind her. She felt herself shedding shirt, bra, shoes, socks, pants and panties… behind her she heard soft sounds, and knew that he too was shedding his covers, the covers of the outside world, on the way to being fully released from it.
And still she couldn't dare to look behind and see him, just kept on walking, subconsciously clamping her arms even harder, as if to protect her body from thousands of invisible fingers she imagined had already penetrated and tickled her.
She entered the bedroom, that always gave her the peace the loved so much, and knew that tonight there would not be peace in it, only wall-shattering laughter and ecstasy and movement without control or direction. She turned around and sat on her bed, only then lifting her head and looking at him. He seemed quiet, strong, and in her eyes he was the most beautiful thing she ahs even seen. And he was terrifyingly stimulated.
She shut her eyes and lay down on her back, shivering with anticipation that almost made her scream out the lump in her throat, which was now mixed with a little fear of what was to come. And still her arms clang tight to the sides of her body, and the stings of the imaginary tickling increased in the waist, underarm, breasts, and belly, now all released from the burden of cloth. She had never been tickled like that, open to the winds and defenseless, at the mercy of fingers tickling her whole body.
She heard him pull something out of the bag, felt his hand grasp her ankle and pull it gently aside, the Velcro strap tightening around it, the pull of the tether tying the strap to the corner of the bed. A second elapsed, and her other ankle was also spread aside and tied to the bed's other bottom corner. Now spread apart and open, unable to pull her legs back together, she knew she was already in his hands. That feeling of helplessness, the one she so expected, commandeered her now, and with effort she overcame the invisible fingers in her mind and lifted her arms above her had, expecting the straps that would hold her wrists to the upper corners of the bed.
Suddenly she felt it for the first time. This time it was real. Her feet seemed to send an electric charge to her brain. She blurted out a short surprised laughter, her back arched, her head lurched back facing a random point on the ceiling.
A split-second passed, she lowered her defenses, and then his fingers attacked her feet again, this time not letting go. She was taken by surprise, this she had not expected, her hands were not tied yet! His fingers danced in her insteps. Lightning after lightning struck her brain in dizzying tempo every time his finger glided on her foot. Laughter bubbled out of her, quickly turning into a flood, like a river of laughter she couldn't dam. And still it seemed that the flux of laughter couldn't unload the ticklish strikes that flew from her feet through her whole body. Her upper body, still free, danced on the mattress from side to side, jiggling her breasts. Her nipples grew hard and erect. Her ass hopped as she tried to pull her tied legs, to kick, to stop the tickling that was threatening to overtake her with power. Her hands slapped the mattress again and again.
No, that was too much, she wouldn't be able to take much more! Several times, with immense effort, she tried to sit up and reach the Velcro straps that held her ankles in place… But after a few seconds the non-stop tickling once again took control of her, and her body slammed back onto the mattress with a wild attack of laughter, a laughter that had a will of its own.
When he stopped, it seemed to her to have lasted forever. Or was it only a few seconds? She felt the pleasant heat radiating from her clit, and knew she had found her way. She lay exhausted, huffing and puffing to regain oxygen lost in the incessant laughter that rocked her, and was unable to resist as he stretched her arms over her head and enveloped them in the Velcro straps. Now she was still, spread-eagled, exposed, unable to protect even a single sensitive spot.
He knelt between her legs and watched, seeming to almost explode from what he was seeing… But he knew the evening was still young, and patience would pay. He noticed a first drop dripping between her legs, turning into a thin wet trail.
He stared at her, as if thinking what's next although he knew, paralyzing her with his look, hunting her willing, scared, begging eyes – begging for what? For him to stop – or to continue?
He didn’t stop to ask. Like a skilled rider he mounted her pelvis, and his fingers began caressing her wrists, right under the straps that held them. With the delicacy of a feather his fingers glided on her flesh, in her inner forearms, stimulating and teasing. Her breath was becoming heavier – she knew what was coming…
When his fingers reached the folds of her elbows she stifled a light giggle, tried in vain to fold her stretched arms. Her breathing sped further as his fingers kept sliding on her biceps, toward the beckoning underarms. Her breasts rose and fell, jumping with every breath. Slowly he approached, and when he finally reached the open, inviting underarms – his pace rose in a flash.
Once again the powerful tickling hit her brain, maddening the senses, overpowering the body. Her laughter seemed to rise in tone and strength. She tried to pull her arms down, to close them on his fingers, at least to limit their movement! But to no avail. All she could do was to thrash her head from side to side, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh… Her thighs moved behind him as far as the ankle bonds allowed, but they prevented her from closing them together, so she couldn't even give herself that slight touch that would ease the irritation spreading between them. Her fingers tried to grasp the air.
And he wouldn’t stop. His fingers played in the defenseless underarms, tingling every nerve with a feeling that exploded in her head – a feeling she already knew, but could never get used to. The pace hardly allowed her to catch a breath between one burst of laughter and the next.
"Nowhere to run", the thought passed in her sub-consciousness. He could tickle her forever if he wanted to, and there was nothing she could do, only to receive it and stand it. That thought only intensified the power of the tickling, she began to feel the burn in her diaphragm from the laughter, and still he wouldn’t stop… He was going to take her to the end, the very limit, she knew that – but she didn’t know she would be that ticklish… All she could feel now was tickle, tickle, tickle…
He dismounted from her pelvis to her side, but didn't stop the movement of the fingers, pleasuring and torturing simultaneously.
In her laughter hysteria she suddenly felt his tongue passing over one nipple… then the other… and through the laughter that almost tore her jaws she moaned and threw her head back, stretching her body as much as she could. His tongue kept passing between her breasts, under them, beside them, on her nipples, and down to her belly… her body was already over-sensitized and over-stimulated by the relentless tickling, and every pass of the tongue made her shudder, adding another layer to the sharp tickling sensation, interlacing a loud moan into the tsunami of laughter.
At one time she could hear herself mumbling "nooooo… stop…" into the unstoppable laugh… but most of the time she couldn’t talk at all. She was using all the air in her lungs to laugh.
One of his hands abandoned her right underarm and made her way to her right hip, grabbing, pushing a mischievous finger here and there, making her laugh even louder. Her pelvis, now released from his weight, stopped moving, she bent her body leftwards as much as the cables let her, trying helplessly to defend that poor hip… In the meantime his other hand kept her play in the left underarm, and the asymmetrical tickling was driving her crazy, she couldn’t handle the combined rhythm, didn’t know where he would move next… her laughter has already gone hoarse, the jaws were hurting, the lungs were yearning for oxygen, and between her legs the sweet heat was spreading more and more – who would have thought? Like in her wildest daydreams! The laughter kept flowing from her with a force she couldn’t resist or stop.
He knelt between her legs again, noticing the visible stain that formed on the sheet. His hands now concentrated on her waist and belly. He loved the way she leaned her head, trying to rise… again in vain… Occasionally she would break and lay back down, her head rocking itself, seemingly laughing even louder. In some of the time no voice would come out of her mouth, just air blowing from pushing lungs…
The sight of her breasts rising and falling with her laughter threatened to overtake him, the dance of the thighs and hips trying to keep her waist away from his agile fingers – he thought he wouldn’t be able to resist it much longer. He was a veteran, he had gone through this before, and still it was as good as new every time. She was so beautiful, a sexy nymph dancing and laughing under his fingers…
From time to time his hand left an aching hip or a stimulated belly, and tickled a thigh, where it meets the pelvis… or the back of a knee… or again attacked an underarm she thought had already suffered enough… Every time the surprise was perfect, rewarding him with renewed bursts of laughter and dance moves.
Suddenly, within the tornado of tickling, her back arched, her neck stretches, and she let out a scream-like moan into the laughter, as a bombshell seemed to explode in her skull. His hands were still tickling, moving from waist to thigh, from breast to rib, keeping the laughter flowing in a never-ending wave. But his tongue was tickling between her legs, tickling the labia and clit that were screaming to be touched. Once, twice, thrice his tongue passed…
And then he lifted his head. She was almost desperate… wasn't he going to continue?
She didn’t have much time to think. The tickling continued, rocking her again, the feeling of frustration only adding to the sensation of helplessness.
And there it was again… one, two, three… This time he stayed longer… She could feel the sensations doubling each other, moan intensifying laugh, laugh intensifying moan, that was too much…
And then, at once, he stopped tickling, his hands caressed her breasts, belly, sides, thighs – and his tongue and lips kept working.
At first the laughter continued with the moans, as her sensitized body sent pricks of tickling into her brain, even from his now delicate touch. Slowly the laughter subsided, and she was left only with the delicate hands, and the tongue, and the loving mouth, that brought her closer and closer to the big bang… Here it comes…
And then, without warning, his mouth stopped – and his fingers again assaulted her underarms.
She was caught completely off guard, and opened wide incredulous eyes. A look of frustration, of begging, of fear, of mixed laughing and crying, formed on her face. The laughter that burst out now was stronger, harder, more shouting, the laughter of a woman stimulated and sensitized to the tip of her hair. Tears were forming in her eyes. This can't be happening! Is this another step to the limit? Or perhaps beyond it?
"Stop… Please…" She managed to say before the tickling feeling exploded again, making laughter take her over with extra strength, silencing any possibility to speak, to protest, to beg…
***********************
She couldn't tell how long he held her on the edge of the cliff, preventing her from flying, using the maddening stimulation for stronger, more effective tickling… She was living in another world now, a world consisting only of sensations, of endless tickling and immense passion that drained her power away from her; Several times she thought that there it was, and he, with skill acquired through experience, knew when to retreat – and again to tickle, and tickle, and enjoy her moves, her sounds… sweat covered her whole body, large tears of laughter flowed from her shut eyes onto her face. Feathers and painting brushes – pulled out of the "bag of surprises" in the short pauses that let her breathe in some of the oxygen she was lacking - played between her legs, and she seemingly jumped out of her skin with their every pass on the spread out lips, the overgrown clit; But the biggest damage was done by his fingers, that kept skipping from one sensitive spot to the next, always knowing where to tickle to bring out of her the wildest struggle, the wildest laughter.
And again the hands relaxed, caressed and soothed, his mouth again landing between her legs, above the stain that widened on the sheet.
She felt she could no longer take the overload that flooded her nervous system. "I can't…" she whispered, not for the first time.
His tongue took her farther this time, and she felt herself climbing, climbing... She thought of the frustration that would surely come, the tickling that would follow as she longed to be unloaded of the charge that mounted within her.
She felt herself getting closer and closer… Please, let him not stop now – she would surely cry!
A few more seconds - and finally she could fly off the cliff's edge, her whole body releasing at once with ongoing spasm… She couldn't even hear herself scream.
***********************
When the shivering subsided, the moans turned back to huffing and puffing, she opened her eyes for the first time in a long while. Her body was at the peak of its sensitivity, sending gentle, pleasuring, tickling tingles from everywhere. After such a long tickling episode, and such a powerful orgasm, she longed to sit up, to lower her arms, to close the open underarms, to cover the exposed upper body, to clamp her legs together, and to bend them to her chest to protect the feet.
She lifted her head and saw him again – kneeling between her ankles, looking at her with the expression she had already come to know. She opened her eyes wide in disbelief, knowing what would happen if he tickled her now, when her body was so sensitive.
"No… Please… Not now, wait, please…"
He continued looking at her, and she saw his hands reach forward to caress her inner thighs. She tried to shut her legs together with little success, and he slid down to her knees and shins.
The fountain of laughter simmered again, bubbling, boiling from the center of her belly to her lungs and mouth. With every move of his fingers toward her feet it grew stronger, busting open the cracks in the self control she had only just regained.
"No… I can't… You'll kill me!"
His fingers reached her feet.
***********************
How many times has he brought her to climax? How long has he held her on the edge between them, tickling her senseless, until he untied her, wiped the tears and sweat that washed her face, and hugged her, hyperventilating and shivering all over, to his hungry, yet unsatisfied body? She couldn’t tell, she had lost count.
A few minutes passed until she smiled to his question-mark stare, kissed him, said "I'm alright…" and kissed him again, a warm soft kiss, like the one he felt at the cafe when the evening began – but with an added flavor, a flavor of joy and satisfaction.
A few more minutes passed. Her breath was already relaxed. She looked into his eyes. "I haven't finished the journey yet", she said. Gently, she pushed him onto the bed, his back on the mattress, fastening his wrists and ankles in the straps.
