The next morning I awoke with a smile on my face. Funny how great sex makes one feel energized the next day. Kinky sex makes one feel like jumping and running. I thank God everyday that I have Anne in my life. Though Anne is a bit vanilla, she is willing to try new things. I’m not into leather and whips, but intense tickling is something that is part of my make-up and Anne has seemed willing to go along with that. I wanted to try to introduce a little bondage with our love-making, but she seemed a little skittish when it came to be tied down, so I bided my time.
At breakfast Anne was humming a tune and cooking. Whenever she did that I knew she was content and that made for a pleasant start for the day. She looked so hot in her black halter-top and short shorts. I loved it when she wore that outfit for it showed off her sexy legs and even sexier feet, which were bare. There is something about a barefoot woman that just gets my engine running. I can’t explain it.
As she came into the dining room I couldn’t help but scoop her into my lap and nuzzle her neck a bit, just behind the right ear (a hot spot, by the way). She giggled and asked me to stop it, but she didn’t sound very convincing. I began to lightly tickle her ribs and she began to jerk about. “Stop it, Ronny! You know how ticklish I am!” she cried, but of course I kept on.
I began to get a little hard, what with her grinding her cute ass into my crotch, so I took it a step further and lifted her halter top up to expose her breasts. Anne doesn’t have the largest breasts, but they are perky and what’s more, they’re ticklish. I found that out one day when we were fooling around. We were at a picnic and snuck off to enjoy a little “afternoon delight”. We were kissing and fondling each other and I unbuttoned her blouse. Out sprang her two little titties. I leaned over and began to suckle them, which made her giggle. Hearing that, I looked around and saw a large stalk of field grass. I plucked it and began using it like a feather on her nipples. Not only did it tickle her, but it aroused her. God bless nature! But I digress….
I was gently tickling her nipples and slowly running my finger lightly around her areola. She was fighting off giggles and gasps when a sound snapped us back to reality. It was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Looking up I saw Dave standing at the screen door, hungrily watching me tickling my wife. Anne let out a yelp and jumped off my lap and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Dave laughed.
“So she has ticklish tatas as well, eh?” he said coming into the room. “All right!”
“Um, yeah, I guess so,” I said somewhat embarrassed (and horny). “What’s up, man?”
“Can I get a lift down to the theater with you?” he asked. “Yvonne took my car. She had some errands to run and said she’d meet me there. She’d better,” he said helping himself to a piece of toast, “if she knows what’s good for her.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“I mean if she keeps me waiting her feet are gonna be spending a lot of time with me. Heh, heh.”
“I’ll just get my keys,” I said, exiting to the bedroom. I opened the door and found Anne sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” I asked, closing the door behind me.
“What’s wrong?” she said in a hushed tone, “You’re trying to undress me and suddenly he shows up. Who knows how long he’d been standing there. I’m so embarrassed.”
That thought bothered me a bit as well, but I dismissed it. “Oh don’t worry about Dave,” I said with a laugh, “He’s into all sorts of kinky stuff.”
Anne looked at me in horror. “Kinky stuff?!” she exclaimed. “Kinky stuff? Look, Ron, just because I let you tickle me from time to time and we indulge in oral sometimes doesn’t make us kinky and I don’t want someone like Dave thinking we’re swingers or something like that. Now get him out of here. We‘ll talk more about this tonight!”
“Aw don’t be mad at me, baby,” I cooed, goosing her ribs. Anne flinched and jumped up. I shook my head and chuckled. Kissing her cheek I bid her goodbye and left the room. As I opened the door, Dave looked in and called, “See you later, Anne. And I hope to see your two friends again sometime too.”
Then he laughed. Anne gave me a dirty look and turned away from me. I beat a hasty retreat. I knew I’d have to do a lot of apologizing when I got home that night.
In the car Dave couldn’t stop talking about Anne and her bosom. “Man, your wife has a fine rack, dude,” he said.
That sort of talk made me uncomfortable. “Yeah, okay, they‘re great,” I said with a nervous laugh, “Now let’s change the subject, shall we?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Look, Dave,” I began, “What you witnessed was a private moment. We didn’t expect an audience and well…uh…look, let’s just change the subject, all right?”
“Oh I get it”, he said with a knowing air. “Your old lady’s all pissed off, isn’t she?”
“Well do you blame her?” I said.
“You know how you can fix this, don’t you?” asked Dave.
“No, how?” I asked.
“Like this”, he said, and he held up his hands and scrabbled the air with them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“By tickling her, dude. Whenever Yvonne gets pissy I tickle the shit out of her and she snaps right out of her funk. You should try that on Anne.”
I smiled. “Anne isn’t as open as Yvonne,” I explained. “She lets me tickle her but only when she feels like it. I think this solution of yours might set her even more on edge.”
“Yvonne isn’t open, dude,” said Dave. “She’s actually kinda shy. I usually have to tie her up in order to really tickle her. You ever do that to Anne?”
“No, I’ve never done that.”
“Dude! You don’t know what you’re missing! You’ve got to tie her up and tickle her. It’s the only way. It’s the best way. I tied up Yvonne last night.”
Here he began to lick his lips, as though he were remembering a savory meal. And I have to admit, the thought of Yvonne tied down and tickled made me a little hot as well.
“You should’ve seen her,” he went on, “All naked and spread out. She always puts up a fight, which I love, and I have to throw her over my shoulder and carry her into the bedroom. There I use the restraints I keep fixed to the bed to hold her down. Once she’s secure, I get out my instruments of torture.”
I looked at him. He was enjoying this, relating the intimate details of his sex life to someone he has only known for a short time. I could never do that. Dave settled his head into the headrest and closed his eyes. “My instruments of torture,” he repeated with a chuckle. “What do you like to use on Anne?”
“Huh?”
“What do you use on Anne? Is she feather sensitive? Electric toothbrush between the toes? What?”
I thought about that for a moment. I had tickled Anne with a feather once and found that she went ape-shit when I used it on and between her toes. “I’ve used a feather on her,” I replied.
“Yeah, nothing beats a feather on a naked woman,” said Dave with a grin. “I should show you my box of laugh making supplies. You would find it very interesting. And I think Anne would be very amused by it as well.”
I forced a smile.
“Ron,” said Dave at last, “You’re my friend, aren’t you?”
“Sure.”
“And I know you’d do anything for me.”
“Well, sure, within reason, Dave.”
“Well, I‘d like to do something for you.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“I know you’re in the dog house because of me and what happened this morning,” he began, “and so I’d like to come over tonight and get your wife in a good mood so that you and she can get over this.”
I already knew the answer but I wanted him to actually say it. “How do you propose to do that?” I asked.
“I’d be willing to come over and tickle Anne for you. What do you say?”
I looked at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Aw come on, man,” he wheedled. “I’d love to get my hands on that hot body of hers.”
“Hey! That’s my wife you’re talking about, pal!”
“Easy, dude, easy!“ he said backing up against the car door. “I don’t mean have sex with her. I just want to tickle the shit out of her.”
“Yeah, right. Suppose I said that about Yvonne.”
“Hey, you wanna tickle Yvonne be my guest. I think she’d be up for it.”
“You’re out of your fuckin’ mind, you know that?”
“Hey, if that means I love tickling hot women, then, yeah, I’m out of my fuckin’ mind.”
We rode on in silence. Finally we got to the theater and split up, Dave going down to the paint shop to finish work on a back drop for the upcoming performance of “South Pacific”. I went upstairs to work on press releases. Just before we left each other Dave took my arm and said, “Hey, man, are we cool? I mean, I’m sorry about what I said about Anne and all.”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Great,” he said, with a big smile. Then he added, “I still want to tickle her, though.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh and Ron,” he added, “if you hear hysterical laughter coming from the costume shop today, don’t be alarmed. It’ll just be me punishing Yvonne for being late.”
I sort of chuckled and waved him off and made my way upstairs. I had never met someone quite like Dave before. I guess it must be a California thing, being so open about your predilections. I sat down to the computer and began to review the notes for the press releases. It was quiet in the theater that day. Only a few stage hands were at work. The actors wouldn’t be coming in for rehearsal until the evening.
I tried to get an article together, but my thoughts kept drifting to Anne. She was beautiful, even when she was angry. I loved it, in fact, when she was angry with me sometimes, because it gave me an excuse to tickle the ire away. That was fun, watching her get all angry and then as I expertly tickled her feet listening to her dissolve into helpless laughter. And then it would start all over again. It never ceased to arouse me. Anne often called me sick. She was right, too.
I began to think of Anne being tickled, how she reacted, the feel of her skin, the sounds she made as I hit certain spots, like her feet and toes. Then the thought of Dave tickling her popped into my head. I lingered on that for a moment before wiping the notion from my mind. How could I possibly let another man tickle my wife? Ridiculous!
Then I began to think about Yvonne. Yvonne. Lovely Yvonne. Yvonne with the sexy, tantalizing toes. I wondered what it would be like to tickle her. To slowly undress her, to…to….
Before I knew it two hours had passed and I had yet to get a single article written. I needed to clear my head and so I decided to take a walk through the empty theater. That always cleared my head. I went down to the theater. The stage was filled with half built sets and odd props. A single work light was burning . I stood in the semi darkness, inhaled deeply, and looked out at the rows of empty, dust-cloth covered seats.
Lately all I had been able to think about was tickling. How had my fetish gotten so out of control? I never fantasized about tickling other women--at least, not since before I was married. I loved my wife. So why was I thinking about another man tickling her? And why was I dreaming about tickling another woman?
I felt a little dirty and shook my head, as if to clear out the dirty thoughts when I heard it. It was sort of muffled, but it sounded, for all the world, like laughter. Raucous laughter. Tortured laughter. Then it hit me: it was Yvonne. Dave kept his word. He was punishing her. I had to see this.
Slowly and silently I made my way to the costume shop. The theater was now empty, save for me and, I assumed, Yvonne and Dave. The stage hands had gone to lunch. As I reached the costume shop door the sound got louder. The door was ajar.
I entered the room. Now the costume shop was set up in two rooms, the first was a sort of outer-office space where there were dress forms, changing booths and tables with half finished costumes spread out. On the east end of the room was a door that led into the costume warehouse. This door was cut so that the top half opened, sort of like a dutch door. And there she was. Yvonne.
Her arms were around a heavy dress form, her wrists being tied with a nylon stocking to hold her in place. She was hanging half out of the dutch door. She was jerking and shrieking with tortured laughter through a gag which was been tied around her mouth. Tears were streaming from her eyes. She had been in this position for a while. She looked up and saw me and her hands began to reach out to me and her eyes pleased with me to release her.
“Dave?” I called.
“That you, Ron?” came a voice from inside the room where Yvonne was standing. “I’m in here, punishing Yvonne.”
I came towards her and looking past her into the room I saw Dave, sitting on the floor, his back against the lower part of the door. He had bent back Yvonne’s left leg and held her ankle in the crook of his arm. He had stripped her foot of its sandal and at the moment was taking a dry paint brush and lightly stroking a circle on the arch of her creamy pink sole. Each stroke of the brush sent a bolt of ticklish agony into Yvonne and caused her to jerk and laugh manically. “Guess you won’t be late next time, will you babe,” he cooed, brushing up and down her twitching sole.
Dave looked up at me and with a smile and a wink he calmly continued to torture his girl. “She can’t stand having these piggies of hers tickled, so of course…” And he began to work the brush along and between her toes. Yvonne went into orbit.
I watched, dry-mouthed, for a few minutes the way he worked the brush along her toes, before finally saying, “Hey, I think she’s had enough, Dave. You better let her go. People will be coming back from lunch soon.”
Dave kept working the brush on her sole. “Yeah, I suppose,” said, slowly drawing a figure eight on her arch, “Besides, I have more planned for her tonight when we get home. This is just the beginning.”
He tickled her foot for about five more minutes before finally releasing his grip on her ankle. He stood up and stretched and turned towards his exhausted lady, who was slumped and breathing heavily. “Yeah, I can’t wait till tonight!” he said, punctuating his remark with a dastardly rib tickling which caused Yvonne to scream into her gag. Finally he let up and released her. The gag was soaking wet and Yvonne was still giggling softly as he opened the door and untied her hands.
Dave gave her a tender kiss. “Who’s my ticklish girl?” he asked her softly.
“I am,” she replied, hoarsely.
_______________
Here's part two--part three is coming if you want it. Thanks for the comments--hope this segement meets your requirements.
At breakfast Anne was humming a tune and cooking. Whenever she did that I knew she was content and that made for a pleasant start for the day. She looked so hot in her black halter-top and short shorts. I loved it when she wore that outfit for it showed off her sexy legs and even sexier feet, which were bare. There is something about a barefoot woman that just gets my engine running. I can’t explain it.
As she came into the dining room I couldn’t help but scoop her into my lap and nuzzle her neck a bit, just behind the right ear (a hot spot, by the way). She giggled and asked me to stop it, but she didn’t sound very convincing. I began to lightly tickle her ribs and she began to jerk about. “Stop it, Ronny! You know how ticklish I am!” she cried, but of course I kept on.
I began to get a little hard, what with her grinding her cute ass into my crotch, so I took it a step further and lifted her halter top up to expose her breasts. Anne doesn’t have the largest breasts, but they are perky and what’s more, they’re ticklish. I found that out one day when we were fooling around. We were at a picnic and snuck off to enjoy a little “afternoon delight”. We were kissing and fondling each other and I unbuttoned her blouse. Out sprang her two little titties. I leaned over and began to suckle them, which made her giggle. Hearing that, I looked around and saw a large stalk of field grass. I plucked it and began using it like a feather on her nipples. Not only did it tickle her, but it aroused her. God bless nature! But I digress….
I was gently tickling her nipples and slowly running my finger lightly around her areola. She was fighting off giggles and gasps when a sound snapped us back to reality. It was the sound of someone clearing their throat. Looking up I saw Dave standing at the screen door, hungrily watching me tickling my wife. Anne let out a yelp and jumped off my lap and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Dave laughed.
“So she has ticklish tatas as well, eh?” he said coming into the room. “All right!”
“Um, yeah, I guess so,” I said somewhat embarrassed (and horny). “What’s up, man?”
“Can I get a lift down to the theater with you?” he asked. “Yvonne took my car. She had some errands to run and said she’d meet me there. She’d better,” he said helping himself to a piece of toast, “if she knows what’s good for her.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“I mean if she keeps me waiting her feet are gonna be spending a lot of time with me. Heh, heh.”
“I’ll just get my keys,” I said, exiting to the bedroom. I opened the door and found Anne sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” I asked, closing the door behind me.
“What’s wrong?” she said in a hushed tone, “You’re trying to undress me and suddenly he shows up. Who knows how long he’d been standing there. I’m so embarrassed.”
That thought bothered me a bit as well, but I dismissed it. “Oh don’t worry about Dave,” I said with a laugh, “He’s into all sorts of kinky stuff.”
Anne looked at me in horror. “Kinky stuff?!” she exclaimed. “Kinky stuff? Look, Ron, just because I let you tickle me from time to time and we indulge in oral sometimes doesn’t make us kinky and I don’t want someone like Dave thinking we’re swingers or something like that. Now get him out of here. We‘ll talk more about this tonight!”
“Aw don’t be mad at me, baby,” I cooed, goosing her ribs. Anne flinched and jumped up. I shook my head and chuckled. Kissing her cheek I bid her goodbye and left the room. As I opened the door, Dave looked in and called, “See you later, Anne. And I hope to see your two friends again sometime too.”
Then he laughed. Anne gave me a dirty look and turned away from me. I beat a hasty retreat. I knew I’d have to do a lot of apologizing when I got home that night.
In the car Dave couldn’t stop talking about Anne and her bosom. “Man, your wife has a fine rack, dude,” he said.
That sort of talk made me uncomfortable. “Yeah, okay, they‘re great,” I said with a nervous laugh, “Now let’s change the subject, shall we?”
“What’s the matter?”
“Look, Dave,” I began, “What you witnessed was a private moment. We didn’t expect an audience and well…uh…look, let’s just change the subject, all right?”
“Oh I get it”, he said with a knowing air. “Your old lady’s all pissed off, isn’t she?”
“Well do you blame her?” I said.
“You know how you can fix this, don’t you?” asked Dave.
“No, how?” I asked.
“Like this”, he said, and he held up his hands and scrabbled the air with them.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“By tickling her, dude. Whenever Yvonne gets pissy I tickle the shit out of her and she snaps right out of her funk. You should try that on Anne.”
I smiled. “Anne isn’t as open as Yvonne,” I explained. “She lets me tickle her but only when she feels like it. I think this solution of yours might set her even more on edge.”
“Yvonne isn’t open, dude,” said Dave. “She’s actually kinda shy. I usually have to tie her up in order to really tickle her. You ever do that to Anne?”
“No, I’ve never done that.”
“Dude! You don’t know what you’re missing! You’ve got to tie her up and tickle her. It’s the only way. It’s the best way. I tied up Yvonne last night.”
Here he began to lick his lips, as though he were remembering a savory meal. And I have to admit, the thought of Yvonne tied down and tickled made me a little hot as well.
“You should’ve seen her,” he went on, “All naked and spread out. She always puts up a fight, which I love, and I have to throw her over my shoulder and carry her into the bedroom. There I use the restraints I keep fixed to the bed to hold her down. Once she’s secure, I get out my instruments of torture.”
I looked at him. He was enjoying this, relating the intimate details of his sex life to someone he has only known for a short time. I could never do that. Dave settled his head into the headrest and closed his eyes. “My instruments of torture,” he repeated with a chuckle. “What do you like to use on Anne?”
“Huh?”
“What do you use on Anne? Is she feather sensitive? Electric toothbrush between the toes? What?”
I thought about that for a moment. I had tickled Anne with a feather once and found that she went ape-shit when I used it on and between her toes. “I’ve used a feather on her,” I replied.
“Yeah, nothing beats a feather on a naked woman,” said Dave with a grin. “I should show you my box of laugh making supplies. You would find it very interesting. And I think Anne would be very amused by it as well.”
I forced a smile.
“Ron,” said Dave at last, “You’re my friend, aren’t you?”
“Sure.”
“And I know you’d do anything for me.”
“Well, sure, within reason, Dave.”
“Well, I‘d like to do something for you.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“I know you’re in the dog house because of me and what happened this morning,” he began, “and so I’d like to come over tonight and get your wife in a good mood so that you and she can get over this.”
I already knew the answer but I wanted him to actually say it. “How do you propose to do that?” I asked.
“I’d be willing to come over and tickle Anne for you. What do you say?”
I looked at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Aw come on, man,” he wheedled. “I’d love to get my hands on that hot body of hers.”
“Hey! That’s my wife you’re talking about, pal!”
“Easy, dude, easy!“ he said backing up against the car door. “I don’t mean have sex with her. I just want to tickle the shit out of her.”
“Yeah, right. Suppose I said that about Yvonne.”
“Hey, you wanna tickle Yvonne be my guest. I think she’d be up for it.”
“You’re out of your fuckin’ mind, you know that?”
“Hey, if that means I love tickling hot women, then, yeah, I’m out of my fuckin’ mind.”
We rode on in silence. Finally we got to the theater and split up, Dave going down to the paint shop to finish work on a back drop for the upcoming performance of “South Pacific”. I went upstairs to work on press releases. Just before we left each other Dave took my arm and said, “Hey, man, are we cool? I mean, I’m sorry about what I said about Anne and all.”
“I guess so,” I said.
“Great,” he said, with a big smile. Then he added, “I still want to tickle her, though.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh and Ron,” he added, “if you hear hysterical laughter coming from the costume shop today, don’t be alarmed. It’ll just be me punishing Yvonne for being late.”
I sort of chuckled and waved him off and made my way upstairs. I had never met someone quite like Dave before. I guess it must be a California thing, being so open about your predilections. I sat down to the computer and began to review the notes for the press releases. It was quiet in the theater that day. Only a few stage hands were at work. The actors wouldn’t be coming in for rehearsal until the evening.
I tried to get an article together, but my thoughts kept drifting to Anne. She was beautiful, even when she was angry. I loved it, in fact, when she was angry with me sometimes, because it gave me an excuse to tickle the ire away. That was fun, watching her get all angry and then as I expertly tickled her feet listening to her dissolve into helpless laughter. And then it would start all over again. It never ceased to arouse me. Anne often called me sick. She was right, too.
I began to think of Anne being tickled, how she reacted, the feel of her skin, the sounds she made as I hit certain spots, like her feet and toes. Then the thought of Dave tickling her popped into my head. I lingered on that for a moment before wiping the notion from my mind. How could I possibly let another man tickle my wife? Ridiculous!
Then I began to think about Yvonne. Yvonne. Lovely Yvonne. Yvonne with the sexy, tantalizing toes. I wondered what it would be like to tickle her. To slowly undress her, to…to….
Before I knew it two hours had passed and I had yet to get a single article written. I needed to clear my head and so I decided to take a walk through the empty theater. That always cleared my head. I went down to the theater. The stage was filled with half built sets and odd props. A single work light was burning . I stood in the semi darkness, inhaled deeply, and looked out at the rows of empty, dust-cloth covered seats.
Lately all I had been able to think about was tickling. How had my fetish gotten so out of control? I never fantasized about tickling other women--at least, not since before I was married. I loved my wife. So why was I thinking about another man tickling her? And why was I dreaming about tickling another woman?
I felt a little dirty and shook my head, as if to clear out the dirty thoughts when I heard it. It was sort of muffled, but it sounded, for all the world, like laughter. Raucous laughter. Tortured laughter. Then it hit me: it was Yvonne. Dave kept his word. He was punishing her. I had to see this.
Slowly and silently I made my way to the costume shop. The theater was now empty, save for me and, I assumed, Yvonne and Dave. The stage hands had gone to lunch. As I reached the costume shop door the sound got louder. The door was ajar.
I entered the room. Now the costume shop was set up in two rooms, the first was a sort of outer-office space where there were dress forms, changing booths and tables with half finished costumes spread out. On the east end of the room was a door that led into the costume warehouse. This door was cut so that the top half opened, sort of like a dutch door. And there she was. Yvonne.
Her arms were around a heavy dress form, her wrists being tied with a nylon stocking to hold her in place. She was hanging half out of the dutch door. She was jerking and shrieking with tortured laughter through a gag which was been tied around her mouth. Tears were streaming from her eyes. She had been in this position for a while. She looked up and saw me and her hands began to reach out to me and her eyes pleased with me to release her.
“Dave?” I called.
“That you, Ron?” came a voice from inside the room where Yvonne was standing. “I’m in here, punishing Yvonne.”
I came towards her and looking past her into the room I saw Dave, sitting on the floor, his back against the lower part of the door. He had bent back Yvonne’s left leg and held her ankle in the crook of his arm. He had stripped her foot of its sandal and at the moment was taking a dry paint brush and lightly stroking a circle on the arch of her creamy pink sole. Each stroke of the brush sent a bolt of ticklish agony into Yvonne and caused her to jerk and laugh manically. “Guess you won’t be late next time, will you babe,” he cooed, brushing up and down her twitching sole.
Dave looked up at me and with a smile and a wink he calmly continued to torture his girl. “She can’t stand having these piggies of hers tickled, so of course…” And he began to work the brush along and between her toes. Yvonne went into orbit.
I watched, dry-mouthed, for a few minutes the way he worked the brush along her toes, before finally saying, “Hey, I think she’s had enough, Dave. You better let her go. People will be coming back from lunch soon.”
Dave kept working the brush on her sole. “Yeah, I suppose,” said, slowly drawing a figure eight on her arch, “Besides, I have more planned for her tonight when we get home. This is just the beginning.”
He tickled her foot for about five more minutes before finally releasing his grip on her ankle. He stood up and stretched and turned towards his exhausted lady, who was slumped and breathing heavily. “Yeah, I can’t wait till tonight!” he said, punctuating his remark with a dastardly rib tickling which caused Yvonne to scream into her gag. Finally he let up and released her. The gag was soaking wet and Yvonne was still giggling softly as he opened the door and untied her hands.
Dave gave her a tender kiss. “Who’s my ticklish girl?” he asked her softly.
“I am,” she replied, hoarsely.
_______________
Here's part two--part three is coming if you want it. Thanks for the comments--hope this segement meets your requirements.
I say bring on part 3...this is building up to a great climax!
