This is my first story, and my first post. I have been lurking for a while, but been too shy to interact or introduce myself. This serves as both a story and an introduction, since this story is heavily based in real life interactions (with a good bit of fantasy thrown in), and shows my feelings towards tickling and being tickled. I am a female switch, perhaps leaning slightly to the ler side, but really depending a LOT on my mood. From reading other posts, I feel I should warn: this story has playful M/F tickling turning into sexual F/M tickling. It is also long, with quite a bit of character development in the beginning. Oh, also, fair warning: there is no foot tickling in this story. Please be kind, I am nervous about posting this!
Gloria is nervous. She likes this guy, and she’s hanging out with him… and he’s given her an opening to talk about “the issue”, by teasing her about not seeming to mind being the target of tickle attacks, even from groups. Is this the “right time”? How is she supposed to tell him how she really feels? She takes a deep breath, and he notices her discomfort and challenges her to talk about what is going on in her head. She can’t look at him, but she has always promised herself that if the subject came up, she would be honest with people, especially people she was interested in. But, what does that mean? Should she call it a fetish, or is that too strong a word for how she feels? Really, she just really likes tickling people, and being tickled. It isn’t necessarily sexual for her, but in this case it would be. She’s not quite ready to admit that to herself, yet, however. She takes another deep breath, stares at the sky (she can’t face him, can’t face seeing his reaction), and says: “I have a confession. I really like tickling… like, really like it”. He says nothing. She makes herself look and him and realizes he’s waiting for an explanation. She tries to explain: “I guess I could call it a fetish, but I don’t like to do that, because it implies a sexual aspect that is not always present”. Now she is watching his face for a reaction. He smiles that smile she loves, slightly mischievous and tenderly caring. He laughs, saying “That’s cute! Why were you afraid to tell me?”, and she comments that it is a very personal thing for her, that she has a hard time even saying the word. “What, ‘tickling’?” “Yes”. He tickles her. She laughs, struggling to struggle without moving away. She loves that sense of barely being in control, of trying to hold onto control over her own body… wanting him to keep going, but not wanting to show it. They keep talking, and he keeps tickling her at random intervals, while she leans against him. He tells her that he has gotten a lot of mileage out of tickling while flirting, and he enjoys it… it’s not something she should worry about or ever be ashamed of.
After some time of talking to him like this, she realizes that she is struggling into him when he tickles her, trying to get closer to him, rather than struggling away. Amazing thought: her body has learned to struggle away, to act like everyone else’s, in order to hide her secret. Even more amazing: she doesn’t feel that way with him. Her body realized, even before her mind did, that she could truly be herself with him, trust him not to misinterpret.
At some point, she starts to tickle back… still holding up her end of the conversation, she tickles his knees, sometimes hard, sometimes just running her fingertips across and around the kneecap. Her nails are never long, she types on the computer a lot and finds that they get in the way, but they are long enough for this to get to him. She can feel him tense up, she realizes he is losing his train of thought, and she loves the feeling of power that comes with that. He is sitting behind her, she is leaning against him, feeling sheltered in his arms. She knows he doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to leave that position, and she takes full advantage of that fact… pushing him right to the point where he twitches, and then backing off.
Then she realizes something: She can tell he’s getting excited, his breathing pattern is changing. Could he be loving this as much as she was? No, she thinks, I’m probably just imagining it, or at most it’s me being this close to him. She doesn’t dare hope. He still tickles her, and when she pushes him to the edge of struggling, he returns the favor. They play like that, for a long time, neither willing to admit how much this is getting to them. He occasionally strays high, tickling just under her breasts, or the sides of them. She tries hard not to moan, not to press into him, not to beg for more. She wants him to touch her… everywhere. She wants to feel his skilled fingers on her naked skin, and when he pulls up her shirt and tickles her stomach and ribs, she can barely breathe; not because she is laughing too hard (though she’s definitely fighting not to), but because she feels like electricity just shot through her.
She is more turned on that she ever thought she could be… she never considered herself as a very sexual person, but she wanted to rip his clothes off… wanted to feel his naked body against hers. She wanted to watch his face while she tickled him, see every reaction. She wanted to submit to his tickling while watching how much he enjoyed tickling her. But mostly, she wanted to dominate him… wanted to make him weak and wanted to make it impossible for him to ever let her go, to ever forget her. She wanted to imprint herself on his body, on his mind and on his soul. She wanted to tease him, see the pleading in his eyes that he would never speak.
By now, she was reasonably certain that he was enjoying the tickling, but she needed to be sure. She asked him, softly, uncertainly:
“Are you enjoying this?”
“Are you kidding? Of course!”
“Even when it tickles?”
“Especially when it tickles! <pause> <softly> I never knew it could be like that…”
She hardly dares to believe it, and if she thought she had trouble containing her desire before… now she was really in trouble. She couldn’t believe how turned on those words, that soft confession, had made her. She wanted him, so badly. She had spent so much time imagining this situation, she could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that it was really happening this time.
She decided just to go with it. They had been sitting outside, admiring the sunset. She suggested going back to her place, to be “more comfortable”. He immediately agreed (bolstering her courage for what was to come). They sat on her bed, now a little awkward, not sure what to say to each other. But eventually, they started talking again. Soon, as always happened when she was talking to him, she made a smart-ass remark, and he tickled her. This time was different though… he didn’t stop! She saw the mischievousness in his eyes and in his smile as he looked down at her. He tickled her sides, which made her squirm against him. He tickled her hips, which made it almost impossible for her to stay within his reach, as that was one of her most ticklish places. She was squirming around on the bed, trying to get at him, but he had only a few places where he was ticklish and she couldn’t get a good grip. They struggled like this for a while, him laughing at her futile attempts to get to him, while at the same time not leaving herself too open to his attack. Finally, she managed to get his underarm jammed underneath her back, and held onto that position despite the fact that he was doing everything in his power to get her to squirm out of it. She was determined to turn the tables on him.
She started tickling him under his arms, and he jerked, but didn’t laugh and didn’t struggle away. She heard him breathe slightly heavily, and was elated: clearly tickling him under his arms was similar to tickling her there: both ticklish but also highly erotic, when done by the right person. She kept tickling, still wanting to break him, varying her technique but staying under his arms and along the outside of his chest. Finally, he broke when she hit a spot towards the back part of his armpit. He struggled for real this time, trying to get away, laughing for real. She laughed at him, taunting him: “Do you really want to leave? Just wait what I have in store for you!”
She sat up, sitting on his stomach, and when he reached for her, she gently but firmly took his hands and laid them flat behind his head, underneath the pillow he was lying on. She said “Try to hold this position, I promise, you’ll have fun!” She could see the trust in his eyes, even if there was also a little bit of hesitation, a little bit of nervousness. She wanted to see how much he could take, how strong his will was. She was pretty sure that he was as stubborn as she, and would try to hold out as long as possible. She sloooowly pulled up his shirt, locking eyes with him as she did so, seeing his eyes widen with arousal and trepidation, as she “accidentally” dragged her nails across his stomach and ribs at the same time. It seemed that once his defenses were breached, he was as ticklish as she, judging from his slight trembling and occasional twitching. Once his shirt was up just under his nipples, she lay down on top of him and started kissing and lightly biting his stomach and ribs. She could tell this tickled, as he twitched involuntarily, but she could also feel his excitement against her breasts. She kept this up for a while, sliding her hands under his shirt to tickle under his arms, sometimes softly and sometimes hard, bringing him just to the point where he started to pull his arms down and then softly pushing them back up. She pulled off his shirt entirely, and then her own. She lay down on top of him, kissing him deeply while playing softly under his arms and down his waist. She could feel him, rock-hard against her. It turned her on so much, but she still had so much she wanted to do to him. She focused on him again.
She got up slowly, and took off her pants. His eyes never left her for a second, and even though his gaze was admiring, to say the least, she felt uncomfortable. She tried to play it off: “Now I am wearing less than you, we can’t have that!” and pulled off his pants, lightly brushing his erection in the process. He moaned. She looked up at him, her eyes catching him looking at her with so much passion she nearly gave up her plan then and there. Focus! She finished taking off his pants. She moved back to her previous position by sliding her hands up his legs, stopping at his knees to tickle them in memory of how he had reacted before. Having broken through his defenses now, he was clearly more ticklish there, struggling to keep from kicking her. She played with him there, softly biting, feeling him struggle to keep from moving and accidentally hurting her. She felt like she had a direct line to his brain, able to sense when it was too much, and backing off.
Finally, she moved her hands slowly upwards once more, tickling his inner thighs and closer and closer to his balls… and then lay down on top of him. She could feel his need to have her touch him there, but she merely lay on top of him, with his erection (now only covered by underwear) between her breasts, which were pushed together by the bra she was wearing. She looked at him mischievously, and the desire that burned in his eyes exhilarated her, made her feel so powerful! She started her game of lightly kissing and biting again, except this time her hands tickled his chest and his nipples, and her mouth grazed his hip bones and lightly bit the joint of his leg to his torso through his underwear. Whenever she moved from one side to the other, she would kiss his erection on the way, enjoying the way it made him jump and moan every time. She said, softly: “I told you I could be evil!” He merely moaned in reply, his eyes begging her for what she knew his mouth never would. She smiled at him, showing him that she knew what he was going through, and that she loved it. If possible, his eyes showed even more lust… he was completely at her mercy, and he knew it.
She bit into the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down slowly, bringing her hands down to tickle the newly exposed areas. He thought he would go out of his mind, she could feel the desire pouring off of him. When the tip of his penis was slightly exposed, she stopped pulling down the underwear, and started licking it, cruelly tickling the joint between the legs and the torso. She could feel his dilemma: he didn’t want her to stop what she was doing with her tongue, but he could barely keep himself from pulling down his arms and pulling her hands away. That area was one of his most ticklish spots, and she was driving him wild with desire at the same time. She didn’t draw this out for too long, after all, she had been teasing him for over an hour now, and that wasn’t even counting the playing before they got to her place!
She pulled his underwear off completely, seeing the hope in his face. He reached for her again, but she told him “Not yet!” Despair mixed with desire and expectation in his eyes, but he put his hands back behind his head. “Good boy”, said in a sarcastic, teasing, tone. She pushed his legs further apart, and immediately saw him get worried. “Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it… you have enjoyed yourself up to now, right? Trust me. “ He nodded. She sat between his legs, unobtrusively putting her knees in a position to make it more difficult for him to close his legs, by laying her knees on top of his legs. She started slowly tickling his thighs, monitoring his reaction, getting harder and faster until he almost tried to pull his legs together and then backing off. All the while, she kept eye contact, watching the emotions play in his beautiful eyes: lust, laughter, pleading, fighting, surrender. She knew that he knew that she could take the control from him at any second, but she was leaving him with the illusion of it, keeping him fighting. That was the part she loved: the dilemma of needing to move to make the tickling stop, but simultaneously wanting it to go on forever, wanting her to keep going.
She moved her hands up slowly, tickling the inner thighs and as far back as she could reach before she hit the bed. Now her hands were just at that crease between torso and legs again. He twitched, trying to keep it together, trying to keep his control. She moved her hands to his balls and he nearly lost it… he jerked and barely made himself lie back again. She let her hands rest for a second, to give him time to recover, then slowly started tickling his balls and all around them, as far back as she could reach. He couldn’t believe how good this felt, she could see it in his eyes: the pleasure, the need, the struggle, she loved it. She slowly, keeping eye contact, moved her head down. He lifted his head, to watch her mouth slowly descend upon his erection… not touching him yet, he could only feel her breath, while her fingers were still tormenting his balls. Slowly she closed her mouth, and he moaned and sighed in relief. It was almost relaxing to feel her mouth where he had wanted it to be for so long, despite the tickling and the extreme arousal. She could feel him melt into the feeling.
She finally started to go down on him, while still tickling his balls. He was clearly enjoying every second, as she used all her skills to give him the best blowjob she had ever given… never ceasing the tickling, only moving it to his hips and up his ribs and across his chest and back down again to his balls. She had always wanted to tickle a guy's balls while she gave him a blowjob, and he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. She took her time, sometimes stopping to “let” him concentrate on the tickling for a bit, but eventually she finished him, holding him in her mouth as she felt him explode.
She stopped tickling and slowly kissed her way up his body, to snuggle next to him. He was completely undone, his arms like jelly, he could only smile at her in complete surrender, exquisite happiness, disbelief and… yes, love. This experience would seal their souls together forever, no matter what the future might bring. She was looking forward to their next adventure. Maybe he would get his revenge?
Gloria is nervous. She likes this guy, and she’s hanging out with him… and he’s given her an opening to talk about “the issue”, by teasing her about not seeming to mind being the target of tickle attacks, even from groups. Is this the “right time”? How is she supposed to tell him how she really feels? She takes a deep breath, and he notices her discomfort and challenges her to talk about what is going on in her head. She can’t look at him, but she has always promised herself that if the subject came up, she would be honest with people, especially people she was interested in. But, what does that mean? Should she call it a fetish, or is that too strong a word for how she feels? Really, she just really likes tickling people, and being tickled. It isn’t necessarily sexual for her, but in this case it would be. She’s not quite ready to admit that to herself, yet, however. She takes another deep breath, stares at the sky (she can’t face him, can’t face seeing his reaction), and says: “I have a confession. I really like tickling… like, really like it”. He says nothing. She makes herself look and him and realizes he’s waiting for an explanation. She tries to explain: “I guess I could call it a fetish, but I don’t like to do that, because it implies a sexual aspect that is not always present”. Now she is watching his face for a reaction. He smiles that smile she loves, slightly mischievous and tenderly caring. He laughs, saying “That’s cute! Why were you afraid to tell me?”, and she comments that it is a very personal thing for her, that she has a hard time even saying the word. “What, ‘tickling’?” “Yes”. He tickles her. She laughs, struggling to struggle without moving away. She loves that sense of barely being in control, of trying to hold onto control over her own body… wanting him to keep going, but not wanting to show it. They keep talking, and he keeps tickling her at random intervals, while she leans against him. He tells her that he has gotten a lot of mileage out of tickling while flirting, and he enjoys it… it’s not something she should worry about or ever be ashamed of.
After some time of talking to him like this, she realizes that she is struggling into him when he tickles her, trying to get closer to him, rather than struggling away. Amazing thought: her body has learned to struggle away, to act like everyone else’s, in order to hide her secret. Even more amazing: she doesn’t feel that way with him. Her body realized, even before her mind did, that she could truly be herself with him, trust him not to misinterpret.
At some point, she starts to tickle back… still holding up her end of the conversation, she tickles his knees, sometimes hard, sometimes just running her fingertips across and around the kneecap. Her nails are never long, she types on the computer a lot and finds that they get in the way, but they are long enough for this to get to him. She can feel him tense up, she realizes he is losing his train of thought, and she loves the feeling of power that comes with that. He is sitting behind her, she is leaning against him, feeling sheltered in his arms. She knows he doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to leave that position, and she takes full advantage of that fact… pushing him right to the point where he twitches, and then backing off.
Then she realizes something: She can tell he’s getting excited, his breathing pattern is changing. Could he be loving this as much as she was? No, she thinks, I’m probably just imagining it, or at most it’s me being this close to him. She doesn’t dare hope. He still tickles her, and when she pushes him to the edge of struggling, he returns the favor. They play like that, for a long time, neither willing to admit how much this is getting to them. He occasionally strays high, tickling just under her breasts, or the sides of them. She tries hard not to moan, not to press into him, not to beg for more. She wants him to touch her… everywhere. She wants to feel his skilled fingers on her naked skin, and when he pulls up her shirt and tickles her stomach and ribs, she can barely breathe; not because she is laughing too hard (though she’s definitely fighting not to), but because she feels like electricity just shot through her.
She is more turned on that she ever thought she could be… she never considered herself as a very sexual person, but she wanted to rip his clothes off… wanted to feel his naked body against hers. She wanted to watch his face while she tickled him, see every reaction. She wanted to submit to his tickling while watching how much he enjoyed tickling her. But mostly, she wanted to dominate him… wanted to make him weak and wanted to make it impossible for him to ever let her go, to ever forget her. She wanted to imprint herself on his body, on his mind and on his soul. She wanted to tease him, see the pleading in his eyes that he would never speak.
By now, she was reasonably certain that he was enjoying the tickling, but she needed to be sure. She asked him, softly, uncertainly:
“Are you enjoying this?”
“Are you kidding? Of course!”
“Even when it tickles?”
“Especially when it tickles! <pause> <softly> I never knew it could be like that…”
She hardly dares to believe it, and if she thought she had trouble containing her desire before… now she was really in trouble. She couldn’t believe how turned on those words, that soft confession, had made her. She wanted him, so badly. She had spent so much time imagining this situation, she could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that it was really happening this time.
She decided just to go with it. They had been sitting outside, admiring the sunset. She suggested going back to her place, to be “more comfortable”. He immediately agreed (bolstering her courage for what was to come). They sat on her bed, now a little awkward, not sure what to say to each other. But eventually, they started talking again. Soon, as always happened when she was talking to him, she made a smart-ass remark, and he tickled her. This time was different though… he didn’t stop! She saw the mischievousness in his eyes and in his smile as he looked down at her. He tickled her sides, which made her squirm against him. He tickled her hips, which made it almost impossible for her to stay within his reach, as that was one of her most ticklish places. She was squirming around on the bed, trying to get at him, but he had only a few places where he was ticklish and she couldn’t get a good grip. They struggled like this for a while, him laughing at her futile attempts to get to him, while at the same time not leaving herself too open to his attack. Finally, she managed to get his underarm jammed underneath her back, and held onto that position despite the fact that he was doing everything in his power to get her to squirm out of it. She was determined to turn the tables on him.
She started tickling him under his arms, and he jerked, but didn’t laugh and didn’t struggle away. She heard him breathe slightly heavily, and was elated: clearly tickling him under his arms was similar to tickling her there: both ticklish but also highly erotic, when done by the right person. She kept tickling, still wanting to break him, varying her technique but staying under his arms and along the outside of his chest. Finally, he broke when she hit a spot towards the back part of his armpit. He struggled for real this time, trying to get away, laughing for real. She laughed at him, taunting him: “Do you really want to leave? Just wait what I have in store for you!”
She sat up, sitting on his stomach, and when he reached for her, she gently but firmly took his hands and laid them flat behind his head, underneath the pillow he was lying on. She said “Try to hold this position, I promise, you’ll have fun!” She could see the trust in his eyes, even if there was also a little bit of hesitation, a little bit of nervousness. She wanted to see how much he could take, how strong his will was. She was pretty sure that he was as stubborn as she, and would try to hold out as long as possible. She sloooowly pulled up his shirt, locking eyes with him as she did so, seeing his eyes widen with arousal and trepidation, as she “accidentally” dragged her nails across his stomach and ribs at the same time. It seemed that once his defenses were breached, he was as ticklish as she, judging from his slight trembling and occasional twitching. Once his shirt was up just under his nipples, she lay down on top of him and started kissing and lightly biting his stomach and ribs. She could tell this tickled, as he twitched involuntarily, but she could also feel his excitement against her breasts. She kept this up for a while, sliding her hands under his shirt to tickle under his arms, sometimes softly and sometimes hard, bringing him just to the point where he started to pull his arms down and then softly pushing them back up. She pulled off his shirt entirely, and then her own. She lay down on top of him, kissing him deeply while playing softly under his arms and down his waist. She could feel him, rock-hard against her. It turned her on so much, but she still had so much she wanted to do to him. She focused on him again.
She got up slowly, and took off her pants. His eyes never left her for a second, and even though his gaze was admiring, to say the least, she felt uncomfortable. She tried to play it off: “Now I am wearing less than you, we can’t have that!” and pulled off his pants, lightly brushing his erection in the process. He moaned. She looked up at him, her eyes catching him looking at her with so much passion she nearly gave up her plan then and there. Focus! She finished taking off his pants. She moved back to her previous position by sliding her hands up his legs, stopping at his knees to tickle them in memory of how he had reacted before. Having broken through his defenses now, he was clearly more ticklish there, struggling to keep from kicking her. She played with him there, softly biting, feeling him struggle to keep from moving and accidentally hurting her. She felt like she had a direct line to his brain, able to sense when it was too much, and backing off.
Finally, she moved her hands slowly upwards once more, tickling his inner thighs and closer and closer to his balls… and then lay down on top of him. She could feel his need to have her touch him there, but she merely lay on top of him, with his erection (now only covered by underwear) between her breasts, which were pushed together by the bra she was wearing. She looked at him mischievously, and the desire that burned in his eyes exhilarated her, made her feel so powerful! She started her game of lightly kissing and biting again, except this time her hands tickled his chest and his nipples, and her mouth grazed his hip bones and lightly bit the joint of his leg to his torso through his underwear. Whenever she moved from one side to the other, she would kiss his erection on the way, enjoying the way it made him jump and moan every time. She said, softly: “I told you I could be evil!” He merely moaned in reply, his eyes begging her for what she knew his mouth never would. She smiled at him, showing him that she knew what he was going through, and that she loved it. If possible, his eyes showed even more lust… he was completely at her mercy, and he knew it.
She bit into the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down slowly, bringing her hands down to tickle the newly exposed areas. He thought he would go out of his mind, she could feel the desire pouring off of him. When the tip of his penis was slightly exposed, she stopped pulling down the underwear, and started licking it, cruelly tickling the joint between the legs and the torso. She could feel his dilemma: he didn’t want her to stop what she was doing with her tongue, but he could barely keep himself from pulling down his arms and pulling her hands away. That area was one of his most ticklish spots, and she was driving him wild with desire at the same time. She didn’t draw this out for too long, after all, she had been teasing him for over an hour now, and that wasn’t even counting the playing before they got to her place!
She pulled his underwear off completely, seeing the hope in his face. He reached for her again, but she told him “Not yet!” Despair mixed with desire and expectation in his eyes, but he put his hands back behind his head. “Good boy”, said in a sarcastic, teasing, tone. She pushed his legs further apart, and immediately saw him get worried. “Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy it… you have enjoyed yourself up to now, right? Trust me. “ He nodded. She sat between his legs, unobtrusively putting her knees in a position to make it more difficult for him to close his legs, by laying her knees on top of his legs. She started slowly tickling his thighs, monitoring his reaction, getting harder and faster until he almost tried to pull his legs together and then backing off. All the while, she kept eye contact, watching the emotions play in his beautiful eyes: lust, laughter, pleading, fighting, surrender. She knew that he knew that she could take the control from him at any second, but she was leaving him with the illusion of it, keeping him fighting. That was the part she loved: the dilemma of needing to move to make the tickling stop, but simultaneously wanting it to go on forever, wanting her to keep going.
She moved her hands up slowly, tickling the inner thighs and as far back as she could reach before she hit the bed. Now her hands were just at that crease between torso and legs again. He twitched, trying to keep it together, trying to keep his control. She moved her hands to his balls and he nearly lost it… he jerked and barely made himself lie back again. She let her hands rest for a second, to give him time to recover, then slowly started tickling his balls and all around them, as far back as she could reach. He couldn’t believe how good this felt, she could see it in his eyes: the pleasure, the need, the struggle, she loved it. She slowly, keeping eye contact, moved her head down. He lifted his head, to watch her mouth slowly descend upon his erection… not touching him yet, he could only feel her breath, while her fingers were still tormenting his balls. Slowly she closed her mouth, and he moaned and sighed in relief. It was almost relaxing to feel her mouth where he had wanted it to be for so long, despite the tickling and the extreme arousal. She could feel him melt into the feeling.
She finally started to go down on him, while still tickling his balls. He was clearly enjoying every second, as she used all her skills to give him the best blowjob she had ever given… never ceasing the tickling, only moving it to his hips and up his ribs and across his chest and back down again to his balls. She had always wanted to tickle a guy's balls while she gave him a blowjob, and he certainly seemed to be enjoying himself. She took her time, sometimes stopping to “let” him concentrate on the tickling for a bit, but eventually she finished him, holding him in her mouth as she felt him explode.
She stopped tickling and slowly kissed her way up his body, to snuggle next to him. He was completely undone, his arms like jelly, he could only smile at her in complete surrender, exquisite happiness, disbelief and… yes, love. This experience would seal their souls together forever, no matter what the future might bring. She was looking forward to their next adventure. Maybe he would get his revenge?
