HisFlyinFingers
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Aug 9, 2005
- Messages
- 163
- Points
- 0
“It was … different from what I expected.” She swirled the linguine around on her plate, her large, brown eyes focused on the end of her fork so she wouldn’t have to look at me. “At first I just went along with it because Julia thought it’d be fun. I thought it’d be weird if I sat back and watched you two. So I said OK.” Alice glanced up from her plate; I smiled at her and she smiled back. “And then, once we were … tied up ... I started to imagine what it would be like if you … did more.”
“And you told Julia about it.” I said.
She chuckled. “I still can’t believe she told you!”
“I’m glad she did.”
Julia, ever the dutiful daughter, had gone to spend the weekend with her family. That left Alice and I to share a rare dinner alone. It’d been about a week since we’d teamed up on Julia—she’d forgiven us, thank goodness—and this was the first chance we’d had to talk about … well, everything.
“Yeah, I guess it worked out for the best,” Alice said.
It was hard for her to admit how she felt about being tied up, but at least she had no such qualms about me. We’d spent the afternoon at the park, and now this dinner at her favorite place. Neither of us ever said the word “date,” but whether spoken aloud or not this was the best I’d ever been on.
As we arrived at her place, a specter of doubt crept into my mind. Alice trotted up the front steps, then turned to me with a questioning glance. I’d been inside dozens of times before, but this felt different. “I’ll be in in a minute,” I called. She shrugged and went in.
My bag, full of ropes, and ties, and a few other handy items, lay in the trunk of my car. We hadn’t spoken of using them again. It seemed incredibly presumptuous of me to assume she’d want to. I knew she enjoyed it, but I had no idea how far or how quickly she’d be willing to go. The game had changed again, and now I didn’t want to scare her off.
Still, I had gotten this far by taking risks—tying them up in the first place; touching her the way I had. I grabbed my bag and went inside.
The living room was dark, but there was soft light in her bedroom. “Alice?” I called out.
“I’ll be out in just a moment,” she replied. It was then I noticed the strip of light under the bathroom door. I flicked the lamp on. I set my bag down beside the couch, so at least it wouldn’t be the first thing she saw when she walked out. I let myself fall into my usual chair, and felt truly nervous in this room for the first time.
The click of the lock in the bathroom door interrupted my thoughts, and when I looked up, I saw Alice. Her black hair framed her heart-shaped face. Her gorgeous eyes were wide, her eyebrows arched in a look of anxiety. She was biting her lower lip, with the hint of a tremulous smile at the corners of her mouth.
She wore a cream-colored silk chemise with spaghetti straps. It had a strip of lace at the hem, which hung at her hips. Her underwear, also cream-colored, was just visible below the hem. Besides this, she was naked.
Neither of us said anything for what felt like an eternity. Alice looked increasingly worried as the seconds passed, and I realized the look on my face was one of shock. I managed to take a deep breath and rearrange my features into an awed grin.
“You look … beautiful,” I managed.
“We can go in here,” she mumbled, gesturing toward her room. Without waiting for my response, she padded through the doorway and out of sight.
If she could take a risk like that, so could I. I picked up my bag, turned off the lamp, and strode into her room.
I’d been in her room a few times before, but it looked different at night and with the lights off. A candle flickered from every available surface, giving the room a warm glow. I closed the door behind me and stood for a moment, just taking it in. My eyes passed over her dresser, her desk, her piano, and her bed. She was lying in bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin. I dropped the bag near the door and went to her.
“I look ridiculous,” she said, though she did smile.
“You look wonderful. More beautiful than I’ve ever seen you.” I leaned in and kissed her, a series of soft pecks that seemed to help her relax. After a moment, I spoke up again. “I … brought my bag.”
She glanced toward the door, then back at me. Even in the candlelight, I could see her cheeks blush.
I kissed her again. “I mean, if you don’t want to it’s—”
“I want to,” she interrupted. “I mean … yes. I want to.”
I took her hand and helped her out of bed. I kicked off my shoes and stripped off my shirt and undershirt, hoping it would make her feel less awkward. Placing them next to the bag, I pulled out a length of rope and turned toward her.
Her skin looked almost golden in the light of the candles. The contrast with the cream material of her lingerie was intoxicating. Her firm legs, smallish breasts, wide hips, and shapely ass formed a figure I could only describe as ‘perfect.’ I caught myself staring. I’m supposed to be in charge here, I reminded myself, and stepped toward where she stood in the center of the room.
“Hands up here,” I said, gesturing toward my shoulders. Her fingers gently kneaded my shoulders, and our lips met in a long, passionate kiss. I pulled the rope around her body, twice around just under her breasts, then twice over. Pressed by these ropes from above and below, her breasts bulged against the fabric. I broke our kiss just long enough to retrieve another rope, which I wrapped around her waist.
Next I pulled a necktie from my bag, but as held it up to her, she stopped me. “I’ve got something else,” she explained. She opened a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a black satin sleep mask. She gave it to me, and as I placed it over her eyes, she exhaled softly through pursed lips.
I pulled her in close to me, partly so I could feel her body against mine and partly so I could decide what to do with her. I looked at her bed, which lacked the foot rail I had found so effective in Julia’s room, but had a few other bits of exposed frame to which I could anchor the rope. I looked at her desk chair, which would have been comfortable, but wasn’t as solid or sturdy as I would’ve liked.
Then my eyes fell upon her piano bench. She had played since she was little, and had not only an exceptionally nice keyboard but also the stand and bench to match. The seat of the bench was a thick black pad, perhaps two and a half feet long and a foot wide. The frame of the bench, all black-painted steel piping, formed a sturdy X that held the seat about two feet off the ground.
I pulled the bench into the center of the room, as Alice waited, unable in her blindfolded state to tell what I was up to. Taking her by the shoulders, I helped her lay face-up on the bench. Her head rested on one edge of the seat, while her ass lay half-on, half-off the other end. It wouldn’t have worked with a larger woman, but Alice’s petite frame was nearly a perfect fit. It took her a moment to realize what she was laying on, but when she did, an amused grin crossed her face.
I tied the ropes around her waist and breasts to the seat of the bench. As I pulled these tight, she offered up her wrists. The rope encircled her wrists three times, then passed between them twice and held them in a grip I knew she couldn’t escape. Next I pulled her bound hands over and behind her head. With the loose end of the rope tethered to the leg of the frame, she could no longer lower her arms. This too was pulled tight, and she responded with a happy-sounding grunt.
I sank to my knees beside her and found her mouth with my own. As we kissed, my hands drifted over her bound form, exploring every part of her I could reach. I could feel the warmth of her body through the silk; her stomach trembled under my palm. Her body writhed under my touch, testing the limits of her bonds.
Her legs remained free, and they were the next subject of my attention. Her legs were not long, but they were shapely and smooth—the legs of a gymnast rather than a model. My hand passed under her right knee, and lifted it to my lips. I kissed my way down her shin, massaging her thigh and calf as I went. My mouth passed over her ankle, and crossed the delicate line between the olive skin on top of her foot and the milky white of her sole.
I stood, peeled off my jeans and socks, and deposited them with the rest of my clothes next to the bag. Returning, I knelt at her feet and again lifted her right to my mouth. Her left foot found my chest, then drifted down my stomach and settled on the bulge in my boxer briefs. I silently resolved to punish her for that playful impertinence.
My tongue lapped lazily across her soft sole, devoting extra attention to her sensitive arch. I took her toes into my mouth, and my tongue played over, under, and between them. Her back arched as much as her restraints would allow, she gasped, and finally a breathy giggle escaped her lips. As I continued, her laughter intensified slightly, and her toes tried in vain to wiggle away from my lips.
“Does that tickle?” I asked, then nibbled gently on her instep.
“Yes!” she gasped. “But … in a good way.”
“And I bet this one’s ticklish too, huh?” I said, bringing her left foot up alongside her right. I licked and kissed and nibbled across both feet, listening carefully for the little breathy hitches and squeaks that indicated I’d found a particularly sensitive spot. Soon her laughter was coming in great fits and cries, and her legs were shaking from the effort of keeping her feet still.
I mercifully lowered her feet to the floor, only to attack her thighs. I squeezed, prodded, and kneaded the ticklish flesh, and her giggles erupted into helpless laughter. I reached under and teased the backs of her thighs, especially the point where her legs met the sudden curve of her ass. Digging my fingers into that spot made her squeal and thrash against her bonds.
I stopped to let her catch her breath, rubbing her legs and massaging away the ticklish echoes. My hands dipped now and then between her legs, teasing but not quite touching the fabric of her underwear. I shifted my body to her side, and finally allowed my hand to slip between her thighs and give her a slow, firm caress. She let out a high moan, almost a whimper, which continued as my hand stroked her.
Her moan was interrupted by a squeal of laughter as my fingers danced over her sides. Her silky chemise covered her stomach visually, but did absolutely nothing to block the electric sensations produced by my hands. My fingers wriggled up her torso, drawing greater and more desperate giggles with each passing moment. Her underarms, smooth and sensitive and completely naked, received a large helping of ticklish scrutiny, until a thin sheen of perspiration coated her body and she lay gasping for air.
Two tender buds poked out from the smooth curves of her chest and called for my attention. I took the nearer one into my mouth, and teased the other with the tip of my finger.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” she said, writhing her hips and struggling to make sense of this dual sensation. I made things a bit easier for her by lifting my head away and assigning a finger to her other nipple, stimulating both simultaneously. My fingers flicked gently but rapidly over the tips. Her lips curled into a frantic grimace as she tried to dam the wave of laughter that threatened to drown her.
“Ticklish here too, aren’t you?” I asked innocently.
“Oh God!” was all she could say before the frenzied giggles overwhelmed her. She laughed helplessly, unable to stem or bite back the stream of sound.
“You didn’t know you were ticklish there, did you?” I said.
She shook her head and managed to blurt out an emphatic “No!” between gales of forced mirth.
I slowed my pace and let her rest for a moment. I ran my fingers through her hair, and kissed her forehead and flushed cheeks. Once she had gotten some oxygen back in her lungs, I kissed her lips, too. When that beautiful smile played out over her lips, I knew she was ready to keep going.
“You’re wonderful,” I said.
She bit her lip, slightly embarrassed to receive such a direct compliment. “So are you,” she replied.
“Are you ready for me to keep going?” I asked. She simply nodded her head. “Good. Because there’s one more spot I haven’t tried yet. I want to find out if you really are ticklish absolutely everywhere ...”
As I said this, my hand drifted down her stomach. I took the lace hem of her chemise and pulled it up, exposing the very tops of her thighs. My hand next slipped under the waistband of her underwear, and slowly peeled away her last layer of defense. I tugged them down to her knees, then let my fingers glide up her inner thighs. I reveled in the way her lower lip trembled, her mouth open in an expression of ecstatic disbelief. I brushed over the neat tuft of black hair I had exposed, then let my fingers dip below and caress her again. She moaned, and instinctively spread her legs to accommodate me.
I laid my middle finger across her wet folds, and pressed my first and third finger into the crease where her inner thighs joined her torso. I gave her a slow, lustful kiss, and just when our lips separated, I began rapidly vibrating my fingers.
She screamed. Her legs snapped shut, but that only pressed my fingers further into her ticklish skin. She laughed wildly and desperately, her hips bucked and her bare feet pounded the carpet. As she thrashed, she managed to lift the piano bench and very nearly tip it over—I had no trouble catching it, since my hands were already on her, but it did make me stop the tickling.
“Oh, you were doing so well, and then you had to go and nearly fall over.” I paused for dramatic effect, then said my next sentence slowly and with emphasis: “Do I need to tie your legs down?”
Her mouth opened and closed, as she tried to process the question. When her answer did come, it was a whisper. “Please,” she said.
I retrieved another rope from my bag and knelt again at her feet. Her underwear slipped easily past her knees and ankles, and as I tossed it aside I planted a quick kiss on the sole of each foot. I crossed her ankles, and with gentle pressure I forced her knees to bend and part. I bound her ankles in this position, then tethered them to the near leg of the bench and pulled it tight. Her feet were held directly under her ass, her toes pressed into the carpet in a way that left her soles exposed. Two more ropes went around her legs, just above each knee, and when anchored to the bench held her thighs open.
I leaned in close and kissed her thigh. “Do you know what comes next?” I asked. Another kiss, this one higher up her leg, made her gasp. I leaned in even further, until she could feel the warmth of my breath on her.
My fingers scrabbled across her bare feet, spidering over her tender arches. Her whole body tensed, her back arched, her mouth open in a silent cry. But this lasted only the briefest of moments before she seemed to explode in a frenzy of laughter and futile thrashing. Now she was truly helpless, without any way to protect her ticklish feet and lacking even the leverage to throw herself to the floor. I could’ve tickled her like this for hours, teasing out endless giggles, until she lost even the energy to struggle.
But I didn’t. Instead, my fingers danced across her feet for perhaps twenty seconds.
At the instant they stopped, my tongue dipped inside her wet folds. As her giggles dissolved away, they were replaced with long moans and helpless whimpers. I left one hand at her feet to continue tracing ticklish paths across her soles, while the other hand reached up and found a ticklish nipple to flick and tug on. But all of my attention, and surely all of hers—all of the energy in both of our bodies—was focused on a single point: the electric confluence of my mouth and her womanhood.
After perhaps a minute, her whimpers were cut short by a sudden gasp. A shudder passed through her whole body, followed by a long sigh that sounded like all the life draining from her. I gave her a few more careful licks, teasing out the last waves of pleasure, then pulled away.
I slipped the sleep mask off her face and found it soaked with tears. I kissed her eyelids, and they fluttered open to reveal the sparkling, happy eyes within. I next kissed her lips, which she returned with all the passion she could muster.
I untied the ropes quickly, leaving them in a tangle on the floor as they fell off her. I massaged the light red marks on her wrists and thighs and ankles. When I peeled off the sweat-soaked chemise, I found similar marks on her hips and breasts. She moaned lightly as I massaged these away.
She was light in my arms as I lifted her to her feet, and though her legs were wobbly I easily held her up. The sight of her nude body, and the feeling of it pressed against me, briefly made it difficult to catch my breath. I laid her in her bed. I made a quick circuit around the room, snuffing each candle as I went. Finally, I peeled off my boxer briefs, tossed them toward the little pile that was the rest of my clothing, and slid in bed alongside her. As I pulled the covers over both of us, she pressed her cheek to my chest, and soon she was asleep in my arms.
“And you told Julia about it.” I said.
She chuckled. “I still can’t believe she told you!”
“I’m glad she did.”
Julia, ever the dutiful daughter, had gone to spend the weekend with her family. That left Alice and I to share a rare dinner alone. It’d been about a week since we’d teamed up on Julia—she’d forgiven us, thank goodness—and this was the first chance we’d had to talk about … well, everything.
“Yeah, I guess it worked out for the best,” Alice said.
It was hard for her to admit how she felt about being tied up, but at least she had no such qualms about me. We’d spent the afternoon at the park, and now this dinner at her favorite place. Neither of us ever said the word “date,” but whether spoken aloud or not this was the best I’d ever been on.
As we arrived at her place, a specter of doubt crept into my mind. Alice trotted up the front steps, then turned to me with a questioning glance. I’d been inside dozens of times before, but this felt different. “I’ll be in in a minute,” I called. She shrugged and went in.
My bag, full of ropes, and ties, and a few other handy items, lay in the trunk of my car. We hadn’t spoken of using them again. It seemed incredibly presumptuous of me to assume she’d want to. I knew she enjoyed it, but I had no idea how far or how quickly she’d be willing to go. The game had changed again, and now I didn’t want to scare her off.
Still, I had gotten this far by taking risks—tying them up in the first place; touching her the way I had. I grabbed my bag and went inside.
The living room was dark, but there was soft light in her bedroom. “Alice?” I called out.
“I’ll be out in just a moment,” she replied. It was then I noticed the strip of light under the bathroom door. I flicked the lamp on. I set my bag down beside the couch, so at least it wouldn’t be the first thing she saw when she walked out. I let myself fall into my usual chair, and felt truly nervous in this room for the first time.
The click of the lock in the bathroom door interrupted my thoughts, and when I looked up, I saw Alice. Her black hair framed her heart-shaped face. Her gorgeous eyes were wide, her eyebrows arched in a look of anxiety. She was biting her lower lip, with the hint of a tremulous smile at the corners of her mouth.
She wore a cream-colored silk chemise with spaghetti straps. It had a strip of lace at the hem, which hung at her hips. Her underwear, also cream-colored, was just visible below the hem. Besides this, she was naked.
Neither of us said anything for what felt like an eternity. Alice looked increasingly worried as the seconds passed, and I realized the look on my face was one of shock. I managed to take a deep breath and rearrange my features into an awed grin.
“You look … beautiful,” I managed.
“We can go in here,” she mumbled, gesturing toward her room. Without waiting for my response, she padded through the doorway and out of sight.
If she could take a risk like that, so could I. I picked up my bag, turned off the lamp, and strode into her room.
I’d been in her room a few times before, but it looked different at night and with the lights off. A candle flickered from every available surface, giving the room a warm glow. I closed the door behind me and stood for a moment, just taking it in. My eyes passed over her dresser, her desk, her piano, and her bed. She was lying in bed, with the covers pulled up to her chin. I dropped the bag near the door and went to her.
“I look ridiculous,” she said, though she did smile.
“You look wonderful. More beautiful than I’ve ever seen you.” I leaned in and kissed her, a series of soft pecks that seemed to help her relax. After a moment, I spoke up again. “I … brought my bag.”
She glanced toward the door, then back at me. Even in the candlelight, I could see her cheeks blush.
I kissed her again. “I mean, if you don’t want to it’s—”
“I want to,” she interrupted. “I mean … yes. I want to.”
I took her hand and helped her out of bed. I kicked off my shoes and stripped off my shirt and undershirt, hoping it would make her feel less awkward. Placing them next to the bag, I pulled out a length of rope and turned toward her.
Her skin looked almost golden in the light of the candles. The contrast with the cream material of her lingerie was intoxicating. Her firm legs, smallish breasts, wide hips, and shapely ass formed a figure I could only describe as ‘perfect.’ I caught myself staring. I’m supposed to be in charge here, I reminded myself, and stepped toward where she stood in the center of the room.
“Hands up here,” I said, gesturing toward my shoulders. Her fingers gently kneaded my shoulders, and our lips met in a long, passionate kiss. I pulled the rope around her body, twice around just under her breasts, then twice over. Pressed by these ropes from above and below, her breasts bulged against the fabric. I broke our kiss just long enough to retrieve another rope, which I wrapped around her waist.
Next I pulled a necktie from my bag, but as held it up to her, she stopped me. “I’ve got something else,” she explained. She opened a drawer in her nightstand and pulled out a black satin sleep mask. She gave it to me, and as I placed it over her eyes, she exhaled softly through pursed lips.
I pulled her in close to me, partly so I could feel her body against mine and partly so I could decide what to do with her. I looked at her bed, which lacked the foot rail I had found so effective in Julia’s room, but had a few other bits of exposed frame to which I could anchor the rope. I looked at her desk chair, which would have been comfortable, but wasn’t as solid or sturdy as I would’ve liked.
Then my eyes fell upon her piano bench. She had played since she was little, and had not only an exceptionally nice keyboard but also the stand and bench to match. The seat of the bench was a thick black pad, perhaps two and a half feet long and a foot wide. The frame of the bench, all black-painted steel piping, formed a sturdy X that held the seat about two feet off the ground.
I pulled the bench into the center of the room, as Alice waited, unable in her blindfolded state to tell what I was up to. Taking her by the shoulders, I helped her lay face-up on the bench. Her head rested on one edge of the seat, while her ass lay half-on, half-off the other end. It wouldn’t have worked with a larger woman, but Alice’s petite frame was nearly a perfect fit. It took her a moment to realize what she was laying on, but when she did, an amused grin crossed her face.
I tied the ropes around her waist and breasts to the seat of the bench. As I pulled these tight, she offered up her wrists. The rope encircled her wrists three times, then passed between them twice and held them in a grip I knew she couldn’t escape. Next I pulled her bound hands over and behind her head. With the loose end of the rope tethered to the leg of the frame, she could no longer lower her arms. This too was pulled tight, and she responded with a happy-sounding grunt.
I sank to my knees beside her and found her mouth with my own. As we kissed, my hands drifted over her bound form, exploring every part of her I could reach. I could feel the warmth of her body through the silk; her stomach trembled under my palm. Her body writhed under my touch, testing the limits of her bonds.
Her legs remained free, and they were the next subject of my attention. Her legs were not long, but they were shapely and smooth—the legs of a gymnast rather than a model. My hand passed under her right knee, and lifted it to my lips. I kissed my way down her shin, massaging her thigh and calf as I went. My mouth passed over her ankle, and crossed the delicate line between the olive skin on top of her foot and the milky white of her sole.
I stood, peeled off my jeans and socks, and deposited them with the rest of my clothes next to the bag. Returning, I knelt at her feet and again lifted her right to my mouth. Her left foot found my chest, then drifted down my stomach and settled on the bulge in my boxer briefs. I silently resolved to punish her for that playful impertinence.
My tongue lapped lazily across her soft sole, devoting extra attention to her sensitive arch. I took her toes into my mouth, and my tongue played over, under, and between them. Her back arched as much as her restraints would allow, she gasped, and finally a breathy giggle escaped her lips. As I continued, her laughter intensified slightly, and her toes tried in vain to wiggle away from my lips.
“Does that tickle?” I asked, then nibbled gently on her instep.
“Yes!” she gasped. “But … in a good way.”
“And I bet this one’s ticklish too, huh?” I said, bringing her left foot up alongside her right. I licked and kissed and nibbled across both feet, listening carefully for the little breathy hitches and squeaks that indicated I’d found a particularly sensitive spot. Soon her laughter was coming in great fits and cries, and her legs were shaking from the effort of keeping her feet still.
I mercifully lowered her feet to the floor, only to attack her thighs. I squeezed, prodded, and kneaded the ticklish flesh, and her giggles erupted into helpless laughter. I reached under and teased the backs of her thighs, especially the point where her legs met the sudden curve of her ass. Digging my fingers into that spot made her squeal and thrash against her bonds.
I stopped to let her catch her breath, rubbing her legs and massaging away the ticklish echoes. My hands dipped now and then between her legs, teasing but not quite touching the fabric of her underwear. I shifted my body to her side, and finally allowed my hand to slip between her thighs and give her a slow, firm caress. She let out a high moan, almost a whimper, which continued as my hand stroked her.
Her moan was interrupted by a squeal of laughter as my fingers danced over her sides. Her silky chemise covered her stomach visually, but did absolutely nothing to block the electric sensations produced by my hands. My fingers wriggled up her torso, drawing greater and more desperate giggles with each passing moment. Her underarms, smooth and sensitive and completely naked, received a large helping of ticklish scrutiny, until a thin sheen of perspiration coated her body and she lay gasping for air.
Two tender buds poked out from the smooth curves of her chest and called for my attention. I took the nearer one into my mouth, and teased the other with the tip of my finger.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” she said, writhing her hips and struggling to make sense of this dual sensation. I made things a bit easier for her by lifting my head away and assigning a finger to her other nipple, stimulating both simultaneously. My fingers flicked gently but rapidly over the tips. Her lips curled into a frantic grimace as she tried to dam the wave of laughter that threatened to drown her.
“Ticklish here too, aren’t you?” I asked innocently.
“Oh God!” was all she could say before the frenzied giggles overwhelmed her. She laughed helplessly, unable to stem or bite back the stream of sound.
“You didn’t know you were ticklish there, did you?” I said.
She shook her head and managed to blurt out an emphatic “No!” between gales of forced mirth.
I slowed my pace and let her rest for a moment. I ran my fingers through her hair, and kissed her forehead and flushed cheeks. Once she had gotten some oxygen back in her lungs, I kissed her lips, too. When that beautiful smile played out over her lips, I knew she was ready to keep going.
“You’re wonderful,” I said.
She bit her lip, slightly embarrassed to receive such a direct compliment. “So are you,” she replied.
“Are you ready for me to keep going?” I asked. She simply nodded her head. “Good. Because there’s one more spot I haven’t tried yet. I want to find out if you really are ticklish absolutely everywhere ...”
As I said this, my hand drifted down her stomach. I took the lace hem of her chemise and pulled it up, exposing the very tops of her thighs. My hand next slipped under the waistband of her underwear, and slowly peeled away her last layer of defense. I tugged them down to her knees, then let my fingers glide up her inner thighs. I reveled in the way her lower lip trembled, her mouth open in an expression of ecstatic disbelief. I brushed over the neat tuft of black hair I had exposed, then let my fingers dip below and caress her again. She moaned, and instinctively spread her legs to accommodate me.
I laid my middle finger across her wet folds, and pressed my first and third finger into the crease where her inner thighs joined her torso. I gave her a slow, lustful kiss, and just when our lips separated, I began rapidly vibrating my fingers.
She screamed. Her legs snapped shut, but that only pressed my fingers further into her ticklish skin. She laughed wildly and desperately, her hips bucked and her bare feet pounded the carpet. As she thrashed, she managed to lift the piano bench and very nearly tip it over—I had no trouble catching it, since my hands were already on her, but it did make me stop the tickling.
“Oh, you were doing so well, and then you had to go and nearly fall over.” I paused for dramatic effect, then said my next sentence slowly and with emphasis: “Do I need to tie your legs down?”
Her mouth opened and closed, as she tried to process the question. When her answer did come, it was a whisper. “Please,” she said.
I retrieved another rope from my bag and knelt again at her feet. Her underwear slipped easily past her knees and ankles, and as I tossed it aside I planted a quick kiss on the sole of each foot. I crossed her ankles, and with gentle pressure I forced her knees to bend and part. I bound her ankles in this position, then tethered them to the near leg of the bench and pulled it tight. Her feet were held directly under her ass, her toes pressed into the carpet in a way that left her soles exposed. Two more ropes went around her legs, just above each knee, and when anchored to the bench held her thighs open.
I leaned in close and kissed her thigh. “Do you know what comes next?” I asked. Another kiss, this one higher up her leg, made her gasp. I leaned in even further, until she could feel the warmth of my breath on her.
My fingers scrabbled across her bare feet, spidering over her tender arches. Her whole body tensed, her back arched, her mouth open in a silent cry. But this lasted only the briefest of moments before she seemed to explode in a frenzy of laughter and futile thrashing. Now she was truly helpless, without any way to protect her ticklish feet and lacking even the leverage to throw herself to the floor. I could’ve tickled her like this for hours, teasing out endless giggles, until she lost even the energy to struggle.
But I didn’t. Instead, my fingers danced across her feet for perhaps twenty seconds.
At the instant they stopped, my tongue dipped inside her wet folds. As her giggles dissolved away, they were replaced with long moans and helpless whimpers. I left one hand at her feet to continue tracing ticklish paths across her soles, while the other hand reached up and found a ticklish nipple to flick and tug on. But all of my attention, and surely all of hers—all of the energy in both of our bodies—was focused on a single point: the electric confluence of my mouth and her womanhood.
After perhaps a minute, her whimpers were cut short by a sudden gasp. A shudder passed through her whole body, followed by a long sigh that sounded like all the life draining from her. I gave her a few more careful licks, teasing out the last waves of pleasure, then pulled away.
I slipped the sleep mask off her face and found it soaked with tears. I kissed her eyelids, and they fluttered open to reveal the sparkling, happy eyes within. I next kissed her lips, which she returned with all the passion she could muster.
I untied the ropes quickly, leaving them in a tangle on the floor as they fell off her. I massaged the light red marks on her wrists and thighs and ankles. When I peeled off the sweat-soaked chemise, I found similar marks on her hips and breasts. She moaned lightly as I massaged these away.
She was light in my arms as I lifted her to her feet, and though her legs were wobbly I easily held her up. The sight of her nude body, and the feeling of it pressed against me, briefly made it difficult to catch my breath. I laid her in her bed. I made a quick circuit around the room, snuffing each candle as I went. Finally, I peeled off my boxer briefs, tossed them toward the little pile that was the rest of my clothing, and slid in bed alongside her. As I pulled the covers over both of us, she pressed her cheek to my chest, and soon she was asleep in my arms.
Thanks!
