shytickler
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Jun 7, 2003
- Messages
- 138
- Points
- 18
Springfield
Every once in a while I sent out a new one. A new ad in the personals. Same idea each time, same response: none.
I typed up another one. Male. 30s. So far, so normal. Tickler. Not normal. I knew somewhere inside my feelings, that was the word at which point everyone would stop reading. Especially in this sleepy, conservative suburb of Springfield. I once read that every state has a town named Springfield.
Post the ad, get a confirmation email, click the link.
I looked one last time at the screen, then pushed away my desk chair and went to bed.
Each day I half eagerly, half sadly checked my online account. No replies. In a few days, my ad's time would be expired, and it would be deleted.
Day 6, only one more day left until my ad was deleted. I logged into my account. No messages. I was about to click “Log Off”, when a message box popped up on my screen.
“Left you a message,” it said. Username Erica33. She logged off immediately.
I checked my messages. There was one there, she must have just sent it.
I opened it, expecting an offer for a free trial on a live cam website.
It started the usual...”I've never done something like this before”, but this one was different; it wasn't fake.
“Hi. I've never done something like this before. I've seen your posts before, but was too afraid to answer. Something has given me the courage to respond this time. I have a proposal for you. I have a fantasy I've always wanted to live out. I'm married, so if that's a problem, stop here. My husband is out of town for a few weeks for business. Here is my idea. I don't want to know you, or see you. We will set up a date and time for you to come over. Come to this address _____. My apartment building has a security camera, so please look down, or wear a hood. Hold up two fingers to the camera. When I see you, I may buzz you in. If I don't, I've lost my nerve. Please just leave. If I do buzz you in, walk into the lobby. Take the elevator up to floor 20. I'm in room 2011.
Don't knock, I don't want anyone to hear, just turn the door knob. If it's locked, I've lost my nerve. Just turn around and go home. You'll have to prepare yourself for that possibility. If it's unlocked, enter quickly, and shut the door behind you. I'll be in my bedroom, alone, tied to the bed with some silk scarves. I won't be wearing much. No sex, just tickling. If you make it that far, you can tickle me for as long as you wish. When you are done, don't expect anything else. Just quietly untie me and leave.”
I sat back in my chair, mouth open. I couldn't believe it was real. I actually got a response.
I sent a message back: “How do I know this is for real?”
She must have been online but invisible. I got a reply, but didn't see her on. “Hang on, I'll confirm.”
A picture arrived in my inbox. I opened it up. It showed her door, 2011, and her hand holding a piece of paper. On the paper was written her username, Erica33, and my user name.
I sent back a message. “Ok. What day and time.”
“Tomorrow. 10pm. No phone calls.”
The rest of the day lasted forever. The clock seemed to be made of the heaviest lead. I tossed and turned, but sleep would not come.
I made sure to prepare myself. I put on a hoodie, and a hat, just to be doubly sure.
The apartment complex was impressive, as I expected. Perfectly landscaped. The outer doors were well lit, and I could see the security camera she mentioned. I keep my hat low and rang the buzzer. No answer. I could feel her eyes from the security camera watching me....I help up two fingers as she asked. I could almost hear her trying to decide whether to buzz me in.
The door buzzed. I opened it. Step one.
Inside, the lobby was empty. Marble floors, a chandelier, and one set of brass elevator doors. I reached out a finger and gently pressed the button for the elevator. The doors opened. 20Th floor, room 2011. The ride up to the 20th floor was long. I could hear my heart thumping rapidly in my ears. I wondered if she had changed her mind. Would her apartment door be locked?
I padded my way softly down the carpeted corridor, looking for room 2011. 2001....2003...2005....there, I saw it. The hall was silent. I stared at the door knob, trembling. This was it, either I was about to have the most extraordinary night of my life, or go back to another night of a lonely bed, empty fantasies, and my computer screen. I reached out and grabbed the door knob, slowly turning. Locked. My heart sank. She chickened out, I don't believe it.
I closed my eyes and hung my head, sighing deeply. My eyes looked at the clean, cream colored carpeting of the corridor. I don't know how long I stood there and stared down. I don't know how long it took my eyes to focus on the piece of paper and metal object sticking out from underneath the door. I bent down and picked up the paper.
“Change of plans. Use the key to open the door. Sorry.”
I picked up the key, looking at it as if I had been granted a pardon by the governor for a capital crime. It slipped easily into the door lock, and the door knob turned...and the door swung open.
I stepped inside. It was dark. I could make out a couch, a flat screen TV, some chairs, a table, paintings. A few candles were lit. I could see an open door to my right with a faint glow of light coming from it. I assumed that must be her room. I slowly padded my way across her dining room towards what I hoped was her bed room.
I peeked inside, and there she was. In the dim light of the candles, I saw a woman on a large bed covered in golden silk sheets. Clad in a pair of the tiniest gold panties clinging desperately to her hips. A thick black felt blindfold rested across her eyes. She had managed to secure all her limbs, save one, to the bed.
I walked into the room and finished the job, slipping her right wrist into the last remaining scarf.
Her chest rose, filling with the expectant air of a deep breath.
I knelt next to the bed, and leaned in towards her ear. I whispered to her with care.
“Don't worry. The worst that will happen to you is that I will tickle you.” She gasped, her mouth parting and her chest rising.
“I might tickle you until you can't take anymore. And then I'll keep tickling you. You might scream, yell, thrash. You might even beg a little. Your arms might be a little sore from pulling at the restraints. But you're not in any danger; you're safe. I can only take you where you want to go. The only question is, how deep inside your secrets are you willing to allow yourself to explore...”
I could tell I was saying the right things. Her chest and neck were flushed a light pink. Her nipples had swollen up into tight, pointed cones. Her breathing was shallow and quick. Her mouth parted slightly, her tongue ran along her parched lips. Her hands twisted and pulled against the gentle but firm silk scarves tethering them to the bed.
“You have to consider who you will be after wards. You won't be the same woman. Who will you be? Do you think you will remain the same curious, but cautious, woman who only wanted to dabble in this world occasionally? That this tickling fetish will only be something for “those people”, something you only indulge rarely? Or... will you be completely subsumed by it...by your passion. Like an unstoppably powerful ocean wave crashing over the top of your head. Will you... be a different you? Who? A slave? A slave to what....your ticklishness? Not to me, but to your body?
I pressed the play button on the audio recorder so that she could hear the last few words I said played back.
“You see, you wanted to give up control, but not completely, but you can't do it that way. If you're going to give up control, it has to be complete. Now I've made it so you have to give up control. What if this where to show up at your work. Perhaps the unsuspecting secretary in HR might not notice that your return address on the envelope was not written in your hand. She might be too curious about the contents of that flash thumb drive. It would be so easy for her to plug it into her computer and take a quick peek. No one would know.... Or perhaps the same ordinary looking envelope might show up at your home, addressed to your husband, with the same mysterious flash thumb drive inside. How would he react to the sounds of his wife's peals of helpless laughter and begging? It's not a risk you're willing to take, is it?”
She gasped loudly in shock, tugging at the silk scarves that held her helpless.
“You see, it's not like sex. The first time being tickled is the best. You'll never forget it. You're at your most scared, most sensitive state. But even more than the first time, is the first touch. You won't forget that either. Where was that first touch? Where did you first feel that finger rest itself on your body? Your feet? Somewhere on your legs?
Her legs squirmed futilely on the bed.
“Perhaps your stomach?”
She opened her mouth and took a big gulp of air, sucking her tummy in as far as it would go, as if somehow that would hide her ticklish flesh.
“Or maybe even, your breasts?”
Her head thrashed to the side. Although she could squirm her legs, or suck in her tummy....there was no way for her to twist or contort her body to conceal her large, firm breasts, especially now, as they were swollen with excitement. And though she had a blindfold on, I could tell her eyes were clenched shut, as if by making the world black, she could save herself from the flood of impending ticklish sensations.
I reached out a finger, and touched her....
Every once in a while I sent out a new one. A new ad in the personals. Same idea each time, same response: none.
I typed up another one. Male. 30s. So far, so normal. Tickler. Not normal. I knew somewhere inside my feelings, that was the word at which point everyone would stop reading. Especially in this sleepy, conservative suburb of Springfield. I once read that every state has a town named Springfield.
Post the ad, get a confirmation email, click the link.
I looked one last time at the screen, then pushed away my desk chair and went to bed.
Each day I half eagerly, half sadly checked my online account. No replies. In a few days, my ad's time would be expired, and it would be deleted.
Day 6, only one more day left until my ad was deleted. I logged into my account. No messages. I was about to click “Log Off”, when a message box popped up on my screen.
“Left you a message,” it said. Username Erica33. She logged off immediately.
I checked my messages. There was one there, she must have just sent it.
I opened it, expecting an offer for a free trial on a live cam website.
It started the usual...”I've never done something like this before”, but this one was different; it wasn't fake.
“Hi. I've never done something like this before. I've seen your posts before, but was too afraid to answer. Something has given me the courage to respond this time. I have a proposal for you. I have a fantasy I've always wanted to live out. I'm married, so if that's a problem, stop here. My husband is out of town for a few weeks for business. Here is my idea. I don't want to know you, or see you. We will set up a date and time for you to come over. Come to this address _____. My apartment building has a security camera, so please look down, or wear a hood. Hold up two fingers to the camera. When I see you, I may buzz you in. If I don't, I've lost my nerve. Please just leave. If I do buzz you in, walk into the lobby. Take the elevator up to floor 20. I'm in room 2011.
Don't knock, I don't want anyone to hear, just turn the door knob. If it's locked, I've lost my nerve. Just turn around and go home. You'll have to prepare yourself for that possibility. If it's unlocked, enter quickly, and shut the door behind you. I'll be in my bedroom, alone, tied to the bed with some silk scarves. I won't be wearing much. No sex, just tickling. If you make it that far, you can tickle me for as long as you wish. When you are done, don't expect anything else. Just quietly untie me and leave.”
I sat back in my chair, mouth open. I couldn't believe it was real. I actually got a response.
I sent a message back: “How do I know this is for real?”
She must have been online but invisible. I got a reply, but didn't see her on. “Hang on, I'll confirm.”
A picture arrived in my inbox. I opened it up. It showed her door, 2011, and her hand holding a piece of paper. On the paper was written her username, Erica33, and my user name.
I sent back a message. “Ok. What day and time.”
“Tomorrow. 10pm. No phone calls.”
The rest of the day lasted forever. The clock seemed to be made of the heaviest lead. I tossed and turned, but sleep would not come.
I made sure to prepare myself. I put on a hoodie, and a hat, just to be doubly sure.
The apartment complex was impressive, as I expected. Perfectly landscaped. The outer doors were well lit, and I could see the security camera she mentioned. I keep my hat low and rang the buzzer. No answer. I could feel her eyes from the security camera watching me....I help up two fingers as she asked. I could almost hear her trying to decide whether to buzz me in.
The door buzzed. I opened it. Step one.
Inside, the lobby was empty. Marble floors, a chandelier, and one set of brass elevator doors. I reached out a finger and gently pressed the button for the elevator. The doors opened. 20Th floor, room 2011. The ride up to the 20th floor was long. I could hear my heart thumping rapidly in my ears. I wondered if she had changed her mind. Would her apartment door be locked?
I padded my way softly down the carpeted corridor, looking for room 2011. 2001....2003...2005....there, I saw it. The hall was silent. I stared at the door knob, trembling. This was it, either I was about to have the most extraordinary night of my life, or go back to another night of a lonely bed, empty fantasies, and my computer screen. I reached out and grabbed the door knob, slowly turning. Locked. My heart sank. She chickened out, I don't believe it.
I closed my eyes and hung my head, sighing deeply. My eyes looked at the clean, cream colored carpeting of the corridor. I don't know how long I stood there and stared down. I don't know how long it took my eyes to focus on the piece of paper and metal object sticking out from underneath the door. I bent down and picked up the paper.
“Change of plans. Use the key to open the door. Sorry.”
I picked up the key, looking at it as if I had been granted a pardon by the governor for a capital crime. It slipped easily into the door lock, and the door knob turned...and the door swung open.
I stepped inside. It was dark. I could make out a couch, a flat screen TV, some chairs, a table, paintings. A few candles were lit. I could see an open door to my right with a faint glow of light coming from it. I assumed that must be her room. I slowly padded my way across her dining room towards what I hoped was her bed room.
I peeked inside, and there she was. In the dim light of the candles, I saw a woman on a large bed covered in golden silk sheets. Clad in a pair of the tiniest gold panties clinging desperately to her hips. A thick black felt blindfold rested across her eyes. She had managed to secure all her limbs, save one, to the bed.
I walked into the room and finished the job, slipping her right wrist into the last remaining scarf.
Her chest rose, filling with the expectant air of a deep breath.
I knelt next to the bed, and leaned in towards her ear. I whispered to her with care.
“Don't worry. The worst that will happen to you is that I will tickle you.” She gasped, her mouth parting and her chest rising.
“I might tickle you until you can't take anymore. And then I'll keep tickling you. You might scream, yell, thrash. You might even beg a little. Your arms might be a little sore from pulling at the restraints. But you're not in any danger; you're safe. I can only take you where you want to go. The only question is, how deep inside your secrets are you willing to allow yourself to explore...”
I could tell I was saying the right things. Her chest and neck were flushed a light pink. Her nipples had swollen up into tight, pointed cones. Her breathing was shallow and quick. Her mouth parted slightly, her tongue ran along her parched lips. Her hands twisted and pulled against the gentle but firm silk scarves tethering them to the bed.
“You have to consider who you will be after wards. You won't be the same woman. Who will you be? Do you think you will remain the same curious, but cautious, woman who only wanted to dabble in this world occasionally? That this tickling fetish will only be something for “those people”, something you only indulge rarely? Or... will you be completely subsumed by it...by your passion. Like an unstoppably powerful ocean wave crashing over the top of your head. Will you... be a different you? Who? A slave? A slave to what....your ticklishness? Not to me, but to your body?
I pressed the play button on the audio recorder so that she could hear the last few words I said played back.
“You see, you wanted to give up control, but not completely, but you can't do it that way. If you're going to give up control, it has to be complete. Now I've made it so you have to give up control. What if this where to show up at your work. Perhaps the unsuspecting secretary in HR might not notice that your return address on the envelope was not written in your hand. She might be too curious about the contents of that flash thumb drive. It would be so easy for her to plug it into her computer and take a quick peek. No one would know.... Or perhaps the same ordinary looking envelope might show up at your home, addressed to your husband, with the same mysterious flash thumb drive inside. How would he react to the sounds of his wife's peals of helpless laughter and begging? It's not a risk you're willing to take, is it?”
She gasped loudly in shock, tugging at the silk scarves that held her helpless.
“You see, it's not like sex. The first time being tickled is the best. You'll never forget it. You're at your most scared, most sensitive state. But even more than the first time, is the first touch. You won't forget that either. Where was that first touch? Where did you first feel that finger rest itself on your body? Your feet? Somewhere on your legs?
Her legs squirmed futilely on the bed.
“Perhaps your stomach?”
She opened her mouth and took a big gulp of air, sucking her tummy in as far as it would go, as if somehow that would hide her ticklish flesh.
“Or maybe even, your breasts?”
Her head thrashed to the side. Although she could squirm her legs, or suck in her tummy....there was no way for her to twist or contort her body to conceal her large, firm breasts, especially now, as they were swollen with excitement. And though she had a blindfold on, I could tell her eyes were clenched shut, as if by making the world black, she could save herself from the flood of impending ticklish sensations.
I reached out a finger, and touched her....
