wrestlingclown
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Apr 19, 2012
- Messages
- 198
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As far as I know, Joyce and I were the only survivors of the zombie apocalypse. The Citizen's Band Radio that I pilfered offered nothing but static every night. It had been 16 months since either of us had seen another live human being besides each other. That was also the day I'd rescued Joyce from a horde of zombies in a grocery store we both just happened to choose for a looting expedition. Though strangers, we've been living together ever since.
I set us up in a pretty good homestead. I found a nice ranch house located next to a fruit orchard not far from a National Forest where few people used to live and thus few zombies now roam. I did have to wipe out all the migrant workers who had turned, but since then I seldom even see a zombie. Nevertheless, I bulldozed a deep ditch in the field surrounding our house, and erected a fence inside that, so we were secure from the occasional man-eating straggler. I kept a gas truck near the orchard for fuel for our generator. We had a well for water, and the house even had a swimming pool in the backyard. I stockpiled about a decade's worth of canned goods and rice, but I eventually found cows and ducks and now raise them for fresh meat, milk, and eggs. Naturally, I've got a big vegetable garden. Without human hunters the deer population exploded, and I have a stand baited with salt just outside my protective perimeter, and fish traps in a local river complete the balance of protein in our diet.
A sense of normalcy returned to our lives after we settled in our homestead, and with the normalcy I discovered my sex drive had returned. I'm a 40 year old man and still have a substantial amount of lust. Joyce was the only visual stimulation but our age difference made me reluctant to seduce her. I was too polite to ask her age but I guessed she was in her late sixties. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist ogling her when she wore her bathingsuit around the swimming pool. This mature Jewish lady had really large breasts and a sexy ass, and she seemed to like showing off her body, despite her age. I began masturbating to fantasies of her every night. I thought of suggesting we role play Dustin Hoffman and Mrs. Robinson but never drew up enough courage to make the suggestion. Instead, she seduced me.
After lunch one afternoon I was resting on the couch when she walked up to me and said, "I long for someone to touch me." She pulled her shirt over her head and flung it to the ground. She undid her bra and let her heavy breasts droop free.
"Do you like?" she asked.
I embraced her and we kissed and went to her bedroom. She lubed herself up for me, and I entered her and engaged in the first real sex I'd had since the apocalypse. After, she showed me old photographs of her from when she was a young pinup model. Here's one of her pictures. http://www.google.com/imgres?hl=en&...05&start=51&ndsp=30&ved=1t:429,r:77,s:0,i:318
We began having sex most afternoons and an old kinky urge nagged me. This time, my courage didn't fail me. While I was sticking it to her in the missionary posture I asked, "Did you ever tie down a man and tickle him?"
She smiled.
"Why? Is that something you would like?"
I grabbed her buttocks and pumped harder.
"Yeah," I mumbled shyly.
"Well, if you must know, my second husband had a thing for that."
She moaned and let me know she came and I finished and rolled off her.
We didn't talk about my question for a few days, but as we lay in bed carressing each other during foreplay one early afternoon, she brought up the subject."
"My second husband liked to lose control with tickle bondage. I'm an old pro at playing tickle, if you want to play. Want to?"
I shook with excitement.
"Yes."
"I'm warning you. You will like it too much. Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"First, we've got to find something to tie you down with."
She got out of bed and walked around the room, her naked fleshy ass jiggling as she searched. She looked in the closet. I relaxed and didn't think she was going to find anything, but she found a pair of scarves.
"Now. Are you sure you want me to tie you down and tickle you? I'm a very effective tickler and it might be more than you can take."
"Yeah."
"Then we better think of a safe word."
"Code Pink."
"Ok. If it gets more than you can bear don't be afraid to say Code Pink."
She tied each of my wrists to the bed posts, spread-eagling me, though my legs were free. She sat next to me as I lay helpless.
"I'm going to tickle you, and you can't stop me."
She tickled my neck, and I flinched and rolled my shoulders and giggled silently. It felt maddening. She massaged my midsection with her fingertips, and I struggled to hold in my laughter. I bit my cheeks.
"Just go ahead and laugh," she urged. "Resistance is futile."
I felt frustrated, unable to stop her merciless fingers.
"You're not getting out of my clutches until I hear a big belly laugh."
Suddenly, it seemed very important to my manhood not to laugh. I tried really hard not to and a little whimper escaped. I struggled against the scarves in a futile attempt to escape.
She stopped tickling me and began rubbing my penis, and she sucked it. Man but she gave good head. Involuntarily, I felt as if I was about to ejaculate. She squeezed my penis, blocking my orgasm, and making me feel even more frustrated.
"No. Not yet. I haven't heard you laugh yet. My, you are a shy ticklee."
She fingertip-massaged my midsection causing the laughter to build inside again. Her fingertips moved in a circular motion over my ribs toward my underarms--the target she tickled furiously.
I burst out laughing and let out a big fart to boot.
"What's so funny?" she asked. "Are you laughing at my big boobies?"
"No," I said.
"I think you are laughing at my boobies because they are so big."
She straddled me and cradled her breasts and shoved them in my face.
"Do these tickle you?"
She tickled my underarms while her breasts covered my face so I couldn't see her hands, and I laughed loudly, uncontrollably. She reached back and rubbed my penis.
"You tried to fight it for awhile, but you were just overwhelmed with my expertise, weren't you?"
"Yeah, it was harder to take than I thought it would be," I admitted, blushing.
She saw my red cheeks.
"Being ticklish is nothing to be embarrassed about. It's something you can't help. Just like you couldn't hold in that big fart either"
The discussion made me feel humiliated. I almost wanted to yell out "Code Pink," just to stop her analysis.
"Are you embarrassed now?" she asked.
"Kind of."
"I'm sorry. I could let you go...or do you want more tickling."
I felt giddy, weak.
"More tickling," I said.
"Well then, we'll turn this record over."
She turned around and wiggled her backside, and I laughed even before she started the B side of her tickling session.
"You love it. Kitchie, kitchi, koo this Jewish lady knows what tickles you. Tickle, tickle, tickle," she teased.
And we were oblivious to the hordes of zombies roaming the planet as our game turned into a daily escape from reality. I was the old Jewish pinup model's ticklish prisoner, and she made me laugh everyday. I was defenseless to her tickle offense. We called it our happy hour, in the otherwise gloomy world within which we were trapped.
I set us up in a pretty good homestead. I found a nice ranch house located next to a fruit orchard not far from a National Forest where few people used to live and thus few zombies now roam. I did have to wipe out all the migrant workers who had turned, but since then I seldom even see a zombie. Nevertheless, I bulldozed a deep ditch in the field surrounding our house, and erected a fence inside that, so we were secure from the occasional man-eating straggler. I kept a gas truck near the orchard for fuel for our generator. We had a well for water, and the house even had a swimming pool in the backyard. I stockpiled about a decade's worth of canned goods and rice, but I eventually found cows and ducks and now raise them for fresh meat, milk, and eggs. Naturally, I've got a big vegetable garden. Without human hunters the deer population exploded, and I have a stand baited with salt just outside my protective perimeter, and fish traps in a local river complete the balance of protein in our diet.
A sense of normalcy returned to our lives after we settled in our homestead, and with the normalcy I discovered my sex drive had returned. I'm a 40 year old man and still have a substantial amount of lust. Joyce was the only visual stimulation but our age difference made me reluctant to seduce her. I was too polite to ask her age but I guessed she was in her late sixties. Nevertheless, I couldn't resist ogling her when she wore her bathingsuit around the swimming pool. This mature Jewish lady had really large breasts and a sexy ass, and she seemed to like showing off her body, despite her age. I began masturbating to fantasies of her every night. I thought of suggesting we role play Dustin Hoffman and Mrs. Robinson but never drew up enough courage to make the suggestion. Instead, she seduced me.
After lunch one afternoon I was resting on the couch when she walked up to me and said, "I long for someone to touch me." She pulled her shirt over her head and flung it to the ground. She undid her bra and let her heavy breasts droop free.
"Do you like?" she asked.
I embraced her and we kissed and went to her bedroom. She lubed herself up for me, and I entered her and engaged in the first real sex I'd had since the apocalypse. After, she showed me old photographs of her from when she was a young pinup model. Here's one of her pictures. http://www.google.com/imgres?hl=en&...05&start=51&ndsp=30&ved=1t:429,r:77,s:0,i:318
We began having sex most afternoons and an old kinky urge nagged me. This time, my courage didn't fail me. While I was sticking it to her in the missionary posture I asked, "Did you ever tie down a man and tickle him?"
She smiled.
"Why? Is that something you would like?"
I grabbed her buttocks and pumped harder.
"Yeah," I mumbled shyly.
"Well, if you must know, my second husband had a thing for that."
She moaned and let me know she came and I finished and rolled off her.
We didn't talk about my question for a few days, but as we lay in bed carressing each other during foreplay one early afternoon, she brought up the subject."
"My second husband liked to lose control with tickle bondage. I'm an old pro at playing tickle, if you want to play. Want to?"
I shook with excitement.
"Yes."
"I'm warning you. You will like it too much. Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"First, we've got to find something to tie you down with."
She got out of bed and walked around the room, her naked fleshy ass jiggling as she searched. She looked in the closet. I relaxed and didn't think she was going to find anything, but she found a pair of scarves.
"Now. Are you sure you want me to tie you down and tickle you? I'm a very effective tickler and it might be more than you can take."
"Yeah."
"Then we better think of a safe word."
"Code Pink."
"Ok. If it gets more than you can bear don't be afraid to say Code Pink."
She tied each of my wrists to the bed posts, spread-eagling me, though my legs were free. She sat next to me as I lay helpless.
"I'm going to tickle you, and you can't stop me."
She tickled my neck, and I flinched and rolled my shoulders and giggled silently. It felt maddening. She massaged my midsection with her fingertips, and I struggled to hold in my laughter. I bit my cheeks.
"Just go ahead and laugh," she urged. "Resistance is futile."
I felt frustrated, unable to stop her merciless fingers.
"You're not getting out of my clutches until I hear a big belly laugh."
Suddenly, it seemed very important to my manhood not to laugh. I tried really hard not to and a little whimper escaped. I struggled against the scarves in a futile attempt to escape.
She stopped tickling me and began rubbing my penis, and she sucked it. Man but she gave good head. Involuntarily, I felt as if I was about to ejaculate. She squeezed my penis, blocking my orgasm, and making me feel even more frustrated.
"No. Not yet. I haven't heard you laugh yet. My, you are a shy ticklee."
She fingertip-massaged my midsection causing the laughter to build inside again. Her fingertips moved in a circular motion over my ribs toward my underarms--the target she tickled furiously.
I burst out laughing and let out a big fart to boot.
"What's so funny?" she asked. "Are you laughing at my big boobies?"
"No," I said.
"I think you are laughing at my boobies because they are so big."
She straddled me and cradled her breasts and shoved them in my face.
"Do these tickle you?"
She tickled my underarms while her breasts covered my face so I couldn't see her hands, and I laughed loudly, uncontrollably. She reached back and rubbed my penis.
"You tried to fight it for awhile, but you were just overwhelmed with my expertise, weren't you?"
"Yeah, it was harder to take than I thought it would be," I admitted, blushing.
She saw my red cheeks.
"Being ticklish is nothing to be embarrassed about. It's something you can't help. Just like you couldn't hold in that big fart either"
The discussion made me feel humiliated. I almost wanted to yell out "Code Pink," just to stop her analysis.
"Are you embarrassed now?" she asked.
"Kind of."
"I'm sorry. I could let you go...or do you want more tickling."
I felt giddy, weak.
"More tickling," I said.
"Well then, we'll turn this record over."
She turned around and wiggled her backside, and I laughed even before she started the B side of her tickling session.
"You love it. Kitchie, kitchi, koo this Jewish lady knows what tickles you. Tickle, tickle, tickle," she teased.
And we were oblivious to the hordes of zombies roaming the planet as our game turned into a daily escape from reality. I was the old Jewish pinup model's ticklish prisoner, and she made me laugh everyday. I was defenseless to her tickle offense. We called it our happy hour, in the otherwise gloomy world within which we were trapped.
