I’ve felt this beautiful strain before. I absolutely ADORE the endurance challenges my lover brings to me. She knows how much I love to be tickled and I know how much enjoyment she receives in tickling me. My lover and I are both easily aroused by the satisfaction we get in giving to one another in every way possible. In this case, the gratification is quite reciprocal. She gets turned on by playing the role of Dominatrix. I’m aroused by how well she does it.
The challenge set in place for this durability test was to be a two-fold “struggle”. I would remain perfectly still once placed in whatever poses she chose. I would not be allowed to use any kind of negative language. I couldn’t say things like “No”, “I can’t take that”, “Please stop” or “It’s too much”. If I violated either of those instructions, I would … “suffer” … constant tickling after I have exploded on my armpits, kneecaps, hips, shaft and head until I passed out.
She not only created my role in our competition. She shared what would be both the best news AND the worst news imaginable. She told me that she intended to tickle every single inch very slowly and VERY gently. Instantaneously, my heart started pounding hard like a wild race horse with eager anticipation. She knew how much I craved her touch and how it left me weak and hungry for more. There would be no bonds to keep me in one place. It wouldn’t matter in which awkward position she placed me. I would be forced remain completely still for as long as she continued her heavenly torture.
After we kissed, she pulled me into the bathroom and began to undress me. Once she methodically and seductively removed my shirt, she pulled a complete about face and demanded, “Face the wall … hands pressed against surface and spread eagle … NOW”. I already began throbbing and aching with anticipation. Her fingers danced against the back of my hand, tracing the edge of each digit. She said, “This challenge is on”. While my hands are not ticklish at all, the combination of her tender touch, those words and the feel of the air as she whispered rendered me weak in the knees.
Under any normal circumstances, my level of ticklishness at the start of any lovemaking session (on a scale of one to ten) would begin at a six. Knowing that I was to remain perfectly still and feeling her fingers move ever closer to my underarms prepared me to lead off in the stratosphere. And it was this extreme expectancy that propelled me into a near panic, one that I needed to conceal.
While my body prepared for an onslaught of ticklish and sensual delight, I could feel her haunting words mixed with the mystic air whispered in my ear: “This challenge is on”. She started her clock with my palms pressed up against the bathroom wall and my body leaning at an angle as she prepared to deviously disrobe me … physically … verbally … emotionally. I remembered the terms of the challenge: remain perfectly still once placed in whatever positions she chose ... hindered from using any negative language.” This challenge could be over before it begins, but I chose to stay determined not to make it easy for her.
Her fingers reached the hollows of my armpits and slide around every inch of skin … slowly and systematically. At first, I believed myself to be primed for the worst of anything she had to dish out. I found out just how wrong I was. I expected her to blaze a light path down my sides. Instead, she walked her wiggling fingers around the edges my shoulder blades. One hand eventually found itself tickling the back of my neck, one of the MOST ticklish spots on my body.
I started cackling like a virgin schoolgirl in heat while she varied the speed of her tickles, focusing her delicately ticklish touch on the center of the back of my neck. Then, cleverly giggling like the brilliantly creative little vixen that she is, the other hand slid and wiggled down the center of my back, veering off to the side until she found my left hip.
It was all I could do to stand there, motionless, literally laughing my ass off while she spent what seemed like hours stroking those two spots. Yet, somehow, I found enough composure to remain still. She found enough mercy in her heart to pause and turn on the water, waiting for the shower.
She loosened my pants the rest of the way, letting them fall harmlessly to the floor. She pulled and tugged at my underwear, letting every piece of clothing land at my ankles. She decided to let one of her fingers trace a circle around the back of my knee while the other hand crawled like a spider between my legs grabbing hold of my shaft and pumping.
I was a mixture of moans and giggles, forcing my knees to lock so that I could remain still. One hand moved from the back of the knee and began sliding around my kneecap. The other hand slithered to the head of my pulsing manhood and began massaging it slowly and tenderly. At this point, I did more moaning than giggling, although feeling more ticklish in this position than I have ever felt before. In the first of her “tease and denial” changes, my lover whispered, “It’s time to get wet”.
Stimulated beyond belief and weakened by the laughter, I scarcely made my way into the shower where she waited for me. We would usually take a long sensual shower together, although this time she reprimanded me to not waste time as she had … “plans”.
We kissed again, this time in a long and passionate embrace, while she ran her nails across my sides. I couldn’t jump back because of the challenge. I loaded her with suds and let my hands softly caress all over her. Knowing how much revenge I was ready to receive, I went in for whatever tickling I could get away with on her. I scraped my fingers across the bottom of each foot while she stood helpless. I heard light giggles followed by, “Remember. Karma is a bitch”.
The real fun began when I aimed the shower hose in between her legs. I told her I just wanted to make sure she was … completely clean. Then I turned the spray to one of the more direct flows and massaged her rather inflamed clit. She moaned long followed by a low laugh and a deep breath. She whispered, “I love you, baby”. I looked up and simply replied, “More”.
I turned her backside toward me and did the same thing. While tickling her inner thigh, she said, “Oh, you have no idea what’s ahead for you”. She was right. I could hardly keep my enthusiasm in. I helped her wash her hair then prepared for the best kind of torture I could ever imagine.
She took my hand and raised it toward the ceiling. She positioned my hand behind my head so as to completely expose my armpit then let her fingers slowly slide back to its hollow. Her fingers gently wiggled while her hand formed an ever widening circle. I closed my eyes, locked my knees and tried to keep from moving anything, unaware that her other fingers found their way to my manhood once more.
I’m determined to stay still. I can laugh. I can cry. I can scream. I … just … can’t … move. With her right hand in liquid soap, she covered my already swollen and hyper sensitive well and began syphoning slowly once again. She knelt down and began tickling the top of my foot, another place that is also ticklish beyond belief.
The silence in the bathroom cracked open with loud, deep guffaws. I just couldn’t control myself any longer, though I wouldn’t bear the thought of tickling, teasing then denial after I have already exploded until I passed out. I tried to muster what little energy I had left to attempt to make one final “stand”. She rose and took the shower head down to my intensified member. Though I couldn’t move to see what she was doing, I felt warm water in concert with her fingers removing soap. I sensed a reprieve in the offing.
Without warning, her mouth covered my penis and began milking me quite tenderly. At the same time, both of her hands found their way to my kneecaps and begin to tickle all around. I knew there was nothing I can do. I wanted to scream, “Please stop! I can’t take anymore!” My stomach hurt from laughing so hard, but, for some reason, I was able to remain still.
She dried off and allowed me to gather my composure. I struggled out of the shower while she took powders and lotions from the bathroom into the bedroom and waited … and waited … and waited. I took the opportunity to gather myself, for I knew that, if that was my introduction to the rest of the evening, I would be in severe trouble.
I’m already out of my mind with delicate nerve endings. She directed me to lay face down on the bed spread eagle, reminding me to remain motionless. She took her hand and exposed my penis to the warm air blowing through the bedroom, pointing my head to between my legs. She took powder and spread it generously over my back and behind. She then got off the bed and reached in her drawer for the two motorized toothbrushes.
She placed each toothbrush on either side of my shaft and scraped her fingers across the head of my penis with slow rhythms and light touches. The vibrating toothbrush heads and the nails were simply unbearable. The level of my sensitivity was already high than the national debt because of all the fun we shared in the shower.
I simply snorted like a drunken fool. Though we had a bit of a familiarity to our tickling and love making, I felt I was in uncharted water … ready for almost anything (or so I thought). I had no chance to recover when she move in between my legs, licking the exposed head of my manhood while tickling my butt cheeks at the same time. She achieved in me that Nirvana of the tickling world: silent laughter.
“Well, let’s get this part over with”, she blurted cavalierly while bending my leg so as to bring my foot in her mouth. She covered the bottom of my foot with lotion, careful to not let it get in between my toes. She let one hand trace the lotion to the top of my foot. So one hand lightly danced across the top of my foot while her other fingers tickled across the ball of that foot and her tongue massaged in between my toes. I hooted harder than I thought possible. Tempting as it was to shake my other leg, I refrained.
After repeating the same torture on my other foot, she returned to the powder on my back, letting her fingers wiggle this way and that finding every ticklish inch of skin I had. Both hands eventually found their way to the back of my neck. Just when I thought I couldn’t stand any more, she repositioned herself lying across my back to both hands tickling my side. Just as quickly one hand reached for my penis to slide up and down the shaft while the other hand danced in my armpit hollow. I am, once again, ready to surrender when she decides it’s time to move me into another pose.
She quietly and quickly placed me on my side in the middle of the mattress. She positioned both feet to point at the edge of the bed. My lover moved my arms toward the very center of the headboard. She granted SOME measure of mercy by laying a pillow for my head, which also held my arms in place. When she traced a finger from my armpit hollow down my side, I knew I had very little fight left. Though … “lounging” with one hip pointed toward the sky, my shoulders were postured flat against the mattress.
She nibbled on my ear for a second and whispered how she loved me more. She kissed me passionately … that was enough to make me squirm, though I felt she missed my wiggle. I closed my eyes to relish the feeling of the moment, only to feel the shock of her tongue dance in my armpit and her fingers dancing around my neck. Screaming happiness rolled from my chest … I knew it was over.
I no longer cared about the threat of constant tickling. It didn’t matter that she still hadn’t start the tease and denial phase that she promised. It wasn’t relevant to me if I passed out. I wouldn’t hold in my emotions. I laughed out loud and started kicking my legs. She stopped and stared at me accusingly.
“Now what did I say”, she queried like the district attorney in a court case. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what ….” She kept up the pressure while waiting for my answer by tickling my side and armpit.
I was even drunker with sidesplitting laughter. “I don’t care about any challenge! Do your worst. Make me lose my load in you five times over! Bring me into hysterics … I … can’t … stay … still!” I couldn’t hold it in. I couldn’t stay still any more. She laid over me in a way to hold my legs in place. She began slowly licking my armpit again while massaging my shaft’s tip gently. The more I resisted, the faster she massaged. She decided to go for the kill.
From this moment on, she decided that, whenever possible, my penis became a major part of her offensive. What made the torment more enjoyable was the fact that I was so ticklish by this time that she could look at a body part and send me into severe hysterics. Her touches remained light, gentle and tender, though she replaced her slow steady diet of assaults with fast changes. She pushed me onto my back and forced my legs to spread eagle. She bent my leg to get access to my feet, began licking my pelvic line and pumping me all at the same time.
She decided to sit the center of the bed and wrap my legs around her. I knew what was coming next. With one hand, she either milked my shaft or kneaded the tip of my penis, depending on what fancied her at the time. With the other hand, she let her fingers dance across one of my feet, tickle one of my kneecaps, prod my perineum or slide up and down my pelvic line. She could even torture from both of my sides to either of my armpits and every place in between. I laughed and laughed, for a moment to moment screaming, “I can’t move”! Then she would giggle and quip, “I know”!
Then my responses started to surprise her, as I began laughing less and moaning more. Knowing this, she climbed on top of me, took hold of my shaft and began circling the whole of her womanhood with my head. I returned to the state of inebriated laughter, throwing my head back and forth.
As she knew just how wet and excited her entry felt, she quickly inserted me inside and immediately began hopping up and down on me. She slowed her pace and began tickling my hips. I could manage nothing more than silent laughter as she alternated one hand between an armpit and a kneecap while the other hand continued to slide around my hip. I knew I was close, feeling tingling in my feet as well.
She felt me get larger and heard me moan more, knowing I was ready to explode. It prompted her to stop, which made me remember the other phase of my torture. I started giggling while she slowly climbed off, bent down and placed me in her mouth to milk again. She tickled my sides then my perineum until I felt I was about to explode without feeling inside her.
She quickly mounted me and began her slow descent, inserting my head inside of her. By this time, there were no more moans to be found. All I did was laugh … and chuckle … and giggle … and laugh some more. The only factor that making me laugh more was how many places she tickled at the same time. She varied the speed of her thrusts and I can do nothing about it but lay there in complete and uncontrollable hysterics.
She pushed me to the brink and I wasn’t even able to pull her to me as I forcefully burst inside of her. She decided to be merciful to me and refrain from any more tease and denial. Instead, she continued to slowly thrust on my incredibly electrified manhood and tickle any combination of knees, hips, sides and armpits. And simply put, I love her.
The challenge set in place for this durability test was to be a two-fold “struggle”. I would remain perfectly still once placed in whatever poses she chose. I would not be allowed to use any kind of negative language. I couldn’t say things like “No”, “I can’t take that”, “Please stop” or “It’s too much”. If I violated either of those instructions, I would … “suffer” … constant tickling after I have exploded on my armpits, kneecaps, hips, shaft and head until I passed out.
She not only created my role in our competition. She shared what would be both the best news AND the worst news imaginable. She told me that she intended to tickle every single inch very slowly and VERY gently. Instantaneously, my heart started pounding hard like a wild race horse with eager anticipation. She knew how much I craved her touch and how it left me weak and hungry for more. There would be no bonds to keep me in one place. It wouldn’t matter in which awkward position she placed me. I would be forced remain completely still for as long as she continued her heavenly torture.
After we kissed, she pulled me into the bathroom and began to undress me. Once she methodically and seductively removed my shirt, she pulled a complete about face and demanded, “Face the wall … hands pressed against surface and spread eagle … NOW”. I already began throbbing and aching with anticipation. Her fingers danced against the back of my hand, tracing the edge of each digit. She said, “This challenge is on”. While my hands are not ticklish at all, the combination of her tender touch, those words and the feel of the air as she whispered rendered me weak in the knees.
Under any normal circumstances, my level of ticklishness at the start of any lovemaking session (on a scale of one to ten) would begin at a six. Knowing that I was to remain perfectly still and feeling her fingers move ever closer to my underarms prepared me to lead off in the stratosphere. And it was this extreme expectancy that propelled me into a near panic, one that I needed to conceal.
While my body prepared for an onslaught of ticklish and sensual delight, I could feel her haunting words mixed with the mystic air whispered in my ear: “This challenge is on”. She started her clock with my palms pressed up against the bathroom wall and my body leaning at an angle as she prepared to deviously disrobe me … physically … verbally … emotionally. I remembered the terms of the challenge: remain perfectly still once placed in whatever positions she chose ... hindered from using any negative language.” This challenge could be over before it begins, but I chose to stay determined not to make it easy for her.
Her fingers reached the hollows of my armpits and slide around every inch of skin … slowly and systematically. At first, I believed myself to be primed for the worst of anything she had to dish out. I found out just how wrong I was. I expected her to blaze a light path down my sides. Instead, she walked her wiggling fingers around the edges my shoulder blades. One hand eventually found itself tickling the back of my neck, one of the MOST ticklish spots on my body.
I started cackling like a virgin schoolgirl in heat while she varied the speed of her tickles, focusing her delicately ticklish touch on the center of the back of my neck. Then, cleverly giggling like the brilliantly creative little vixen that she is, the other hand slid and wiggled down the center of my back, veering off to the side until she found my left hip.
It was all I could do to stand there, motionless, literally laughing my ass off while she spent what seemed like hours stroking those two spots. Yet, somehow, I found enough composure to remain still. She found enough mercy in her heart to pause and turn on the water, waiting for the shower.
She loosened my pants the rest of the way, letting them fall harmlessly to the floor. She pulled and tugged at my underwear, letting every piece of clothing land at my ankles. She decided to let one of her fingers trace a circle around the back of my knee while the other hand crawled like a spider between my legs grabbing hold of my shaft and pumping.
I was a mixture of moans and giggles, forcing my knees to lock so that I could remain still. One hand moved from the back of the knee and began sliding around my kneecap. The other hand slithered to the head of my pulsing manhood and began massaging it slowly and tenderly. At this point, I did more moaning than giggling, although feeling more ticklish in this position than I have ever felt before. In the first of her “tease and denial” changes, my lover whispered, “It’s time to get wet”.
Stimulated beyond belief and weakened by the laughter, I scarcely made my way into the shower where she waited for me. We would usually take a long sensual shower together, although this time she reprimanded me to not waste time as she had … “plans”.
We kissed again, this time in a long and passionate embrace, while she ran her nails across my sides. I couldn’t jump back because of the challenge. I loaded her with suds and let my hands softly caress all over her. Knowing how much revenge I was ready to receive, I went in for whatever tickling I could get away with on her. I scraped my fingers across the bottom of each foot while she stood helpless. I heard light giggles followed by, “Remember. Karma is a bitch”.
The real fun began when I aimed the shower hose in between her legs. I told her I just wanted to make sure she was … completely clean. Then I turned the spray to one of the more direct flows and massaged her rather inflamed clit. She moaned long followed by a low laugh and a deep breath. She whispered, “I love you, baby”. I looked up and simply replied, “More”.
I turned her backside toward me and did the same thing. While tickling her inner thigh, she said, “Oh, you have no idea what’s ahead for you”. She was right. I could hardly keep my enthusiasm in. I helped her wash her hair then prepared for the best kind of torture I could ever imagine.
She took my hand and raised it toward the ceiling. She positioned my hand behind my head so as to completely expose my armpit then let her fingers slowly slide back to its hollow. Her fingers gently wiggled while her hand formed an ever widening circle. I closed my eyes, locked my knees and tried to keep from moving anything, unaware that her other fingers found their way to my manhood once more.
I’m determined to stay still. I can laugh. I can cry. I can scream. I … just … can’t … move. With her right hand in liquid soap, she covered my already swollen and hyper sensitive well and began syphoning slowly once again. She knelt down and began tickling the top of my foot, another place that is also ticklish beyond belief.
The silence in the bathroom cracked open with loud, deep guffaws. I just couldn’t control myself any longer, though I wouldn’t bear the thought of tickling, teasing then denial after I have already exploded until I passed out. I tried to muster what little energy I had left to attempt to make one final “stand”. She rose and took the shower head down to my intensified member. Though I couldn’t move to see what she was doing, I felt warm water in concert with her fingers removing soap. I sensed a reprieve in the offing.
Without warning, her mouth covered my penis and began milking me quite tenderly. At the same time, both of her hands found their way to my kneecaps and begin to tickle all around. I knew there was nothing I can do. I wanted to scream, “Please stop! I can’t take anymore!” My stomach hurt from laughing so hard, but, for some reason, I was able to remain still.
She dried off and allowed me to gather my composure. I struggled out of the shower while she took powders and lotions from the bathroom into the bedroom and waited … and waited … and waited. I took the opportunity to gather myself, for I knew that, if that was my introduction to the rest of the evening, I would be in severe trouble.
I’m already out of my mind with delicate nerve endings. She directed me to lay face down on the bed spread eagle, reminding me to remain motionless. She took her hand and exposed my penis to the warm air blowing through the bedroom, pointing my head to between my legs. She took powder and spread it generously over my back and behind. She then got off the bed and reached in her drawer for the two motorized toothbrushes.
She placed each toothbrush on either side of my shaft and scraped her fingers across the head of my penis with slow rhythms and light touches. The vibrating toothbrush heads and the nails were simply unbearable. The level of my sensitivity was already high than the national debt because of all the fun we shared in the shower.
I simply snorted like a drunken fool. Though we had a bit of a familiarity to our tickling and love making, I felt I was in uncharted water … ready for almost anything (or so I thought). I had no chance to recover when she move in between my legs, licking the exposed head of my manhood while tickling my butt cheeks at the same time. She achieved in me that Nirvana of the tickling world: silent laughter.
“Well, let’s get this part over with”, she blurted cavalierly while bending my leg so as to bring my foot in her mouth. She covered the bottom of my foot with lotion, careful to not let it get in between my toes. She let one hand trace the lotion to the top of my foot. So one hand lightly danced across the top of my foot while her other fingers tickled across the ball of that foot and her tongue massaged in between my toes. I hooted harder than I thought possible. Tempting as it was to shake my other leg, I refrained.
After repeating the same torture on my other foot, she returned to the powder on my back, letting her fingers wiggle this way and that finding every ticklish inch of skin I had. Both hands eventually found their way to the back of my neck. Just when I thought I couldn’t stand any more, she repositioned herself lying across my back to both hands tickling my side. Just as quickly one hand reached for my penis to slide up and down the shaft while the other hand danced in my armpit hollow. I am, once again, ready to surrender when she decides it’s time to move me into another pose.
She quietly and quickly placed me on my side in the middle of the mattress. She positioned both feet to point at the edge of the bed. My lover moved my arms toward the very center of the headboard. She granted SOME measure of mercy by laying a pillow for my head, which also held my arms in place. When she traced a finger from my armpit hollow down my side, I knew I had very little fight left. Though … “lounging” with one hip pointed toward the sky, my shoulders were postured flat against the mattress.
She nibbled on my ear for a second and whispered how she loved me more. She kissed me passionately … that was enough to make me squirm, though I felt she missed my wiggle. I closed my eyes to relish the feeling of the moment, only to feel the shock of her tongue dance in my armpit and her fingers dancing around my neck. Screaming happiness rolled from my chest … I knew it was over.
I no longer cared about the threat of constant tickling. It didn’t matter that she still hadn’t start the tease and denial phase that she promised. It wasn’t relevant to me if I passed out. I wouldn’t hold in my emotions. I laughed out loud and started kicking my legs. She stopped and stared at me accusingly.
“Now what did I say”, she queried like the district attorney in a court case. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what ….” She kept up the pressure while waiting for my answer by tickling my side and armpit.
I was even drunker with sidesplitting laughter. “I don’t care about any challenge! Do your worst. Make me lose my load in you five times over! Bring me into hysterics … I … can’t … stay … still!” I couldn’t hold it in. I couldn’t stay still any more. She laid over me in a way to hold my legs in place. She began slowly licking my armpit again while massaging my shaft’s tip gently. The more I resisted, the faster she massaged. She decided to go for the kill.
From this moment on, she decided that, whenever possible, my penis became a major part of her offensive. What made the torment more enjoyable was the fact that I was so ticklish by this time that she could look at a body part and send me into severe hysterics. Her touches remained light, gentle and tender, though she replaced her slow steady diet of assaults with fast changes. She pushed me onto my back and forced my legs to spread eagle. She bent my leg to get access to my feet, began licking my pelvic line and pumping me all at the same time.
She decided to sit the center of the bed and wrap my legs around her. I knew what was coming next. With one hand, she either milked my shaft or kneaded the tip of my penis, depending on what fancied her at the time. With the other hand, she let her fingers dance across one of my feet, tickle one of my kneecaps, prod my perineum or slide up and down my pelvic line. She could even torture from both of my sides to either of my armpits and every place in between. I laughed and laughed, for a moment to moment screaming, “I can’t move”! Then she would giggle and quip, “I know”!
Then my responses started to surprise her, as I began laughing less and moaning more. Knowing this, she climbed on top of me, took hold of my shaft and began circling the whole of her womanhood with my head. I returned to the state of inebriated laughter, throwing my head back and forth.
As she knew just how wet and excited her entry felt, she quickly inserted me inside and immediately began hopping up and down on me. She slowed her pace and began tickling my hips. I could manage nothing more than silent laughter as she alternated one hand between an armpit and a kneecap while the other hand continued to slide around my hip. I knew I was close, feeling tingling in my feet as well.
She felt me get larger and heard me moan more, knowing I was ready to explode. It prompted her to stop, which made me remember the other phase of my torture. I started giggling while she slowly climbed off, bent down and placed me in her mouth to milk again. She tickled my sides then my perineum until I felt I was about to explode without feeling inside her.
She quickly mounted me and began her slow descent, inserting my head inside of her. By this time, there were no more moans to be found. All I did was laugh … and chuckle … and giggle … and laugh some more. The only factor that making me laugh more was how many places she tickled at the same time. She varied the speed of her thrusts and I can do nothing about it but lay there in complete and uncontrollable hysterics.
She pushed me to the brink and I wasn’t even able to pull her to me as I forcefully burst inside of her. She decided to be merciful to me and refrain from any more tease and denial. Instead, she continued to slowly thrust on my incredibly electrified manhood and tickle any combination of knees, hips, sides and armpits. And simply put, I love her.
