ticklishscribe
3rd Level Violet Feather
- Joined
- Apr 27, 2002
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I suddenly stop and watch as your chest heaves, you grab for every ounce of air you can get and your writhing subsides. It doesn’t subside totally though as you involuntarily twitch and spasm and your voice of legible sentences returns. I return to your upper body and let my fingers flutter in your armpits and again you scream and tell me to fuck off. I have you good and you’re screaming mad at me, but that doesn’t help you in the least, but at the same time it give more help and information about you that I’ve ever known before.
Now you are begging to me, telling me what good friends we are and how friends would never do this to each other. Do what I ask back. I’m only tickling you and it can’t be that bad can it? You swear at me again, telling me that I know fully well it does. I then ask, if it’s bad, why are you happily laughing all the time? You respond very tersely that screams of laughter are anything but happy and that you will fucking kill me when you get loose.
“I’ve often wondered why there are feathers about the place, now I know why.”
You shriek as I pick one up and I flit it under your nose, causing you to jerk and then writhe. I grip your left forearm right by your armpit, my thumb stretching your armpit skin taught and I reverse the feather and begin rapidly stroking the quill end in your deepest recess. You shriek once more, swear at me again and then burst into intense laughter, and bucking and writhing.
“I’ve hit another hotspot! You are just a cornucopia of ticklish delights, and I plan on feasting on this generously exquisite buffet.”
You are swearing at me a blue streak and I laugh back at you once more.
"Does this quill tickle you?” I tease. “Somehow your reactions are giving me that idea.”
You growl at me and utter some more profane language that makes me giggle. I continue tickling, glancing back at you to see those grimacing looks that I love so much. While I can’t see your eyes I know that they’re scrunched tightly shut and I giggle again. Again you growl at me, and again the profane language is uttered. Again you growl at me, and again the profane language is uttered. I tell you again how much you look like a young Nancy Sinatra, and then begin singing “These feet are made for tickling and that’s just what I’ll do…” This has you growl at me further and I can now only hear some illegible language coming from you. I have you where I want you, totally under my control and ready to promise me anything.
“Damn I love this armpit, it’s so soft, tender and ticklish! I wonder if the other one is just as ticklish.”
My wonderment is moot as you know that I’m going to tickle it at some point, and now that you know that I know that the quill is the perfect tool to do so, you are fighting with all your strength.
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-write-about-especially-about-that-sweet-spot
I suddenly stop and watch as your chest heaves, you grab for every ounce of air you can get and your writhing subsides. It doesn’t subside totally though as you involuntarily twitch and spasm and your voice of legible sentences returns. I return to your upper body and let my fingers flutter in your armpits and again you scream and tell me to fuck off. I have you good and you’re screaming mad at me, but that doesn’t help you in the least, but at the same time it give more help and information about you that I’ve ever known before.
Now you are begging to me, telling me what good friends we are and how friends would never do this to each other. Do what I ask back. I’m only tickling you and it can’t be that bad can it? You swear at me again, telling me that I know fully well it does. I then ask, if it’s bad, why are you happily laughing all the time? You respond very tersely that screams of laughter are anything but happy and that you will fucking kill me when you get loose.
“I’ve often wondered why there are feathers about the place, now I know why.”
You shriek as I pick one up and I flit it under your nose, causing you to jerk and then writhe. I grip your left forearm right by your armpit, my thumb stretching your armpit skin taught and I reverse the feather and begin rapidly stroking the quill end in your deepest recess. You shriek once more, swear at me again and then burst into intense laughter, and bucking and writhing.
“I’ve hit another hotspot! You are just a cornucopia of ticklish delights, and I plan on feasting on this generously exquisite buffet.”
You are swearing at me a blue streak and I laugh back at you once more.
"Does this quill tickle you?” I tease. “Somehow your reactions are giving me that idea.”
You growl at me and utter some more profane language that makes me giggle. I continue tickling, glancing back at you to see those grimacing looks that I love so much. While I can’t see your eyes I know that they’re scrunched tightly shut and I giggle again. Again you growl at me, and again the profane language is uttered. Again you growl at me, and again the profane language is uttered. I tell you again how much you look like a young Nancy Sinatra, and then begin singing “These feet are made for tickling and that’s just what I’ll do…” This has you growl at me further and I can now only hear some illegible language coming from you. I have you where I want you, totally under my control and ready to promise me anything.
“Damn I love this armpit, it’s so soft, tender and ticklish! I wonder if the other one is just as ticklish.”
My wonderment is moot as you know that I’m going to tickle it at some point, and now that you know that I know that the quill is the perfect tool to do so, you are fighting with all your strength.
http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-write-about-especially-about-that-sweet-spot
