He couldn't believe he was actually there. That she was with him. They met online and she teased him mercilessly...as he did her. She was nervous...he was eager. Had he agreed to be tickled, he was sure he would have been the one fidgeting about. He smiled as he looked at her...in her situation, there wasn't much fidgeting possible. He admired his handiwork...and her feet. The soft cord kept her feet from moving, twisting, or pulling away. Her toes, one by one were pulled back, held immobile. Her admired her little round toes, her second toe just past her big toe. His favorite kind of toes...Grecian. That one toe would recieve his special attention. He smiled and couldn't help but laugh quietly know what she was about to experience...to feel...to endure. Her feet were his palette...still, immobile, vulnerable...helpless. The soles of the feet...so sensitive....the nerves...her sensory rich soles were about to be explored, then exploited. He studied them, the perfectly round toes, her soft arches, each line and wrinkle...so adorable. The ball of her foot was just a bit rough, but he had techniques that would drive her wild...even there. He studied her toe prints, the lines and swirls on the bottom of her toes, her heels. He devoured her feet with his eyes...and it made her the more nervous. She saw his eyes, the glint...the twinkle...and his smile. He was fascinated by her feet and he sat there mesmerized. And she flinched.
He reached beside him and picked up a soft feather with a pointed tip...soft but precise. He started at her arch, ever so softly, the tip of the feather barely grazing the butter soft arch. He traced her arch tickling lovingly intent on driving her crazy. He watched as her foot tries to move, pull away...the toes straining to curl but they are helpless to escape the torment. Slight wrinkles form and quickly disappear as the muscles in the sole of her foot twitch. How bad she wants to move from this soft, agonizing ticklish sensation...but its incessant. He watches intently as the tip of the feather glides smoothly, up and down, sideways, lazily over and over...never leaving the ticklish skin of her arch. Its maddening, absolutely maddening to her...and he knows it. He can tell not only by her twitching sole, but the sounds coming from her. "Aaaaawwwe." he coos, "do you want me to stop, to remove this feather from your very ticklish arch? Because, well, I'm going to just tickle and tickle and tickle this soft ticklish arch. I am sooooo sorry." The tickling is getting worse, maddeningly ticklish....intense....the feathery tendrils tickling her soft receptive skin. And her squeals begin. "S-STOP!!!! P-PLEASE!!! IT'S TOO MUCH!!!!! - RUB THE ARCH, MAKE IT STOP!!!!"
He smiles as he KNOWS exactly how horrible, how wonderful...the absolute agony...and the absolute ecstasy...the real, raw, tickling torture...the excitement...for both of them and he slowly, intently continues to tickle her arch. He is lost in the moment...the moments....the minutes...he has lost track of time and she is crazy from the over stimulation when he finally stops. "Well, thats the left foot," he sighs, "...time for the right!"
She is absolutely beside herself when he finishes with the feather on her arches. Her left foot is still tickly, tingly...her right foot tickled out of it's mind. She just wants to rub the tickles away, but she can't. He picks up an artist paint brush with an exquisitely soft sable pointed tip. "Hmmmmmm, have you ever had your feet tickled with one of these? They can be absolutely, positively devastating...shall I return to the arches?...That was just to prime you...now I want you to laugh...long...hard...and uncontrollably." He takes the small pointed brush and poises at her second toe tickling the soft round bottom, tracing her toe prints, around and around her perfect Grecian toe, tickling the bottom, the tip and under its length, the sides and into the valley between her toes, titillating the oh so ticklish skin focusing just on that one toe. At his initial touch her entire body jolts and laughter erupts from her lips...and he quietly giggles at her response. He spends minutes in the valley of her toes, minutes on the tip running the ticklish bristles across the small round toe tip,...minutes on each side as her laughter and giggling fill the room. He could spend an hour just on this one sexy toe, but her sanity will only last for so long. He spends just as long minutes on each toe until her toes are alive, every nerve on high alert when he engulfs them with his mouth, running his tongue deviously between each toe...her pinky toe causing her to laugh and squeal hysterically. He loves her ticklish toes and devours them as her laughter escalates. He is drunk and intoxicated by it.
Her toes wiggle helplessly in his mouth, his tongue wreaking havoc of the wriggling digits desperate to escape his tickling tongue as her runs it around them, between them. At the same time he brings his short fingernails to the soft arch and begins to gently...slowly, tantalizingly, scritch and tickle the hyper ticklish skin...so light, his nails just grazing and gliding her toes and arch both tickled madly. The soft wet tongue, the precise tickling of her arch all focus simultaneously on the one small foot sending confusing and agonizing ticklish sensations crashing into her brain. Her laughter increases as if that is even possible...when he brings his other hand into play as he slowly runs the back of his thumb nail across her arch...over and over and over again. Slowly, persistently, up and down again and again. Her laughter hitches as she cannot laugh hard enough to deal with this new stimulation and its driving...her...wild!!! (Any female lees in w. pa? LOL)
He reached beside him and picked up a soft feather with a pointed tip...soft but precise. He started at her arch, ever so softly, the tip of the feather barely grazing the butter soft arch. He traced her arch tickling lovingly intent on driving her crazy. He watched as her foot tries to move, pull away...the toes straining to curl but they are helpless to escape the torment. Slight wrinkles form and quickly disappear as the muscles in the sole of her foot twitch. How bad she wants to move from this soft, agonizing ticklish sensation...but its incessant. He watches intently as the tip of the feather glides smoothly, up and down, sideways, lazily over and over...never leaving the ticklish skin of her arch. Its maddening, absolutely maddening to her...and he knows it. He can tell not only by her twitching sole, but the sounds coming from her. "Aaaaawwwe." he coos, "do you want me to stop, to remove this feather from your very ticklish arch? Because, well, I'm going to just tickle and tickle and tickle this soft ticklish arch. I am sooooo sorry." The tickling is getting worse, maddeningly ticklish....intense....the feathery tendrils tickling her soft receptive skin. And her squeals begin. "S-STOP!!!! P-PLEASE!!! IT'S TOO MUCH!!!!! - RUB THE ARCH, MAKE IT STOP!!!!"
He smiles as he KNOWS exactly how horrible, how wonderful...the absolute agony...and the absolute ecstasy...the real, raw, tickling torture...the excitement...for both of them and he slowly, intently continues to tickle her arch. He is lost in the moment...the moments....the minutes...he has lost track of time and she is crazy from the over stimulation when he finally stops. "Well, thats the left foot," he sighs, "...time for the right!"
She is absolutely beside herself when he finishes with the feather on her arches. Her left foot is still tickly, tingly...her right foot tickled out of it's mind. She just wants to rub the tickles away, but she can't. He picks up an artist paint brush with an exquisitely soft sable pointed tip. "Hmmmmmm, have you ever had your feet tickled with one of these? They can be absolutely, positively devastating...shall I return to the arches?...That was just to prime you...now I want you to laugh...long...hard...and uncontrollably." He takes the small pointed brush and poises at her second toe tickling the soft round bottom, tracing her toe prints, around and around her perfect Grecian toe, tickling the bottom, the tip and under its length, the sides and into the valley between her toes, titillating the oh so ticklish skin focusing just on that one toe. At his initial touch her entire body jolts and laughter erupts from her lips...and he quietly giggles at her response. He spends minutes in the valley of her toes, minutes on the tip running the ticklish bristles across the small round toe tip,...minutes on each side as her laughter and giggling fill the room. He could spend an hour just on this one sexy toe, but her sanity will only last for so long. He spends just as long minutes on each toe until her toes are alive, every nerve on high alert when he engulfs them with his mouth, running his tongue deviously between each toe...her pinky toe causing her to laugh and squeal hysterically. He loves her ticklish toes and devours them as her laughter escalates. He is drunk and intoxicated by it.
Her toes wiggle helplessly in his mouth, his tongue wreaking havoc of the wriggling digits desperate to escape his tickling tongue as her runs it around them, between them. At the same time he brings his short fingernails to the soft arch and begins to gently...slowly, tantalizingly, scritch and tickle the hyper ticklish skin...so light, his nails just grazing and gliding her toes and arch both tickled madly. The soft wet tongue, the precise tickling of her arch all focus simultaneously on the one small foot sending confusing and agonizing ticklish sensations crashing into her brain. Her laughter increases as if that is even possible...when he brings his other hand into play as he slowly runs the back of his thumb nail across her arch...over and over and over again. Slowly, persistently, up and down again and again. Her laughter hitches as she cannot laugh hard enough to deal with this new stimulation and its driving...her...wild!!! (Any female lees in w. pa? LOL)
