• The TMF is sponsored by Clips4sale - By supporting them, you're supporting us.
  • >>> If you cannot get into your account email me at [email protected] <<<
    Don't forget to include your username

The TMF is sponsored by:

Clips4Sale Banner

Late Night At The Office (m/f)

UnknownWatcher

Registered User
Joined
Dec 13, 2007
Messages
23
Points
0
It's been awhile! =D I'd like to thank all you peeps who gave comments, criticism, and personal inbox's that encouraged me to write more. ^-^

Here's another story, this one I actually wrote a while back. It has no relation to the Mrs. K series/tributes I posted.

This story I wrote then, merely to stretch some writing muscles. xD I realize that my writing style is very descriptive, it's how I am. This also means that my stories can be a little long, and I understand that some folks get a tad bit impatient to get to the tickling bits. x]

So this time, I've included a color marker to show where the start of the tickling part comes in. This story I wrote with only feet and underarm tickling. The red and blue colors mark each respectively. =)

Anyways, as always I hope you reading this will enjoy. And again, any criticism or remarks are very much appreciated. ;) Thank you!​
 
Last edited:
Cup of Coffee

The glare from my computer screen was starting to take its toll on me. I paused a moment and rubbed my sore eyes. Glancing at the clock on my desk, its analog hands displayed a quarter past seven. The sounds of the day were gone, no humming of fax machines, ringing of office phones, or the typical chattering of staff voices.

The hour was late, past dinner time and the office devoid of people. At least that was what I assumed, seeing only dimmed lights through the opaque glass door of my managerial office – until a shadow suddenly walked into view from behind the door. I didn’t expect anyone to be left in the office, and from the appearance of the silhouette – feminine. Sure enough, a second later I saw a hand raised and a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in.” I said, my voice weary.

The handle turned and the door opened. My eyes took a second to adjust, the fluorescent light glaring behind the feminine figure – the shadows on her face dimly revealed a smile. As the figure approached, the light from my table lamp fell across the face to lift those shadows and I recognized who it was – my secretary.

Elizabeth Darlington – 25 years old, half-British, five foot four inches tall – she stopped by the side of my desk, her hazel-green eyes looking merrily at me. In her hands were a cup and a saucer – and by the smell of it, very strong coffee.

“Jesus, Liz. I didn’t think anyone was left. You should be home, or out, or wherever but here!” I said, half sternly.

She merely laughed – her laugh was sweet and warm, and it matched her beautiful smile when she did.

“But here- I am” she said simply, in that English accent of hers that she carried. “And I brought you coffee”.

Barely three months into the company and the office had warmed up to Liz. She was sweet, diligent, talented, and most significantly; young – a much needed addition to an office that comprised mostly of midlife-crises and rigid-minded staffers. And she was beautiful, (a perk when I hired her) there was no doubt about that. She set the cup down, then stood there beaming at me, her hands clasped in front like a model employee as I gingerly took a sip from the steaming beverage – it was very strong.

“Italian?”

“Yes sir”

“Decaf?”

“No sir”

“Sugar?”

“Just a dash”

With that I took another sip, getting used to the thickness and strength. The warmth seeped into my bones.

“I figured you would be tired, so I made it strong – and in just the way you like it” she said as she winked at me.

That wasn’t the only thing I liked – as I looked her up and down. There was something else that Liz had, and it mostly showed when we had interactions like this one; when she would bring me coffee, or go over my schedule, or when handing me a stack of paperwork to sign. When she wanted it – she oozed seductivity. Her youth and sensuality (coupled with that accent of hers) would sometimes drive a married man in his late 40s, like myself – to thoughts of what it would be like to be young and vigorous again.

There in the dimly lit office of mine, I looked her over. She had a wonderful figure, which meant that almost anything she wore looked attractive on her. In office she often wore plain and simple attire, but they almost always hugged her body and showed her hourglass figure – she didn’t need a lot of effort to turn heads.

That day (or night if you’re particular) she sported full-black attire. She donned a simple stand-collared top, with a narrow but low décolletage (neckline) in the middle. The top was essentially sleeveless; the designer couldn’t have bothered with the cap-sleeves, for they were so short they were virtually non-existent. This also meant her arms were plenty bare, from her shoulders all the way down her arms. She wore a matching straight cut skirt, also black – apart from the white floral design which curved against her shapely hips. The skirt’s length also showed off plenty of legs, with the hem ending just above her knees. She had sheer nylons covering her thighs and legs, the nude color almost indistinguishable in the dim lighting – but not to my trained eyes. My observation ended at her feet, her leather flats covering her nylon clad soles and toes, they were also black.

As my gaze shifted back to her face, I noticed a faint smile on her lips. Liz had caught me looking her over, and her smile was a knowing one. Caught red-handed, I cleared my throat. She then spoke, breaking the silence.

“Is the coffee any good?”

“Yes, yes. Thank you. I needed this”

Her pretty face beamed and her lips parted to show her white teeth in a full smile.

“You’ve been so worked these past few days”

Her face showed her concern, and I felt my heart-string tug. I was thankful for the coffee and the moment’s distraction, I motioned to the chair in front my desk - and waved her to sit down. She nodded, and moved to sit herself as I took another sip.

“Perhaps too worked, that he forgets to ask how his secretary is doing lately” I said, asking how she was faring.

“Still a little rough around the edges, but I’m getting there” she replied. I merely chuckled.

We chatted a little. Liz was always fun to chat with, her youthful spirit and jovial ways always kept me absorbed. She often commented on how I was such a good listener. But really, she often worked herself up in our conversations that she’d turn talkative. It was also usually at this period where her sensuality would surface and she becomes (in her own words) a “tad” flirty – now was once such occasion.

“—and because of all that walking to the printer, now my feet and legs are killing me!” she complained at one point.

“Well, you should go for a massage then” I commented.

“Well, maybe my boss could give me one” she returned. Her eyes met mine, and there was a sly grin on her lips.

Immediately the atmosphere shifted, and there was a slight sexual tension in the air. Liz and I often had our occasional harmless flirting episodes. They were nothing more than playful banters, the occasional teasing. I was a married man, and she was someone who could pass off as my own daughter. Maybe it was the late hour, or all the weary work I was burdened with the past week, but I was extremely attracted to her then and there. The teasing jibes and sexual innuendos had got me excited.

Elizabeth had slipped her feet out of her flats, and in an audacious move, propped them on my desk – her boss’ desk. She crossed one foot over the other, her nylon clad toes wriggling in the air. She also undid her ponytail, pulling off the hairband that tied it up. She shook her hair loose, the auburn locks nestling softly about her shoulders – she then played with them with her hands, her arms raised. Not only was she showing off her feet, but was also visibly exposing her underarms.

I presumed that throughout all our jests and teasing in the couple months, Liz would have figured I had a thing for tickling women. Sometimes I’d give her a poke on her side, a stroke down her back, or spiders on her neck. I’d thrill at her squeal or giggles, and would chuckle as she swatted my hands away. Now she was clearly tempting me.

“Aren’t you a bold one now? Making demands of your boss.” I said, equally audacious.

All thoughts of work were long gone, only the sensual figure in front of me and her teasing was left. I looked over her feet, the transparent material of her nylons displayed her soles as if bare. I observed the contours, the creases of the arches and pondered at the softness of her skin there.

“Oh no, not a demand. A suggestion, or favor perhaps” she quipped, that sly smile still on her lips. She was always a witty one.

“Well, you’re lucky to have such a kind and obliging boss then”

With that, I set my cup and saucer aside, reached forward and took her right foot in my hands – I began lightly massaging her feet. Years of experience on my wife had turned me into a professional masseur, I started with each individual toe, using my thumbs and gently pressed them, caressing and massaging each toe for about a minute or so – she let out a pleasured sigh.

“Ooh, Mmmm”

I then moved down to the arches, using the same method but caressing the creases in circular motions – she enjoyed that too. Another two minutes on those arches, I finally moved down to the heel. Again I started by applying pressure from my thumbs, only this time – I started digging a little with my thumb-nails too. I watched Liz as she bit her lip, stifling a giggle, her nylon covered toes clenched slightly – her reaction was incredibly sexy. Spurred on, I applied more pressure and started digging slightly harder – her mouth broke into a smile. A minute later, her giggles broke through too.

“Hee heehee! Ohoho- dear!” her accent still intact.

I massaged and tickled her lightly like that for another minute, then switched to using only my thumb-nails – it tickled more and she started to laugh in earnest, pulling her foot slightly. My grip kept her foot in place.

“Ooahahahaa! Eeheehee- Ohgosh! Ohoeeheehee!”

I worked my thumbs all over her foot, digging the balls of her feet, gliding across the arches, and scraped at her heels – all the while thrilling at her laughs and girlish giggles.

“Tee-heehee! Aah! heeheehahaha!”

Five minutes passed, I set her foot down and gave her a moment to catch her breath. Once she recovered enough, I motioned to her left foot. She giggled a little, but obliged and set her left foot in my hands. I didn’t even bother massaging this time. Instead, I took one finger and stroked it from the top of her sole all the way down to her heel, before repeating the action. I did it ever so gently, the reason being that soft strokes on nylon-ed skin made for absolutely ticklish sensations – the proof was a squeal and her immediate burst of laughter. I had to hold her foot in place again.

“Ooahhaahaa! Oh mmy! Heeheeheehee! Haahhaahaa eheeheehee!”

Her hands were no longer playing with her hair but instead clutching at the arm rests. With one hand I held her ankle in place, and the other I softly stroked her sensitive sole. Her laughter went up a notch, when I couldn’t hold myself back any longer and brought all five fingers into play. I spidered them all over her nylon foot, tickling her in earnest. She really began to kick, and I used as much strength as I could to restrain her without hurting her as I tickled all over her sole.

“Ahhaahhhhhhh!! Haahaahhahahah!! Ohgosh! OHOeeheehehaahahaa!!”

Her face was an expression I could hang in an art gallery – it was beautiful. Her eyes were half shut, peering at me through small slits as her mouth opened wide in full-fledged laughter, her teeth flashing in the dim light, as her laughter resounded in the small room. I tickled her foot until my arm was too weak to keep it in place any longer, gradually slowing down until I came to a reluctant stop.

“T-that- Heeheehee! Was an unusual foot massage! Teeheehee!” she said in between giggles, recovering from the tickling.

“You wanted one, you got one” I said simply, gazing at her beautiful face as she slowly regained her breathing.

My eyes then shifted downwards. Her chest was still heaving slightly as she came closer to full recovery, her hands still clutching the arm rests. This had brought her arms away from her body, resulting in her underarms opening up – my eyes lingered on those opened hollows. If I’d learned anything from massaging her feet, I reckoned those hollows were soft and sensitive – and from her teasing earlier on, also smooth and hairless. I had the urge to feel them.

I got up from my chair and walked around my desk towards her – she craned her neck as she followed my movement. Reaching her, I spun her slowly on the swivel chair until she faced me, her legs sliding off the desk and settled back onto the floor. I then knelt in front of her with one knee so that I came to about her level, my palms resting on top of her hands.

“Don’t move” I whispered to her.

She might have thought I was going to grope her breasts, as I lifted my hands and brought it closer towards that direction. I wasn’t, which she soon realized as she watched my hands move under her open arms. I didn’t touch her yet.

“Don’t move, Liz” I said again. “Don’t close them”

She was unsure whether to frown nervously or giggle, as she gave me the cutest expression ever of conflict, but she nodded in comprehension. Having waited long enough, I finally let my hands make contact with the skin. I felt her shoulders flinch at the initial touch, but she kept her arms open as instructed. I didn’t want to tickle her just yet and merely wanted to feel her underarms. I thrilled at the sensation, as my hands fondled and caressed the soft skin of her hollows. She was biting her lip again, her shoulders quivering slightly, fighting the reflex of a foreign entity invading her sensitive skin under there. I caressed her like that for a good minute and a half. I then said to her:

“I’m going to tickle you now”

At those words, her held in giggles started bubbling out her lips and she began scrunching her shoulders, nearly trapping my fingers.

“Eee Heeheehe!”

“Ah- ah, don’t close them I said” my voice half-stern.

She giggled louder, but obeyed and opened her arms again. I gave her a few seconds, then started flicking my index fingers under her arms. She let out a small squeal, and more girlish giggles ensued.

“Eee! Teeheeheehee! Aheeheehee!”

My gentleman’s area started to hurt against my pants. I was in a sexual cloud nine as my senses were bombarded simultaneously with the softness of this young woman’s skin, the sound of her giggling, the smell of her perfume, and the sight of her beautiful smiling face. I felt like taking her there in my office, but that would be rape – or sexual assault (as if this wasn’t already). Instead, I settled by stroking her armpits with my remaining fingers, going into ‘full-gallop’. Her giggling gave way to full-blown laughter.

“Heeheehee-OAHAHAhaahaahaa!!”

Her head was thrown back as far into the chair as possible, as she laughed and occasionally tossed her head from side to side, struggling to keep her arms open. Her shoulders were scrunched up, and the space under her hollows continually closed in as she fought a losing battle. Eventually, her strength failed her and reflex won over. Her arms pulled back to her sides, closing her arms and trapping my fingers under her armpits.

“HahahHAAHAaha! EEeHeeheehehe!!”

It was heaven, the warmth and softness on my hands as I wriggled them under there, her petite body squirming into the chair, the submission of this sexy young woman as I elicited laughter from her at my whim. I wanted to play with her for hours, my lust at an all-time high. But eventually, even her obedient submission to her boss came to its limits and amidst her laughter came haltered pleas.

“HaaHaahaaha! Oh! Pleaaheehehhes! OH HeeHEEHEeehe! Siiiir! Eheeheeehee!!”

Sensing distress from an employee, I automatically snapped out of my reverie. I could see tears had formed in her eyes and they were shut tight. Her chest was heaving roughly, and strands of hair fell all about her face – her hands were gripping my forearms tightly. I made an abrupt stop, ceasing my wriggling fingers. Her laughter continued on for a good half minute before her mind registered that the tickling had halted. Her arms were still tightly clenched by her sides, my fingers still trapped. I looked to the clock, it had just hit eight o’clock – I most probably spent a good 15 minutes in total, tickling her since we began.

“Oh- ohgosh! Oohheheehee”

“Liz, I’m going to take them out now” I told her.

As I said that, her giggles came back louder and she scrunched up her shoulders a little more, shaking her head. She knew the action of taking my hands out from under her scrunched up shoulders would tickle – it was the dreaded implication this tickling position had. Either the tickler had to remove his hands, or the ticklee had to raise her arms to free them. Liz didn’t look like she was able to do the latter, so I had to remove my trapped fingers by force.

As I tugged initially, Liz’s arms clamped harder. My pulling tickled her, but I managed to yank my hands free as she gave a squeal, tucked a hand each under an arm and giggled as she rubbed her tickled spots. I watched delighted at this now mess of a woman as she slowly recovered her breath. She was leaning forward, hands still tucked under, and her face giggling so close to mine I could have kissed her. But instead I stood up, patted her head affectionately, and sat on my desk next to her. I reached for my coffee – it was cold, and took sips at it until she completely recovered.

***​

We left the office together that night at half past eight. I walked her to her car, we chatted casually and talked about regular things as if the whole escapade never happened, before bidding each other goodnight. Back home in bed, my mind replayed every detail that transpired – every trace of her ticklish skin, her smile, her laughter. Reminding myself I had more work in the morning, I forced my tired eyes to close. As I finally drifted off into slumber, thoughts of seeing my secretary again in the office slowly lulled me to sleep, and I eventually floated away into a land filled with hazel-green eyes, auburn hair, and angelic laughter..

END
 

Attachments

  • Dmain.jpg
    Dmain.jpg
    191.3 KB · Views: 327
Last edited:
I enjoyed your story and have no trouble with the length. In fact I love the set up, getting to know the characters a bit and liked the way the story builds to the tickling scene. I'm not a great writer but when I compose a story I too like to be as descriptive as possible if that means more words on the page than so be it. The idea is to express your passion in as many words or paragraphs or chapters as it takes to satisfy you and to hopefully be enjoyed by others.
 
Another fantastic story, I like your style. Good job! :clap:
 
I enjoyed your story and have no trouble with the length. In fact I love the set up, getting to know the characters a bit and liked the way the story builds to the tickling scene. I'm not a great writer but when I compose a story I too like to be as descriptive as possible if that means more words on the page than so be it. The idea is to express your passion in as many words or paragraphs or chapters as it takes to satisfy you and to hopefully be enjoyed by others.

To be on the same page as a TMF veteran writer is very much encouraging. =) I do love writing stories that stretch the limits of my personal observation, in fact often I feel that my writing isn't descriptive enough. I very much appreciate the constructive feedback. THank you. =D

Another fantastic story, I like your style. Good job! :clap:

I'm very much glad you enjoyed it! Thank you! =)
 
That was phenomenal sir. My only observation would be to make her flats into heels/pumps. Makes the "legs and feet hurt" line much more plausible. That's just me though. Amazing work.
 
To me the best authors are the ones whose work I read and in my mind I see the story in my head. Your work does that for me. Please don't worry about the length! And please continue to entertain us with your work. It is much appreciated!

Thanks for all your efforts!
 
That was phenomenal sir. My only observation would be to make her flats into heels/pumps. Makes the "legs and feet hurt" line much more plausible. That's just me though. Amazing work.

And an astute observation at that! I like how your mind works~ :makingalist: Thank you kind sir! :yourock:

To me the best authors are the ones whose work I read and in my mind I see the story in my head. Your work does that for me. Please don't worry about the length! And please continue to entertain us with your work. It is much appreciated!

Thanks for all your efforts!

And the opportunity to entertain kind readers such as yourself makes all the effort worth while. :) Thank you kindly! ^-^
 
Absolutely love the story! Who has wished for someone from the office to present themselves for a nylon tickling! Hope to read more ; )
 
Absolutely love the story! Who has wished for someone from the office to present themselves for a nylon tickling! Hope to read more ; )

I'm glad you enjoyed it! Your encouragement is very much appreciated! :) :D
 
Last edited:
What's New

3/29/2024
The TMF Gathering forums keep you up to date on where and when folk are meeting up.
Tickle Experiment
Door 44
NEST 2024
Register here
The world's largest online clip store
Live Camgirls!
Live Camgirls
Streaming Videos
Pic of the Week
Pic of the Week
Congratulations to
*** brad1701 ***
The winner of our weekly Trivia, held every Sunday night at 11PM EST in our Chat Room
Back
Top