First, I would like to thank you for reading this story. It is not so much of a story as it is an account. Something I thought to be very unreal this past, decade as a person who delights in knismolagnia. That is to say I enjoy tickling as a fetish. However, I live in the American Heartland where the Bible runs deep, and men and women only seemingly seek out the interaction of coitus only when it coincides with the cycles of the moon. Heaven save us, if our carnal/primal nature should rapture us for an hour or so…
But, I digress. For the purpose of this tale, I shall call myself… Adam. It is, of course, set in the Midwest at a steel mill near the banks of the mighty Mississippi river. And while it may seem as if this may be a flight of fictional fantasy, I assure you that it takes its roots from a real life encounter. So…
It was a pleasant night in late September as I drove my cart out of the plant, the facility is so large that the give us carts to ride around in. The soft hum of the electric engine intertwined with the rhythm of the cicadas, as a cooling breeze blew off the nearby Mississippi. It had been a long shift, a long week. As a Foreman, I am always the first man there and the last to leave. So, every night I leave I have to drop of my paperwork and check out at the outside contractor building before driving out the gate. This gives me ample opportunity to get to know many of the facility supervisors, including the individual whom I shared this encounter with.
Her name is Dee, a 5’2” pretty, young blonde woman in her late 20’s. As a gentleman, I will not speculate as to her actual weight, however I will say that she has the nice curvature of a woman. Not of the nubile form, that the pornography industry pushes us. She is neither sleight, nor hefty. Fit. Athletic. She is, one of the individuals in charge of outside contractors. A person I had, to that point, dealt with on many occasions in our process of a year and a half long expansion of the plant.
Now you must understand that I am a professional man, collegiately educated. However having been raised in the community I was, I can be rough around the edges. I still enjoy working with my hands. The dirt, the sweat, the grind; being able to step back at the end of the day and actually look at something I made. Not sitting in an office, taking gruff from an “Area Manager”. I also don’t take well to people… in general. What little time I did spend in college around the crème de la crème of society, was punctuated constantly by my having to tell them politely to “Fuck Off”.
So even though the men on my crew liked me, because I treat them how I would want to be treated by a Foreman, I was already a lightning rod for their jokes and speculations as to my sexual preference. I can tell you, I quite appreciate the feminine form above the one staring back at me in the mirror. You see, Dee constantly was… overly friendly with her hand placement. Nothing to suggest direct motive toward erogenous intent, but enough to cause me grief after every site visit. She was touching me, and smiling. So, I guess that meant “She wants to bang you dude” to many who witnessed.
Back to the story
It was quite late that night, and most of the lights were off in the contractors building. I parked my cart; walked in the front door and down the hallway to the bin where we can place our Safety and Record sheets, passing Dee’s office on the way. The light was off as I passed it the first time. However as I passed back down the hallway to leave, the light in the office suddenly came on.
Most peculiar, I thought to myself and so paused to see if there would be any of the usual questioning. “How did today go?”, “Were there any injuries today?”, “What do you think you will be doing tomorrow?”, etc. and etc…
Of course emerging from the office was in fact, Dee. She still had her hardhat on, but had removed her various other PPE(Personal Protective Equipment). Looking sleepy with a yawn and a stretch, she gave me the usual “20 Questions”. I rattled off the normal responses, hoping to end the conversation quickly, as I needed a shower. My Tyvex suit had become torn around noon and I hadn’t had time to change, so as the day went on I had been exposed to and covered by various forms of grime, dirt, and fluids.
It was at this point that it occurred to her too, as she looked me up and down, that I was in fact quite dirty. Quite. Almost all of my 5’10” frame was covered. Now I am not a beach body type by any means, however I do have the look of a man who has toned his body over several years over physical labor. That combined with my “pretty face” that the guys liked to tease me about, I am told I am quite fetching for a man in this area of the country. And for some women, that piques their interest more than anything else. Possibly for Dee, as well.
“You need a shower!” she said, finally realizing my condition.
“Yes, I’m quite well aware of that. In fact, I was headed there right before you emerged from your cave” as I gave her a gentle prod to the ribs. She jerked slightly, really more of a twitch, and uttered a soft noise somewhere between an “eep” and “yaw”.
“Uh-oh. Somebody is ticklish…” I smiled coyly to myself walking away.
“I am not! It just… hurt… a little” came her reply as I strode away.
I made my way down to the locker room. We have a moderately sized locker room in the basement of the Contractor building, where guys can rent out a locker to keep their things in as well as wash up before going home. Once there, I turned the showers on (it usually takes a minute or two for the hot water to get there). I opened my locker and checked to make sure that no one had messed with my belongings during the day, which can happen from time to time. Stripped down and grabbed my towel, disposing of my torn Tyvex on the way.
It was a wonderful shower; the kind that can only be appreciated after a long, grueling, messy day. And so after having washed up thoroughly, I simply stood there taking in the warmth and relaxation afforded me by the water pressure on sore muscles. That is when it happened...
Crack!
A jolting pain ran up my backside from where my butt had just been struck. To say I took it like a man, would be… incorrect. Combined with the sensation and the surprise of being attacked, I yelped and whirled. I knew that feeling. Nearly every man does, and sure enough as a wheeled around there was Dee holding my towel.
“What the hell, Dee!” I yelled rubbing my backside.
“You hurt me, I thought I’d get you back” she beamed.
“I didn’t hurt you! I poked your ribs, I gave you a quick tickle. Holy shit, that smarted!”
“Well, maybe that will teach you to keep your hands to yourself”
And then we had a moment. We just stared at each other incredulously. Mine born out of surprise and frustration. Hers from… Why is she smiling so… and then it hit me. In my moment of attempted self-defense, I had not taken in the fact that I stood there sock naked in front of her rubbing my butt…manhood on display… God, that was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.
I quickly covered myself, realizing that she held the towel as I scanned about the room. She walked over and turned the water off, using the hand valve at the entry to the showers. They were all on, or all off.
“You’re wasting water. Think of the environment” she said through a playfully twisted smile.
“Dee, you shouldn’t be in here. This is not cool. What if someone came in right now?! This… this is harassment!”
“Pbbt! Nobody’s coming in here this late at night. Besides”, she said striding over to me, “You’re the one who ex-Po-Sed Him-Self To Me!” she emphasized each syllable by poking me in the ribs. Highly unsportsmanlike, considering the only means of defending myself was to expose myself to her once again.
She had had her though and draped the towel over my shoulder. As she strode away, I finally saw Dee for the woman the other guys had seen her for. No longer covered by all that excess apparel, it was evidently clear that she was… quite attractive. The gentle sway of her hips, her long blonde hair normally concealed beneath her hardhat spilled down to the middle of her back, her tan skin. In that moment, she was no longer a co-worker. She was a woman, and the source of the growing erection I concealed beneath my towel. She left in silence, the door closing with a thunk.
I was left alone with my thoughts; dripping wet, semi-nude, with an erection, and a desire. For many minutes I contemplated my next course of action. Do I follow her? Kiss her? Fuck her? What about my job? If this gets out, I could be in real trouble. It is one thing to have the playful flirtation that often happens in the workplace between two consenting parties. This… this was something all its own. If there was a line, it had either been crossed. Or, erased entirely.
I dressed slowly. I came to the conclusion that there was more to this. This was a direct intent to engage without firing an actual shot. So dressed in my blue jeans and Carhartt shirt; I locked my locker, shut off the lights in the room, and began my slow climb up to the first floor where Dee possibly lay in wait.
I walked slowly, silently down the hallway to the office with the light still on. My pulse pounding, no longer from my state of arousal, but rather from the anticipation of what was to follow. I crept to the door, now silent ajar, and peaked inside. There sat Dee at her computer, facing away from the door, typing away and occasionally glancing at a report. She had a radio playing softly. I cannot believe I am about to do this…
Thankfully the carpenters who had installed the door had known what they were doing, as it opened smoothly without a creaked or a hitch. I returned the door to its previous position and tip-toed slowly, silently over to the far side of the room. I made my way over the course of several minutes, like a hunter stalking his prey, until I stood crouched behind her chair. Patience…and then POUNCE!
I reached through the arm of the chair and began to tickle her sides in a soft squeezing motion and boy, did she jump.
“AAAIIEEEEE!!!” she cried leaping from her chair, “Wha…What?! Oh my God! It’s you!!”
By leaping from her chair, given my proximity, she had actually jumped backwards into me. This gave me a distinct advantage, as I began fulfilling my revenge. What followed was never in my original intent. I was merely going to surprise her and scare her for a few seconds, giving her a quick revenge tickle before leaving.
I tickled her torso, my hands flitting to and fro, for about ten to fifteen seconds as shock gave way to sensation. Struggles and giggles ensued. Culminating in her heaving for breath on the floor of her office splayed between her hardwood “meeting” desk and her computer desk. She rose to her hands and knees for a moment, continuing to catch her breath, giving me a moment to pause and admire her wonderful backside once again. Instead of rising to her feet right away, she actually crawled around to the corner of the meeting desk before standing up.
She then scared me, walking over to a box on the wall and pushing two buttons simultaneously for about two to three seconds. The in turn produced a beeping tone, followed by a robotic female voice saying “Building secure”.
“There, now we’re safe. Well… at least I am” she said giving me a look. Most men can relate to that look. We’re not sure if it means “I want you so bad” or “I’m going to murder you”.
I will be honest, at this point I wasn’t paralyzed. I was, however, hesitant.
“You know, Adam, I like the way you work” she stepped closer. “I like that you’re a puzzle”, closer. “I like the way you pretend not to notice me, while all the other guys want to hit that”, closer. “I like that you can show restraint” she stopped just on the other side of the desk from me. “But what I like most of all, is that you are ticklish”.
This was news to me. I had never considered myself as ticklish. I mean sure, a little bit. However to this point of my life I had always played the role of the tickler, not the ticklee.
“You know Adam, one of my ex’s use to like it when I tickled him. Maybe you’ll like it too”.
Now at this point there is irony. Here I am, having been a member of what I thought was an underground fetish community for almost a decade and she was living the lifestyle without knowing there were others. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. A plan began forming in my head. Time the tables flipped.
“Well, Dee. Here’s the thing. I’m more of a mind to give you a sound tickling myself. You’ve gone and given me some humiliation tonight and I’ve a mind to return the favor.”
“Oh, really? Not a chance.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the one in charge… and besides, I want to see if I can make that little man of yours dance” Oh, but she was evil.
“I tell you what. We both get a chance at it.”
“What?”
“We get to tickle each other and see who comes out on top.”
She hesitated.
“We’ll make a game of it”, Thank you TMF for this idea, “we try to tickle each other at the same time. If one of us chooses to tap out, they have to say the word banana.”
“Okay, but what do I get when I beat you?”
“Hold on. If you say banana you get a thirty second rest, but you lose an article of clothing. Once you lose your last article of clothing and say banana again, the game is over.”
“And then what?”
“Then the loser, has to take whatever kind of tickling the winner chooses. Naked.”
She paused again. Contemplating.
“Fine. When do we start?”
“Ladies choice”
“How about… NOW!”
And so it began. A good ten minutes of strip-tickle-wrestling. I will give her this; I lost my shoes, socks, and shirt. However, in the end it was her who was trying to climb over the desk naked screaming “Banana!”. She was beat, and she knew it. She looked somewhat of a disheveled, petulant child as she stood naked in her own office determining if there was still a way out of this.
“Now what?” she pouted.
“Well, what kind of alarm is that?”
“A perimeter alarm.”
“No cameras?”
“Not in this building. The Unions won out on not allowing it”
“Hmmm… come with me. I have an idea”
She almost balked, but to her credit didn’t. I took her hand, gently, and led her to the back wing of the building. The Weld Testing Center. Here, I was in my element and she was no longer in hers. I took time to reassure her, I wasn’t going to hurt her. I think she knew all along that I’m not a violent person. I’m a lover. So, I bound her hands in front of her and lowered down the electric chainfall. I put her hands above her head and hooked her bindings through the hook of the chainfall. I then began to manually hoist on the fall. Click, click, clicking maddeningly until she was standing just balanced on her toes and the balls of her feet.
There she was, stretched taught by a mechanism perfectly capable of lifting a couple thousand pounds and a fundamental force so many of us spend our entire lives try to escape, gravity. It was surreal, I think, for both of us. I took my time with her. She had seen me nude and drank of me, now it was my turn.
Her feet were well groomed. The soles soft, succulent. Her calves well defined, toned by all of the stairs throughout the facility that one had to take every day. Thighs, more perfect. They are neither thunderous, nor too thin. Well muscled, without looking like a body-sculptors. Curved in accentuation, gliding gently up to the firm shelf of her buttocks. I gave it a slight love tap, and then ever so softly stroked it causing her to shudder. Her back was as well toned as her calves. Not like a rowers, but she must workout. All the way from the small of her back up her spine to the base of her neck I traced the back of my three middle fingers. Like water softly running against the weight of gravity, and across her shoulder to back down her arm.
I made my full circuit back to face her. The lighting was near perfect for a movie scene if I do say so myself. I had only thrown the switch for the single bay, and so we were illuminated in the soft glow for only mere feet around us. The rest, dark. I gazed at her womanhood, pondering it. She had trimmed recently and so there was the beautiful accent of womanhood to garnish soft lips, tinged slightly in pink. Too many women feel the need to remove all of their pubic hair, in my opinion. If I were to describe it, I would relate it to a peach. Soft hair encasing one of the great delights of our world, juicy wonder inside.
I followed my eyes up her stomach now aided in taughtness by the restriction which held her. Oh, but that will be fun to play on later. Continuing up to her breasts, my eyes went. For me, the perfect size, a handful each. Her nipples had become semi-hard. Judging by her pupil dilation, from arousal. Up her neck, delicate throat and chin to her face. A blonde haired, blue eyed beauty. Not the kind on the magazine. The one hiding every day in plain sight. Our eyes lingered for a moment… and then I attacked.
Full vigor in force, I went for the area I knew best. Her ribs. She squealed and squirmed dancing around as best she could while my fingers played each note like a concert pianist across the keys. Chords in clusters, rhythms, even running my fingers up and down like great glissandos crescendoing as I drew nearer her hips or arm pits. Musical. Her laugh was sweet and musical. Her arm pits drew my attention next as I scribbled my fingers across them lightly. Now, she was guffawing with the full bravado of a person sucking in as much air as they can in short time. Only to expel it in in great girlish squeals.
I stopped. Let her catch her breath. Stroked her hair. Rubbed her shoulders.
“O… O… Okay” she panted, “You win. Now let me down”
“My dear”, I said stepping around behind her, “We’ve only just begun."
What I would have given now to see the realization on her face. I reach around and began toying her belly button while simultaneously scribbling my fingers across her bottom. This produced a quite comical reaction, as she began alternating between thrusting her hips forward and drawing them back. Over and over again until she got so good with the rhythm of it that I pondered if that is what we men look like when we are performing our most instinctual of desires.
I went straight from that into her hips. Pulling her to me, her firm butt press against of rising… stallion, I attacked the V of her hips where the torso and legs come together. This ladies and gentlemen led her to perform a full ten second Iron Cross. It’s amazing what the body can do when pressed. She sounded the very caricature of a monkey with her “Ooo Ooo OOO’s” and “Ah-Ha-Ha’s”, wriggling around to escape my clutch. And then…
“No! NO-no-no-no-oh-ho! No-NOOOOO!!! Bana-Bnnn… HA-ha! Banan-banan-NOOO!!! BANAAANNNAAAA!!!”
I stopped. She had cried the safe word without knowing it. I am a fetishist. Not a sadist. She heavy and hiccupped. No tears. No sobbing. I let her calm down. Stroked her hair and face. I don’t know why, but I even kissed her on the forehead. I told her I would be right back, and went in search of an item.
I found it in a cabinet in the plumbers portion of the shop. A small brush that looks much like a painters, with sturdy yet soft bristles used for spreading flux on joints before soldering. I could hear my foot falls echo on the concrete as I walked back to her, and apparently she could hear too.
“Please”, she licked her lips, “Please. I’ll do anything. Just… no more. I get it now. I get it.”
And then she saw the brushes.
“What are those for?!”
“These? To finish you”
“No! Please! Anything! ANYTHING! I’ll suck your cock. I’ll fuck you! Please no more… please no more.”
“Well my dear, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”
“You will?!”
“But ladies first.”
“Ladies fi…”
She never finished as I began teasing her lips and clit with the brushes. I twirled and twisted across her inner thighs, dancing a dance of seduction and temptation, each stroke bringing her closer to orgasm. The rise and fall, like a waltz. Each time closer, each time ruined. Occasionally I would reach up with one of the brushes to play with her breasts, her nipples, her neck… softly across her mouth like blades of grass. She cooed and moaned, giggles and chuckled. Finally I could refuse her no more. She came. Surprisingly, not primal or the ‘barbaric yawp’ of Whitman. Like a great weight being lifted, she sighed. Release, a beautiful peace. I still believe there is nothing more beautiful in art or creation than a woman experiencing a euphoric orgasm.
She collapsed. Her weight being taken by her wrists, I hurriedly pulled on the chainfall until she rested on her knees arms only slightly kept above her head, enough to move shoulder and elbows should she choose. I just stood there in front of her waiting for her to come down. At one point she leaned forward and rested her forehead on my thigh and straining manhood. For several minutes we stayed that way. Until she broke the silence.
“That was… that was amazing. I’ve never… I, I mean…”
“Shhh…”, as I began stroking her hair once more.
After a moment she said, “Do you still want to? I mean, I feel bad… I mean not bad. I mean… I want to”, and then she looked up at me like she was seeing me for the first time, “I think he wants to, too” she nodded to my concealed erection.
So I took her loose from the chainfall and untied the lag-line. She fell into my arms for a few moments.
“What does this mean”, she asked me.
“It means you’re ticklish and that you cum just like everyone else”, I said picking up the area, so as not to arouse suspicion in the morning. “Don’t ever feel afraid to be sexy. Too many women are afraid of sex for fear of being labeled a slut. You enjoy release, we all do. There’s nothing wrong with that. Now, why don’t you grab some water and I’ll join you in the showers in five minutes.”
She smiled at me, a girlish smile. That same smile every woman has from the first time she gets asked out until the day she dies. She turned and left me to clean-up. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I had lived out a dream…
But, I digress. For the purpose of this tale, I shall call myself… Adam. It is, of course, set in the Midwest at a steel mill near the banks of the mighty Mississippi river. And while it may seem as if this may be a flight of fictional fantasy, I assure you that it takes its roots from a real life encounter. So…
It was a pleasant night in late September as I drove my cart out of the plant, the facility is so large that the give us carts to ride around in. The soft hum of the electric engine intertwined with the rhythm of the cicadas, as a cooling breeze blew off the nearby Mississippi. It had been a long shift, a long week. As a Foreman, I am always the first man there and the last to leave. So, every night I leave I have to drop of my paperwork and check out at the outside contractor building before driving out the gate. This gives me ample opportunity to get to know many of the facility supervisors, including the individual whom I shared this encounter with.
Her name is Dee, a 5’2” pretty, young blonde woman in her late 20’s. As a gentleman, I will not speculate as to her actual weight, however I will say that she has the nice curvature of a woman. Not of the nubile form, that the pornography industry pushes us. She is neither sleight, nor hefty. Fit. Athletic. She is, one of the individuals in charge of outside contractors. A person I had, to that point, dealt with on many occasions in our process of a year and a half long expansion of the plant.
Now you must understand that I am a professional man, collegiately educated. However having been raised in the community I was, I can be rough around the edges. I still enjoy working with my hands. The dirt, the sweat, the grind; being able to step back at the end of the day and actually look at something I made. Not sitting in an office, taking gruff from an “Area Manager”. I also don’t take well to people… in general. What little time I did spend in college around the crème de la crème of society, was punctuated constantly by my having to tell them politely to “Fuck Off”.
So even though the men on my crew liked me, because I treat them how I would want to be treated by a Foreman, I was already a lightning rod for their jokes and speculations as to my sexual preference. I can tell you, I quite appreciate the feminine form above the one staring back at me in the mirror. You see, Dee constantly was… overly friendly with her hand placement. Nothing to suggest direct motive toward erogenous intent, but enough to cause me grief after every site visit. She was touching me, and smiling. So, I guess that meant “She wants to bang you dude” to many who witnessed.
Back to the story
It was quite late that night, and most of the lights were off in the contractors building. I parked my cart; walked in the front door and down the hallway to the bin where we can place our Safety and Record sheets, passing Dee’s office on the way. The light was off as I passed it the first time. However as I passed back down the hallway to leave, the light in the office suddenly came on.
Most peculiar, I thought to myself and so paused to see if there would be any of the usual questioning. “How did today go?”, “Were there any injuries today?”, “What do you think you will be doing tomorrow?”, etc. and etc…
Of course emerging from the office was in fact, Dee. She still had her hardhat on, but had removed her various other PPE(Personal Protective Equipment). Looking sleepy with a yawn and a stretch, she gave me the usual “20 Questions”. I rattled off the normal responses, hoping to end the conversation quickly, as I needed a shower. My Tyvex suit had become torn around noon and I hadn’t had time to change, so as the day went on I had been exposed to and covered by various forms of grime, dirt, and fluids.
It was at this point that it occurred to her too, as she looked me up and down, that I was in fact quite dirty. Quite. Almost all of my 5’10” frame was covered. Now I am not a beach body type by any means, however I do have the look of a man who has toned his body over several years over physical labor. That combined with my “pretty face” that the guys liked to tease me about, I am told I am quite fetching for a man in this area of the country. And for some women, that piques their interest more than anything else. Possibly for Dee, as well.
“You need a shower!” she said, finally realizing my condition.
“Yes, I’m quite well aware of that. In fact, I was headed there right before you emerged from your cave” as I gave her a gentle prod to the ribs. She jerked slightly, really more of a twitch, and uttered a soft noise somewhere between an “eep” and “yaw”.
“Uh-oh. Somebody is ticklish…” I smiled coyly to myself walking away.
“I am not! It just… hurt… a little” came her reply as I strode away.
I made my way down to the locker room. We have a moderately sized locker room in the basement of the Contractor building, where guys can rent out a locker to keep their things in as well as wash up before going home. Once there, I turned the showers on (it usually takes a minute or two for the hot water to get there). I opened my locker and checked to make sure that no one had messed with my belongings during the day, which can happen from time to time. Stripped down and grabbed my towel, disposing of my torn Tyvex on the way.
It was a wonderful shower; the kind that can only be appreciated after a long, grueling, messy day. And so after having washed up thoroughly, I simply stood there taking in the warmth and relaxation afforded me by the water pressure on sore muscles. That is when it happened...
Crack!
A jolting pain ran up my backside from where my butt had just been struck. To say I took it like a man, would be… incorrect. Combined with the sensation and the surprise of being attacked, I yelped and whirled. I knew that feeling. Nearly every man does, and sure enough as a wheeled around there was Dee holding my towel.
“What the hell, Dee!” I yelled rubbing my backside.
“You hurt me, I thought I’d get you back” she beamed.
“I didn’t hurt you! I poked your ribs, I gave you a quick tickle. Holy shit, that smarted!”
“Well, maybe that will teach you to keep your hands to yourself”
And then we had a moment. We just stared at each other incredulously. Mine born out of surprise and frustration. Hers from… Why is she smiling so… and then it hit me. In my moment of attempted self-defense, I had not taken in the fact that I stood there sock naked in front of her rubbing my butt…manhood on display… God, that was one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.
I quickly covered myself, realizing that she held the towel as I scanned about the room. She walked over and turned the water off, using the hand valve at the entry to the showers. They were all on, or all off.
“You’re wasting water. Think of the environment” she said through a playfully twisted smile.
“Dee, you shouldn’t be in here. This is not cool. What if someone came in right now?! This… this is harassment!”
“Pbbt! Nobody’s coming in here this late at night. Besides”, she said striding over to me, “You’re the one who ex-Po-Sed Him-Self To Me!” she emphasized each syllable by poking me in the ribs. Highly unsportsmanlike, considering the only means of defending myself was to expose myself to her once again.
She had had her though and draped the towel over my shoulder. As she strode away, I finally saw Dee for the woman the other guys had seen her for. No longer covered by all that excess apparel, it was evidently clear that she was… quite attractive. The gentle sway of her hips, her long blonde hair normally concealed beneath her hardhat spilled down to the middle of her back, her tan skin. In that moment, she was no longer a co-worker. She was a woman, and the source of the growing erection I concealed beneath my towel. She left in silence, the door closing with a thunk.
I was left alone with my thoughts; dripping wet, semi-nude, with an erection, and a desire. For many minutes I contemplated my next course of action. Do I follow her? Kiss her? Fuck her? What about my job? If this gets out, I could be in real trouble. It is one thing to have the playful flirtation that often happens in the workplace between two consenting parties. This… this was something all its own. If there was a line, it had either been crossed. Or, erased entirely.
I dressed slowly. I came to the conclusion that there was more to this. This was a direct intent to engage without firing an actual shot. So dressed in my blue jeans and Carhartt shirt; I locked my locker, shut off the lights in the room, and began my slow climb up to the first floor where Dee possibly lay in wait.
I walked slowly, silently down the hallway to the office with the light still on. My pulse pounding, no longer from my state of arousal, but rather from the anticipation of what was to follow. I crept to the door, now silent ajar, and peaked inside. There sat Dee at her computer, facing away from the door, typing away and occasionally glancing at a report. She had a radio playing softly. I cannot believe I am about to do this…
Thankfully the carpenters who had installed the door had known what they were doing, as it opened smoothly without a creaked or a hitch. I returned the door to its previous position and tip-toed slowly, silently over to the far side of the room. I made my way over the course of several minutes, like a hunter stalking his prey, until I stood crouched behind her chair. Patience…and then POUNCE!
I reached through the arm of the chair and began to tickle her sides in a soft squeezing motion and boy, did she jump.
“AAAIIEEEEE!!!” she cried leaping from her chair, “Wha…What?! Oh my God! It’s you!!”
By leaping from her chair, given my proximity, she had actually jumped backwards into me. This gave me a distinct advantage, as I began fulfilling my revenge. What followed was never in my original intent. I was merely going to surprise her and scare her for a few seconds, giving her a quick revenge tickle before leaving.
I tickled her torso, my hands flitting to and fro, for about ten to fifteen seconds as shock gave way to sensation. Struggles and giggles ensued. Culminating in her heaving for breath on the floor of her office splayed between her hardwood “meeting” desk and her computer desk. She rose to her hands and knees for a moment, continuing to catch her breath, giving me a moment to pause and admire her wonderful backside once again. Instead of rising to her feet right away, she actually crawled around to the corner of the meeting desk before standing up.
She then scared me, walking over to a box on the wall and pushing two buttons simultaneously for about two to three seconds. The in turn produced a beeping tone, followed by a robotic female voice saying “Building secure”.
“There, now we’re safe. Well… at least I am” she said giving me a look. Most men can relate to that look. We’re not sure if it means “I want you so bad” or “I’m going to murder you”.
I will be honest, at this point I wasn’t paralyzed. I was, however, hesitant.
“You know, Adam, I like the way you work” she stepped closer. “I like that you’re a puzzle”, closer. “I like the way you pretend not to notice me, while all the other guys want to hit that”, closer. “I like that you can show restraint” she stopped just on the other side of the desk from me. “But what I like most of all, is that you are ticklish”.
This was news to me. I had never considered myself as ticklish. I mean sure, a little bit. However to this point of my life I had always played the role of the tickler, not the ticklee.
“You know Adam, one of my ex’s use to like it when I tickled him. Maybe you’ll like it too”.
Now at this point there is irony. Here I am, having been a member of what I thought was an underground fetish community for almost a decade and she was living the lifestyle without knowing there were others. I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. A plan began forming in my head. Time the tables flipped.
“Well, Dee. Here’s the thing. I’m more of a mind to give you a sound tickling myself. You’ve gone and given me some humiliation tonight and I’ve a mind to return the favor.”
“Oh, really? Not a chance.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the one in charge… and besides, I want to see if I can make that little man of yours dance” Oh, but she was evil.
“I tell you what. We both get a chance at it.”
“What?”
“We get to tickle each other and see who comes out on top.”
She hesitated.
“We’ll make a game of it”, Thank you TMF for this idea, “we try to tickle each other at the same time. If one of us chooses to tap out, they have to say the word banana.”
“Okay, but what do I get when I beat you?”
“Hold on. If you say banana you get a thirty second rest, but you lose an article of clothing. Once you lose your last article of clothing and say banana again, the game is over.”
“And then what?”
“Then the loser, has to take whatever kind of tickling the winner chooses. Naked.”
She paused again. Contemplating.
“Fine. When do we start?”
“Ladies choice”
“How about… NOW!”
And so it began. A good ten minutes of strip-tickle-wrestling. I will give her this; I lost my shoes, socks, and shirt. However, in the end it was her who was trying to climb over the desk naked screaming “Banana!”. She was beat, and she knew it. She looked somewhat of a disheveled, petulant child as she stood naked in her own office determining if there was still a way out of this.
“Now what?” she pouted.
“Well, what kind of alarm is that?”
“A perimeter alarm.”
“No cameras?”
“Not in this building. The Unions won out on not allowing it”
“Hmmm… come with me. I have an idea”
She almost balked, but to her credit didn’t. I took her hand, gently, and led her to the back wing of the building. The Weld Testing Center. Here, I was in my element and she was no longer in hers. I took time to reassure her, I wasn’t going to hurt her. I think she knew all along that I’m not a violent person. I’m a lover. So, I bound her hands in front of her and lowered down the electric chainfall. I put her hands above her head and hooked her bindings through the hook of the chainfall. I then began to manually hoist on the fall. Click, click, clicking maddeningly until she was standing just balanced on her toes and the balls of her feet.
There she was, stretched taught by a mechanism perfectly capable of lifting a couple thousand pounds and a fundamental force so many of us spend our entire lives try to escape, gravity. It was surreal, I think, for both of us. I took my time with her. She had seen me nude and drank of me, now it was my turn.
Her feet were well groomed. The soles soft, succulent. Her calves well defined, toned by all of the stairs throughout the facility that one had to take every day. Thighs, more perfect. They are neither thunderous, nor too thin. Well muscled, without looking like a body-sculptors. Curved in accentuation, gliding gently up to the firm shelf of her buttocks. I gave it a slight love tap, and then ever so softly stroked it causing her to shudder. Her back was as well toned as her calves. Not like a rowers, but she must workout. All the way from the small of her back up her spine to the base of her neck I traced the back of my three middle fingers. Like water softly running against the weight of gravity, and across her shoulder to back down her arm.
I made my full circuit back to face her. The lighting was near perfect for a movie scene if I do say so myself. I had only thrown the switch for the single bay, and so we were illuminated in the soft glow for only mere feet around us. The rest, dark. I gazed at her womanhood, pondering it. She had trimmed recently and so there was the beautiful accent of womanhood to garnish soft lips, tinged slightly in pink. Too many women feel the need to remove all of their pubic hair, in my opinion. If I were to describe it, I would relate it to a peach. Soft hair encasing one of the great delights of our world, juicy wonder inside.
I followed my eyes up her stomach now aided in taughtness by the restriction which held her. Oh, but that will be fun to play on later. Continuing up to her breasts, my eyes went. For me, the perfect size, a handful each. Her nipples had become semi-hard. Judging by her pupil dilation, from arousal. Up her neck, delicate throat and chin to her face. A blonde haired, blue eyed beauty. Not the kind on the magazine. The one hiding every day in plain sight. Our eyes lingered for a moment… and then I attacked.
Full vigor in force, I went for the area I knew best. Her ribs. She squealed and squirmed dancing around as best she could while my fingers played each note like a concert pianist across the keys. Chords in clusters, rhythms, even running my fingers up and down like great glissandos crescendoing as I drew nearer her hips or arm pits. Musical. Her laugh was sweet and musical. Her arm pits drew my attention next as I scribbled my fingers across them lightly. Now, she was guffawing with the full bravado of a person sucking in as much air as they can in short time. Only to expel it in in great girlish squeals.
I stopped. Let her catch her breath. Stroked her hair. Rubbed her shoulders.
“O… O… Okay” she panted, “You win. Now let me down”
“My dear”, I said stepping around behind her, “We’ve only just begun."
What I would have given now to see the realization on her face. I reach around and began toying her belly button while simultaneously scribbling my fingers across her bottom. This produced a quite comical reaction, as she began alternating between thrusting her hips forward and drawing them back. Over and over again until she got so good with the rhythm of it that I pondered if that is what we men look like when we are performing our most instinctual of desires.
I went straight from that into her hips. Pulling her to me, her firm butt press against of rising… stallion, I attacked the V of her hips where the torso and legs come together. This ladies and gentlemen led her to perform a full ten second Iron Cross. It’s amazing what the body can do when pressed. She sounded the very caricature of a monkey with her “Ooo Ooo OOO’s” and “Ah-Ha-Ha’s”, wriggling around to escape my clutch. And then…
“No! NO-no-no-no-oh-ho! No-NOOOOO!!! Bana-Bnnn… HA-ha! Banan-banan-NOOO!!! BANAAANNNAAAA!!!”
I stopped. She had cried the safe word without knowing it. I am a fetishist. Not a sadist. She heavy and hiccupped. No tears. No sobbing. I let her calm down. Stroked her hair and face. I don’t know why, but I even kissed her on the forehead. I told her I would be right back, and went in search of an item.
I found it in a cabinet in the plumbers portion of the shop. A small brush that looks much like a painters, with sturdy yet soft bristles used for spreading flux on joints before soldering. I could hear my foot falls echo on the concrete as I walked back to her, and apparently she could hear too.
“Please”, she licked her lips, “Please. I’ll do anything. Just… no more. I get it now. I get it.”
And then she saw the brushes.
“What are those for?!”
“These? To finish you”
“No! Please! Anything! ANYTHING! I’ll suck your cock. I’ll fuck you! Please no more… please no more.”
“Well my dear, I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”
“You will?!”
“But ladies first.”
“Ladies fi…”
She never finished as I began teasing her lips and clit with the brushes. I twirled and twisted across her inner thighs, dancing a dance of seduction and temptation, each stroke bringing her closer to orgasm. The rise and fall, like a waltz. Each time closer, each time ruined. Occasionally I would reach up with one of the brushes to play with her breasts, her nipples, her neck… softly across her mouth like blades of grass. She cooed and moaned, giggles and chuckled. Finally I could refuse her no more. She came. Surprisingly, not primal or the ‘barbaric yawp’ of Whitman. Like a great weight being lifted, she sighed. Release, a beautiful peace. I still believe there is nothing more beautiful in art or creation than a woman experiencing a euphoric orgasm.
She collapsed. Her weight being taken by her wrists, I hurriedly pulled on the chainfall until she rested on her knees arms only slightly kept above her head, enough to move shoulder and elbows should she choose. I just stood there in front of her waiting for her to come down. At one point she leaned forward and rested her forehead on my thigh and straining manhood. For several minutes we stayed that way. Until she broke the silence.
“That was… that was amazing. I’ve never… I, I mean…”
“Shhh…”, as I began stroking her hair once more.
After a moment she said, “Do you still want to? I mean, I feel bad… I mean not bad. I mean… I want to”, and then she looked up at me like she was seeing me for the first time, “I think he wants to, too” she nodded to my concealed erection.
So I took her loose from the chainfall and untied the lag-line. She fell into my arms for a few moments.
“What does this mean”, she asked me.
“It means you’re ticklish and that you cum just like everyone else”, I said picking up the area, so as not to arouse suspicion in the morning. “Don’t ever feel afraid to be sexy. Too many women are afraid of sex for fear of being labeled a slut. You enjoy release, we all do. There’s nothing wrong with that. Now, why don’t you grab some water and I’ll join you in the showers in five minutes.”
She smiled at me, a girlish smile. That same smile every woman has from the first time she gets asked out until the day she dies. She turned and left me to clean-up. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I had lived out a dream…
