View Full Version : A present from mother to daughter. FF/m. ADULT! NC-17.

06-28-2015, 03:34 PM
I wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Weiss asked me to dinner. My parents had asked her to keep an eye on me while they were away. It was the kind of thing that neighbors did for neighbors in our community. I was sure she looked at it simply as an obligation, to make sure I had at least one healthy meal in me and to serve as a reminder that someone was watching if I decided to do something ‘crazy’. I would never have guessed her real intentions.

Not that I was a child or anything. I may have been still living with my parents but I was all grown up, with hair in all the right places and cleverly stashed pornography. As a late bloomer, though, I still had the body of an adolescent. I wouldn’t achieve my full height and muscle mass for a couple of years. This was probably why people like my mom thought I still needed looking after.

I guess I resented that a little, but tried not to let it show. I was getting tired of cooking for myself and more than a bit bored with staying home alone and reading every night. At the very least, dinner with Mrs. Weiss would break up the monotony. I would be a simple evening making small talk with a woman my mom’s age and eating some good food. What could go wrong?

My first clue the evening wouldn’t go as I planned when the front door opened and I saw Gretchen,

How to describe Gretchen? In most ways, she was a very average girl. With her braided blonde hair, sharp blue eyes and milky skin, she’d never be without a date on a Saturday night, but she didn’t have that glowing beauty that made the boys line up, either. She was about my size, neither really athletic or nerdy. She was the type that enjoyed being different. In another time and place, she would have dyed her hair black and gone full Goth.

I hadn’t seen much of her since school. By all accounts, Gretchen had a vast social life, going out on dates almost every night. The other boys said she was ‘easy’ which explained her popularity, though not why very few of them seemed interested in a second date. I had never expected her to be hanging out with her mother on a Friday night.

Normally, you would think a guy my age would be delighted to learn an attractive female his own age would be present, but I wasn’t. You see, growing up Gretchen had bullied me relentlessly. That’s not as ridiculous as it sounds. I was small for my age, so the two of us were about the same age. Plus, she learned about a weakness of mine and exploited it horribly.

Still, it was too late to back out now. Somehow, I managed to mumble a polite greeting.

Gretchen didn’t even answer. She looked at me as if I were some kind of bug and motioned for me to go inside.

Once inside, neither nor Gretchen or I said much. I couldn’t think of what to say to a girl who had caused me such embarrassment. I tried a few polite, stock phrases, but they amounted to nothing. Gretchen just stared at me, as if I was some kind of bug. I stopped trying completely, just wishing the night could end soon.

Luckily, Mrs. Weiss was an energetic hostess who managed to keep a lively conversation going. I kept thinking of her as my mom’s age, but she was at least ten years younger (she mentioned having Gretchen at a younger age than we were now!), sharing her daughter’s blond hair and blue eyes. Her body was more lush, however, with fuller breasts and curvy hips and thighs.

She had a natural charm and charisma that her daughter definitely lacked. She made witty comments, told a few amusing anecdotes and totally ignored her daughter’s rudeness. By the time appetizers were ready, Mrs. Weiss had dragged me out of my shell and had me telling a few stories of my own. We laughed together as Gretchen just sat there, still staring.

Things started to fall apart when Mrs. Weiss went into the kitchen to check on the main course. I went to wash my hands, and when I returned, I found Gretchen had pushed her chair up against mine. For some reason, after an evening of ignoring me, she decided now that she wanted to be close? That made me feel more than a little uncomfortable, but with nowhere else to sit at the table, I took my seat.

“So, Gretchen,” I said nervously, her shoulder an inch from mine, “What have you…” I froze. She had put her hand on my knee.

Even when we were kids, I had known that she ‘liked’ me, that special kind of like that children didn’t talk about. Even before the bullying started, however, there had always been something about Gretchen that…disturbed me. An inner sense warmed me that I did not want her as a friend and definitely shouldn’t have her as more. Some of my earliest memories were of trying to avoid her.

“Gretchen!” I whispered harshly, “Your mother is in the other room! Don’t yuuuhhuu he eheehe nawooo eh eheheheh stawwppp e eheheeeheh nawwttt bthhahahahatttt ah ahahahah”

She was tickling my knee! Oh god, she was tickling my knee! That…oh god!

Gretchen learned how ticklish I was early in our relationship and spent the rest of our childhoods trying to exploit it. That was how she had bullied me for years! I couldn’t count the number of times she made forced me into uncontrollable giggles. She had used the tickling to humiliate me, to threaten me and to control me. Those were some of my worst memories.

“Gichie gichie goo! Tickle tickle Lewis!” She doubled her efforts, fingers pinching just above my knee cap. Her face was now lit up with joy instead of boredome as she spoke her first words of the evening.

“Gretchehehehennnn eh eheheheheeh nawwoooooo ehehehehe,” I reached down, grabbed her wrists with both hands and pulled it off my knee. I could feel her other hand move towards me, so I…

“OK kids, dinner’s ready!” Mrs. Weiss entered the room with a tray food, carrying it to the table and laying it in the center, “What’s all the commotion out here!”

“Lewis is ticklish, Mama,” Gretchen blurted out with no preamble, “He always has been.” She sounded like an excited child who had just seen their first circus and had to tell everyone about it.

“Really? How fascinating,” Mrs. Weiss replied, using the same tone of voice as if she had been just told I collected coins or build ships in bottles. She slid some food onto my plate.

“I used to tickle him all the time!” Gretchen continued, practically bursting at the seems, “His ribs, pits, feet, you name it!”

“Is that a fact?” Mrs. Weiss said, looking at me while serving. I blushed deep red and couldn’t look her in the eye. Why was Gretchen talking about this?! And why didn’t Mrs. Weiss stop her?! Couldn’t they see how uncomfortable the subject was making me?

But Gretchen didn’t stop. All through dinner, all she talked about was tickling me. She told the story about tickling my feet at a birthday party, the only time she got some kids to help hold me down. She told about the time she tickled me in the backyard, during a game of football, when she tackled me by slipping her hands underneath my shirt and digging into my belly. She told the story of the time she tricked me into going into one of the sound proof vaults in the library, jumped on my back and tickled my ribs.

During those stories, Gretchen seemed to be a different person. The apathy and detachment that were…so her were gone. She was animated and energized, using hand motions to illustrate some of the more embarrassing parts of the story. For the first time that night, she seemed alive.

And the way she looked at me during her tales…there was what could only be described as a hunger in her eyes. That look would have made me blush if she was reading a cookbook.

“Well now,” Mrs. Weiss said while Gretchen was pausing between stories to take some bites of meat loaf, “At least it sounds like she never got to tickle you for more than a few minutes at a time.”

That had been the only saving grace. She wasn’t really stronger than I was, so she couldn’t hold me down for long, and she was never popular enough to have enough friends to hold me down for her I(even the birthday party tickle ended as soon as the others got bored). I always got the feeling that that was her goal, though, to somehow get me in the position where she could tickle me as long till her heart was content. My childhood had been a battle to never let that happen.

I didn’t answer, didn’t even try to phrase a reply. What could I say with my face as red as a tomato. The words wouldn’t have come even if I wanted them to. All I wanted to do was die. The greatest relief of my life was when Gretchen hit puberty a few years before I did, discovered older boys and started completely ignoring me. Now it was happening all over again.

Somehow I made it through the evening, but I don’t know how. Gretchen had somehow run out of stories, and the food was gone. By the end, I was beet red and had set the world record for stammering. Still, I had learned something important. Gretchen still wanted to tickle me. I would have to be wary again and protect myself from her. She would be craftier this time, too, though luckily she was still not stronger than I was.

“Thank you Mrs. Weiss”, I said, standing up as soon as it felt polite to do so, “Dinner was lovely, but I have some work.”

“Well, Lewis, it’s been my pleasure,” she said, standing as well, no look of embarrassment or even apology on her face. From her expression, you would have thought we’d just finished a perfectly normal dinner party, discussing the weather and current events instead of how her daughter used to torment me. In a way, this was as disturbing as Gretchen’s obvious delight.

Then, Mrs. Weiss held out her right hand for me to shake. Instinctively I took it, grabbing her it firmly but not too hard and giving it one squeeze before moving to the door and escaping into the night.

Except, Gretchen’s mother wouldn’t let go. It was then I noticed the twinkle in her eye, so similar to her daughter’s.

The next thing I knew, I was being tickled from behind. One hand went for my left hip, pinching gently, my free arm clamping down to protect that vulnerable area. The other hand snuck under my shirt, skittering up my right rib cage, drawing giggles from me immediately.
“he ehehe ehehe eheheheh Grreehehehehehttcchchhennn ehe eheheh nawwoooo” I stammered, as of course that was the one who had snuck up behind me while I was shaking hands. Even though I couldn’t see her, I would recognize the feeling of those hands anywhere!

“Lewis certainly is ticklish,” Mrs. Weiss said, her grip on my hand tightening, “Maybe even as bad as you said he was Gretchie dear.”

“I told you so, mummy darling,” Gretchen’s breathy voice came from right behind my ear, tickling the lobe, “Gootchie gootchie goo, Lewie, gootchie goo!”

“HE EHEE EHEHEHEHEHEEEHHEHHHEHEHEH GREHEEHHEHETTHCCHHHENNEHEHE!!!” I tried to pull my hand free, tried as hard as I could, but Mrs. Weiss’s fingers were latched on, like they were made from steel! I tugged and tugged, but couldn’t even pull her off balance! For the first time, I couldn’t get away, I couldn’t even shield my side!

Then Gretchen’s hand found that one rib, the one that only she knew just how to tweak. She squeezed it gently, using just the right amount of force to drive me mad. I howled.

“Awe, is this your widdle tickle button,” Gretchen started on the baby talk, “It is, it is! Wisten to how it makes the tickwish widdle boy laugh!”


I begged and pleaded to the authority figure in the room. She was just playing! Thought it was a joke! As soon as Mrs. Weiss saw how bad this was for me, she’d make Gretchen stop, wouldn’t let her get out of control. She had to!

But she didn’t. As the tears started welling in my eyes, I could the look of…joy in her face. Lauren Weiss was enjoying this almost as much as her daughter was! How…how could that be?

Then Gretchen’s fingers moved up to my underarm. She had tried to tickle me there before, of course, but always before I had been able to clamp my arm down, to pull her wrist away, to roll out of her grasp. This time I could do nothing as her fingers started to wiggle across the hollow.

“Do you hear how his laughter spiked, Gretchen?” Mrs. Weiss commented, “This is good spot to attack. Really dig in.”

“Yes mother,” Gretchen said dutifully, pressing her index finger into the center of my pit and vibrating it like crazy, “Lewie’s fuzzy widdle pitties is soooooo tickwish, isn’t they! Tell me Lewie, tell me how tickwish your pitties are!”


I could feel my knees turning to butter and the sweat starting to run down my cheeks. I looked up at Mrs. Weiss, pleading her to stop her daughter, but there was no mercy in her sparkling blue eyes. No more mercy than I had ever seen in her daughter’s.

Lauren Weiss did use her other hand to wipe away one of my tears from my cheek, a strangely comforting touch that gave me hope she might end my torment soon. Then that hand darted to my side and grabbed my left hand, the one I had kept tight against my other side, and pulled it out and away from my body.

Gretchen didn’t wait a second. Her other hand followed its mate, sliding under my shirt, up my side and invading my other underarm. Fingers now danced over both of my pits, fingers wiggling, swirling around the clumps of hair. I threw back by head and shrieked, legs giving way. In seconds I was on my knees, looking up at the woman holding my arms effortlessly as if I was a small child.

For the first time, after all those years, Gretchen had me. As long as her mother held my wrists, I couldn’t get away, and certainly no help was coming. My new position only stretched the skin under my arms, made it taut and easier to torment. She delighted in raking her nails from up near my bicep to close to my ribs, drawing out shriek after shriek.

I don’t know how long her mother let Gretchen tickle me. It soon became a hysterical haze, the only thing real in the universe four pairs of hands, one holding my wrists and the other sliding over my pits, occasionally taking a trip down my ribcage again, poking and prodding, driving me insane.

I begged through it all, pleaded for mercy, swore to do whatever they wanted, but it changed nothing. Gretchen kept talking to me in that damn babytalk while Mother looked on, giving her daughter a advice now and then about how to drive me insane.

Eventually it ended. I think it took me several minutes to figure out that the tickles had stopped and that Mrs. Weiss had released my wrists. It took that long for the left over giggles to pour out my mouth and for my lungs to stop aching for sweet air.

When I came to, I was lying on my stomach, the front door not twenty feet in front of me. I should run, make a break for it. But my arms and legs still left like limp noodles, and Gretchen and her mother were practically on top of me, hovering and looking down at me, talking about me as if I were some thing.

“That was wonderful mother,” Gretchen was saying, “I’ve waited so long to get him like that. What should we do now?”

“It’s up to you,” Mrs. Weiss said, “It is your special day.”

“Can…can we see more of him? In the all together, if you know what I mean?” Gretchen answered, a blush creeping over her fair skin.

“If that is what you want,” Lauren Weiss smiled, “Better do it quick, before he has the presence of mind to fight back.”

I rolled over on my back, prepared to fight off a new tickle attack, but the two women took me by surprise again. Gretchen’s hands came down, but not for my ticklish body, but for my shirt. She grabbed it and yanked up, slipping it over my head and arms. Mrs. Weiss took advantage of my momentary blindness by going for my pants. She unbuttoned the jeans with experienced hands, grabbed the waistline and slid them down my legs. I reached for them, tried to pull them up, but my fingers just missed snagging the belt loop.
Now I was wearing only my socks and underwear. It was my turn to blush.

“Not bad,” Mrs. Weiss swept over my body with a critical eye, “A bit more muscle mass would be nice, but if he was as strong as a normal man, I might not be able to hold him down so easily.”

“That’s quite alright,” Gretchen licked her lips hungrily, “He’s got mass enough in his shorts for me.” I realized at that moment I was sporting a huge erection, framed nicely by my tighty whities. You could have fried an egg on my face.

“Can I have a go at his feet, mom,” Gretchen asked in a lusty voice, “He never gave me the chance before?”

That was all I needed to hear. I turned over, put my knee on the ground and took off like a shot. I was determined to get out the door and into the yard, even though I was half naked. I didn’t care.

Mrs. Weiss, however, was faster. She grabbed my ankle, causing me to fall flat on my face, than she dragged me back across the carpeting. I reached out, trying to get any kind of hold I could on the shag, but it was no use.

“No! No, not my feet! Anything but that! I beg you Mrs. Weiss, anything but that!”

I was no use. As soon as Lauren had me where she wanted me, she put one of her knees firmly down behind one of mine, pinning that leg to the ground. She then held the other in the crook of one elbow, wrapping her arm around it, holding it at about a 45° angle, about two feet off the ground. I tried again to pull my leg free, but it might as well have been stuck in concrete! I couldn’t budge it!

Was I really that weak? Could this woman really pin me so easily! That was almost as shameful as being in my underwear!

“You’ve got to keep an eye on them, Gretchie,” her mother said in her calm, teaching voice, “A scared boy is like a bunny rabbit. Turn your back and they’re out the door.”
“Yes mother,” Gretchen said huskily as I felt my sock being slid over my toes, “I think we should punish Lewis! He was a bad boy, trying to run away like that!” Gretchen started scribbling her nails across by bare sole.

I thought I was going to die! My feet have always been super ticklish! I didn’t even like to go barefoot in the grass! Now Gretchen was gliding her sharp nails up and down them. I howled immediately, futiley trying to yank my leg away from the torment. It was too much!

“Don’t just blindly scribble,” Gretchen’s other said, “Find his bad spots. Check the bottom of his arch.”

She did, and it was like a lit match had been pressed against my flesh as Gretchen’s index finger scratched that one spot over and over, driving my laughter up several octaves.

“Tickie, tickie tickies,” Gretchen chanted, “Who’s got tickwlish feet? Who I think it’s…youuuu widdle Lewie has tickwlish feet! Yes he does!”
Under her mother’s guidance, Gretchen found another on the line running right through the center of my foot and one down by my heel. When she got to the one underneath my big toe, I thought I was going to pass out.


“Awe, would da widdle boy do anything for me, hmm” Gretchen taunted, her fingers experimenting with the right speed and pressure to drive me out of my mind, “Then laugh widdle Lewie, laugh!”

“I think you’ve got the spots,” Mrs. Weiss said at last, “Now use your mouth. We need to hurry this along.”

Fear stabbed right through me like a knife. Her mouth?! She couldn’t possibly mean…

Then I felt it, hot and wet, right on my sole. Gretchen was licking my sole! And it tickled, tickled more than anything I’d ever felt. I cackled, cackled at every stroke of Gretchen’s tongue, like a wounded animal. And then, she started nibbling, scrapping her teeth over the very spots she had just found with her nails.

It lost it. My mind ceased functioning. My laughter became insane, fueled by every lick of her tongue up my arch, every soft bite she took on the balls of my feet. My fists pounded into the carpeted ground and my head whipped from side to side. Every now and then, Mrs. Weiss or Gretchen would say something, but words no longer registered in my brain. Human speech was lost I just howled and howled, thrashing my body every way Mrs. Weiss would allow me.

Lick, lick, bite. Nibble, nibble, nibble, nibble. Laugh, cackle shirek, laugh laugh, nibble, suck.

At one point, Gretchen or Mrs. Weiss asked me something, wanted some kind of answer. When I couldn’t answer, the tickling got worst. Gretchen started licking and nibbling on my toes, like a puppy. Then she sucked one, long and hard. Then the same question, the same demand for a reply. I couldn’t answer, couldn’t understand! It tickled so much! Stop biting my toe! Stop licking there! I…I…

Eventually, I managed to do it. I gave the correct response, made some combinations of sound that pleased the two women that seemed to make them happy. But then, they made me repeat it several times, exactly the same way. If I made even the slightest mistake, teeth scraped over my sole drawing out more screams laughter. At last I must have said it enough, because the tickling stopped.

I could only lay there, brain fogged over, not working, while my nearly naked body was covered with sweat. I barely realized it when Mrs. Weiss scooped me up and started carrying me down the hall. Where was she taking me?! I started struggling again, but both her arms were wrapped tightly around me, pinning my own to my frame. I couldn’t get even a hand free! It was like she was an octopus, wrapping me with eight tentacles. I was that helpless!

“Shhh,” she said softly, pressing my head against her breast, “I’m just putting you to bed.” I could hear her heart beating so clearly, its rhythm threatening to put me back to sleep. It was almost hypnotic, bum bum, bum bum, made it so…so hard to think.

“Home…home…” I managed to get out, but my words sounded weak and powerless even to me, the sound lulling me, sedating me. I…I…
“Yes, yes, you didn’t want to go home tonight, so I’m letting you sleep here tonight, in the guest room,” she said, voice so calm, placid, “I wouldn’t normally let a boy spend the night, but considering all the excitement we’ve had tonight, it only seems right.”

Excitement? What did she mean? Part of my brain wondered as the rest fought against slumber. Meanwhile, Mrs. Weiss carried me, a grown man, all the way into the bedroom as if I weighed less than a pound, never grunting or straining.

When she reached the guest bedroom, she lay me down on a large bed that had, I noticed, no top sheet or blanket. Then she kissed me on the head.

“It’ll be a hot night,” she said, a twinkle in her eye as if at some joke only she got, “So you won’t need any covers. Goodnight.” Mrs. Weiss lay down next to me, arm draped across my body,keeping my face pressed against her chest.

I panic. Got to get away! Except, of course, I can’t get Mrs. Weiss’s arm off of me! It might as well weigh a thousand pounds. It is literally the immovable object. As I struggle, she begins whispering in my ear soothing words.

“Hush, hush little boy. It’s time for bed. All good little boys need to go to sleep.” Her body is so soft, like a warm pillow. It flows over me, her heart keeping me calm, pacifying me. My eyelids were suddenly as heavy as rocks. With her heartbeat still lulling me, her words are almost irresistible. Sleep, sleep. I…I…

“No! Gotta go home!” I bark, eyes fully open. Can’t sleep! Not in this house with its two crazy women! Who knows what they’ll do to me if I fall…fall…can’t…keep…

“Hush little boy, don’t say a word. Time for you to rest your pretty little head,” Mrs. Weiss sings, a melody as old as lullaby’s. My eyelids close of their own accord again, impossible for them not to. Her voice…so…so draining, smothering my every thought. Must…open…
I fight so hard, but every beat of Gretchen’s mother’s heart, every syllable she sings, sucks the will to try right from me. Darkness is washing over me. Their going to tickle me! Must wake up! Must…her heart, body so soft…hush little boy…ba bum ba bum…soft..I…got…to…must…sleeeeeepppp…

* * * * *

I wake up still feeling a body pressed next to me. This one isn’t as soft, but lean and slender, her heart isn’t soothing, but racing, like an engine. She isn’t singing, but her lips are on my ear, nibbling. My body tenses, waiting for something I don’t know what.

“It’s OK, mama knew I would do this,” Gretchen’s voice whispers, excitement in every word, “We’re engaged now, so it’s OK.” Her hand finds my manhood, begins stroking. Through the pleasure, I dimly realize I am now completely naked.

My hormones start racing immediately. I don’t think they ever cooled after the tickling, but Gretchen’s touch would have restarted them regardless. Her fingers are so talented! For a second, I almost relax, almost give in to the moment, but one word pierces my addled brain.


It hit me like a bus. The words they had made me say when they were tickling me! If that was a proposal, all Gretchen would have to do was testify in front of a truthsayer to have out engagement ratified. I could claim lack of intent or even duress, but if Gretchen also claimed the engagement had been consummated…there was nothing I could say that would influence the elders. They had little patience for boys who promised a girl the moon and more just to get her in bed.

It was simple. If Gretchen and I had sex, she could force me to marry her. The thought of being bound to her was truly terrifying.

I quickly rolled away from Gretchen, looking at her for the first time. She too was totally naked and staring at me like a lioness looked at her prey, raw desire in her eyes. Even as fear builds up inside me, I can’t help but notice how slender and sleek her body was. Still, I knew I had to get away.

“You’re not going anywhere!” Gretchen snarled, pouncing on me. Evidentially, my intentions had been written all over my face! We wrestled for a bit, tossing and turning on the bed. I tried to get some separation from her to push her away, but she clung on tenaciously! Normally, I should have been able to at least hold my own against Gretchen, but my muscles were still exhausted from my earlier ordeal.
Somehow she got me on my back and straddled my legs. Oh, her body felt so soft! Even with the impending disaster of forced marriage, part of me wanted to take her right there. No! I made myself struggle, made myself fight, but it was no use. Try as hard as I could, I could not get her off of me!

Our fingers were intertwined, neither one of us able to get a hand free, but she pushed both of mine back into the mattress. If it were a match, the referee would have started a three count as I struggled to lift a shoulder even an inch.

We made eye contact, Gretchen’s mischievous blues sparkling, my dull brown ones filled with dread. Then she leaned in, her pert nipple grazing my lips. I couldn’t help myself. I opened my mouth, taking it in, sucking hard on the nubbin.

“Oh, yes boy,” Gretchen growled, “Eat me, Lewis, eat me now! I’ve got more here for you!” I could feel her pelvis move on top of me, than felt something hot and moist on my rock hard penis. She was mounting me! I had to do something!

Unable to buck Gretchen off of me or get a hand free, I did the only thing I could think off. I rolled over.

Apparently, Gretchen wasn’t expecting that, because it worked. Suddenly, she was on the bottom, and I was mounting her! Before I could get off, however, she wrapped her legs around my waist, locking her ankles and pulling me forward. I stopped myself, but not before the tip of my penis entered her pussy.

“That’s it, Lewis! Fuck me! Fuck me hard!” she cried out, sounding anything but innocent. I tried to do just the opposite, to pull out, but her legs wouldn’t let me. I was able to stop myself from sliding farther inside her, though it made my arms and legs ache.

Oh god, the position was pure torture! Her legs felt so good, thighs pressed against me so tightl, her pert breasts so close, the desire to taste them again roaring in my mind! And…and my manhood…already sampling her hot, moist cave of delight…Strange sensations rolled through my body, entrapping me as much as Gretchen’s limbs.

No! The look in Gretchen’s eyes again snapped me out of it. She was delighting in this, in forcing me to succumb to her will. What elese did she want to make me do? The memories of all the cruel things she had done to me as a child rushed back. No! I forced my arms and legs to go rigid. No way was I going down on her! Neither could I get away for even force an inch more seperation.
We were clearly at an impasse.

“After we’re married, I am going to punish you for this!” Gretchen snarled, her thighs tightening, a bead of sweat forming on her forehead, running down a strand of her golden hair.

“I’d sooner marry my cat,” I answered, feeling the strain of this position. How long I could keep this up?

Then I felt it, a soft, whispy sensation, on my bare ass cheeks. Someone was tickling me with what felt like a feather! Who? It had to be Gretchen’s mother! Had she been in the room all along?

“No!” I yelled, struggling in vain to free myself from Gretchen’s grip, “Pleheese yoouhuh caahan’t duhuhuhuu thiiihihissss a hehehHEHE EH Eheh EHEH eh EHEHEHHEHEH” But she did! The feather didn’t stop, running up one cheek and down the other, forcing me to quickly dissolve into laughter.

My ass started quivering at the first touch of the plume, shaking harder and harder as it moved across my tender flesh. No! I had to to keep my body from moving! With my manhood already buried an inch or so in Gretchen’s twat, any motion would excite me. Too much and it would all be over! So I forced my rear to remain still, keeping it like a rock, even as the feather performed its torturous dance, up and down, left and right, like it was dusting a nick knack!

Somehow…somehow I held out, didn’t move, even as I laughed, though the strain of it caused beads of sweat to run down my face and my vision to blur. Time passed. It became an endurance test, slowly sapping my will as that damn feather glided around and around! It was totally unhurried, as if they had forever to break me.


Through it all, Gretchen didn’t taunt me. She just watched, enjoying the expression on my face as she held my hands tightly and kept her legs locked. She knew I couldn’t hold out for long.

I didn’t. Just when I thought, despite the fluffy stroking, I had it under control, the feather starting swirling in my ass crack. I immediately lost it, howling as loud as when my toes had been nibbled, maybe even louder.


I could no longer hold my butt still. It had to get away from the feather, had to move, just like a hand being held over an open flame. Unfortunately, the only direction it could move was down. It did, thrusting my manhood deep into Gretchen, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through both of us.

That first thrust…the pure pleasure that erupted through my body was like nothing else I had ever felt. All the tickling mother and daughter had put me through had revved up my libido and sensitized my body. Ironically, had it not been for the distraction of the tickling, I could have cum right then and there.

I pulled back as far as I could go, desperate to escape the honey trap, but I still couldn’t shake that feather. It kept planting its hysterical kisses on my very anus, driving me insane, forcing my ass to try and escape its touch by moving back and forth, again and again, up and down, faster and faster. I couldn’t help it. It was a reflex, uncontrollable.


I cried with both ecstasy and hysterical torment now, tears in my eyes and a fire burning in my loins. Gretchen may not have been a virgin, but she was so tight! Each thrust forced by the tickling feather sent raw carnal delight shooting through my body. Gretchen must have been feeling the same, because I could feel her legs squeezing me even harder, trapping me inside her womanhood.

“UUUHHH,” Gretchen let forth a guttural groan, matching my own, “That’s right boy, inside me harder, harder! You’re going to cum! I’m going to own you UUUUHHHHH then I’ll he ehehe ehehehe nawwooo eh ehehehehehehe mammaaa aha ahahhahah MAammamaaa ahahaha nawwooo ahahahaha dohohohonn’tt hahahahahaha dooonnnttt ahahahahahah tihihihihickklle ehahah ahahah myyy a aha ahahahah foooohohohohohoottt ahah ahahahahah!!!”

I couldn’t see it anymore than I could see Mrs. Weiss feathering my ass, but Gretchen’s mother must have started tickling her bare foot! As Gretchen had to lock her ankles to keep me from pulling out, she couldn’t move them! Why…


I could feel Gretchen’s legs weakening, the hold they had on me loosening! Maybe…even as the damn feather forced me to match Gretchen’s crazed laughter shriek for shriek, may I could escape! Maybe I could…

Suddenly, I couldn’t think any further as the feather moved from my ass to stroke my dangling balls. Somehow my laughter spiked even harder, mingling with Gretchen’s higher pitched hysteria, even as both of our lustful cries also merged.

I never laughed louder than that moment. I could feel each separate strand of the feather sliding up and down my testicles. The tip would swirl around the left one than the right before darting up the line between them. It was intense, a ticklish agony, one that could make you do anything to end it.

But, even as I felt the fire burning my testicles, I could feel the grip of Gretchen’s legs weakening more and more as her own laughter grew. The part of me still thinking at all human thoughts knew it would happen soon! Gretchen couldn’t keep the vice grip with her legs on me as her sole was tickled. She had to set me free! The way she laughed and begged her mother to stop, it was only a matter of time!

But it never happened. Somehow, Gretchen kept her legs locked, remained strong enough to hold me in place despite my best attempts to break free. To this day, I don’t know how she did it. The sheer willpower that would have taken was well beyond me. I don’t know if I’m that weak or she’s that strong. I do know, however, it was the difference that doomed me.

Oh, the grip of her legs weakened to almost nothing. She barely kept her ankles together! But I still couldn’t break free, even through a child could have probably managed. Between the all day tickling and the lust coursing through my veins, I was like a rag doll. And as the feather kept punishing me, caressing my testicles and driving me to levels of insanity I hadn’t yet experienced, my own strength was the first to break. All I could do was thrust and thrust, desperate to get away, but only succeeding in pleasuring us both.

‘The beast with two backs’ was a euphemism for sex, but at that moment, I think that’s what Gretchen and I truly became. Both hysterical and driven mad with tickling, both overwhelmed by lust and physical need, our animalistic cries must have sounded like a beast. Gretchen stopped thinking about forcing me to submit and I couldn’t think of escape. Neither of us could do anything but feel, feel the throbbing of our loins, the ticklish sensation on such vulnerable parts of our body and the mad longing that consumed us both.

Maybe her legs did fall away from me at the end. I couldn’t tell you. I kept fucking her because I had to, because my body and it cravings consumed me, drove me to a passion I had never experienced. By the end, I was taking the woman underneath me as men had been doing since there were men. And it was good and right.

I think we even orgasmed simultaneously. I could feel my penis explode, my fluid coursing out and into Gretchen’s hole. At the same time, the blond through back her head and gave out a primal, guttural cry. That moment, the little death as the Chinese called it, swallowed us both.

I collapsed down on top of Gretchen, both of us just semi-conscious sweaty piles of flesh. Neither of us noticed for a second that the awful tickling had stopped. I could finally turn over and look of my tormentor, but Mrs. Weiss was gone.

Gretchen’s legs were no longer locked around me, but in seconds, her arms were. She pulled me against her, holding me tight.
And as the spell of sexual desire left me, the realization of what had just happened hit me. We were now engaged. There was no escaping her. The full force of our society would see to that.

“Mine,” she whispered in my ear, her delight the mirror of my dread.

She was right. The last thought before sleep overcame me again was that now nothing could stop me from being Mr. Gretchen Weiss.

06-28-2015, 11:35 PM
God that was amazing! I loved it so much. I was a fan of your "Love Potion" Story but i think this blows it out of the water! Can't wait for me, either a part 2 of this or anything else you decide

06-28-2015, 11:57 PM
I enjoyed this immensely myself. Thank you for sharing.

06-29-2015, 12:56 AM
Great story, and so very sexy. Thanks for sharing. :bubbly:

06-29-2015, 07:53 AM
Wow! Great story. Wonderful ending, too. :D

06-30-2015, 02:26 AM

07-04-2015, 05:06 AM
Amazing story! Great ending, especially with the balls tickling and sexual desire consuming him.

07-04-2015, 11:57 AM
Loved it!

Black Widow
07-05-2015, 06:45 PM
You write some of the most mind blowing stuff on here, 64. Thank you for allowing us a glimpse into the sweet sadistic inner workings of your dark creative mind. ;) I'm always eager to read about the deliciously torturous fate of your next unfortunate victim.

07-07-2015, 01:23 AM
I agree with Black Widow.

But what does NC-17 mean?

07-07-2015, 06:33 PM
Read this so fast. It was amazing

08-12-2015, 05:00 PM
I agree with Black Widow.

But what does NC-17 mean?

It means "No Children under Seventeen Years of Age." It's usually a movie rating, a step above rated-R. It's usually reserved for either the most sexually graphic or horrifically violent movies. Used here, he's basically saying that this story is sexually explicit.