…
“You promised me a whole day of no tickling”
Sarah pulled at her bonds attached to her bed, she’d just woken from a lovely nap.
“You promised me” Sarah complained rather forcefully.
Tom stepped closer to Sarah, rubbed his chin, looked her over, just wearing the panties and t-shirt she slept in.
“You promised me” Sarah complained again, testing her arms again.
Tom stepped closer to the bed, just in his boxers, towards the foot of the bed, narrowing his focus on Sarah’s wrinkled soles, cute toes and strong, runner’s legs.
“No! No!” Stay away!!, You promised me! “You promised me one whole day of no tickling!”
Sarah yelled while pulling her legs but they were well tied, toes tied back, secured, little room for wiggle.
Tom knelt down at the foot of the bed, taking in his lovely bride from toe to head and back again.
“No, no tongue!”
“Or those fucking teeth!”
“Not today, you promised me” Sarah’s forceful complaining was turning into a bit of a whine.
Tom put his nose at his wife’s sole and breathed in deeply.
A shudder of pleasure went through him as the scent of her vanilla scented toes hit his nostrils.
“You can massage them all you want but just don’t tickle me.” “You promised me” Sarah said looking her husband right in the eye.
Tom did not break his wife’s stare but produced a feather from somewhere out of sight and twirled it between his fingers.
“Oh my God, not the quail feather!” “No!”, “NO!”, “NOOO”
Sarah pleaded looking at the soft feather with a dread spreading across her face, fear now in her eyes.
Tom brought the feather soooo close to the skin of her instep, just a whisper away from contact; moving the feather just over the tops her toes, now coming sooo close to the outer sole, so close.
Sarah watches the feather, a whimper escapes her lips.
Tom lays the feather down on the bed near Sarah’s tender toes and crawls on to the bed, laying sideways next to his sexy wife, taking her in, their eyes meet once again until Tom stretches his hand high above Sarah.
Sarah looks away from Tom’s eyes to his hand, his wiggling hand, his wiggling hand with magic fingers that can be heavenly or sinful.
“Not the claw!” “No, you promised”, Sarah’s voice rising.
“No, not my hips”, “ Sarah looks from Tom’s hands to his eyes. He is staring at her, watching every reaction, now she focuses back on his wiggling fingers.
Tom’s hand is descending slowly toward Sarah, a slow wiggle, and he does this thing with his thumb and pointer finger, rubbing them together sort of like Matthew McConaughey in that Lincoln commercial.
“Not my hips,” Sarah repeats.
“NO, NO not my thighs” Sarah watches as Tom’s hand moves south a bit.
“NO, Not my belly”, “No,NO, No!” “My belly button is completely off limits Tom and you know why!” Sarah pleads and moves around pulling at her bonds again.
Tom’s hand is just over Sarah’s BB, just held there, Sarah staring at his hand, Tom staring at Sarah, a moment of silence hangs in the room.
Just before Tom’s hand would have touched her BB, he quickly moves his hand across her body and sits upright supporting himself, leaning on the hand that was sure to bring Sarah to her doom.
Sarah screamed aloud when Tom’s hand moved, and breathed a large sigh of relief when she saw Tom sit up.
“Oh my God, I thought you were going to do it this time” Sarah a mixture of fear and relief from her voice.
Tom sat further up and slid her thin t-shirt up to expose her B tits with eraser head nips.
“No Tom, my tit’s are sooo tickly”,
“You get me all worked up”, “Wait.
"Not save the Ta Ta’s”.
“Would you fucking say something!”
“Stop staring at them”,
“ I know that look”,
“No, no, no do not reach for the feather”. Full panic has now set in Sarah’s voice.
Tom reaches back for the feather and then stops and takes a moment to scan the length of his wife’s body.
Tom brings the feather to just over her lowest rib, just above the skin.
Tom could go down into the danger zone, or follow each tender rib down her sides to her sensitive back.
Tom moves the feather in between the valley of her lovelies, swaying the feather just above her nipples, they are erect like pink erasers.
“You promised me a whole day of no tickling” Sarah pleads again, a snicker escapes her lips in anticipation of what she knows will come.
“Hehehe”, “You promised meeee”. Sarah squirms around.
Tom is staring Sarah in the eye, the feather just over her nipple but never touching, just near the skin, just near her soft, soft skin.
Tom sits on his wife now, throwing the feather across the room, his hands above her in wriggling claws coming down towards Sarah.
Sarah is in full panic.
“No, NO, you promised meeeheheheheheheh, ahahaahhah, no don’t you dare, no, no, no heeheheheee”.
Sarah hysterical laughter fills the room and yet Tom’s fingers are still just above her armpits, her just shaved this morning pitties wriggling in her bonds trying to get away.
“Just do it already and get it over with” Sara screams.
Tom stops everything, bends over, kisses his wife on the forehead and whispers.
“I promised you no tickling today” and walks out of the room, a hard-on tented in his boxers.
Tommytikl
2015
“You promised me a whole day of no tickling”
Sarah pulled at her bonds attached to her bed, she’d just woken from a lovely nap.
“You promised me” Sarah complained rather forcefully.
Tom stepped closer to Sarah, rubbed his chin, looked her over, just wearing the panties and t-shirt she slept in.
“You promised me” Sarah complained again, testing her arms again.
Tom stepped closer to the bed, just in his boxers, towards the foot of the bed, narrowing his focus on Sarah’s wrinkled soles, cute toes and strong, runner’s legs.
“No! No!” Stay away!!, You promised me! “You promised me one whole day of no tickling!”
Sarah yelled while pulling her legs but they were well tied, toes tied back, secured, little room for wiggle.
Tom knelt down at the foot of the bed, taking in his lovely bride from toe to head and back again.
“No, no tongue!”
“Or those fucking teeth!”
“Not today, you promised me” Sarah’s forceful complaining was turning into a bit of a whine.
Tom put his nose at his wife’s sole and breathed in deeply.
A shudder of pleasure went through him as the scent of her vanilla scented toes hit his nostrils.
“You can massage them all you want but just don’t tickle me.” “You promised me” Sarah said looking her husband right in the eye.
Tom did not break his wife’s stare but produced a feather from somewhere out of sight and twirled it between his fingers.
“Oh my God, not the quail feather!” “No!”, “NO!”, “NOOO”
Sarah pleaded looking at the soft feather with a dread spreading across her face, fear now in her eyes.
Tom brought the feather soooo close to the skin of her instep, just a whisper away from contact; moving the feather just over the tops her toes, now coming sooo close to the outer sole, so close.
Sarah watches the feather, a whimper escapes her lips.
Tom lays the feather down on the bed near Sarah’s tender toes and crawls on to the bed, laying sideways next to his sexy wife, taking her in, their eyes meet once again until Tom stretches his hand high above Sarah.
Sarah looks away from Tom’s eyes to his hand, his wiggling hand, his wiggling hand with magic fingers that can be heavenly or sinful.
“Not the claw!” “No, you promised”, Sarah’s voice rising.
“No, not my hips”, “ Sarah looks from Tom’s hands to his eyes. He is staring at her, watching every reaction, now she focuses back on his wiggling fingers.
Tom’s hand is descending slowly toward Sarah, a slow wiggle, and he does this thing with his thumb and pointer finger, rubbing them together sort of like Matthew McConaughey in that Lincoln commercial.
“Not my hips,” Sarah repeats.
“NO, NO not my thighs” Sarah watches as Tom’s hand moves south a bit.
“NO, Not my belly”, “No,NO, No!” “My belly button is completely off limits Tom and you know why!” Sarah pleads and moves around pulling at her bonds again.
Tom’s hand is just over Sarah’s BB, just held there, Sarah staring at his hand, Tom staring at Sarah, a moment of silence hangs in the room.
Just before Tom’s hand would have touched her BB, he quickly moves his hand across her body and sits upright supporting himself, leaning on the hand that was sure to bring Sarah to her doom.
Sarah screamed aloud when Tom’s hand moved, and breathed a large sigh of relief when she saw Tom sit up.
“Oh my God, I thought you were going to do it this time” Sarah a mixture of fear and relief from her voice.
Tom sat further up and slid her thin t-shirt up to expose her B tits with eraser head nips.
“No Tom, my tit’s are sooo tickly”,
“You get me all worked up”, “Wait.
"Not save the Ta Ta’s”.
“Would you fucking say something!”
“Stop staring at them”,
“ I know that look”,
“No, no, no do not reach for the feather”. Full panic has now set in Sarah’s voice.
Tom reaches back for the feather and then stops and takes a moment to scan the length of his wife’s body.
Tom brings the feather to just over her lowest rib, just above the skin.
Tom could go down into the danger zone, or follow each tender rib down her sides to her sensitive back.
Tom moves the feather in between the valley of her lovelies, swaying the feather just above her nipples, they are erect like pink erasers.
“You promised me a whole day of no tickling” Sarah pleads again, a snicker escapes her lips in anticipation of what she knows will come.
“Hehehe”, “You promised meeee”. Sarah squirms around.
Tom is staring Sarah in the eye, the feather just over her nipple but never touching, just near the skin, just near her soft, soft skin.
Tom sits on his wife now, throwing the feather across the room, his hands above her in wriggling claws coming down towards Sarah.
Sarah is in full panic.
“No, NO, you promised meeeheheheheheheh, ahahaahhah, no don’t you dare, no, no, no heeheheheee”.
Sarah hysterical laughter fills the room and yet Tom’s fingers are still just above her armpits, her just shaved this morning pitties wriggling in her bonds trying to get away.
“Just do it already and get it over with” Sara screams.
Tom stops everything, bends over, kisses his wife on the forehead and whispers.
“I promised you no tickling today” and walks out of the room, a hard-on tented in his boxers.
Tommytikl
2015
