Greetings from Texas everyone! After a long and grueling summer away, I've finally returned to what I love doing and that's writing up fiction. In this case a short tickle fiction. I hope you enjoy this little down to earth tale. Please feel free to comment below whether you loved it, hated it or anything in between!
Yet another still and lifeless night loomed in the slow elapse of time that resonated with every tic of a skeletal structured wrist watch strapped tightly around the arm of one ever eager rookie beat cop. Still, a quiet night meant an uneventful night and uneventful night meant the law was being upheld, at least under Jones’ jurisdiction.
He was more slender than most, even with all the added weight of an officer’s uniform, still his speed and athletic agility with which a man of his color had become synonymous with, had helped him graduate from the academy, a top of his class cadet. But even countless hours of training could never quite measure up to the pulsating trepidation of actually sweeping the vacant city streets. And it wasn’t until he came upon a dimly lit intersection that his night was truly about to take form.
Hunched against the post of a streetlight was the silhouette of a short voluptuous woman whose features remained blanketed by a darkness that seemed to swallow her. Woman or not he preceded with caution retaining a strained eye on her every movement before lowering his window. The coarse gravel shifted underneath the weight of his unit; the grinding sound evidence of a pavement in bad need of reconstruction.
“Excuse me mam, are you alright?”
She said not a word and stepped back, letting the darkness envelop her more.
“Mam, it’s okay. I don’t mean any harm. As you can see, I’m an Officer.”
Somehow amidst the darkness, his badge, the ever prided symbol managed a faint gleam almost as if to punctuate his statement.
She was hesitant even still, electing to timidly walk opposite of his voice, taking short backwards steps into the night.
It wasn’t until Jones flashed her with five hundred lumens that she froze like a deer in the headlights.
Her outfit had this “wet” look about it that glistened with every quaint, subtle movement she made to straighten herself out, pull down her skirt and hike up a pair of poorly treated black fishnet stockings.
“Look it Miss, you’re in no trouble. I just don’t fancy you being out this late, and all alone is all.” Jones said stepping out of his unit.
He nearly lost his footing on a still fresh, long and clear latex encasing that laid forgotten on the ground; evidence of an unrequited love.
The closer he got the more visible became a solid black blotch like that of a Rorschach image nestled on the bottom of her left eye.
“Mister, please leave.”
There was sadness in her voice as she began to sob, but persistence was one of Jones’ many strengths as his captain could surely attest to.
“Miss, I cannot in good conscience do that. Let me at least take you home. Please?”
“I can’t… He’ll know.”
Four years of academy training weren’t necessary to deduce to whom she was referring. And even a halfwit could have pieced together some form of an assumption based on the lateness of the hour and the way she carried herself. It was written on her face plain as day; plain as the blotch below her eye; she’d seen her share of violators and desecrators.
“If I come back short… He said he’d finish what he started with my eye.”
Jones let out a sigh of despair. He knew protocol was to arrest and detain, but underneath all that makeup was a youthful innocence that found him entranced in indecision.
“How much are you short?” He asked whipping out his wallet.
“A hundred.”
It may have been a mistake to pull out his wallet so prematurely, feasting her eyes on his small stack of capitol must have surely upped the ante, but that was neither here nor there. To Jones, a hundred dollars in exchange for peace of mind was an investment worth every red cent.
“I’m taking you straight home, I don’t want to see you hanging round here no more you understand?” He said sternly, holding out a crisp hundred dollar bill.
She of course nodded her head in agreement. After all, who wouldn’t? A freshly printed Benjamin in exchange for a ride with a handsome man was a win-win in any girl’s book.
“It’s alright; you can ride in the front with me.” He said ushering her towards the front of the car.
The somber look in her eyes was quickly replaced with curiosity as she stared at the endless display of buttons on the dash; and she had to fight every instinct in her adolescent mindset not to reach out and test each one.
Her name was Jayde Marshall. Other than that there were few words exchanged in route to her apartment. As much as Jones was brimming with questions regarding her black eye and the person responsible, he knew she’d never give him up. It was a strange relationship he’d never understand so he bothered not with indulging in the matter furthermore.
He’d seen shabbier homes in his youth, but this young lady’s didn’t fall too far behind. And the hostility with which he’s met by the building’s patrons didn’t bode well for a man of his complexion dressed the way he was.
The walls to her humble abode resembled slices of Swiss cheese making it hard for her room or conceivably anyone’s for that matter to have a definitive smell. A lone cherry scented candle was doing its best to ward off smells of burnt Spanish rice and stale marijuana seeping through from across the hall. The floor was in similar disarray and as light as Jones was, he kept an uneasy foot fearing the hardwood would cave as it creaked with almost every step he took.
Having seen the girl to safety and deeming his mission complete Jones wished her well and turned to leave.
“Won’t you stay a minute?” She asked sheepishly.
“I really should be heading back.” Jones replied.
“Oh. It’s just that… well… having you around makes me feel, safer.” She said admittedly.
He watched as she sunk her head and looked up at him with hope in her eyes.
“Well… I… I suppose. It’s about time for my break anyway, but no funny business.” He said as he pointed towards his finger.
And so they spoke candidly over a small pot of piping hot coffee in a kitchenette built for two, on a table littered with bills and tabloids and crumbs from her last meal.
As the hour wore on he removed his cumbersome gear belt while he sat and enjoyed some of her tastes in classic rhythm and blues. She as well had made herself comfortable and wiped away every ounce of caked on makeup, leaving her face a fragile pale hue with the acceptation of her bruise. She’d dressed down, abandoning her evening’s attire for a much more welcoming alter ego. And in a knee length white t-shirt she curled up on the couch; the glow from his finger a blatant reminder to keep her distance.
“I LOVE this song!” Jones exclaimed, as Eta James’ “At Last” cracked through the tiny portable speaker she possessed, “Care to dance?”
“Oh I… I d-don’t know how.” She admitted shyly.
“Just follow my lead.”
And so they danced. And for a moment in time, a one bedroom apartment became an elegant promenade, the creaks forgotten and the smells overlooked.
“OUCH!” She yelped.
Wincing in pain she plopped back down on the couch and reached for her left foot.
“What’s the matter?” He asked.
“I think I got a splinter.” She said perusing her sole.
“Then let’s have a look.” He said taking her foot in his lap.
Sure enough courtesy of her faulty floorboards stood an erect piece of wood no bigger than an eyelash on the ball of her sole.
“I have just the thing.” He smiled, pulling from his pocket a pair of stainless steel tweezers.
“Wow, you’re like prepared.” She giggled, watching him work with precision to remove the splinter.
It came out without a fight and he soothed her sole with a gentle rub to elevate any remaining ailment.
“Yikes!” She shrieked, pulling her foot back in ecstasy.
He already knew the answer, but he asked anyway out of sheer enthusiasm towards the notion.
“Are you ticklish Miss Marshall?”
“Oh my God yes! I don’t know what it is, but I’m like SUPER sensitive on my feet!” She revealed.
“Well I think that’s cute.”
She looked on at him in wonder. In her short years she’d never heard of anyone express such content towards a seemingly innocent childish pastime.
“You do?”
He shook his head slowly in accordance and proceeded to spill the amusement he took in watching women twitch and wiggle in unrestrained frenzies of laughter; before politely asking if he could court her feet atop his lap once more.
She didn’t ponder for very long, and gladly extended her chunky soles.
“Be nice.” She warned.
He looked at his finger; It still gleamed even as he took to striking her left arch with a light sensual graze that saw her twitch almost instantly.
“Don’t be scared.” He said, placing a firm grip on her ankles.
“I’m not!” She insisted. “It just tickles!”
She watched with wide eyes as his slender fingers wiggled inches from her arches and not sure of what to expect gripped the couch in anticipation.
He struck with casual strikes along the balls of her feet scraping her tender flesh with the grace of an Olympic ice skater.
“WHOO-HOO-HOO… YOU’VE DONE THIS BEEEE FORE HEE-HEE?” She squealed, trying her best to maintain her composure.
“Only in my dreams.” He replied with a smile.
Her feet swished side to side in an effort to avoid him, but his fingers would not be denied as he ceaselessly ran them up and down her soles.
“WHEE-HEE-HEE! YOU’RE GOOD AT TH-THISSS-SEE-HEE!”
“Oh I’m being real nice right now.” He reassured.
Firmly clamping her fidgeting left foot, he went to work on her arch with quick sporadic touches that saw her body contort about the couch; as she worked overtime just trying to keep her shoulder length black mane away from her face.
“WHA-HA-HA! OOH THAT TEECKLESSS-EEH-HA-HA!”
“Then I’m doing a good job.” He replied wittily.
“V-VEEERY-YEE… MUCH SOOO-HO-HO!”
She had to suppress every instinct urging her to pull away from his grasp. She could have easily done so, but as a form of gratitude she persevered, and pounded away at the couch to take out her frustrations.
“ALRIIIGHT-TA-HA! THAT T-TICKLES-SEE-HEE-HEE!”
He hung on her every giggle, as they cascaded like a heavenly chorus meant only for the most worthy.
“You have a very cute smile Miss Marshall.” He said with flush red cheeks.
“I C-CAN’T HELP IT-TEE-HEE-HEE! YOU’RE T-TICKLING MEEE-HEE-HEE!”
Her response came as no surprise as he traced the wrinkles of her scrunched soles; her white skin slowly turning a shade of pink with every caress and gentle stroke of his fingertips.
“Are you ticklish on these pretty little toes too?”
Jayde rolled back her eyes at the sincerity in his voice of such an unnecessary question, but happily played along appeasing the officer with a cheery reply.
“What… do you … think?!” She said with slight exasperation.
“Oh, am I detecting a little sass from you Miss Marshall?”
It was a playful taunt, but that didn’t mean he’d withhold his fingers from finding out the truth. And with a careful yet firm grip he peeled and stretched back her toes exposing the delicate skin so often overlooked.
Jayde couldn’t bring herself to witness the oncoming onslaught and chose instead to avert her attention to the holes in her walls; as if counting each one would consume her mind to the point of detachment from the almost unbearable sensations Jones was about to induce.
He smirked at her trivial attempts then bored through her toes with an undeviating volume of strokes; giving her tender skin all it could handle.
“WHA-HA-HA-HEEEE-HEE-HEE!”
At once, her thoughts which had been clear were exchanged for an inexplicable eccentricity. Every component of her psyche contrived into an amalgamation of peculiar sentiments.
“OH GAAWD-DA-HA-HA! THAT’S A TICKLE S-SPOT-TA-HA-HA!”
Such sincerity made Jones snicker alongside her as he continued to explore with articulate precision the boundaries that made up such delicate soles.
His sustained profusion of frivolous fingers kept her fists clenched tightly about the couch testing what little integrity remained in the fabrics of the furniture. And much like the couch she too was experiencing a test of her own.
For lack of an explanation Jones’ pertinacity which by all accounts could have easily been viewed as a detriment seemed to be having an adverse effect. Her skin was crawling with gooseflesh; her nipples were hard and despite the handicap of a night’s work there was no mistaking the subtle drips of vaginal secretion now oozing from her crotch.
He longed for more. His hands desired to embrace the rest of her skin. He could no longer settle in a state of abnegation. And with a skewed outlook, his hands ventured upon her calves.
Their skin just as delicate if not more so, save for a forgivable scrape right below the knee felt like fine silk that had been treated with the utmost upkeep. It’s there that he burdened her senses with perturbations that saw his fingers careen their every ounce of flesh.
“WHOO-HOO-HOO! AH-HA-HA!”
The awkwardness of the situation did nothing to excuse the fact that this was the most cared for she’d ever felt in her short years, and a bit of mad hilarity was something she was willing to endure.
With her reactions minimal Jones took to gliding his fingers further up her legs hiking her draping shirt right below her belly, where his hands found solace along her inner thighs; their meaty flesh a carnal erotic pleasure he imbibed with every thumb thrust.
“OH GAWD-DA-HA-HA! OH SH-SHIT-TA-HA! OOOKAAY-YA-HA… THAT TICKLES!”
Her line of work had made being exposed in such a manor commonplace. But it was the fleeting feelings pulsating through her body sporadically that made the ordeal unique, something that had been lacking, like a void that needed filling.
“Look at you, wriggling all crazy like!” Jones exclaimed.
Indeed she was having a much harder time maintaining her composure now that he’d exposed the sweet spot between her legs. Each jab of his thumb saw her flop like a fish on a boat deck. It was as if he’d found a direct line to her central nervous system the way he seemed to control her actions so easily.
Her semi-transparent panties did little in the way of masking her body’s innate desires as her vaginal walls clung for dear life to the very fibers of the undergarment; a fact not lost in the eyes of Jones, but still he continued.
Mounting her body he unsheathed more of her supple flesh, exposing a soft malleable stomach rounded to perfection by a poor dietary routine, courtesy of the impoverished life she’d been sequestered to. And it’s there, in her dough-like flesh, that he nestled his hands to trace her curves with unrestrained impunity.
“GEE-PEE-HEE-HEE! OH THAT’S BAD! WHOO-HA-HA! OH GOSH-SHA-HA-HA!”
His weight was barely enough to contain her lividness as he struggled amidst her thrashes to remain straddled to her hips.
“Miss Marshall control yourself!” He teased.
“I… CAN’T-TA-HA! TICKLES… TO MUCH-CHA-HA-HA!”
Under other circumstances it would have bothered Jayde to have her belly subject to such mischievousness. She had always been the heavy set and having her imperfection be the front and center of attention was a shot of self-consciousness. Yet the sensations that aroused her every fiber challenged that animosity, seemingly distancing her self judgement.
“OH GOD NOOO-HO-HO! TEE-HEE-HEE! YOU SUUUCK-KA-HA-HA-HA!”
“You’re too kind Miss Marshall.”
His fingers sank into her soft belly and gyrated with intense vivacity. He was certain the four walls that made up their confinement were anything but solitary in the audible sense, yet he never faltered, letting her shrieks and yelps spill out into the surrounding rooms. And for someone entitled to keep the peace, he certainly was doing his fair share to see it disrupted.
But everything, no matter how consequential or insignificant has an end and theirs came in the form of his own sensual stimulations. She felt it too. She felt its head inadvertently grazed her skin through his pants. Yet as much as he wanted to act on his desires, the gleam from his finger sternly scolded him for even contemplating the thought and he jumped off of her.
“I can’t.”
She drew a look of confusion, a look that pondered, a look that fleshed her insecurities and made her question just at what point he’d finally opened his eyes to her horridness. In shame she quickly covered her skin and began to sniffle with remorse towards her portly figure.
His heart sank at the sorrow in her face. It sank deeper still with the knowledge that he was just as much to blame if not more so for flirting too close with that invisible line.
“Please… don’t take this personal.” He said briskly.
“Mr. Please don’t go. I… I know I’m not that attractive, but I more than make up for that in the bedroom.”
“It’s not that you’re not beautiful Jayde, because you are, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise; but I made a promise.”
“So all this time you never wanted to…”
“I’d be lying if I said no, but I made a promise.”
“Well… will you at least stay with me till I fall asleep?”
Her mattress sat flat on the ground; a humble twin with simple black cotton sheets that were frayed at almost every fringe. Her pillow was lumpy and sweat stained; memories of her previous, temporary courtships. It’s here she rested and here he waited patiently.
The hour turned before slumber took hold of her; leaving Jones to his own devices.
On a nightstand by the door was the hundred dollar bill he’d handed her earlier. Not till then had he noticed a penciled in uni-brow on the smug face of old Ben Franklin and it made him smile in the midst of his abrupt departure.
A Close Call
Yet another still and lifeless night loomed in the slow elapse of time that resonated with every tic of a skeletal structured wrist watch strapped tightly around the arm of one ever eager rookie beat cop. Still, a quiet night meant an uneventful night and uneventful night meant the law was being upheld, at least under Jones’ jurisdiction.
He was more slender than most, even with all the added weight of an officer’s uniform, still his speed and athletic agility with which a man of his color had become synonymous with, had helped him graduate from the academy, a top of his class cadet. But even countless hours of training could never quite measure up to the pulsating trepidation of actually sweeping the vacant city streets. And it wasn’t until he came upon a dimly lit intersection that his night was truly about to take form.
Hunched against the post of a streetlight was the silhouette of a short voluptuous woman whose features remained blanketed by a darkness that seemed to swallow her. Woman or not he preceded with caution retaining a strained eye on her every movement before lowering his window. The coarse gravel shifted underneath the weight of his unit; the grinding sound evidence of a pavement in bad need of reconstruction.
“Excuse me mam, are you alright?”
She said not a word and stepped back, letting the darkness envelop her more.
“Mam, it’s okay. I don’t mean any harm. As you can see, I’m an Officer.”
Somehow amidst the darkness, his badge, the ever prided symbol managed a faint gleam almost as if to punctuate his statement.
She was hesitant even still, electing to timidly walk opposite of his voice, taking short backwards steps into the night.
It wasn’t until Jones flashed her with five hundred lumens that she froze like a deer in the headlights.
Her outfit had this “wet” look about it that glistened with every quaint, subtle movement she made to straighten herself out, pull down her skirt and hike up a pair of poorly treated black fishnet stockings.
“Look it Miss, you’re in no trouble. I just don’t fancy you being out this late, and all alone is all.” Jones said stepping out of his unit.
He nearly lost his footing on a still fresh, long and clear latex encasing that laid forgotten on the ground; evidence of an unrequited love.
The closer he got the more visible became a solid black blotch like that of a Rorschach image nestled on the bottom of her left eye.
“Mister, please leave.”
There was sadness in her voice as she began to sob, but persistence was one of Jones’ many strengths as his captain could surely attest to.
“Miss, I cannot in good conscience do that. Let me at least take you home. Please?”
“I can’t… He’ll know.”
Four years of academy training weren’t necessary to deduce to whom she was referring. And even a halfwit could have pieced together some form of an assumption based on the lateness of the hour and the way she carried herself. It was written on her face plain as day; plain as the blotch below her eye; she’d seen her share of violators and desecrators.
“If I come back short… He said he’d finish what he started with my eye.”
Jones let out a sigh of despair. He knew protocol was to arrest and detain, but underneath all that makeup was a youthful innocence that found him entranced in indecision.
“How much are you short?” He asked whipping out his wallet.
“A hundred.”
It may have been a mistake to pull out his wallet so prematurely, feasting her eyes on his small stack of capitol must have surely upped the ante, but that was neither here nor there. To Jones, a hundred dollars in exchange for peace of mind was an investment worth every red cent.
“I’m taking you straight home, I don’t want to see you hanging round here no more you understand?” He said sternly, holding out a crisp hundred dollar bill.
She of course nodded her head in agreement. After all, who wouldn’t? A freshly printed Benjamin in exchange for a ride with a handsome man was a win-win in any girl’s book.
“It’s alright; you can ride in the front with me.” He said ushering her towards the front of the car.
The somber look in her eyes was quickly replaced with curiosity as she stared at the endless display of buttons on the dash; and she had to fight every instinct in her adolescent mindset not to reach out and test each one.
Her name was Jayde Marshall. Other than that there were few words exchanged in route to her apartment. As much as Jones was brimming with questions regarding her black eye and the person responsible, he knew she’d never give him up. It was a strange relationship he’d never understand so he bothered not with indulging in the matter furthermore.
He’d seen shabbier homes in his youth, but this young lady’s didn’t fall too far behind. And the hostility with which he’s met by the building’s patrons didn’t bode well for a man of his complexion dressed the way he was.
The walls to her humble abode resembled slices of Swiss cheese making it hard for her room or conceivably anyone’s for that matter to have a definitive smell. A lone cherry scented candle was doing its best to ward off smells of burnt Spanish rice and stale marijuana seeping through from across the hall. The floor was in similar disarray and as light as Jones was, he kept an uneasy foot fearing the hardwood would cave as it creaked with almost every step he took.
Having seen the girl to safety and deeming his mission complete Jones wished her well and turned to leave.
“Won’t you stay a minute?” She asked sheepishly.
“I really should be heading back.” Jones replied.
“Oh. It’s just that… well… having you around makes me feel, safer.” She said admittedly.
He watched as she sunk her head and looked up at him with hope in her eyes.
“Well… I… I suppose. It’s about time for my break anyway, but no funny business.” He said as he pointed towards his finger.
And so they spoke candidly over a small pot of piping hot coffee in a kitchenette built for two, on a table littered with bills and tabloids and crumbs from her last meal.
As the hour wore on he removed his cumbersome gear belt while he sat and enjoyed some of her tastes in classic rhythm and blues. She as well had made herself comfortable and wiped away every ounce of caked on makeup, leaving her face a fragile pale hue with the acceptation of her bruise. She’d dressed down, abandoning her evening’s attire for a much more welcoming alter ego. And in a knee length white t-shirt she curled up on the couch; the glow from his finger a blatant reminder to keep her distance.
“I LOVE this song!” Jones exclaimed, as Eta James’ “At Last” cracked through the tiny portable speaker she possessed, “Care to dance?”
“Oh I… I d-don’t know how.” She admitted shyly.
“Just follow my lead.”
And so they danced. And for a moment in time, a one bedroom apartment became an elegant promenade, the creaks forgotten and the smells overlooked.
“OUCH!” She yelped.
Wincing in pain she plopped back down on the couch and reached for her left foot.
“What’s the matter?” He asked.
“I think I got a splinter.” She said perusing her sole.
“Then let’s have a look.” He said taking her foot in his lap.
Sure enough courtesy of her faulty floorboards stood an erect piece of wood no bigger than an eyelash on the ball of her sole.
“I have just the thing.” He smiled, pulling from his pocket a pair of stainless steel tweezers.
“Wow, you’re like prepared.” She giggled, watching him work with precision to remove the splinter.
It came out without a fight and he soothed her sole with a gentle rub to elevate any remaining ailment.
“Yikes!” She shrieked, pulling her foot back in ecstasy.
He already knew the answer, but he asked anyway out of sheer enthusiasm towards the notion.
“Are you ticklish Miss Marshall?”
“Oh my God yes! I don’t know what it is, but I’m like SUPER sensitive on my feet!” She revealed.
“Well I think that’s cute.”
She looked on at him in wonder. In her short years she’d never heard of anyone express such content towards a seemingly innocent childish pastime.
“You do?”
He shook his head slowly in accordance and proceeded to spill the amusement he took in watching women twitch and wiggle in unrestrained frenzies of laughter; before politely asking if he could court her feet atop his lap once more.
She didn’t ponder for very long, and gladly extended her chunky soles.
“Be nice.” She warned.
He looked at his finger; It still gleamed even as he took to striking her left arch with a light sensual graze that saw her twitch almost instantly.
“Don’t be scared.” He said, placing a firm grip on her ankles.
“I’m not!” She insisted. “It just tickles!”
She watched with wide eyes as his slender fingers wiggled inches from her arches and not sure of what to expect gripped the couch in anticipation.
He struck with casual strikes along the balls of her feet scraping her tender flesh with the grace of an Olympic ice skater.
“WHOO-HOO-HOO… YOU’VE DONE THIS BEEEE FORE HEE-HEE?” She squealed, trying her best to maintain her composure.
“Only in my dreams.” He replied with a smile.
Her feet swished side to side in an effort to avoid him, but his fingers would not be denied as he ceaselessly ran them up and down her soles.
“WHEE-HEE-HEE! YOU’RE GOOD AT TH-THISSS-SEE-HEE!”
“Oh I’m being real nice right now.” He reassured.
Firmly clamping her fidgeting left foot, he went to work on her arch with quick sporadic touches that saw her body contort about the couch; as she worked overtime just trying to keep her shoulder length black mane away from her face.
“WHA-HA-HA! OOH THAT TEECKLESSS-EEH-HA-HA!”
“Then I’m doing a good job.” He replied wittily.
“V-VEEERY-YEE… MUCH SOOO-HO-HO!”
She had to suppress every instinct urging her to pull away from his grasp. She could have easily done so, but as a form of gratitude she persevered, and pounded away at the couch to take out her frustrations.
“ALRIIIGHT-TA-HA! THAT T-TICKLES-SEE-HEE-HEE!”
He hung on her every giggle, as they cascaded like a heavenly chorus meant only for the most worthy.
“You have a very cute smile Miss Marshall.” He said with flush red cheeks.
“I C-CAN’T HELP IT-TEE-HEE-HEE! YOU’RE T-TICKLING MEEE-HEE-HEE!”
Her response came as no surprise as he traced the wrinkles of her scrunched soles; her white skin slowly turning a shade of pink with every caress and gentle stroke of his fingertips.
“Are you ticklish on these pretty little toes too?”
Jayde rolled back her eyes at the sincerity in his voice of such an unnecessary question, but happily played along appeasing the officer with a cheery reply.
“What… do you … think?!” She said with slight exasperation.
“Oh, am I detecting a little sass from you Miss Marshall?”
It was a playful taunt, but that didn’t mean he’d withhold his fingers from finding out the truth. And with a careful yet firm grip he peeled and stretched back her toes exposing the delicate skin so often overlooked.
Jayde couldn’t bring herself to witness the oncoming onslaught and chose instead to avert her attention to the holes in her walls; as if counting each one would consume her mind to the point of detachment from the almost unbearable sensations Jones was about to induce.
He smirked at her trivial attempts then bored through her toes with an undeviating volume of strokes; giving her tender skin all it could handle.
“WHA-HA-HA-HEEEE-HEE-HEE!”
At once, her thoughts which had been clear were exchanged for an inexplicable eccentricity. Every component of her psyche contrived into an amalgamation of peculiar sentiments.
“OH GAAWD-DA-HA-HA! THAT’S A TICKLE S-SPOT-TA-HA-HA!”
Such sincerity made Jones snicker alongside her as he continued to explore with articulate precision the boundaries that made up such delicate soles.
His sustained profusion of frivolous fingers kept her fists clenched tightly about the couch testing what little integrity remained in the fabrics of the furniture. And much like the couch she too was experiencing a test of her own.
For lack of an explanation Jones’ pertinacity which by all accounts could have easily been viewed as a detriment seemed to be having an adverse effect. Her skin was crawling with gooseflesh; her nipples were hard and despite the handicap of a night’s work there was no mistaking the subtle drips of vaginal secretion now oozing from her crotch.
He longed for more. His hands desired to embrace the rest of her skin. He could no longer settle in a state of abnegation. And with a skewed outlook, his hands ventured upon her calves.
Their skin just as delicate if not more so, save for a forgivable scrape right below the knee felt like fine silk that had been treated with the utmost upkeep. It’s there that he burdened her senses with perturbations that saw his fingers careen their every ounce of flesh.
“WHOO-HOO-HOO! AH-HA-HA!”
The awkwardness of the situation did nothing to excuse the fact that this was the most cared for she’d ever felt in her short years, and a bit of mad hilarity was something she was willing to endure.
With her reactions minimal Jones took to gliding his fingers further up her legs hiking her draping shirt right below her belly, where his hands found solace along her inner thighs; their meaty flesh a carnal erotic pleasure he imbibed with every thumb thrust.
“OH GAWD-DA-HA-HA! OH SH-SHIT-TA-HA! OOOKAAY-YA-HA… THAT TICKLES!”
Her line of work had made being exposed in such a manor commonplace. But it was the fleeting feelings pulsating through her body sporadically that made the ordeal unique, something that had been lacking, like a void that needed filling.
“Look at you, wriggling all crazy like!” Jones exclaimed.
Indeed she was having a much harder time maintaining her composure now that he’d exposed the sweet spot between her legs. Each jab of his thumb saw her flop like a fish on a boat deck. It was as if he’d found a direct line to her central nervous system the way he seemed to control her actions so easily.
Her semi-transparent panties did little in the way of masking her body’s innate desires as her vaginal walls clung for dear life to the very fibers of the undergarment; a fact not lost in the eyes of Jones, but still he continued.
Mounting her body he unsheathed more of her supple flesh, exposing a soft malleable stomach rounded to perfection by a poor dietary routine, courtesy of the impoverished life she’d been sequestered to. And it’s there, in her dough-like flesh, that he nestled his hands to trace her curves with unrestrained impunity.
“GEE-PEE-HEE-HEE! OH THAT’S BAD! WHOO-HA-HA! OH GOSH-SHA-HA-HA!”
His weight was barely enough to contain her lividness as he struggled amidst her thrashes to remain straddled to her hips.
“Miss Marshall control yourself!” He teased.
“I… CAN’T-TA-HA! TICKLES… TO MUCH-CHA-HA-HA!”
Under other circumstances it would have bothered Jayde to have her belly subject to such mischievousness. She had always been the heavy set and having her imperfection be the front and center of attention was a shot of self-consciousness. Yet the sensations that aroused her every fiber challenged that animosity, seemingly distancing her self judgement.
“OH GOD NOOO-HO-HO! TEE-HEE-HEE! YOU SUUUCK-KA-HA-HA-HA!”
“You’re too kind Miss Marshall.”
His fingers sank into her soft belly and gyrated with intense vivacity. He was certain the four walls that made up their confinement were anything but solitary in the audible sense, yet he never faltered, letting her shrieks and yelps spill out into the surrounding rooms. And for someone entitled to keep the peace, he certainly was doing his fair share to see it disrupted.
But everything, no matter how consequential or insignificant has an end and theirs came in the form of his own sensual stimulations. She felt it too. She felt its head inadvertently grazed her skin through his pants. Yet as much as he wanted to act on his desires, the gleam from his finger sternly scolded him for even contemplating the thought and he jumped off of her.
“I can’t.”
She drew a look of confusion, a look that pondered, a look that fleshed her insecurities and made her question just at what point he’d finally opened his eyes to her horridness. In shame she quickly covered her skin and began to sniffle with remorse towards her portly figure.
His heart sank at the sorrow in her face. It sank deeper still with the knowledge that he was just as much to blame if not more so for flirting too close with that invisible line.
“Please… don’t take this personal.” He said briskly.
“Mr. Please don’t go. I… I know I’m not that attractive, but I more than make up for that in the bedroom.”
“It’s not that you’re not beautiful Jayde, because you are, and don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise; but I made a promise.”
“So all this time you never wanted to…”
“I’d be lying if I said no, but I made a promise.”
“Well… will you at least stay with me till I fall asleep?”
Her mattress sat flat on the ground; a humble twin with simple black cotton sheets that were frayed at almost every fringe. Her pillow was lumpy and sweat stained; memories of her previous, temporary courtships. It’s here she rested and here he waited patiently.
The hour turned before slumber took hold of her; leaving Jones to his own devices.
On a nightstand by the door was the hundred dollar bill he’d handed her earlier. Not till then had he noticed a penciled in uni-brow on the smug face of old Ben Franklin and it made him smile in the midst of his abrupt departure.
