WraithTickler
TMF Expert
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- Sep 2, 2003
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Wrote this up a while back, but hadn't gotten around to cleaning it up for posting. Hope you all enjoy!
I parked my car on the driveway and after a moment’s hesitation, gathered my things and approached the front door. I carried with me a tightly packed duffle bag containing my clothes and toiletries for the week; along with a backpack full of various supplies I procured for the weekend ahead. Letting the duffle bag rest on my shoulders for a moment, I rang her doorbell and she quickly answered.
I extended my other hand, carrying a small bouquet of flowers, purchased as a courtesy to my hostess, who greeted me with a thank you and a pleasant smile. She bid me welcome and I stepped inside, feeling a rising sense of anticipation.
Quite naturally, the first thing I was asked to do was take off my shoes, which I complied with. I wore white cotton socks underneath, jeans, and a button down shirt. She was dressed in slacks a t-shirt, and with a happy, mischievous smile. She was also barefoot as well, her toenails painted to accent that fact.
I gave her the flowers and her smile widened. We embraced for a hug and immediately broke into mutual giggles, neither of us passing the opportunity to goose the sides of the other in a display of ticklish affection. We jumped back, startled, eyeing the other, smiling in realization of what happened.
I was lead to my room and told to lay my things out, which I did. I also took a peak inside my backpack, thumbing through some tools for this week’s fun. I pulled out a couple of feathers- one stiff and one loose and plumy, a set of small paint and make up brushes, a hair brush, some pipe cleaners, and a bottle of chocolate syrup. I absently wondered what she had prepared.
Setting those aside, I joined my hostess in the living room, where drinks were served. Along the way I saw an open door, which I believed lead to her bedroom. Curiosity got the better of me and I peaked in briefly. I could barely make the restraints laid out on the bed and assorted items assembled on the nightstand next to it. At that, my friend called out, admonishing me for peaking. I hurried on to her and asked for a diet cola. She gave me one and had one as well. We took seats next to each other on the couch and over a cool soda, talked. We discussed my drive down, the weather, and a bit of news regarding our personal lives leading up to this point.
I absently noticed as she sat on the couch, the change in her posture and the way her legs deliberately kept stretching out slowly, her feet reaching towards my lap. Trying to act like I did not see, I let my hand dip down to her feet, and gave a quick swipe with my fingertips across her soles. She burst into a short giggle, laughing, and I repeated, lightly scratching with my index and middle finger, teasing the soles around the balls of the feet, down the arch, and scratching at the heel.
Finally, she pulled away, smiling. “Shame on you, tickling me like that,” she chided gently, her smirk showing how much she enjoyed it. I smiled back and with a very obvious and deliberate stretch, planted my socked feet in her lap. She stared down for a second, then at me. “You realize you’re in a heap of trouble now, mister”
I tried lying back, returning with a wide grin of my own. “I realize that, but then again, that’s why I came here.” Laughing, she plucked my socks off, putting them on the floor. I wiggled my bare feet as they felt the open air, and she in turn, grabbed them between her index finger and thumb, and started tickling them, vibrating her fingertips.
I laughed. I laughed and my toes kept wiggling, letting out giggles and even squeals as she eventually raked down my toes. I tried to pull away, but she caught me, using her other hand to pin my ankles tight. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetie,” she taunted, and then tickled faster, scribbling her nails quickly. I gave more sharp laughs, squirming and trying to kick a bit, but she continued.
Finally, I leaned forward and reached over, trying to grab her hands. With her hands out of reach I tucked my legs in and pulled myself further in, my feet still caught in her hands. Instead of grabbing at her digits, I instead reached over and tickled her sides, feeling her ribs beneath my finger tips as they danced, tickling each one in turn working my way up. She laughed, drawing back to protect herself and I immediately drew my feet away, pressing the advantage and leaning in more to squeeze her sides. New laughter emerged as my hands walked down, finally reaching her waistline. I drew back, catching a breath, and she did the same.
Our eyes met once more, half searching, half smiling as we looked at each other, trying to process how the other handled their tickling. Part of it was enjoying the fun; the other was gaining a sense of familiarity for the other now that we had finally met in person. Slowly, she extended her feet again, and rested them in my lap, and we resumed talking.
The conversation lasted for nearly an hour, once more covering more mundane aspects, then plans for the week ahead as I stayed with her and we explored our friendship. I would lightly tickle her bare feet, a finger lightly scratching her soles as I talked, eliciting small giggles. When she talked I would massage, rubbing her feet, and absently admire their softness. Eventually, she edged closer and reached over, untucking my shirt and used her finger tips to tease my stomach as I talked, breaking up my sentences with short giggles. We drew closer still, not only tickling, but also finding the excuse simply to touch and hold.
When our talk ended, we were more comfortable with each other and sitting side by side, arms wrapped around each other’s waist. We had lightly played with the other’s sides and hips and even had a stray foot end up in the other’s lap. With our talk at least, we were closer too and I felt my own confidence and trust in her strengthening. I could sense the same from her as well. Our eyes met and my friend quietly asked if I was hungry now and wanted some dinner before the night’s fun really began. I nodded in agreement.
Dinner, prepared well in advance, was delicious. We ate quickly, both of us eager to get onto the night’s festivities. As supper finished, I jokingly asked where desert was. The smoldering look I received in kind told me all I needed to know. Taking me by the hand, she led me down the hall towards her room.
Once we reached the bedroom, we sat on the bed, and for a moment, hesitated. Now was the moment of truth and we were about to have a chance at tying up and tickling the other as we long talked about. Anticipation and nervousness gripped me and I thought I saw the same emotions on her face. Looking at the bed, I had only one question.
“Which one of us goes first?” I asked with a playful giggle, laughing to hide my own nervousness, one hand grabbing an ankle restraint. She smiled, shaking her head. It was a tough call and despite all our talk of teasing and tickling the other, we both loved being the ticklee and wanted to go first. Absently patting my pocket, I produced a coin, and an idea came to mind.
“We can flip a coin on it. Winner gets tickled first.” I tried to hide a smile. “You can throw and I’ll call it.” Standing up, she took the coin, and holding it out, flipped it into the air. As the coin spun, I reached forward and goosed her armpit and stomach, causing her to step aside. The coin dropped and I grabbed it. “I win.” I flashed a smug grin and winked. She recovered from the tickle shock and stared at me, knowing full well what I did. I honestly had not even bothered to look at the results of the toss, and she knew that, but was willing to play along.
“Fine, but you’re in for it,” she warned. “Now, lie down, and remove those clothes, mister.”
I smiled, the beginnings of a blush on my face. I removed my shirt, exposing my bare chest. My socks, already left in the living room, were not an issue. I removed my pants next, undoing the belt and letting them fall. I stood there in my boxers, glancing at her, then the bed, then down at my own boxers, blushing even more. She reached over and gently squeezed my hips and buttocks through my boxers. “That’s fine, mister. Now, lie down, arms out, feet together.”
I complied and she walked over by my head. My heart raced as she leaned forward and used the padded cuffs to secure my wrists- right hand, then left. I watched as she smiled and went down to the foot of the bed, securing my wrists together, then tying that to the bed. Finally, she took something, a small cord, and tied my big toes together. I stared at her, watching the growing smile on her face. I gave a tug at my wrists and ankles, and outside of a bit of slack, I could not move.
My heart raced as she kneeled at the foot of the bed, staring at me from over my toes. “Ready, sweetie?” she asked, her long fingernails wiggling in the air. I nodded and took a deep breath, bracing myself.
She started out by tracing a single finger up and down my soles, zigzagging from heel to toes. “Coootchie coootchie coooo,” she teased, watching me carefully. “You’re all mine to tickle now, sweetie.” I fought in the laughter, my feet starting to twitch. The sensations trailed behind her fingers… up and down… up and down… I tried holding my lips shut, staring back, forcing myself not to laugh, but the slow tickling continued. The sensations seemed to run up my soles, through my ankles, causing my legs to shudder. The sensations continued, building up in my stomach. Finally, with a deep exhale of air, I burst out giggling.
“Oh Hahaha that tickles!” I continued giggling softly, a wide smile on my face, my feet moving side to side. She responded by smiling back and added more fingers, doubling, tripling, the sensations that now covered my feet. My laughter grew harder as all five of her fingers started to rake my feet, dragging from toes to heel and back.
“Tickle, tickle,” she teased. “Your feet are all mine. I’m going to enjoy myself and take my time. Then I’m going to tickle the rest of you till I’ve tickled every inch of your body.” At that, my legs, already jerking at the ankles from the tickling, jumped into overdrive. My feet clenched. She giggled at that and with one hand, held my toes back.
I gasped, taking this moment to catch a bit of breath, but also since I knew where she was tickling next. I fought to curl my toes instinctively, but it was too little, too late. Her nails grazed the base of my toes and I squealed with laughter. She paused, studying my reaction, and continued across each toe, whispering small “kitchy kitchy” like sounds to accent her tickling. I laughed harder at that, then harder still as she ran her nails up and down my toes, then between them. It tickled like crazy and in a way I did not think possible. I was near hysterics.
The tickling just continued and I kept laughing. Finally she stopped, giving a quick scribble down my soles. I lay back on the bed, exhausted and catching my breath. “Enjoy yourself?” she teased. I nodded slowly, grinning back. “Let’s make this a bit more interesting, shall we?” She stepped aside and returned with a black cloth. Instructing me to lift my head, I let her drape it across my face and it was lights out. I felt the tug as she secured it behind me and let my head sink back into the pillow underneath. “Can you see me?” she asked. I replied "No," shaking my head.
At that, came silence. I thought I could hear her breathing or moving around on the carpeted floor, but she seemed content just to watch me. Or maybe she left. I was made to wait and this was part of what was part of her technique. I tried to relax, though I immediately tensed, realizing how much more it would tickle if I was caught off guard. I tested my wrists bonds that held my arms out and felt as secured as ever. Finally the sound of something caught my ears, like the rustling of fabric and something being dropped. I lifted my head trying to hear, and then felt a weight on my hips as she crawled on the bed.
She removed her pants, that I could tell, feeling her bare legs against mine. I could feel the cloth of her panties underneath too, so I knew she was not completely naked. As for if she had a bra on still, I had no idea. I tensed my muscles underneath her, taking in a deep breath, anticipating the tickling that was due to come any second. Instead she reached out and playfully pinched my cheek. “You look so adorable right now.” She laughed and I felt the blood rushing to my face, surely blushing.
“Now, let’s see, where can I tickle my tickle toy,” she continued, and at that, I felt something soft and light stroke my left ear and cheek, trailing down my neck, forcing a giggle out of me. “Tickle, tickle,” she teased, running the feather across my neck and under my chin, causing me to tilt my head back. I giggled softly, enduring the sensations, my head shaking slightly.
The single feather became two and they traced back and forth along my neck, tickling the tips of my ears, over my shoulders. I half expected it, but I jumped as they brushed into my pits. Laughing, I pulled at my arms, tugging at the cuffs to no avail. I heard her laugh in turn as the feathers increased their steady, but still slow pace, circling my pits, running around the edges.
Laughter poured out and the feathers kept circling with their soft edge. I shook and giggled, even squealed. The sensations in my armpits just continued and they started to drive me crazy. I could hear her laugh as well, watching and taking in my reactions, even teasing more for my ticklishness. Finally, I screamed out amid the laughter, begging her to stop.
To my relief, she did. She put the feathers aside and prodded my pits a bit with her fingers, then asked me if I really wanted her to stop, noting that I had not used the safeword we agreed on from our earlier discussions. “Tickle toy is too ticklish” was what I agreed on. In hindsight, I should have chosen an easier to say safeword. I caught my breath, and then simply told her just no more pit tickling. I could not see her face because of the blindfold, but I still know a grin lit up her face.
“Just no pit tickling, sweetie?” she cooed, immediately kneading my ribs with her fingertips. “Very well.” I laughed, not expecting this attack and arched my back, breaking into quick laughter. She kneaded up and down, each touch forcing laughter and giggles out of my mouth. My chest and tummy started to heave up and down fast from the tickly sensations shooting through my torsos. Finally they slowed, allowing me to catch my breath again.
I thought she was done, but I was wrong. Instead she grabbed my bottom rib and announced a loud “One!” I squealed as she vibrated her fingertips against it, then at the space between my ribs. “Two!” I giggled, trying to clench my jaws and tense my muscles, knowing what to expect at least. The counting continued… “Six…. And um… six… Ooops!” I gasped, knowing what she would say next. “Have to start over….” And she did. “One…”
The tickling went on like that for some time, her starting over at least six times before I lost count. When she finally reached the top, her hands went into my pits again, forcing my back to arch further, arms pulling enough to shake the headboard slightly. The tickling stopped there shortly and I could feel her nails skittering down my ribs, then across my chest.
“You’re such a fun tickle toy,” she teased, her nails scratching my sternum. “I could do this all night. Tickle, tickle…” In turn I giggles, trying to flex my chest muscles, spouting back between giggles. “Ahahaha true! But Hahahha Keep in mind, I get to tickle you ahahaha too, and I will ahahahaha give out as good as I get! EhehehE Ooooh!” I gasped at the last, her nails lightly grazing across my nipples, teasing and tickling them. I blushed as her verbal teasing remarked how sensitive they were and felt myself shifting to escape the tickling and the sensations they produced elsewhere. When she stopped, I breathed out slowly “That was a dirty trick.”
She giggled back. “You haven’t seen anything yet!” was her only remark, and then I felt her hands at my sides, kneading, skittering, and even squeezing. I jumped, squealing and laughing like crazy. I felt my eyes widen under the blindfold, my jaw dropping as laughter came out.
“Oooh! Ooh my- AHAHAHAhah Noo! HAHahahah OH that tickles!” I bucked and wiggled side to side, trying to escape the tickles to little avail. I felt her scoot back down my legs as she tickled, felt her lean in close over me, confirming she did in fact remove her bra as I felt her warm breasts against my skin, and then the cool kiss of her lips as they centered on my navel. I screamed as the raspberry came, sending a moist vibration rippling through my stomach. Another came, then another, forcing more squeals of laughter. All the while her tickling at my sides sped up. I started laughing nonstop and uncontrollably. She stopped the raspberries and started doing lip-bites- using just the skin of her lips to bite and squeeze my belly, moving in erratic circles.
I could not say how long that lasted, but when she stopped, I was breathing hard. She giggles, stopping, and I felt her hands rubbing my hips softly, pressing in the warmth of her hands. It was a hard and firm enough rub not to tickle and allowed me to relax and catch my breath.
Naturally, the rubbing at my hips led into her next tickle attack. The rubbing got lighter and lighter, tickling me through the fabric of my boxers. I started off with being able to hold it in, but with patience she continued, and giggles soon came forth. The tickling grew more intense when she stopped and skidded her nails back and forth across my waistline, causing me to try and curl up or kick. I could do neither and just felt the tickling run across my hips and waistline.
When she finally stopped, I felt her crawl off of me onto the floor. I breathed heavily, and then felt her rubbing my feet, working the soles with her hands. I tried to relax, but her seat at the foot of the bed made it clear where her next target was. “My feet again?” I asked when I caught my breath. “You know that’s my worst spot.” She giggled and nodded. “Mine too,” she replied sweetly. “But since they are your worst spot, that’s what makes tickling them so much fun.” I heard her turn away, then heard a soft click.
A cool liquid came over my feet. I could not quite identify it by smell, but I guessed it for what it was. “Baby oil?” I said aloud, giggling. I heard her giggle back and felt her rub it in, covering every inch of my feet, from heel to sides to back to tops, to between the toes, the last of which sent me into laughter. I was admonished to hold still, and I complied, and she continued the massage for some time.
“Ready?” she finally asked. I nodded, a nervous grin on my face. I expected a tickle attack to the soles or toes and tensed myself, ready as I could be. What she did caught me off guard and tickled like crazy. Her hands immediately started scratching, running her nails across my arches. That alone would have sent me into laughter. Making it worse, she leaned over, and it was only the moments of hot breath on my toes that gave me any warning as she started to nibble at my toes, her teeth lightly biting and sending a tickling sensation across the tips and underneath. I burst into deep, deep laughter, screaming, shaking. My feet felt completely aflame with ticklish fire from toes to heels and wiggled as much as they could. That toe-tie on my big toe limited me greatly. I could then feel her tongue skit between my toes, forcing more laughter.
I screamed and laughed as her nails started moving up and down, scratching sideways, across the heels, arches, and balls of my feet. I tried to scream out "Mercy!", the syllables of that word spluttering out between hard laughs. Between that and the nibbling, my head swam as the tickling reached its apex. She did not stop, nor slow and continued, on and on, and on. I thought of using my safeword, and even tried it once, but failed as the laughter took me, making me unable to get it out coherently.
As the tickling pushed me to my limits, I felt a strange sense of euphoria rush through me. I was laughing uncontrollably, helpless, but it was electric, thrilling. My feet had a ticklish itch that would not go away, and kept getting fueled by her nails, her teeth, and her tongue, but it set my entire body on edge. I shoot, thrashed, but felt my heart racing.
When it finally, finally stopped, the last tickle being a single index finger down my arches, She asked me if I was okay and I nodded. She then asked me if I had fun and I grinned back, nodding even more vigorously. I was breathing raggedly and I could feel sweat dripping down my face. I felt a cool cloth at my brow and cheeks, wiping it away, then move down my body, cleaning my up softly. I was still giggling this whole time.
I felt her lift my head and tip a glass of water to my mouth. I eagerly drank it down. I asked how long was I tickled for, and was informed I was under for an hour and fifteen minutes. I was amazed I lasted that long, and then noted wistfully that I wished the night wasn’t over yet. The poke at my tummy made me realize it wasn’t, which she pointedly told me. “Sweetie, that was round one. We’re going to be doing this all night long.” I gave a look of mock horror and giggled back, smiling.
Once more I felt her sit atop of me at my hips. I braced myself, expecting tickles, but instead felt her massaging my shoulders and arms. I relaxed, taking the opportunity to enjoy the sensations, especially since I had been tugging with my arms for over an hour. Her massage moved across my chest, which felt nice, but weird I admit, to my stomach, which elicited laughter. I felt her then scoot down to my ankles, rub my hips, and then legs. I could not say how long this lasted, but it must have been at least a good twenty minutes. I felt refreshed and ready to go again.
“So, sweetie,” she asked quietly, sliding off my feet to stand at the foot of the bed. “Ready for round 2?” I nodded in anticipation. “Good! Now, relax as I prep you.”
I tried to lean back into the pillow, and wiggled my toes and feet apart happily as she undid the tie on my big toes. She then let my legs go, and I stretched them out side to side, moving them to get away a small stiffness that had taken then. I heard her moving the restraints around, as if shifting them to the corners of the bed.
“Are you sure you want to go on with round two?” she asked, coming up to the head of the bed. “I’m going to make this the most intense roller-coaster ride of tickling pleasure you’ll have ever had, but it will be intense, and no tickles barred. Are you absolutely sure?” I nodded, and grinned back, urging her to get on with it. I could tell she smiled back, and she told me to open wide. I felt a surging sense of anticipation in my gut as she lifted my head and placed a rubber ball gag around my mouth. Checking to see it was secure, she asked again if it was comfortable. I nodded and gave a muffled “uh-huh!” in affirmation with a thumbs up. With that, she moved back to the foot of the bed. “If you need to use your safeword now, try to reach up and do an S-O-S by rapping your hands on the headboard,” she directed, her voice husky and possessive. “You’re mine now, sweetie, and I have you tied up almost just as I want you. Now,” she cooed. “Prepare for the tickling of your life!”
“Here goes!” she said, and to my surprise, she reached not for my ankles, but my boxers, which she yanked off in one smooth motion. I gasped in shock, feeling my penis and testicles exposed to the open air. I heard a wicked laugh as she then moved to bind my ankles to the corners of the bed, leaving me naked, blindfolded, gagged, and spread in a tight X over the bed, completely at her mercy.
“Ready or not, sweetie!” she breathed, moving in. “Here I tickle!”
I tensed, involuntarily twitching my hips, anticipating the tickling to cover my privates. To much shock, her nails lightly ran into my hips, scratching around to tickle the sides of my exposed buttocks. I yelped into the gag, my pelvis arching up and dancing as she wormed her fingers underneath me.
“Cootchie, cootchie coooooo sweetie,” she teased. “I’m tickling your tush and you can’t stop me!” I let out more muffled laughter, squealing, arching my hips higher and higher.
I should have known this would play right into her hands. As I leaned up helplessly, I felt something soft and bulky slid under me. She took a small, fluffy pillow and slid it under my bare ass. The end effect of this forced my hips, and in turn privates, up into the air, exposed to her most ticklish whims. I squirmed left and right, throwing my weight against the pillow to little avail, but could not move my hips back down. I felt added pressure on my upper back and knees as I was bent to accommodate this new and more vulnerable form. She merely giggled.
I took a deep breath, breathing around my gag, anticipating her to strike once more. I was not incorrect. I felt something soft and willowy brush across the tip of my penis: a single light stroke- repeated again, and again. I confess by this time I was already partially erect, and her teasing drove me solid quickly. I realized soon enough what it was, a feather.
She used that feather mercilessly. I gasped as she teased my head with it, and then burst into giggles as she ran it up and down the length of my penis, lightly feathering the underside and getting the glans. I giggled and even moaned, throbbing slightly at the soft, teasing touch. The gag grew moist as I bit into it, exhaling deeply into it with deep throaty laughs of pleasure. The feather slowly rotated around my penis, still tickling from base to head, forcing spasmic reactions, but forced up into the air by that damned pillow, I was helpless before her teasing.
Verbally, I could hear her husky voice teasing as well. “Awwww. Is my new tickle pet’s penis ticklish? Awwww. Look at it throb! It likes this! Don’t you? Hehe! Cooootchie coooootchie cooooo.” It went on like that, nonstop! Sensual bliss built amid the slow, forced laughter as the feather traveled the length of my penis, covering every inch. Just when I thought it couldn’t’ get worse, I felt the tip of one of her nails scratching at the head, lightly brushing the top. I shifted my hips back and forth, trying to get away, but the pillow that propped me up and left me exposed was fluffy enough to restrict my sideways movement, curving in enough to both accommodate and trap me.
I felt the pleasure, and pressure build. I swore I would climax and my breathing grew frantic. It was a tangle of emotions. I wanted it and I wanted it bad, but embarrassment also rose up. Another part of me knew I would be all the more sensitive afterwards. What then? Would this be a happy ending? Or a prelude to more devious tickling?
I thought I was going to burst when she stopped. I could feel her gently blow at my member, the air cooling it and stroking it. I felt her finger lightly rub the tip and felt the moisture of pre-cum rubbed back into the head. “None of that now sweetie,” she said, tsking. “We’re just getting started. Guess what you’re in for.”
At that, I could feel my eyes widen behind the blindfold, and a muffled plea rose into the gag. We talked about this in our deepest fantasies, but I was the one who would experience it first hand: the tortuous and pleasurable roller coaster of tease and denial.
My pleas rose to a muffled peak and I could feel my throbbing cock start to slowly wind back down. She waited though and I hung, reliant only on my senses of touch, hearing to second-guess her next move. I heard her step away from the bed and shake something up. “Hold still,” I was warned. I held my breath, complying and felt something cold sprayed over my privates.
Her fingers gently, teasingly, rubbed the substance off my penis, wiggling her nails lightly to send it fully erect once more. “Now, when I say hold still, I mean it,” I heard her warn again. I nodded, almost guessing what she was about to do. I felt the razor’s kiss as it went across my crotch, slowly removing the pubic hair down there. She held my member down and went about shaving me clean. I know I blushed furiously, but I kept still, in part for safety’s sake, the other part in quiet anticipation of the lustful hopes presented before me.
When she finished, she took a cloth and wiped me down. I felt smooth and extra sensitive, a fact made all the more apparent when she ran the feather over me there, causing me to squeal and somehow jump even with my arched hips and back. “Mmmmm Someone’s all clean now…. And ready for tickling! Well, almost all ready and clean. Hold still again!” I gasped as the tickling stopped, then felt her pull on my scrotum. Once more the razor removed the hair there. I held my breath, nervous about a stray knick or cut, but she was careful. Once more it felt sensitive beyond belief as a smooth cloth wiped it down.
“Now,” she purred. “To work!” I gasped as I heard movement, and then erupted into full laughter as her fingernails tickled and teased my balls, scratching quickly and lightly. They danced around them as they rested on the pillow she forced under my hips. I could barely move and found them all but helpless. Laughter poured out and she lifted my scrotum by the loose skin atop it and tickled underneath. There was pressure against my testicles, but not enough to be unpleasant. That massaging amid the tickling almost made it worse.
I cannot say how long she went at this. She stopped after a while and tickled at my thighs, forcing squeals and peals of laughter from me, which in turn ran against the muffling gag. Soon enough, she picked up her feather, and went back to teasing my penis, feathering the length, and letting her nails tease the head.
I felt the pressure go back up, feeling the throbbing down there increase in tempo. Her fingers kept teasing the head, forcing gasps, and the feather teased right under it. I moaned lightly, my breathing growing heavier. I would gain release!
Only she giggled, and pulled away, and went back to teasing my balls and my crotch, forcing out frustrated laughter, and letting my erection pass back down. I breathed heavily as she teased me about “third time’s the charm!” I grinned, and felt the pleasure shoot through my member, through my crotch, and warm my entire body.
Alas, it was another tease and she let my frustration build. To my shock she attacked my feet, scratching at them with her nails. Squeals, screams, and helpless laughter came out from me, sending my chest and stomach heaving. With the pillow arching my pelvis up, my angle made breathing hard. I almost cried with relief as she went back to my penis, once more teasing it to the edge.
After that, I lost track of the teasing and tickling as she mixed them up. There must have been at least a good seven; eight times where she took me to the edge, though I could swear it was closer to eleven in total. She would feather my shift, or the tip, and get the rest of me with her nails, always lightly teasing. The laughter and moans would rise, and the warmth would come in a rush of endorphins.
I felt exhausted from laughter and breathed very heavily. I felt her stop her tickling, then kiss my ear, whispering in it. “You’ve been such a good boy. Are you ready for your reward?” I could only nod, sucking in more air from around the gag and through my nose. I heard her giggle, and I relaxed into the pillow, wondering what she would do, or if this would be another cruel tease.
I felt something solid brush against the underside of my shaft and felt her nails at my balls. I heard an audible click then felt a most wondrous vibration shoot through me, accompanied by the familiar hum of a motor. Somehow, she got a vibrating rubber headed massager, used for massaging sore muscles and the like, and applied it to my swollen, throbbing member. Pleasure shot through me as she ran it up and down, just lightly enough to satisfy it and tickle at the same time. Her fingernails once more tickled my falls, lightly scraping the skin. Laughter, huskier than before erupted into my throat.
As the level of endorphins rose higher, so did the vibrating massager as it finally reached the head of my penis. The vibrations shot through my whole member and I could feel the welling rush before ejaculation. Pleasure and tickling, a combination for sensory overload after the constant denial and teasing, swirled about in a massive rush. I laughed helplessly, moaning, giggling from the tickling that now scratched at the base of my shaft as the vibrations forced my climax. I shot out and felt my stream run against the end of the massager, now pressed firmly over the head of my penis. It splattered back. To my pleasure and horror, she kept it pressed there. I contracted and tried to finish, but long teasing and long period of denial extended my reaction. It was forced, but the greatest high, the greatest rush I experienced. She did not stop as I finished, but kept the massager there as hypersensitivity set in.
I screamed. That went to beyond tickling to unbearable. I could not move, even as my thrashings at my ankles and wrists shook the bed, I could only scream as she held it there and kept tickling, stroking the base of my penis. It was too much. I tried for the safeword, but was too panicked, too overloaded to remember it. The hypersensitivity died down quickly enough, and another orgasm soon followed, forcing more squeals. The massager remained in place, and I thought with dread and curious anticipation she would try to force more orgasms out of me.
To my great relief, and lesser disappointment as well, she stopped, lightly tickling my thighs with her hands. I once more felt a cloth, this time running over my thighs, crotch and stomach to clean me up. She asked if I was okay and I slowly nodded, recovering my breath.
When all was said and done, she gently pulled the pillow away, letting me sink back down and relax my back and legs. She massages the latter, reaching up with a smooth touch at my cheek to get me to lift my head. The gag came off, followed by the blindfold.
My eyes felt wet and light stabbed them at first. I saw her face, tender and radiant, grinning back at me. I smiled, still catching my breath, feeling exhausted.
“That,” I breathed softly, affection in my voice, “was the most wonderful, intense experience of my life. Thank you.” I meant every word and could almost feel the emotion as my parched lips formed the words.
“It was my pleasure, sweetie,” she replied, touching my cheek gently once more. “One second.” She walked out of the room to head down the hall, and I heard a faucet running, presumably for more liquids to keep me hydrated. I could see now that she had me for nearly three hours. That meant, by the rough math I could do, that her first wave of tickling took an hour and fifteen minutes, and she in turn spent nearly a half hour teasing my privates and sending me on a roller coaster of pleasure.
She returned with the water and I drank up. She massaged my arms and my calves, working her hands over my entire body with scented massage oil. I felt relaxed, though I noted she did not release my bonds yet either. We talked as she did this, comparing our separate experiences. I told her what it felt like under her ticklish care and how much of a thrill and a rush it was. She probed me back with questions about what tickled, what did not, and what drove me absolutely wild. She admitted that even as I enjoyed the sensations and loss of control, she in turn loved the exchange of power and being able to manipulate me. In turn, there came a matter of the implied trust I had in her and how I gave in and did not use the safe word. The matter of the forced orgasm and sensation to my hypersensitive head came up. She admitted it while it was something we discussed it passing several times before, it might have pushed matters too far, too hard for my limits. I replied I did not necessarily mind in hindsight, but I would want warning before trying it again.
We kept talking and she kept massaging, staying away from my crotch as she worked over my muscles. I was asked about what I had in store for her, and I refused to talk, giggling and replying with a simple “You’ll just have to wait and see.” At that, she pointedly reminded me I was the one tied up, but I refused to budge. She poked my sides and we both laughed (Me for a different reason of course), and she dropped the subject.
When I was totally relaxed, I saw another half hour passed and it was getting late. I still felt energetic, and so did she. She smiled and leaned forward, giving me a kiss on the lips. I lifted my head and returned it, locking lips with her. She straddled me and I could feel her moistness through her panties and the rigidness of her breasts as she leaned against me, steadying my head with her hands. The kiss continued and our tongues met.
We pulled out of the kiss nearly a minute later, and I could feel our hearts pounding. She whispered in my ear if I wanted another surprise and I said yes, curious what it could be. She smiled shyly, and draped the blindfold over me once more, pressing a finger to my lips. “No peaking,” she teased, sliding off of me.
I heard the rustle of fabric and the tearing of what sounded like paper. As I guessed, I felt some sensation at my penis head, something moist and soft that extended over it and down to the base. I knew then I heard the removal of a condom from its wrapper, which she then placed over me. She gently squeezed my base, causing my still erect member to twitch. I nodded, a wide grin on my face.
I felt her weight on the bed and felt her inch closer. I felt her warmth as she lowered her nude body onto me. I arched my back, and felt my member slide into her. I gasped, feeling the tight contractions ripple through me. This was pure pleasure, pure warmth, and pure closeness. She kept lowering and pushed me all the way in. I heard her moan, gasping, and soon she rocked herself atop me in a gentle rhythm, which I matched.
Her arms wrapped around my neck and we kissed, deeply, passionately. The emotions and the sensation generated from our earlier tickling encounter now had a mutual outlet. Part lust, part need for release, and even a bit of, dare I say it? Tender love and mutual care mixed together then and there, making the experience even more…. Fulfilling.
Ecstasy and warmth came over us. I could hear her steady moans growing more intense and louder. I could feel a warmth that spread through my loins twice before tonight built up once again. I fought to hold it off, to pace myself for her sake. We rocked and she rode me, sliding up and down. I in turn gyrated my hips into the mattress and back up into her, thrusting in and out. Each thrust set me afire and her as well, punctuated by a sharp, lusty moan from her lips.
We climaxed at near the same time, punctuating by even sharper thrusts, her downwards and me upwards. Her moan was loud and rang in my ears. I was breathless by that time from a long, long, but pleasurable evening, an evening that I knew we would never forget. I could feel her break the kiss, arching her back, and scream with her release. She fell back and we kissed with even more passion than before, rubbing our bodies against each other, enjoying the warmth.
Slowly, she slid off and with care removed the rubber package, rolling it up and disposed of it. Once more a cloth cleaned up my privates. The blindfold came off, followed by the restraints at my wrists and ankles. I sat up and embraced her in a hug, kissing her, then pulled her back to the bed.
We discussed the evening's passionate end as we lay in each other’s arms, wrapped under the blankets. It was not planned, but born from the seeds of hopeful impulse, meeting needs and tensions that arose during the ticklish ordeal, following the sensations and feelings generated in each of us to their natural conclusion. We kissed and smiled as she turned out the lights.
We still had a week ahead, I noted to her, nibbling at her ear, whispering. “Tomorrow, my dear,” I said, “is your turn under the feather. Just wait and see what I have in store for you.” We giggled and lightly tickled each other’s bodies, embraced, and soon fell into an exhausted, content sleep.
I parked my car on the driveway and after a moment’s hesitation, gathered my things and approached the front door. I carried with me a tightly packed duffle bag containing my clothes and toiletries for the week; along with a backpack full of various supplies I procured for the weekend ahead. Letting the duffle bag rest on my shoulders for a moment, I rang her doorbell and she quickly answered.
I extended my other hand, carrying a small bouquet of flowers, purchased as a courtesy to my hostess, who greeted me with a thank you and a pleasant smile. She bid me welcome and I stepped inside, feeling a rising sense of anticipation.
Quite naturally, the first thing I was asked to do was take off my shoes, which I complied with. I wore white cotton socks underneath, jeans, and a button down shirt. She was dressed in slacks a t-shirt, and with a happy, mischievous smile. She was also barefoot as well, her toenails painted to accent that fact.
I gave her the flowers and her smile widened. We embraced for a hug and immediately broke into mutual giggles, neither of us passing the opportunity to goose the sides of the other in a display of ticklish affection. We jumped back, startled, eyeing the other, smiling in realization of what happened.
I was lead to my room and told to lay my things out, which I did. I also took a peak inside my backpack, thumbing through some tools for this week’s fun. I pulled out a couple of feathers- one stiff and one loose and plumy, a set of small paint and make up brushes, a hair brush, some pipe cleaners, and a bottle of chocolate syrup. I absently wondered what she had prepared.
Setting those aside, I joined my hostess in the living room, where drinks were served. Along the way I saw an open door, which I believed lead to her bedroom. Curiosity got the better of me and I peaked in briefly. I could barely make the restraints laid out on the bed and assorted items assembled on the nightstand next to it. At that, my friend called out, admonishing me for peaking. I hurried on to her and asked for a diet cola. She gave me one and had one as well. We took seats next to each other on the couch and over a cool soda, talked. We discussed my drive down, the weather, and a bit of news regarding our personal lives leading up to this point.
I absently noticed as she sat on the couch, the change in her posture and the way her legs deliberately kept stretching out slowly, her feet reaching towards my lap. Trying to act like I did not see, I let my hand dip down to her feet, and gave a quick swipe with my fingertips across her soles. She burst into a short giggle, laughing, and I repeated, lightly scratching with my index and middle finger, teasing the soles around the balls of the feet, down the arch, and scratching at the heel.
Finally, she pulled away, smiling. “Shame on you, tickling me like that,” she chided gently, her smirk showing how much she enjoyed it. I smiled back and with a very obvious and deliberate stretch, planted my socked feet in her lap. She stared down for a second, then at me. “You realize you’re in a heap of trouble now, mister”
I tried lying back, returning with a wide grin of my own. “I realize that, but then again, that’s why I came here.” Laughing, she plucked my socks off, putting them on the floor. I wiggled my bare feet as they felt the open air, and she in turn, grabbed them between her index finger and thumb, and started tickling them, vibrating her fingertips.
I laughed. I laughed and my toes kept wiggling, letting out giggles and even squeals as she eventually raked down my toes. I tried to pull away, but she caught me, using her other hand to pin my ankles tight. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetie,” she taunted, and then tickled faster, scribbling her nails quickly. I gave more sharp laughs, squirming and trying to kick a bit, but she continued.
Finally, I leaned forward and reached over, trying to grab her hands. With her hands out of reach I tucked my legs in and pulled myself further in, my feet still caught in her hands. Instead of grabbing at her digits, I instead reached over and tickled her sides, feeling her ribs beneath my finger tips as they danced, tickling each one in turn working my way up. She laughed, drawing back to protect herself and I immediately drew my feet away, pressing the advantage and leaning in more to squeeze her sides. New laughter emerged as my hands walked down, finally reaching her waistline. I drew back, catching a breath, and she did the same.
Our eyes met once more, half searching, half smiling as we looked at each other, trying to process how the other handled their tickling. Part of it was enjoying the fun; the other was gaining a sense of familiarity for the other now that we had finally met in person. Slowly, she extended her feet again, and rested them in my lap, and we resumed talking.
The conversation lasted for nearly an hour, once more covering more mundane aspects, then plans for the week ahead as I stayed with her and we explored our friendship. I would lightly tickle her bare feet, a finger lightly scratching her soles as I talked, eliciting small giggles. When she talked I would massage, rubbing her feet, and absently admire their softness. Eventually, she edged closer and reached over, untucking my shirt and used her finger tips to tease my stomach as I talked, breaking up my sentences with short giggles. We drew closer still, not only tickling, but also finding the excuse simply to touch and hold.
When our talk ended, we were more comfortable with each other and sitting side by side, arms wrapped around each other’s waist. We had lightly played with the other’s sides and hips and even had a stray foot end up in the other’s lap. With our talk at least, we were closer too and I felt my own confidence and trust in her strengthening. I could sense the same from her as well. Our eyes met and my friend quietly asked if I was hungry now and wanted some dinner before the night’s fun really began. I nodded in agreement.
Dinner, prepared well in advance, was delicious. We ate quickly, both of us eager to get onto the night’s festivities. As supper finished, I jokingly asked where desert was. The smoldering look I received in kind told me all I needed to know. Taking me by the hand, she led me down the hall towards her room.
Once we reached the bedroom, we sat on the bed, and for a moment, hesitated. Now was the moment of truth and we were about to have a chance at tying up and tickling the other as we long talked about. Anticipation and nervousness gripped me and I thought I saw the same emotions on her face. Looking at the bed, I had only one question.
“Which one of us goes first?” I asked with a playful giggle, laughing to hide my own nervousness, one hand grabbing an ankle restraint. She smiled, shaking her head. It was a tough call and despite all our talk of teasing and tickling the other, we both loved being the ticklee and wanted to go first. Absently patting my pocket, I produced a coin, and an idea came to mind.
“We can flip a coin on it. Winner gets tickled first.” I tried to hide a smile. “You can throw and I’ll call it.” Standing up, she took the coin, and holding it out, flipped it into the air. As the coin spun, I reached forward and goosed her armpit and stomach, causing her to step aside. The coin dropped and I grabbed it. “I win.” I flashed a smug grin and winked. She recovered from the tickle shock and stared at me, knowing full well what I did. I honestly had not even bothered to look at the results of the toss, and she knew that, but was willing to play along.
“Fine, but you’re in for it,” she warned. “Now, lie down, and remove those clothes, mister.”
I smiled, the beginnings of a blush on my face. I removed my shirt, exposing my bare chest. My socks, already left in the living room, were not an issue. I removed my pants next, undoing the belt and letting them fall. I stood there in my boxers, glancing at her, then the bed, then down at my own boxers, blushing even more. She reached over and gently squeezed my hips and buttocks through my boxers. “That’s fine, mister. Now, lie down, arms out, feet together.”
I complied and she walked over by my head. My heart raced as she leaned forward and used the padded cuffs to secure my wrists- right hand, then left. I watched as she smiled and went down to the foot of the bed, securing my wrists together, then tying that to the bed. Finally, she took something, a small cord, and tied my big toes together. I stared at her, watching the growing smile on her face. I gave a tug at my wrists and ankles, and outside of a bit of slack, I could not move.
My heart raced as she kneeled at the foot of the bed, staring at me from over my toes. “Ready, sweetie?” she asked, her long fingernails wiggling in the air. I nodded and took a deep breath, bracing myself.
She started out by tracing a single finger up and down my soles, zigzagging from heel to toes. “Coootchie coootchie coooo,” she teased, watching me carefully. “You’re all mine to tickle now, sweetie.” I fought in the laughter, my feet starting to twitch. The sensations trailed behind her fingers… up and down… up and down… I tried holding my lips shut, staring back, forcing myself not to laugh, but the slow tickling continued. The sensations seemed to run up my soles, through my ankles, causing my legs to shudder. The sensations continued, building up in my stomach. Finally, with a deep exhale of air, I burst out giggling.
“Oh Hahaha that tickles!” I continued giggling softly, a wide smile on my face, my feet moving side to side. She responded by smiling back and added more fingers, doubling, tripling, the sensations that now covered my feet. My laughter grew harder as all five of her fingers started to rake my feet, dragging from toes to heel and back.
“Tickle, tickle,” she teased. “Your feet are all mine. I’m going to enjoy myself and take my time. Then I’m going to tickle the rest of you till I’ve tickled every inch of your body.” At that, my legs, already jerking at the ankles from the tickling, jumped into overdrive. My feet clenched. She giggled at that and with one hand, held my toes back.
I gasped, taking this moment to catch a bit of breath, but also since I knew where she was tickling next. I fought to curl my toes instinctively, but it was too little, too late. Her nails grazed the base of my toes and I squealed with laughter. She paused, studying my reaction, and continued across each toe, whispering small “kitchy kitchy” like sounds to accent her tickling. I laughed harder at that, then harder still as she ran her nails up and down my toes, then between them. It tickled like crazy and in a way I did not think possible. I was near hysterics.
The tickling just continued and I kept laughing. Finally she stopped, giving a quick scribble down my soles. I lay back on the bed, exhausted and catching my breath. “Enjoy yourself?” she teased. I nodded slowly, grinning back. “Let’s make this a bit more interesting, shall we?” She stepped aside and returned with a black cloth. Instructing me to lift my head, I let her drape it across my face and it was lights out. I felt the tug as she secured it behind me and let my head sink back into the pillow underneath. “Can you see me?” she asked. I replied "No," shaking my head.
At that, came silence. I thought I could hear her breathing or moving around on the carpeted floor, but she seemed content just to watch me. Or maybe she left. I was made to wait and this was part of what was part of her technique. I tried to relax, though I immediately tensed, realizing how much more it would tickle if I was caught off guard. I tested my wrists bonds that held my arms out and felt as secured as ever. Finally the sound of something caught my ears, like the rustling of fabric and something being dropped. I lifted my head trying to hear, and then felt a weight on my hips as she crawled on the bed.
She removed her pants, that I could tell, feeling her bare legs against mine. I could feel the cloth of her panties underneath too, so I knew she was not completely naked. As for if she had a bra on still, I had no idea. I tensed my muscles underneath her, taking in a deep breath, anticipating the tickling that was due to come any second. Instead she reached out and playfully pinched my cheek. “You look so adorable right now.” She laughed and I felt the blood rushing to my face, surely blushing.
“Now, let’s see, where can I tickle my tickle toy,” she continued, and at that, I felt something soft and light stroke my left ear and cheek, trailing down my neck, forcing a giggle out of me. “Tickle, tickle,” she teased, running the feather across my neck and under my chin, causing me to tilt my head back. I giggled softly, enduring the sensations, my head shaking slightly.
The single feather became two and they traced back and forth along my neck, tickling the tips of my ears, over my shoulders. I half expected it, but I jumped as they brushed into my pits. Laughing, I pulled at my arms, tugging at the cuffs to no avail. I heard her laugh in turn as the feathers increased their steady, but still slow pace, circling my pits, running around the edges.
Laughter poured out and the feathers kept circling with their soft edge. I shook and giggled, even squealed. The sensations in my armpits just continued and they started to drive me crazy. I could hear her laugh as well, watching and taking in my reactions, even teasing more for my ticklishness. Finally, I screamed out amid the laughter, begging her to stop.
To my relief, she did. She put the feathers aside and prodded my pits a bit with her fingers, then asked me if I really wanted her to stop, noting that I had not used the safeword we agreed on from our earlier discussions. “Tickle toy is too ticklish” was what I agreed on. In hindsight, I should have chosen an easier to say safeword. I caught my breath, and then simply told her just no more pit tickling. I could not see her face because of the blindfold, but I still know a grin lit up her face.
“Just no pit tickling, sweetie?” she cooed, immediately kneading my ribs with her fingertips. “Very well.” I laughed, not expecting this attack and arched my back, breaking into quick laughter. She kneaded up and down, each touch forcing laughter and giggles out of my mouth. My chest and tummy started to heave up and down fast from the tickly sensations shooting through my torsos. Finally they slowed, allowing me to catch my breath again.
I thought she was done, but I was wrong. Instead she grabbed my bottom rib and announced a loud “One!” I squealed as she vibrated her fingertips against it, then at the space between my ribs. “Two!” I giggled, trying to clench my jaws and tense my muscles, knowing what to expect at least. The counting continued… “Six…. And um… six… Ooops!” I gasped, knowing what she would say next. “Have to start over….” And she did. “One…”
The tickling went on like that for some time, her starting over at least six times before I lost count. When she finally reached the top, her hands went into my pits again, forcing my back to arch further, arms pulling enough to shake the headboard slightly. The tickling stopped there shortly and I could feel her nails skittering down my ribs, then across my chest.
“You’re such a fun tickle toy,” she teased, her nails scratching my sternum. “I could do this all night. Tickle, tickle…” In turn I giggles, trying to flex my chest muscles, spouting back between giggles. “Ahahaha true! But Hahahha Keep in mind, I get to tickle you ahahaha too, and I will ahahahaha give out as good as I get! EhehehE Ooooh!” I gasped at the last, her nails lightly grazing across my nipples, teasing and tickling them. I blushed as her verbal teasing remarked how sensitive they were and felt myself shifting to escape the tickling and the sensations they produced elsewhere. When she stopped, I breathed out slowly “That was a dirty trick.”
She giggled back. “You haven’t seen anything yet!” was her only remark, and then I felt her hands at my sides, kneading, skittering, and even squeezing. I jumped, squealing and laughing like crazy. I felt my eyes widen under the blindfold, my jaw dropping as laughter came out.
“Oooh! Ooh my- AHAHAHAhah Noo! HAHahahah OH that tickles!” I bucked and wiggled side to side, trying to escape the tickles to little avail. I felt her scoot back down my legs as she tickled, felt her lean in close over me, confirming she did in fact remove her bra as I felt her warm breasts against my skin, and then the cool kiss of her lips as they centered on my navel. I screamed as the raspberry came, sending a moist vibration rippling through my stomach. Another came, then another, forcing more squeals of laughter. All the while her tickling at my sides sped up. I started laughing nonstop and uncontrollably. She stopped the raspberries and started doing lip-bites- using just the skin of her lips to bite and squeeze my belly, moving in erratic circles.
I could not say how long that lasted, but when she stopped, I was breathing hard. She giggles, stopping, and I felt her hands rubbing my hips softly, pressing in the warmth of her hands. It was a hard and firm enough rub not to tickle and allowed me to relax and catch my breath.
Naturally, the rubbing at my hips led into her next tickle attack. The rubbing got lighter and lighter, tickling me through the fabric of my boxers. I started off with being able to hold it in, but with patience she continued, and giggles soon came forth. The tickling grew more intense when she stopped and skidded her nails back and forth across my waistline, causing me to try and curl up or kick. I could do neither and just felt the tickling run across my hips and waistline.
When she finally stopped, I felt her crawl off of me onto the floor. I breathed heavily, and then felt her rubbing my feet, working the soles with her hands. I tried to relax, but her seat at the foot of the bed made it clear where her next target was. “My feet again?” I asked when I caught my breath. “You know that’s my worst spot.” She giggled and nodded. “Mine too,” she replied sweetly. “But since they are your worst spot, that’s what makes tickling them so much fun.” I heard her turn away, then heard a soft click.
A cool liquid came over my feet. I could not quite identify it by smell, but I guessed it for what it was. “Baby oil?” I said aloud, giggling. I heard her giggle back and felt her rub it in, covering every inch of my feet, from heel to sides to back to tops, to between the toes, the last of which sent me into laughter. I was admonished to hold still, and I complied, and she continued the massage for some time.
“Ready?” she finally asked. I nodded, a nervous grin on my face. I expected a tickle attack to the soles or toes and tensed myself, ready as I could be. What she did caught me off guard and tickled like crazy. Her hands immediately started scratching, running her nails across my arches. That alone would have sent me into laughter. Making it worse, she leaned over, and it was only the moments of hot breath on my toes that gave me any warning as she started to nibble at my toes, her teeth lightly biting and sending a tickling sensation across the tips and underneath. I burst into deep, deep laughter, screaming, shaking. My feet felt completely aflame with ticklish fire from toes to heels and wiggled as much as they could. That toe-tie on my big toe limited me greatly. I could then feel her tongue skit between my toes, forcing more laughter.
I screamed and laughed as her nails started moving up and down, scratching sideways, across the heels, arches, and balls of my feet. I tried to scream out "Mercy!", the syllables of that word spluttering out between hard laughs. Between that and the nibbling, my head swam as the tickling reached its apex. She did not stop, nor slow and continued, on and on, and on. I thought of using my safeword, and even tried it once, but failed as the laughter took me, making me unable to get it out coherently.
As the tickling pushed me to my limits, I felt a strange sense of euphoria rush through me. I was laughing uncontrollably, helpless, but it was electric, thrilling. My feet had a ticklish itch that would not go away, and kept getting fueled by her nails, her teeth, and her tongue, but it set my entire body on edge. I shoot, thrashed, but felt my heart racing.
When it finally, finally stopped, the last tickle being a single index finger down my arches, She asked me if I was okay and I nodded. She then asked me if I had fun and I grinned back, nodding even more vigorously. I was breathing raggedly and I could feel sweat dripping down my face. I felt a cool cloth at my brow and cheeks, wiping it away, then move down my body, cleaning my up softly. I was still giggling this whole time.
I felt her lift my head and tip a glass of water to my mouth. I eagerly drank it down. I asked how long was I tickled for, and was informed I was under for an hour and fifteen minutes. I was amazed I lasted that long, and then noted wistfully that I wished the night wasn’t over yet. The poke at my tummy made me realize it wasn’t, which she pointedly told me. “Sweetie, that was round one. We’re going to be doing this all night long.” I gave a look of mock horror and giggled back, smiling.
Once more I felt her sit atop of me at my hips. I braced myself, expecting tickles, but instead felt her massaging my shoulders and arms. I relaxed, taking the opportunity to enjoy the sensations, especially since I had been tugging with my arms for over an hour. Her massage moved across my chest, which felt nice, but weird I admit, to my stomach, which elicited laughter. I felt her then scoot down to my ankles, rub my hips, and then legs. I could not say how long this lasted, but it must have been at least a good twenty minutes. I felt refreshed and ready to go again.
“So, sweetie,” she asked quietly, sliding off my feet to stand at the foot of the bed. “Ready for round 2?” I nodded in anticipation. “Good! Now, relax as I prep you.”
I tried to lean back into the pillow, and wiggled my toes and feet apart happily as she undid the tie on my big toes. She then let my legs go, and I stretched them out side to side, moving them to get away a small stiffness that had taken then. I heard her moving the restraints around, as if shifting them to the corners of the bed.
“Are you sure you want to go on with round two?” she asked, coming up to the head of the bed. “I’m going to make this the most intense roller-coaster ride of tickling pleasure you’ll have ever had, but it will be intense, and no tickles barred. Are you absolutely sure?” I nodded, and grinned back, urging her to get on with it. I could tell she smiled back, and she told me to open wide. I felt a surging sense of anticipation in my gut as she lifted my head and placed a rubber ball gag around my mouth. Checking to see it was secure, she asked again if it was comfortable. I nodded and gave a muffled “uh-huh!” in affirmation with a thumbs up. With that, she moved back to the foot of the bed. “If you need to use your safeword now, try to reach up and do an S-O-S by rapping your hands on the headboard,” she directed, her voice husky and possessive. “You’re mine now, sweetie, and I have you tied up almost just as I want you. Now,” she cooed. “Prepare for the tickling of your life!”
“Here goes!” she said, and to my surprise, she reached not for my ankles, but my boxers, which she yanked off in one smooth motion. I gasped in shock, feeling my penis and testicles exposed to the open air. I heard a wicked laugh as she then moved to bind my ankles to the corners of the bed, leaving me naked, blindfolded, gagged, and spread in a tight X over the bed, completely at her mercy.
“Ready or not, sweetie!” she breathed, moving in. “Here I tickle!”
I tensed, involuntarily twitching my hips, anticipating the tickling to cover my privates. To much shock, her nails lightly ran into my hips, scratching around to tickle the sides of my exposed buttocks. I yelped into the gag, my pelvis arching up and dancing as she wormed her fingers underneath me.
“Cootchie, cootchie coooooo sweetie,” she teased. “I’m tickling your tush and you can’t stop me!” I let out more muffled laughter, squealing, arching my hips higher and higher.
I should have known this would play right into her hands. As I leaned up helplessly, I felt something soft and bulky slid under me. She took a small, fluffy pillow and slid it under my bare ass. The end effect of this forced my hips, and in turn privates, up into the air, exposed to her most ticklish whims. I squirmed left and right, throwing my weight against the pillow to little avail, but could not move my hips back down. I felt added pressure on my upper back and knees as I was bent to accommodate this new and more vulnerable form. She merely giggled.
I took a deep breath, breathing around my gag, anticipating her to strike once more. I was not incorrect. I felt something soft and willowy brush across the tip of my penis: a single light stroke- repeated again, and again. I confess by this time I was already partially erect, and her teasing drove me solid quickly. I realized soon enough what it was, a feather.
She used that feather mercilessly. I gasped as she teased my head with it, and then burst into giggles as she ran it up and down the length of my penis, lightly feathering the underside and getting the glans. I giggled and even moaned, throbbing slightly at the soft, teasing touch. The gag grew moist as I bit into it, exhaling deeply into it with deep throaty laughs of pleasure. The feather slowly rotated around my penis, still tickling from base to head, forcing spasmic reactions, but forced up into the air by that damned pillow, I was helpless before her teasing.
Verbally, I could hear her husky voice teasing as well. “Awwww. Is my new tickle pet’s penis ticklish? Awwww. Look at it throb! It likes this! Don’t you? Hehe! Cooootchie coooootchie cooooo.” It went on like that, nonstop! Sensual bliss built amid the slow, forced laughter as the feather traveled the length of my penis, covering every inch. Just when I thought it couldn’t’ get worse, I felt the tip of one of her nails scratching at the head, lightly brushing the top. I shifted my hips back and forth, trying to get away, but the pillow that propped me up and left me exposed was fluffy enough to restrict my sideways movement, curving in enough to both accommodate and trap me.
I felt the pleasure, and pressure build. I swore I would climax and my breathing grew frantic. It was a tangle of emotions. I wanted it and I wanted it bad, but embarrassment also rose up. Another part of me knew I would be all the more sensitive afterwards. What then? Would this be a happy ending? Or a prelude to more devious tickling?
I thought I was going to burst when she stopped. I could feel her gently blow at my member, the air cooling it and stroking it. I felt her finger lightly rub the tip and felt the moisture of pre-cum rubbed back into the head. “None of that now sweetie,” she said, tsking. “We’re just getting started. Guess what you’re in for.”
At that, I could feel my eyes widen behind the blindfold, and a muffled plea rose into the gag. We talked about this in our deepest fantasies, but I was the one who would experience it first hand: the tortuous and pleasurable roller coaster of tease and denial.
My pleas rose to a muffled peak and I could feel my throbbing cock start to slowly wind back down. She waited though and I hung, reliant only on my senses of touch, hearing to second-guess her next move. I heard her step away from the bed and shake something up. “Hold still,” I was warned. I held my breath, complying and felt something cold sprayed over my privates.
Her fingers gently, teasingly, rubbed the substance off my penis, wiggling her nails lightly to send it fully erect once more. “Now, when I say hold still, I mean it,” I heard her warn again. I nodded, almost guessing what she was about to do. I felt the razor’s kiss as it went across my crotch, slowly removing the pubic hair down there. She held my member down and went about shaving me clean. I know I blushed furiously, but I kept still, in part for safety’s sake, the other part in quiet anticipation of the lustful hopes presented before me.
When she finished, she took a cloth and wiped me down. I felt smooth and extra sensitive, a fact made all the more apparent when she ran the feather over me there, causing me to squeal and somehow jump even with my arched hips and back. “Mmmmm Someone’s all clean now…. And ready for tickling! Well, almost all ready and clean. Hold still again!” I gasped as the tickling stopped, then felt her pull on my scrotum. Once more the razor removed the hair there. I held my breath, nervous about a stray knick or cut, but she was careful. Once more it felt sensitive beyond belief as a smooth cloth wiped it down.
“Now,” she purred. “To work!” I gasped as I heard movement, and then erupted into full laughter as her fingernails tickled and teased my balls, scratching quickly and lightly. They danced around them as they rested on the pillow she forced under my hips. I could barely move and found them all but helpless. Laughter poured out and she lifted my scrotum by the loose skin atop it and tickled underneath. There was pressure against my testicles, but not enough to be unpleasant. That massaging amid the tickling almost made it worse.
I cannot say how long she went at this. She stopped after a while and tickled at my thighs, forcing squeals and peals of laughter from me, which in turn ran against the muffling gag. Soon enough, she picked up her feather, and went back to teasing my penis, feathering the length, and letting her nails tease the head.
I felt the pressure go back up, feeling the throbbing down there increase in tempo. Her fingers kept teasing the head, forcing gasps, and the feather teased right under it. I moaned lightly, my breathing growing heavier. I would gain release!
Only she giggled, and pulled away, and went back to teasing my balls and my crotch, forcing out frustrated laughter, and letting my erection pass back down. I breathed heavily as she teased me about “third time’s the charm!” I grinned, and felt the pleasure shoot through my member, through my crotch, and warm my entire body.
Alas, it was another tease and she let my frustration build. To my shock she attacked my feet, scratching at them with her nails. Squeals, screams, and helpless laughter came out from me, sending my chest and stomach heaving. With the pillow arching my pelvis up, my angle made breathing hard. I almost cried with relief as she went back to my penis, once more teasing it to the edge.
After that, I lost track of the teasing and tickling as she mixed them up. There must have been at least a good seven; eight times where she took me to the edge, though I could swear it was closer to eleven in total. She would feather my shift, or the tip, and get the rest of me with her nails, always lightly teasing. The laughter and moans would rise, and the warmth would come in a rush of endorphins.
I felt exhausted from laughter and breathed very heavily. I felt her stop her tickling, then kiss my ear, whispering in it. “You’ve been such a good boy. Are you ready for your reward?” I could only nod, sucking in more air from around the gag and through my nose. I heard her giggle, and I relaxed into the pillow, wondering what she would do, or if this would be another cruel tease.
I felt something solid brush against the underside of my shaft and felt her nails at my balls. I heard an audible click then felt a most wondrous vibration shoot through me, accompanied by the familiar hum of a motor. Somehow, she got a vibrating rubber headed massager, used for massaging sore muscles and the like, and applied it to my swollen, throbbing member. Pleasure shot through me as she ran it up and down, just lightly enough to satisfy it and tickle at the same time. Her fingernails once more tickled my falls, lightly scraping the skin. Laughter, huskier than before erupted into my throat.
As the level of endorphins rose higher, so did the vibrating massager as it finally reached the head of my penis. The vibrations shot through my whole member and I could feel the welling rush before ejaculation. Pleasure and tickling, a combination for sensory overload after the constant denial and teasing, swirled about in a massive rush. I laughed helplessly, moaning, giggling from the tickling that now scratched at the base of my shaft as the vibrations forced my climax. I shot out and felt my stream run against the end of the massager, now pressed firmly over the head of my penis. It splattered back. To my pleasure and horror, she kept it pressed there. I contracted and tried to finish, but long teasing and long period of denial extended my reaction. It was forced, but the greatest high, the greatest rush I experienced. She did not stop as I finished, but kept the massager there as hypersensitivity set in.
I screamed. That went to beyond tickling to unbearable. I could not move, even as my thrashings at my ankles and wrists shook the bed, I could only scream as she held it there and kept tickling, stroking the base of my penis. It was too much. I tried for the safeword, but was too panicked, too overloaded to remember it. The hypersensitivity died down quickly enough, and another orgasm soon followed, forcing more squeals. The massager remained in place, and I thought with dread and curious anticipation she would try to force more orgasms out of me.
To my great relief, and lesser disappointment as well, she stopped, lightly tickling my thighs with her hands. I once more felt a cloth, this time running over my thighs, crotch and stomach to clean me up. She asked if I was okay and I slowly nodded, recovering my breath.
When all was said and done, she gently pulled the pillow away, letting me sink back down and relax my back and legs. She massages the latter, reaching up with a smooth touch at my cheek to get me to lift my head. The gag came off, followed by the blindfold.
My eyes felt wet and light stabbed them at first. I saw her face, tender and radiant, grinning back at me. I smiled, still catching my breath, feeling exhausted.
“That,” I breathed softly, affection in my voice, “was the most wonderful, intense experience of my life. Thank you.” I meant every word and could almost feel the emotion as my parched lips formed the words.
“It was my pleasure, sweetie,” she replied, touching my cheek gently once more. “One second.” She walked out of the room to head down the hall, and I heard a faucet running, presumably for more liquids to keep me hydrated. I could see now that she had me for nearly three hours. That meant, by the rough math I could do, that her first wave of tickling took an hour and fifteen minutes, and she in turn spent nearly a half hour teasing my privates and sending me on a roller coaster of pleasure.
She returned with the water and I drank up. She massaged my arms and my calves, working her hands over my entire body with scented massage oil. I felt relaxed, though I noted she did not release my bonds yet either. We talked as she did this, comparing our separate experiences. I told her what it felt like under her ticklish care and how much of a thrill and a rush it was. She probed me back with questions about what tickled, what did not, and what drove me absolutely wild. She admitted that even as I enjoyed the sensations and loss of control, she in turn loved the exchange of power and being able to manipulate me. In turn, there came a matter of the implied trust I had in her and how I gave in and did not use the safe word. The matter of the forced orgasm and sensation to my hypersensitive head came up. She admitted it while it was something we discussed it passing several times before, it might have pushed matters too far, too hard for my limits. I replied I did not necessarily mind in hindsight, but I would want warning before trying it again.
We kept talking and she kept massaging, staying away from my crotch as she worked over my muscles. I was asked about what I had in store for her, and I refused to talk, giggling and replying with a simple “You’ll just have to wait and see.” At that, she pointedly reminded me I was the one tied up, but I refused to budge. She poked my sides and we both laughed (Me for a different reason of course), and she dropped the subject.
When I was totally relaxed, I saw another half hour passed and it was getting late. I still felt energetic, and so did she. She smiled and leaned forward, giving me a kiss on the lips. I lifted my head and returned it, locking lips with her. She straddled me and I could feel her moistness through her panties and the rigidness of her breasts as she leaned against me, steadying my head with her hands. The kiss continued and our tongues met.
We pulled out of the kiss nearly a minute later, and I could feel our hearts pounding. She whispered in my ear if I wanted another surprise and I said yes, curious what it could be. She smiled shyly, and draped the blindfold over me once more, pressing a finger to my lips. “No peaking,” she teased, sliding off of me.
I heard the rustle of fabric and the tearing of what sounded like paper. As I guessed, I felt some sensation at my penis head, something moist and soft that extended over it and down to the base. I knew then I heard the removal of a condom from its wrapper, which she then placed over me. She gently squeezed my base, causing my still erect member to twitch. I nodded, a wide grin on my face.
I felt her weight on the bed and felt her inch closer. I felt her warmth as she lowered her nude body onto me. I arched my back, and felt my member slide into her. I gasped, feeling the tight contractions ripple through me. This was pure pleasure, pure warmth, and pure closeness. She kept lowering and pushed me all the way in. I heard her moan, gasping, and soon she rocked herself atop me in a gentle rhythm, which I matched.
Her arms wrapped around my neck and we kissed, deeply, passionately. The emotions and the sensation generated from our earlier tickling encounter now had a mutual outlet. Part lust, part need for release, and even a bit of, dare I say it? Tender love and mutual care mixed together then and there, making the experience even more…. Fulfilling.
Ecstasy and warmth came over us. I could hear her steady moans growing more intense and louder. I could feel a warmth that spread through my loins twice before tonight built up once again. I fought to hold it off, to pace myself for her sake. We rocked and she rode me, sliding up and down. I in turn gyrated my hips into the mattress and back up into her, thrusting in and out. Each thrust set me afire and her as well, punctuated by a sharp, lusty moan from her lips.
We climaxed at near the same time, punctuating by even sharper thrusts, her downwards and me upwards. Her moan was loud and rang in my ears. I was breathless by that time from a long, long, but pleasurable evening, an evening that I knew we would never forget. I could feel her break the kiss, arching her back, and scream with her release. She fell back and we kissed with even more passion than before, rubbing our bodies against each other, enjoying the warmth.
Slowly, she slid off and with care removed the rubber package, rolling it up and disposed of it. Once more a cloth cleaned up my privates. The blindfold came off, followed by the restraints at my wrists and ankles. I sat up and embraced her in a hug, kissing her, then pulled her back to the bed.
We discussed the evening's passionate end as we lay in each other’s arms, wrapped under the blankets. It was not planned, but born from the seeds of hopeful impulse, meeting needs and tensions that arose during the ticklish ordeal, following the sensations and feelings generated in each of us to their natural conclusion. We kissed and smiled as she turned out the lights.
We still had a week ahead, I noted to her, nibbling at her ear, whispering. “Tomorrow, my dear,” I said, “is your turn under the feather. Just wait and see what I have in store for you.” We giggled and lightly tickled each other’s bodies, embraced, and soon fell into an exhausted, content sleep.
