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Olympian Competition M/F, F/M

methodtickler

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Olympian Competition

By: Methodtickler

Gheorgetta kicked her bare feet up on the sofa and turned the page of the book in her hands, some nameless mystery she’d found in the attic from a million years ago but she was committed to fulfilling her New Year’s resolution to read more books, less magazines. Before continuing with the story, she couldn’t help taking a peek at her freshly-painted neon pink toes, which stood like ten tiny little candies just above the top of the book. They stood out even more against the pale whiteness of her tiny size four feet. Beyond them, she spotted the framed picture on the wall and smiled.

It was her favorite, taken at the ’76 Nationals when she was just a young gymnast who’d just missed her chance at glory, to join the Romanian National Team headed to the Olympics. It would have been the pinnacle of all her hard work, her whole life up that point actually and she should have been crestfallen. Yet she was beaming in the picture, as was the massive young weightlifter towering over her diminutive five foot frame with his beefy mitt on her shoulder. He had also just missed the cut.

His name was Alexandru and they were married two weeks later.

The sight of her husband at his physical peak never failed to turn her on; those forearms, gargantuan biceps. She spent hours oiling him up just to marvel at the sheer majesty of his physique. He’d scoop her up like a doll and she’d melt, relishing the security and warmth of his brawn.

A noise from the kitchen roused her from her thoughts, followed by her husband entering with a bag of chips and two-liter of soda.

He was still good-looking, although his sandy-colored hair had thinned from the ruffled mop from the picture. He’d was also less than fifty pounds short of four-hundred. Now able to delegate tasks at his contracting business, he wasn’t as physically active and it all happened so fast.

He tottered over to the couch, and stared at her for a moment with his jolly pale blue eyes. His eyes went from her face to her feet and he cleared his throat in an exaggerated fashion and smirked.

“What?” she asked, not taking her eyes from the page.

“May I sit please?” he asked in mock-sweetness.

“Sit in your chair. I’m comfortable.”

“Your stinky feet are more important to you than your husband, who is tired from a hard-day’s work?” he asked with a sigh.

“You mean my tired feet and my stinky husband who has not done a hard days work since we came to New York!” she cracked, stealing a glance up at him as he stared at her toes.

She stretched and wiggled them, admiring the garish color.

Before she could protest he grabbed both her ankles with his huge hand and lifted them. Then he plopped down on the couch with a thud and placed them in his lap.

“Very pretty color,” he told her.

“I know! Isn’t it! They look like little candies don’t they?”

Still looking at them, he ran a finger over the top of her toes, just below the nailbed. She flinched and tried to pull away but he got a hold of her foot and put it back in his lap and held fast with his right hand, securing it against the other against his bulging stomach.

“Oh no my sweet! These pretty little feet are staying right here! I asked you nicely to move so you had your chance!”

She put her book down on the floor in order to protest just before he placed a single rough fingertip on her smooth heel and slowly dragged it upward. The volume of her shriek startled even her and echoed through the apartment. By the time he reached the middle of her sole, she was howling through her hands as she didn’t want to the neighbors to hear. Vainly, she tried to pull away but it was no use. His iron grip held them secure against him and she squirmed, thrashing her head back and forth. As that big finger found her arch and remained there, brutally scratching the delicate, wrinkly white skin she frantically grabbed around and finally found a pillow and unleashed her agonized screams into it.

Her feet were always ticklish but mere hours after pedicure, they were beyond sensitive. Methodically scrubbed smooth of any callous or rough spot, there was no line of defense against her husband’s slow and deliberate stroke on her baby soft soles. His chuckle brought everything back into focus and she realized her eyes were shut tight and were now wet as she opened them, peeking over the pillow.

“Sweet little Gheorgie, with her sweet ticklish little feet! Coochie-coo, little Gheorgie! Coochie-coo!”

“Alllll-ex, st-oppp! No more!” she stammered as he kept up the brutal arch tickling.
“No more? Why not? Little girl can’t take tickle on her little feet?”

He scratched his way up the ball of her foot and she squealed and pressed her face back into the pillow. Good-natured, but with a slight chauvinistic streak common with older men especially of his size, Alexandru could be casually condescending. She hated when he called her little girl and would normally protest but currently was in no position to do anything but thrash around and shriek.

“Who’s my ticklish little girl? Tell me!” he demanded and switched directions, now moving laterally across the ball from edge to arch. He suddenly attacked her left foot and any resolved crumbled. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she swung the pillow at him weakly.
“Pllllleeeeassssssse Alexxxxx!” she sobbed.

He chuckled mirthlessly and now attacked both soles with both hands, her small legs too limp to offer much resistance.

She collapsed to the side, overwhelmed by the assault. His taunting was equally draining her, as the high-pitched voice he put on and all the cootchie-cooing somehow made it worse. The angle she was at now pressed her toes into the soft expanse of his stomach and she wiggled them, provoking a giggly hoot from him as the grip loosened. Trying to catch her breath, she did it again and he unfurled a hearty laugh and tried to push her feet away.

Although tickled tired and still heaving, Gheorgetta smiled and decided the big man needed to be taught a lesson. She pressed her toes into his belly and wiggled furiously, sending him into twitching heaps of laughter. She took advantage of his loosened state by sitting up and quickly straddling his wide frame. He stared at her, mouth half-open in horrific anticipation of what was about to happen, blue eyes alive with fear.

Gheorgetta swept her auburn hair from her face and smiled wickedly, dark brown eyes blazing with mischief. He was about to say something when she plunged her tiny hands into the soft flesh of his stomach. He shook the couch with his jerking and tried to grab her hands. She was too quick though, shooting them straight up into his underarms. His eyes opened wide and his mouth flew open but nothing came out for a moment before a loud howl escaped his throat, quickly dissolving into a series of shattered shrill giggles. His hands jerked around, unable to coordinate any defense.

“Who is my big ticklish boy eh?” she cooed, enjoying the power surging through her.

His lips moved but only squeaks came out. His face was turning bright red and his eyes were clasped shut. They’d playfully tickled each other before but she’d never got him this good. It was surreal and the feeling was indescribable; her tiny little hands turning a big man into a puddle of goo with each second, each poke, each wiggle of her fingers. His chest was heaving and tears formed in his eyes as she went in for the kill, digging her fingers into the insides of his massive thighs making him sway from side to side until he fell to his right side into the couch. She smirked in victory; it was like David and Goliath she thought to herself, climbing on top of his right flank.

“Beg me, big boy! Beg me to stop!” she whispered into his ear, punctuating it with a long, soft lick.

He moaned then started cackling again when her left hand tickled his stomach while her right dug into the folds of his neck.

“I-I-I’mmm sorrrrry G-g-g-ghh-orgie! Please stop, plllllleease!” he cracked softly, drool dripping from his lip onto the couch.

She got off him and took in her work. The sight of her huge weightlifter husband shuddering in ticklish defeat made her hotter than she’d been in months, years maybe. She quickly disrobed and smiled down at her husband as he wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to catch his breath. She lifted her right foot and shoved the sole in his face.

“Lick,” she commanded and tried to remain her composure as he did without hesitation, gently taking her small foot in large hands and placing a soft kiss on her sole before running his tongue from her heel up her sole and lapping over her toes. She bit her lip to maintain her composure and pulled it away before revealing how excruciatingly ticklish it was and laid down on the carpet.

“Now come and make love to your wife,” Gheorgetta ordered, soaked at the authority in her voice and the sight of her defeated, slumped hubby.

Still panting and sweating, Alexandru meekly obeyed and it was the most passionate love they’d made in years.

Afterward, cradling her in his arms, they discussed what had just happened.

“That was very fun but you caught me by surprise! The shock… I wasn’t prepared—”

She put a finger to his lips to hush him.

“Don’t worry, big boy. Your secret is safe with me!” she joked.

He grimaced and wrinkled his nose. His cheeks were still red and she could tell embarrassment had set in now that the warm buzz of his orgasm had worn off.

“Secret? It is no secret! Everybody is ticklish! It’s just that-“

“What Alex? What is it? Big man embarrassed that his tiny little wife tickled him to pieces and made him kiss her feet? Big tough Alex surrender to tiny weak woman hmmm?”

“I got you too don’t forget! Had you going crazy when I tickle your feet!” he chuckled in satisfaction.

“We’ll see what happens when I tickle your feet after a pedicure!” she said sweetly.

“What you mean?” he asked, annoyed.

“You wouldn’t be able to sit still for one, much less be able to take tickling after all the scrubbing and buffing-“

“You think I wouldn’t be able to handle a pedicure? Women get them all the time!”

“You’re not a woman! You’re simply not …tough enough!” she said gently, wearing a sympathetic smile as she caressed his reddening cheek.

“Not tough enough? Next time you get pedicure, I get one too! We get them together! Then we come home and tickle each others’ feet and see who can take it longer!” he declared.

She smiled and grasped him tight. He’d fallen right into a trap she barely realized she was even setting.

“You’re on, my sweet Alexandru! We will see who is tougher! It will be our very own Olympian competition!”
 
Fantastic story! Gheorgetta rules! :D

I like Battle of the sexes tickling challenges always very much! Looking forward to the next part! :)
 
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