laughter_n_love
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Nov 2, 2001
- Messages
- 293
- Points
- 0
I was never the type that believed in Fate. I used to believe we forged our own destiny, that the future was something we decided for ourselves. But I don't think that way anymore, not since that memorable summer day when Fate turned her eyes my way and altered the course of my life forever...
It was a Tuesday, early afternoon, and I wasn't at work. That in itself was remarkable, as I'm not they type to miss work often. As I said, I believed we choose our own destiny, and at the time, I was in the midst of a successful career as a lawyer. I'd graduated from Harvard Law with honors two years earlier, and I was only a year or two away from making partner at the prestigious law firm of Barbera and Hannah. I was already making more money than my parents combined, and I was having a little house (12 rooms, 4 bedrooms, 3 baths, pool, Jacuzzi, etc.) built to my specifications. Life was good, and it would only get better. After making partner, the next step would be becoming a judge, and then on to politics. I planned on being a Senator by the time I was 40. Up until that Fateful Tuesday afternoon, I was right on schedule. A bit ahead of it, actually.
Yes, I left work early that day by my own choosing. I concede that much. Work had been stressful for weeks, and I was feeling unusually claustrophobic that day. Normally I loved being in the office; I thrived there. But not that Tuesday. I lied to my secretary and told her I wasn't feeling well; the truth was I just had to get out of the office. Like a kid cutting class, I practically ran out of the building. A moment later, I was racing for home down the expressway in my Porsche with the top down.
The needle was nearing Empty, so I pulled into a gas station to refuel. Yes, I chose when and where to pull off to get gas. I concede this as well. I chose the route home, I chose the exit, and I chose that gas station. But what happened next was most definitely the work of Fate herself.
I was out pumping my own gas when a VW Bug pulled up to the pumps beside me. It was yellow and cute, but that isn't what made it catch my eye (I'd seen yellow Punch Buggies before). It was the vanity license plate that caught my attention. It read "2tklsh".
I remember staring at the plate, making sure I was reading it correctly, when the driver's side door opened. Out poured this leggy brunette wearing a skimpy black tank top, cutoff shorts that rode low on her hips, and platform sandals, the kind with straps that wrap around the ankles. She wore sunglasses, but I could tell by her hair, build, and the rest of her features that she was Asian beneath them. Her slender throat was decorated with a choker, and she was sucking on a green lollipop. I found myself alternating my staring between this stunning creature and her license plate, "2tklsh". She took no notice of me as she began to put gas in her car.
One, I have a thing for Asian beauties, and this girl was no less than magnificent. Two, I was single (what with work being my whole life at the moment), and she looked to be about my age. And three, if those first two weren't reason enough for me to approach her, there was my fetish for tickling. With a license plate like "2tklsh", my tickling curiosity would have been aroused even if she wasn't a knockout. Put all these things together, and I just had to say hello.
"Nice car," I called over to her.
She peered at me over the top of her sunglasses. I felt her checking out first me and then my Porsche. Her eyes moved from me with my rolled up shirt sleeves and loosened tie to my freshly waxed 911 with the leather seats. "Thanks," she said. "You too."
"Thanks," I said. I was neither shy nor lacking in confidence, but nothing witty was coming to my brain at the moment. "Wanna race?"
The pause before her answer revealed the lameness of my attempt. "I don't think so," she said, and seemingly dismissed me by returning her attention back to the fuel pump.
Strike one. I was down, but by no means out. A direct approach might be more effective. "So how ticklish are you?" I called over.
She peered over her glasses again. "Excuse me?"
"Your license plate says you are too ticklish. How ticklish is too ticklish?"
She turned more fully towards me, her head cocked slightly to the side. I found her movements sublime. "Who wants to know?"
I smiled. "I want to know."
"Yeah, and who are you?"
This was my opening. The lollipop twirled in her mouth as I crossed the short distance between our cars. I noticed a playful red polish on her fingers and toes, and the unmistakable scent of vanilla as I approached. Despite the long legs and platform sandals giving her the illusion of height, I found her to be several inches shorter than me as I stood before her. I handed her one of my business cards and introduced myself.
She inspected my card. "A lawyer, huh? So what do you care how ticklish I am?"
I smiled, sensing, like a witness leading herself into the traps I've set, an opportunity presenting itself. "It's my job to ask questions," I said. "It's my job to discover the truth."
She smiled for the first time and took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were as intoxicating as they were mischievous. "What if that isn't the sort of information that I give out?"
"But it is," I countered. "Your license plate tells the whole world. I'm only asking you to clarify it."
She glanced briefly at her plate and smirked, finding no escape in that direction. "What if I don't feel like clarifying?"
"Well, if this were a courtroom, and you were a witness, the judge would force you to answer."
Her smile widened a bit. "This isn't a courtroom, and there isn't any judge."
"True. And you aren't a witness," I added. "There is no one to force you to answer...except me."
She moved a step closer to me and began to play with my tie. "Oh? And how would you force me?" I was surrounded by her vanilla scent.
The trap closed around her. "I would tickle it out of you."
"What if I'm not ticklish?" Her eyes playfully challenged me.
"But you are," I said, motioning again to her license plate.
She giggled, a pleasant sound I longed to hear again. She was fascinated with my tie. "Who says I'd let you tickle it out of me?"
"I do. I have ways of dealing with hostile witnesses." The choker around her throat and the straps around her ankles indicated to me that she was no stranger to my implication.
She bit her lip, a subtle seductive gesture that spoke volumes to me. "You wouldn't really do that to me, would you?" The tone of her voice had grown soft.
"I would." The muscle in my pants threatened to rise.
Her mischievous smile returned. "You must really want to know."
"I do."
"Well, I don't feel like telling you how ticklish I am." The challenging look remained.
"Then I'll have to force you to answer."
"I guess you will."
My hands moved forward to tickle her ribs, but she lightly stepped back out of reach. "Not here," she said teasingly. "If you really want to know, follow me." She quickly finished pumping her gas and hopped back in her Beetle. I rushed to keep up with her. A moment later, she pulled out of the gas station on a tear, and my Porsche and I were right on her tail.
We didn't drive far before she pulled into an apartment complex. I parked beside her and followed her in. We didn't speak again until we were riding up in the elevator together.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes. I'd like to know."
"Katrina," she answered. The rest of the ride up was in silence. As the elevator door opened on the tenth floor, she turned to me and said out of the blue, "I'm glad you followed me."
Katrina's apartment was nondescript. I heard the sound of a shower running from the bathroom and gave her an inquiring look. "Roommate," was all she said. I nodded in understanding. She led me to her bedroom and shut the door behind us.
Katrina grabbed me by the tie and pulled me in for a kiss that should have been illegal. I found my hands exploring her body as she pressed herself up against me and grabbed handfuls of my hair. There was no stopping my love muscle from coming to full attention now. Katrina noticed it saying hello to her as well. She rubbed it with her hand through my pants. I responded by devouring her neck.
"Wait!" she said, and disengaged herself from me. She sat herself on her bed and raised her leg in my direction. "Shoes," she said, almost like an order.
I obediently set to work unwrapping the sandal straps from around her ankle. She watched me patiently as I did this. I found myself eager to feel her bare foot in my hands. A moment later, the sandal dropped to the floor, and I caressed her magnificent ped. It was soft and smooth, probably a size 7, and it flinched ever so slightly as I lovingly touched it. I smiled; she was highly ticklish.
She moved her foot out of my hands and rubbed the bulge in my crotch with her toes. Her other leg rose to me, and I repeated the unwrapping process on her other ankle. My hands moved slower this time, as I was quite enjoying the footjob.
The second foot was soon bared, and this time, instead of reverently touching it, I gripped her heel in my hand and dragged a fingernail up her sole. Katrina yelped and scooted up the bed, yanking both of her feet away from me. The smile on my face grew wider; she was EXTREMELY ticklish.
She looked at me purposely as she lay on her bed, propped on her elbows, her knees bent, her toes pointed. "You'll have to tie me if you want to tickle me," she said.
"I planned on it," I said. "What should I use?"
"This," she said, and reached out with her painted toes to flip up my tie.
"Good idea," I said, not worried about ruining the expensive silk material. I slid the tie out of my shirt collar and approached her. Katrina, like one who had done this before, crossed her wrists and offered them to me. I bound her wrists with my tie, leaving some slack at one end. As if already knowing my intentions, Katrina lay back and raised her bound wrists over her head. I knotted the long end of the tie to her simple headboard, and just like that, she was tied to her bed.
I sat at the foot of her bed and scooped up her ankles in my arm. Her bare, ticklish feet were in my control, at my mercy. If I hadn't had a tickling fetish, I might have found myself worshipping these feet, sucking on her toes or nibbling on her heels, so perfect and flawless they were. But I DID have a fetish for tickling, and no tickling fetishist could have resisted tickling these precious feet. I scrabbled my short nails quickly over her soles.
Katrina burst into laughter. Her beautiful face contorted into a pained look, and it would have been difficult to tell if she were laughing or crying if I couldn't hear the sounds of glorious laughter bubbling forth from her lungs. Her feet flailed in my grasp, and her ankles pulled for safety, but my grip was sure, and my strength was greater. Her feet found no relief, no protection. The smooth skin of her soles was like a magnet for my fingernails. I tickled them quickly, purposely, and relentlessly. Katrina flopped around uselessly on her bed, unable to escape the torture. Her frantic laughter filled the room.
There came a loud knock on the door, followed by the concerned voice of a young woman. "Is everything okay in there?" I froze, having forgotten that there was a roommate in the apartment. Katrina giggled at the look of fear that must have appeared on my face.
"We're okay!" she called, trying not to sound out of breath. She smiled at me, and I at once relaxed.
There was a pause as we waited to hear what might happen on the other side of the door. The response we heard surprised the heck out of me. "Need anything?" was the question.
Katrina's eyes had that challenging look again, which I found ironic, since she was tied to her bed and my ankles were captive in my grip. "Do we?" she whispered.
I continued the string of surprises. "Sure," I said, shocking myself. "The more the merrier."
Katrina flashed me a look of approval, one of a challenge met and overcome. "Come on in," she called to the door.
The door opened, and in walked another Asian goddess. My jaw dropped. This girl was every bit as sexy as Katrina, but her look was more playful where Katrina's was flirtatious. She was fresh from the shower, wrapped only from chest to thigh in a towel. I noticed her legs were not as long as Katrina's, but her overall figure was slightly more petite. Her nails were decorated with the same red polish.
"Jules, this is my new lawyer," Katrina snickered. I felt a bit lost in the moment. I did not rise or let go of Katrina's ankles, but I did shake Jules' hand with my tickling hand.
"Nice to meet you, Lawyer," Jules said. "Need some help?"
My mouth remembered how to work. "Absolutely."
Jules wasted no time. She reached out with ten manicured fingernails and began to flicker them up and down the trapped soles of Katrina. Apparently, this tickled more than my nails, because I found myself needing both arms to hold Katrina's ankles still. The room was once again filled with her gleeful laughter. I was speechless.
Jules noticed the shock I was in. "You do it," she told me, indicating Katrina's squirming soles. I went back to tickling Katrina's feet, thankful for something to do again, but Jules continued the shock treatment of the afternoon by reaching between my legs and unbuttoning my pants. I let her. She freed my trapped cock, and then, dropping to her knees, slipped it into her mouth. I moaned with pleasure, not realizing that Heaven could exist on Earth. I was tickling the feet of one Asian beauty, and having my cock sucked by another at the same time. Just when I thought it couldn't get better, it did. Jules dropped her towel to the floor and revealed her nakedness beneath. From what I could see while she serviced my manhood, her body was toned and tight.
Katrina was delirious with laughter. If she noticed the sex show going on in front of her, she made no sounds to show it. Her body thrashed and her perfect feet squirmed wildly in protest, just like you would expect from one being foot tickle tortured. My fingers flew over her sensitive flesh, not distracted by the pleasure my cock was receiving. I could have enjoyed this moment forever.
Jules eased up on my manhood for a moment, stroking it with her hand so she could
talk to Katrina. "Hey, did you put gas in my car like I asked?" The question seemed wildly out of context with our activities.
"Yessssss!" Katrina wailed between giggles.
My heart skipped a beat. I looked at Jules in amazement. "The Beetle is YOUR car?"
She was back on my stick again. "Mmmmmhmmmm," she mumbled with her mouth full, looking up at me.
"So YOU are too ticklish?"
She smiled as she sucked. "Mmmmmhmmmm."
My look of disbelief alternated between Katrina, the flirt that had misled me all the way to this moment, to this bed, and Jules, the true owner of the "2tklsh" car who had no reservations about sucking the cock of a man she'd just met and double teaming her helpless, ticklish roommate. Surreal didn't even begin to describe what I was thinking, what I was feeling. For a man who'd lived his entire life in pursuit of clearly defined goals, this moment made no sense. It was too unbelievable to believe. It held no basis in logic. But it was really happening.
I stopped tickling Katrina's feet for a moment so I could force Jules to look into my eyes. "Your next," I told her. Her smile grew wider. She pumped faster on my shaft, as if hoping to accelerate time to when it would be her turn to be the one being tickled.
The events that followed are jumbled in my mind. I vaguely remember untying Katrina and tying Jules in her place. I remember all of us losing our clothes, and constant attention being paid to my cock. I remember having a turn myself as the bound ticklee, something I enjoy far more than I expected. I remember Katrina taking pictures of me tickle torturing Jules' buttery feet. I remember having unreal sex with both of them before falling asleep from exhaustion holding both of them in my arms.
In the days that followed, somehow, someone from work discovered the pictures from that afternoon. The scandal spread like wildfire through the office, and I was asked to leave the firm out of respect for the dignity that it represented. I of course complied, but no law firm in the city would touch me after that. My plans for becoming partner were shattered. My dream of being a judge was ruined. And any thoughts I ever had of entering into a life of politics were crushed by the evidence of my afternoon with Katrina and Jules. I was forced to sell my unfinished house and my prized Porsche. I took a job as a limo driver to make ends meet. At least I was still driving a sweet car.
And you know, I didn't even care.
I didn't care because I found, in Katrina and Jules, something better than all my well thought out plans. We all moved in together, and every night was better than the last. Nightly bedroom bondage. Hours of tickle torture. Penthouse Forum letter-worthy sex. Night after night, every night, with both of my Asian lovers. It was a fantasy life, and I was living it.
So say what you want about Fate. I believe in it now. You should too.
The End.
It was a Tuesday, early afternoon, and I wasn't at work. That in itself was remarkable, as I'm not they type to miss work often. As I said, I believed we choose our own destiny, and at the time, I was in the midst of a successful career as a lawyer. I'd graduated from Harvard Law with honors two years earlier, and I was only a year or two away from making partner at the prestigious law firm of Barbera and Hannah. I was already making more money than my parents combined, and I was having a little house (12 rooms, 4 bedrooms, 3 baths, pool, Jacuzzi, etc.) built to my specifications. Life was good, and it would only get better. After making partner, the next step would be becoming a judge, and then on to politics. I planned on being a Senator by the time I was 40. Up until that Fateful Tuesday afternoon, I was right on schedule. A bit ahead of it, actually.
Yes, I left work early that day by my own choosing. I concede that much. Work had been stressful for weeks, and I was feeling unusually claustrophobic that day. Normally I loved being in the office; I thrived there. But not that Tuesday. I lied to my secretary and told her I wasn't feeling well; the truth was I just had to get out of the office. Like a kid cutting class, I practically ran out of the building. A moment later, I was racing for home down the expressway in my Porsche with the top down.
The needle was nearing Empty, so I pulled into a gas station to refuel. Yes, I chose when and where to pull off to get gas. I concede this as well. I chose the route home, I chose the exit, and I chose that gas station. But what happened next was most definitely the work of Fate herself.
I was out pumping my own gas when a VW Bug pulled up to the pumps beside me. It was yellow and cute, but that isn't what made it catch my eye (I'd seen yellow Punch Buggies before). It was the vanity license plate that caught my attention. It read "2tklsh".
I remember staring at the plate, making sure I was reading it correctly, when the driver's side door opened. Out poured this leggy brunette wearing a skimpy black tank top, cutoff shorts that rode low on her hips, and platform sandals, the kind with straps that wrap around the ankles. She wore sunglasses, but I could tell by her hair, build, and the rest of her features that she was Asian beneath them. Her slender throat was decorated with a choker, and she was sucking on a green lollipop. I found myself alternating my staring between this stunning creature and her license plate, "2tklsh". She took no notice of me as she began to put gas in her car.
One, I have a thing for Asian beauties, and this girl was no less than magnificent. Two, I was single (what with work being my whole life at the moment), and she looked to be about my age. And three, if those first two weren't reason enough for me to approach her, there was my fetish for tickling. With a license plate like "2tklsh", my tickling curiosity would have been aroused even if she wasn't a knockout. Put all these things together, and I just had to say hello.
"Nice car," I called over to her.
She peered at me over the top of her sunglasses. I felt her checking out first me and then my Porsche. Her eyes moved from me with my rolled up shirt sleeves and loosened tie to my freshly waxed 911 with the leather seats. "Thanks," she said. "You too."
"Thanks," I said. I was neither shy nor lacking in confidence, but nothing witty was coming to my brain at the moment. "Wanna race?"
The pause before her answer revealed the lameness of my attempt. "I don't think so," she said, and seemingly dismissed me by returning her attention back to the fuel pump.
Strike one. I was down, but by no means out. A direct approach might be more effective. "So how ticklish are you?" I called over.
She peered over her glasses again. "Excuse me?"
"Your license plate says you are too ticklish. How ticklish is too ticklish?"
She turned more fully towards me, her head cocked slightly to the side. I found her movements sublime. "Who wants to know?"
I smiled. "I want to know."
"Yeah, and who are you?"
This was my opening. The lollipop twirled in her mouth as I crossed the short distance between our cars. I noticed a playful red polish on her fingers and toes, and the unmistakable scent of vanilla as I approached. Despite the long legs and platform sandals giving her the illusion of height, I found her to be several inches shorter than me as I stood before her. I handed her one of my business cards and introduced myself.
She inspected my card. "A lawyer, huh? So what do you care how ticklish I am?"
I smiled, sensing, like a witness leading herself into the traps I've set, an opportunity presenting itself. "It's my job to ask questions," I said. "It's my job to discover the truth."
She smiled for the first time and took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were as intoxicating as they were mischievous. "What if that isn't the sort of information that I give out?"
"But it is," I countered. "Your license plate tells the whole world. I'm only asking you to clarify it."
She glanced briefly at her plate and smirked, finding no escape in that direction. "What if I don't feel like clarifying?"
"Well, if this were a courtroom, and you were a witness, the judge would force you to answer."
Her smile widened a bit. "This isn't a courtroom, and there isn't any judge."
"True. And you aren't a witness," I added. "There is no one to force you to answer...except me."
She moved a step closer to me and began to play with my tie. "Oh? And how would you force me?" I was surrounded by her vanilla scent.
The trap closed around her. "I would tickle it out of you."
"What if I'm not ticklish?" Her eyes playfully challenged me.
"But you are," I said, motioning again to her license plate.
She giggled, a pleasant sound I longed to hear again. She was fascinated with my tie. "Who says I'd let you tickle it out of me?"
"I do. I have ways of dealing with hostile witnesses." The choker around her throat and the straps around her ankles indicated to me that she was no stranger to my implication.
She bit her lip, a subtle seductive gesture that spoke volumes to me. "You wouldn't really do that to me, would you?" The tone of her voice had grown soft.
"I would." The muscle in my pants threatened to rise.
Her mischievous smile returned. "You must really want to know."
"I do."
"Well, I don't feel like telling you how ticklish I am." The challenging look remained.
"Then I'll have to force you to answer."
"I guess you will."
My hands moved forward to tickle her ribs, but she lightly stepped back out of reach. "Not here," she said teasingly. "If you really want to know, follow me." She quickly finished pumping her gas and hopped back in her Beetle. I rushed to keep up with her. A moment later, she pulled out of the gas station on a tear, and my Porsche and I were right on her tail.
We didn't drive far before she pulled into an apartment complex. I parked beside her and followed her in. We didn't speak again until we were riding up in the elevator together.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Does it matter?"
"Yes. I'd like to know."
"Katrina," she answered. The rest of the ride up was in silence. As the elevator door opened on the tenth floor, she turned to me and said out of the blue, "I'm glad you followed me."
Katrina's apartment was nondescript. I heard the sound of a shower running from the bathroom and gave her an inquiring look. "Roommate," was all she said. I nodded in understanding. She led me to her bedroom and shut the door behind us.
Katrina grabbed me by the tie and pulled me in for a kiss that should have been illegal. I found my hands exploring her body as she pressed herself up against me and grabbed handfuls of my hair. There was no stopping my love muscle from coming to full attention now. Katrina noticed it saying hello to her as well. She rubbed it with her hand through my pants. I responded by devouring her neck.
"Wait!" she said, and disengaged herself from me. She sat herself on her bed and raised her leg in my direction. "Shoes," she said, almost like an order.
I obediently set to work unwrapping the sandal straps from around her ankle. She watched me patiently as I did this. I found myself eager to feel her bare foot in my hands. A moment later, the sandal dropped to the floor, and I caressed her magnificent ped. It was soft and smooth, probably a size 7, and it flinched ever so slightly as I lovingly touched it. I smiled; she was highly ticklish.
She moved her foot out of my hands and rubbed the bulge in my crotch with her toes. Her other leg rose to me, and I repeated the unwrapping process on her other ankle. My hands moved slower this time, as I was quite enjoying the footjob.
The second foot was soon bared, and this time, instead of reverently touching it, I gripped her heel in my hand and dragged a fingernail up her sole. Katrina yelped and scooted up the bed, yanking both of her feet away from me. The smile on my face grew wider; she was EXTREMELY ticklish.
She looked at me purposely as she lay on her bed, propped on her elbows, her knees bent, her toes pointed. "You'll have to tie me if you want to tickle me," she said.
"I planned on it," I said. "What should I use?"
"This," she said, and reached out with her painted toes to flip up my tie.
"Good idea," I said, not worried about ruining the expensive silk material. I slid the tie out of my shirt collar and approached her. Katrina, like one who had done this before, crossed her wrists and offered them to me. I bound her wrists with my tie, leaving some slack at one end. As if already knowing my intentions, Katrina lay back and raised her bound wrists over her head. I knotted the long end of the tie to her simple headboard, and just like that, she was tied to her bed.
I sat at the foot of her bed and scooped up her ankles in my arm. Her bare, ticklish feet were in my control, at my mercy. If I hadn't had a tickling fetish, I might have found myself worshipping these feet, sucking on her toes or nibbling on her heels, so perfect and flawless they were. But I DID have a fetish for tickling, and no tickling fetishist could have resisted tickling these precious feet. I scrabbled my short nails quickly over her soles.
Katrina burst into laughter. Her beautiful face contorted into a pained look, and it would have been difficult to tell if she were laughing or crying if I couldn't hear the sounds of glorious laughter bubbling forth from her lungs. Her feet flailed in my grasp, and her ankles pulled for safety, but my grip was sure, and my strength was greater. Her feet found no relief, no protection. The smooth skin of her soles was like a magnet for my fingernails. I tickled them quickly, purposely, and relentlessly. Katrina flopped around uselessly on her bed, unable to escape the torture. Her frantic laughter filled the room.
There came a loud knock on the door, followed by the concerned voice of a young woman. "Is everything okay in there?" I froze, having forgotten that there was a roommate in the apartment. Katrina giggled at the look of fear that must have appeared on my face.
"We're okay!" she called, trying not to sound out of breath. She smiled at me, and I at once relaxed.
There was a pause as we waited to hear what might happen on the other side of the door. The response we heard surprised the heck out of me. "Need anything?" was the question.
Katrina's eyes had that challenging look again, which I found ironic, since she was tied to her bed and my ankles were captive in my grip. "Do we?" she whispered.
I continued the string of surprises. "Sure," I said, shocking myself. "The more the merrier."
Katrina flashed me a look of approval, one of a challenge met and overcome. "Come on in," she called to the door.
The door opened, and in walked another Asian goddess. My jaw dropped. This girl was every bit as sexy as Katrina, but her look was more playful where Katrina's was flirtatious. She was fresh from the shower, wrapped only from chest to thigh in a towel. I noticed her legs were not as long as Katrina's, but her overall figure was slightly more petite. Her nails were decorated with the same red polish.
"Jules, this is my new lawyer," Katrina snickered. I felt a bit lost in the moment. I did not rise or let go of Katrina's ankles, but I did shake Jules' hand with my tickling hand.
"Nice to meet you, Lawyer," Jules said. "Need some help?"
My mouth remembered how to work. "Absolutely."
Jules wasted no time. She reached out with ten manicured fingernails and began to flicker them up and down the trapped soles of Katrina. Apparently, this tickled more than my nails, because I found myself needing both arms to hold Katrina's ankles still. The room was once again filled with her gleeful laughter. I was speechless.
Jules noticed the shock I was in. "You do it," she told me, indicating Katrina's squirming soles. I went back to tickling Katrina's feet, thankful for something to do again, but Jules continued the shock treatment of the afternoon by reaching between my legs and unbuttoning my pants. I let her. She freed my trapped cock, and then, dropping to her knees, slipped it into her mouth. I moaned with pleasure, not realizing that Heaven could exist on Earth. I was tickling the feet of one Asian beauty, and having my cock sucked by another at the same time. Just when I thought it couldn't get better, it did. Jules dropped her towel to the floor and revealed her nakedness beneath. From what I could see while she serviced my manhood, her body was toned and tight.
Katrina was delirious with laughter. If she noticed the sex show going on in front of her, she made no sounds to show it. Her body thrashed and her perfect feet squirmed wildly in protest, just like you would expect from one being foot tickle tortured. My fingers flew over her sensitive flesh, not distracted by the pleasure my cock was receiving. I could have enjoyed this moment forever.
Jules eased up on my manhood for a moment, stroking it with her hand so she could
talk to Katrina. "Hey, did you put gas in my car like I asked?" The question seemed wildly out of context with our activities.
"Yessssss!" Katrina wailed between giggles.
My heart skipped a beat. I looked at Jules in amazement. "The Beetle is YOUR car?"
She was back on my stick again. "Mmmmmhmmmm," she mumbled with her mouth full, looking up at me.
"So YOU are too ticklish?"
She smiled as she sucked. "Mmmmmhmmmm."
My look of disbelief alternated between Katrina, the flirt that had misled me all the way to this moment, to this bed, and Jules, the true owner of the "2tklsh" car who had no reservations about sucking the cock of a man she'd just met and double teaming her helpless, ticklish roommate. Surreal didn't even begin to describe what I was thinking, what I was feeling. For a man who'd lived his entire life in pursuit of clearly defined goals, this moment made no sense. It was too unbelievable to believe. It held no basis in logic. But it was really happening.
I stopped tickling Katrina's feet for a moment so I could force Jules to look into my eyes. "Your next," I told her. Her smile grew wider. She pumped faster on my shaft, as if hoping to accelerate time to when it would be her turn to be the one being tickled.
The events that followed are jumbled in my mind. I vaguely remember untying Katrina and tying Jules in her place. I remember all of us losing our clothes, and constant attention being paid to my cock. I remember having a turn myself as the bound ticklee, something I enjoy far more than I expected. I remember Katrina taking pictures of me tickle torturing Jules' buttery feet. I remember having unreal sex with both of them before falling asleep from exhaustion holding both of them in my arms.
In the days that followed, somehow, someone from work discovered the pictures from that afternoon. The scandal spread like wildfire through the office, and I was asked to leave the firm out of respect for the dignity that it represented. I of course complied, but no law firm in the city would touch me after that. My plans for becoming partner were shattered. My dream of being a judge was ruined. And any thoughts I ever had of entering into a life of politics were crushed by the evidence of my afternoon with Katrina and Jules. I was forced to sell my unfinished house and my prized Porsche. I took a job as a limo driver to make ends meet. At least I was still driving a sweet car.
And you know, I didn't even care.
I didn't care because I found, in Katrina and Jules, something better than all my well thought out plans. We all moved in together, and every night was better than the last. Nightly bedroom bondage. Hours of tickle torture. Penthouse Forum letter-worthy sex. Night after night, every night, with both of my Asian lovers. It was a fantasy life, and I was living it.
So say what you want about Fate. I believe in it now. You should too.
The End.
