this is my third story. i'm bad with titles, sorry. enjoy.
I knocked on her door, feeling about as strange as one could. I had driven three hours, rummaged through Houston for the first time ever, and arrived on the doorstep of a large two-story in the suburb of Katy. I had never seen the girl that was about to open the door, the girl I had been talking to for months, the girl I had told I loved, who had said she loved me, who I had talked to at all hours of the day, who I’d essentially had linguistic sex with. A girl, who, to her telling, had always wanted to experiment with bondage. A girl, who, to her telling, wanted to give herself away for the first time. To me. A girl who, to her telling, nearly had a wreck thinking about me tickling her beyond any limits she thought possible.
She knew my roommate. He was from Katy too. One day he asked me to say something to her on IM in the midst of a playful argument, so that I might defend his position. By the end of the night, she already wanted to kiss me.
She was two years and some months younger than me, but had just turned eighteen the week before. We had dramatically exchanged pictures about three months into our on-line courting, and for the last three months I had thought about how her limbs just begged to be stretched away from her body, leaving her to my mercy. I routinely teased her about what I would do to her helpless body, and finally, her parents were leaving town. She guaranteed me it would be worth the drive.
The door opened, and there was the odd feeling of meeting someone for the first time who I felt I had known forever. We had talked about many things aside from what we wanted to do to each other, and it was an odd feeling that left us standing and just staring at each other briefly. Finally she hugged me, and after a brief embrace we stood assessing each other further, not being sure what to say.
She was wearing grey sweatshorts, the kind that really only serve to turn the ass a different color, and a T-shirt that she had aggressively cut the sleeves off of. This showed not only all of her trim arms, but most of the rest of her if she turned sideways. She had short, curly brown hair, and eyes that went along with the personality she conveyed. Eyes that make you do crazy things like this, that could break you out of the conventional, that wouldn’t make you think twice about driving 200 miles to tickle the shit out of girl you never met.
After the drive and the thoughts of what was going to happen, and then her stunning appearance as she opened the door, I had a hard-on that if painted orange could’ve changed the course of a plane on the runway.
She raised her arms seductively, twirling around and smiling, I think just to relieve the oddity of our first moments together. Her ass was as irresistible as a koosh-ball, her pits....perfect, her thighs....guhhhh. I couldn’t really think at that point.
“I want to show you something,” she whispered as she pulled me close, collided with the pylon emerging from my body, and smiled as she took my hand.
I knew she was easy, that she wasn’t exactly discriminate when it came to guys, but I could tell this was the first time she had ever done anything like this. She could only admit to such fantasies in an abstract form, to someone she expected she would never meet. Then the cat was out of the bag, and she couldn’t wait to try it.
We trudged up the stairs, and advanced into a quiet and dark corner of the house. She led me into a dark room, her parents’, based on the size of the bed, the lack of teenage girl adornments, and the presence of their picture on the dresser. “Your parents room?” I asked, really the first thing I’d said.
Finally she seemed a little shy, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. “Well...more room for, you know....me to be....helpless.” She was looking at the floor, and more than a little red. I walked over to her, embracing her thin frame, and kissed her for the first time, as we had talked about so often. My hands traveled lightly up her smooth sides, encountering the blue sports bra I had got glimpses of earlier, and I learned that my approximation of her breasts was accurate. She skittered away as I massaged them gently, giggling and stepping back.
I almost had to have her right there, but instead I said, “I think you might be in trouble.” She laughed nervously, a bit too loudly, and then walked over to a sack that was on the bed. “Here’s what I wanted to show you.” She removed a pair of handcuffs, padded, and held them awkwardly, like a three-year-old struggling to lift a basketball.
“Did you buy those?” I asked, somewhat incredulously.
“No, Babe, I don’t think I could just go buy these. My friend Amber, she, heh, she likes to have fun.” She examined them curiously, a bit nervously.
“And what about you?” I asked. “You like to have fun?”
She laughed a bit, and then got serious, as if realizing we were actually going to do this. She took off her shirt without hesitation, revealing an alluring combination of curved sides and a single pair of abs visible on her trim belly. Then she handed me the cuffs, and said, “I’m not going to tell you where the key is until you make me think I’m going to die.” I could tell she had prepared this line in advance. And with that she hopped up on the bed, raising her arms towards the head of the bed and hiding them beneath the pillows.
I followed her with growing lust, and placed her left wrist inside the cuff, clicking it around it. As I reached for the right wrist, she instinctively lowered her arm, as if she wasn’t even aware of it. “I’m gonna need both of them,” I said with some amusement. She bit her lip, scratched something on her belly quickly, and then slowly raised it back to the head of the bed. I threaded the cuff behind one of the bars, clicking around her right wrist. Her arms formed a diamond around her head, and, feeling like this gave her far too much room to squirm, I walked to the end of the bed and pulled on her feet, sliding her ass towards me and stretching her arms tight over her head. “Oh Lord,” she uttered, half-scared.
I had planned ahead, not suspecting she would’ve had cuffs, and had sufficient lengths of rope in my pockets to secure all her limbs. I removed two of them, and before she was even aware of what had happened, her feet had been pulled helplessly toward the corners of the king size bed, and she was perfectly immobile, an upside down Y of ticklish flesh.
“Babe, do you really need to do my feet?” she asked, a little scared. After all, she had never met me. I could do anything. And then that thought struck me from my own point of view. I could do anything. I drug a finger up her foot, from the heel to the ball, and she let out an electric, “Ahhh!” I tried the other foot and got the same reaction, teamed with a profound jerking of her leg. It didn’t move much, and as I repeated the simple act two more times, sending her into a state of desperation she had apparently not suspected could exist, she spat out, “Shit, Babe, don’t.”
She had no idea how ticklish she really was. Nor how completely immobile her parents bed would leave her. I ran a finger down both soles, and watched as her perfect butt arched up off the bed, each of her abs perfectly visible as she clenched them in an attempt to retain sanity. I fluttered my fingers up and down, relentlessly, sending her into a frantic desperation, her hair flying from side to side, her laughter coming out in spastic chortles, her thighs quivering with the futile effort to move her feet. I went to her toes, and they splayed outward, betraying her attempt to make them less accessible. I bent them back, digging into the soft skin at their base, and for the first time she thought she was going to die.
“The keeeyssssss!” she screamed as much as I had thought possible. I stopped. “The keys...are.....under.....the.......clock.” She was still laughing, still twitching, her face etched with a feeling of shock that anything like that could happen. She wasn’t mad, or upset, or excited, she just couldn’t believe how completely torturous the past five minutes had been. She didn’t know what to think.
I climbed up to straddle her, bent down to kiss her, and she seemed to relax a bit. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. She was wide-eyed as I broke our kiss and she began to tug fruitlessly at the cuffs over her head. The effort made perfect hollows of her underarms, and as her mouth formed a perfect “o” of desperation, I lowered a pointer finger towards each smooth expanse of nerve endings. I scratched lightly, so lightly that I could hardly feel her, and her biceps became perfectly defined in her helpless arms. She didn’t make any sound at first, as if she wasn’t even aware of what sound to make in such an impossible situation, and then finally an explosion of undefined sound exploded from her, nearly jarring me from her body. After regaining my balance, I increased the pressure, scribbling back and forth wildly as if I was trying to get the ink started on a pen that had remained uncapped for some time. Her head thrashed back and forth, her eyes now closed, and finally an unending stream of high-pitched giggles began to pour from her, the sort of unencumbered expression that I could tell she was not used to having in front of anyone. Her pits remained deeply hollowed, as the effort to lower her arms was constant, and I expanded the range of my scribbling to include her top rib, just next to her pear-sized breasts which were still restrained in the sports bra.
The natural progression from one rib to the next took charge, and I trailed up and down, gently massaging the skin above each bone, making her wail with desperate laughter and cuss more than I had ever heard a girl. With each breath she could take not dedicated to laughter, she called me everything from bastard to asshole to dick to some things I just couldn’t quit make sense of, and have sense forgotten. She was crying, sweating, hair whipping, chain of the cuff scrapping against the bed, back arching as much as possible, and her skin was pink in ticklish agony. Now all of her abs were slightly visible with the force of her laughing, and I couldn’t resist the urge to trace around them. This caused her to suck in even further, and changed her full-out laughter to light, girlish giggles. Her desperation ceased, as did her struggling and cursing, and finally our eyes met. We stared at each other as I continued to trace lazy patterns over her helpless belly, her hips bouncing and twitching, her mouth etched in a smile stretching to her ears.
She relaxed now, beginning to coo as she squirmed, and I lazily traced the line from her chest to her womanhood, making sure to tease her belly button and linger briefly over her womanhood. She’d started to get a little wet, and how her attitude towards the situation had changed all together.
“Where were those keys again?” I asked while sliding her shorts down and tracing slow, agonizing lines from her knees to her pussy. She was lost in moans and giggles, and it took her a minute to utter quite seductively, “What keys?” I continued to fondle her, tormenting her sex and watching has she attempted to press against my hand.
“So you don’t want me to stop then?” She was soaking now, chest heaving as she fought all the sensations coursing through her. I expected something clever, some alluring comment, but all she said was a rushed and excited, “No.”
“Well, if you say so,” I said with a devious grin, and hopped up to straddle her again. She seemed confused, and I extended my fingers towards her exposed pits, and she made the pathetic sound that combines a whimper with a scream. I began to tease her pits, and didn’t allow her thrusting hips to come into contact with me. I looked her deep in the eyes, and I saw the manic desperation that accompanies needing to cum and being manically tickled.
She screamed at the top of her lungs as I went from scratching to deep massaging of her pits.
I might’ve tormented for hours, but given that her screamed diatribe would’ve even been bleeped out on HBO, I decided it wouldn’t be wise to keep her waiting. I wasn’t much good for anymore waiting either. I trailed down her middle one last time, and the rest was as God intended.
I knocked on her door, feeling about as strange as one could. I had driven three hours, rummaged through Houston for the first time ever, and arrived on the doorstep of a large two-story in the suburb of Katy. I had never seen the girl that was about to open the door, the girl I had been talking to for months, the girl I had told I loved, who had said she loved me, who I had talked to at all hours of the day, who I’d essentially had linguistic sex with. A girl, who, to her telling, had always wanted to experiment with bondage. A girl, who, to her telling, wanted to give herself away for the first time. To me. A girl who, to her telling, nearly had a wreck thinking about me tickling her beyond any limits she thought possible.
She knew my roommate. He was from Katy too. One day he asked me to say something to her on IM in the midst of a playful argument, so that I might defend his position. By the end of the night, she already wanted to kiss me.
She was two years and some months younger than me, but had just turned eighteen the week before. We had dramatically exchanged pictures about three months into our on-line courting, and for the last three months I had thought about how her limbs just begged to be stretched away from her body, leaving her to my mercy. I routinely teased her about what I would do to her helpless body, and finally, her parents were leaving town. She guaranteed me it would be worth the drive.
The door opened, and there was the odd feeling of meeting someone for the first time who I felt I had known forever. We had talked about many things aside from what we wanted to do to each other, and it was an odd feeling that left us standing and just staring at each other briefly. Finally she hugged me, and after a brief embrace we stood assessing each other further, not being sure what to say.
She was wearing grey sweatshorts, the kind that really only serve to turn the ass a different color, and a T-shirt that she had aggressively cut the sleeves off of. This showed not only all of her trim arms, but most of the rest of her if she turned sideways. She had short, curly brown hair, and eyes that went along with the personality she conveyed. Eyes that make you do crazy things like this, that could break you out of the conventional, that wouldn’t make you think twice about driving 200 miles to tickle the shit out of girl you never met.
After the drive and the thoughts of what was going to happen, and then her stunning appearance as she opened the door, I had a hard-on that if painted orange could’ve changed the course of a plane on the runway.
She raised her arms seductively, twirling around and smiling, I think just to relieve the oddity of our first moments together. Her ass was as irresistible as a koosh-ball, her pits....perfect, her thighs....guhhhh. I couldn’t really think at that point.
“I want to show you something,” she whispered as she pulled me close, collided with the pylon emerging from my body, and smiled as she took my hand.
I knew she was easy, that she wasn’t exactly discriminate when it came to guys, but I could tell this was the first time she had ever done anything like this. She could only admit to such fantasies in an abstract form, to someone she expected she would never meet. Then the cat was out of the bag, and she couldn’t wait to try it.
We trudged up the stairs, and advanced into a quiet and dark corner of the house. She led me into a dark room, her parents’, based on the size of the bed, the lack of teenage girl adornments, and the presence of their picture on the dresser. “Your parents room?” I asked, really the first thing I’d said.
Finally she seemed a little shy, and it was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. “Well...more room for, you know....me to be....helpless.” She was looking at the floor, and more than a little red. I walked over to her, embracing her thin frame, and kissed her for the first time, as we had talked about so often. My hands traveled lightly up her smooth sides, encountering the blue sports bra I had got glimpses of earlier, and I learned that my approximation of her breasts was accurate. She skittered away as I massaged them gently, giggling and stepping back.
I almost had to have her right there, but instead I said, “I think you might be in trouble.” She laughed nervously, a bit too loudly, and then walked over to a sack that was on the bed. “Here’s what I wanted to show you.” She removed a pair of handcuffs, padded, and held them awkwardly, like a three-year-old struggling to lift a basketball.
“Did you buy those?” I asked, somewhat incredulously.
“No, Babe, I don’t think I could just go buy these. My friend Amber, she, heh, she likes to have fun.” She examined them curiously, a bit nervously.
“And what about you?” I asked. “You like to have fun?”
She laughed a bit, and then got serious, as if realizing we were actually going to do this. She took off her shirt without hesitation, revealing an alluring combination of curved sides and a single pair of abs visible on her trim belly. Then she handed me the cuffs, and said, “I’m not going to tell you where the key is until you make me think I’m going to die.” I could tell she had prepared this line in advance. And with that she hopped up on the bed, raising her arms towards the head of the bed and hiding them beneath the pillows.
I followed her with growing lust, and placed her left wrist inside the cuff, clicking it around it. As I reached for the right wrist, she instinctively lowered her arm, as if she wasn’t even aware of it. “I’m gonna need both of them,” I said with some amusement. She bit her lip, scratched something on her belly quickly, and then slowly raised it back to the head of the bed. I threaded the cuff behind one of the bars, clicking around her right wrist. Her arms formed a diamond around her head, and, feeling like this gave her far too much room to squirm, I walked to the end of the bed and pulled on her feet, sliding her ass towards me and stretching her arms tight over her head. “Oh Lord,” she uttered, half-scared.
I had planned ahead, not suspecting she would’ve had cuffs, and had sufficient lengths of rope in my pockets to secure all her limbs. I removed two of them, and before she was even aware of what had happened, her feet had been pulled helplessly toward the corners of the king size bed, and she was perfectly immobile, an upside down Y of ticklish flesh.
“Babe, do you really need to do my feet?” she asked, a little scared. After all, she had never met me. I could do anything. And then that thought struck me from my own point of view. I could do anything. I drug a finger up her foot, from the heel to the ball, and she let out an electric, “Ahhh!” I tried the other foot and got the same reaction, teamed with a profound jerking of her leg. It didn’t move much, and as I repeated the simple act two more times, sending her into a state of desperation she had apparently not suspected could exist, she spat out, “Shit, Babe, don’t.”
She had no idea how ticklish she really was. Nor how completely immobile her parents bed would leave her. I ran a finger down both soles, and watched as her perfect butt arched up off the bed, each of her abs perfectly visible as she clenched them in an attempt to retain sanity. I fluttered my fingers up and down, relentlessly, sending her into a frantic desperation, her hair flying from side to side, her laughter coming out in spastic chortles, her thighs quivering with the futile effort to move her feet. I went to her toes, and they splayed outward, betraying her attempt to make them less accessible. I bent them back, digging into the soft skin at their base, and for the first time she thought she was going to die.
“The keeeyssssss!” she screamed as much as I had thought possible. I stopped. “The keys...are.....under.....the.......clock.” She was still laughing, still twitching, her face etched with a feeling of shock that anything like that could happen. She wasn’t mad, or upset, or excited, she just couldn’t believe how completely torturous the past five minutes had been. She didn’t know what to think.
I climbed up to straddle her, bent down to kiss her, and she seemed to relax a bit. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. She was wide-eyed as I broke our kiss and she began to tug fruitlessly at the cuffs over her head. The effort made perfect hollows of her underarms, and as her mouth formed a perfect “o” of desperation, I lowered a pointer finger towards each smooth expanse of nerve endings. I scratched lightly, so lightly that I could hardly feel her, and her biceps became perfectly defined in her helpless arms. She didn’t make any sound at first, as if she wasn’t even aware of what sound to make in such an impossible situation, and then finally an explosion of undefined sound exploded from her, nearly jarring me from her body. After regaining my balance, I increased the pressure, scribbling back and forth wildly as if I was trying to get the ink started on a pen that had remained uncapped for some time. Her head thrashed back and forth, her eyes now closed, and finally an unending stream of high-pitched giggles began to pour from her, the sort of unencumbered expression that I could tell she was not used to having in front of anyone. Her pits remained deeply hollowed, as the effort to lower her arms was constant, and I expanded the range of my scribbling to include her top rib, just next to her pear-sized breasts which were still restrained in the sports bra.
The natural progression from one rib to the next took charge, and I trailed up and down, gently massaging the skin above each bone, making her wail with desperate laughter and cuss more than I had ever heard a girl. With each breath she could take not dedicated to laughter, she called me everything from bastard to asshole to dick to some things I just couldn’t quit make sense of, and have sense forgotten. She was crying, sweating, hair whipping, chain of the cuff scrapping against the bed, back arching as much as possible, and her skin was pink in ticklish agony. Now all of her abs were slightly visible with the force of her laughing, and I couldn’t resist the urge to trace around them. This caused her to suck in even further, and changed her full-out laughter to light, girlish giggles. Her desperation ceased, as did her struggling and cursing, and finally our eyes met. We stared at each other as I continued to trace lazy patterns over her helpless belly, her hips bouncing and twitching, her mouth etched in a smile stretching to her ears.
She relaxed now, beginning to coo as she squirmed, and I lazily traced the line from her chest to her womanhood, making sure to tease her belly button and linger briefly over her womanhood. She’d started to get a little wet, and how her attitude towards the situation had changed all together.
“Where were those keys again?” I asked while sliding her shorts down and tracing slow, agonizing lines from her knees to her pussy. She was lost in moans and giggles, and it took her a minute to utter quite seductively, “What keys?” I continued to fondle her, tormenting her sex and watching has she attempted to press against my hand.
“So you don’t want me to stop then?” She was soaking now, chest heaving as she fought all the sensations coursing through her. I expected something clever, some alluring comment, but all she said was a rushed and excited, “No.”
“Well, if you say so,” I said with a devious grin, and hopped up to straddle her again. She seemed confused, and I extended my fingers towards her exposed pits, and she made the pathetic sound that combines a whimper with a scream. I began to tease her pits, and didn’t allow her thrusting hips to come into contact with me. I looked her deep in the eyes, and I saw the manic desperation that accompanies needing to cum and being manically tickled.
She screamed at the top of her lungs as I went from scratching to deep massaging of her pits.
I might’ve tormented for hours, but given that her screamed diatribe would’ve even been bleeped out on HBO, I decided it wouldn’t be wise to keep her waiting. I wasn’t much good for anymore waiting either. I trailed down her middle one last time, and the rest was as God intended.
