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I wish (first story)

MollyT

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Joined
Aug 2, 2001
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19
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It was Friday night, my kids were out of town, and my boyfriend was at his place with his kids for the night. With all the work I'd been avoiding, I figured I might as well be alone in my office being productive instead of home doing nothing. I had plans to go out with friends later, so I dressed for the club in a short dress, stockings, and heels. Once in my office, I ditched the shoes under my desk, knowing I was alone. I put in one of my favorite CDs and turned it up loud; I spent so much money on the sound system in there and couldn't ever take advantage of it. Well, it was about time I pushed the envelope.
With the music playing and everyone accounted for, it was actually a relaxing evening. If only every day at work were like that! I was singing along, dancing in stocking feet, and actually getting work done.
"Wow, look at you!" said a voice from my door. I actually screamed, I was so startled. It was the guy from an office down the hall, the one I had an immense crush on (which, apparently, was mutual). Tall and very good-looking, his appearance didn't hold a candle to his sweet, gentle personality. A part of me avoided him to keep out of trouble; another part sought him out.
"Jeez! What the hell are you trying to do? You scared the s#@! out of me!" My heart was pounding so fast, but whether it was from the scare or the sight of him I'm not sure.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to. What are you doing here so late? Dressed like that? On a Friday night?"
"Yeah, I must look like a total loser. My kids are with their dad and I'm killing time until I meet my friends later."
"Hardly a loser! More like a looker." Be still, my heart! "Running around with no shoes on? You'll mess up your hose. How's the toe, by the way?"
I couldn't believe it. I had broken my toe a few weeks earlier, and he'd teased me for a days about the limp. I had a hunch he was a tickler; he'd even given me a quick poke in the ribs on occasion. Now, in my office, late at night, the two of us are alone in a room, and he's asking about my stocking feet. Somebody pinch me!
"It still bothers me, actually. I didn't think it would hurt this long. Sometimes my shoes don't quite fit, so I guess it's still a little swollen."
"Really? Let me see." He leaned over to look and gently pushed me into a chair. Then he sat across from me and put my foot in his lap. "Let's see the other one, for comparison." He took my other foot in his lap and looked at both toes. "Yeah, it's still pretty swollen. Does this hurt?" he asked, as he pushed on the toe I'd broken.
"Ouch---yeah, it does!" I squeaked as I flinched, trying not to pull away. Please, don't ever forget this moment!
"Sorry...here, is that better?" he said, and started rubbing the bottom of my foot. "Wow, you could drive a truck under those arches," he said. My high arches were a source of secret pride. He noticed them?! God, let me die now and spend eternity a happy woman.
"D-don't you have work to do or something?" I asked as I squirmed around a bit.
"What, are you ticklish?" he said. Oh, touch me, tickle me, make me scream!!!
"Not really, at least my feet aren't too bad. And isn't this a conversation that would be more appropriate with your wife?" He was still stroking the bottoms of my feet, scratching lightly, dancing his fingertips up and down the arches of both feet. Truly, my feet are not terribly ticklish... at least, I didn't think so, but no one had ever really tried.
"Oh, she hates it when I tickle her. Everybody has their quirks, though." With that, he really started working my feet over, tickling the soles, under my toes and on the tops of them. I suddenly realized that it really tickled! I couldn't believe the sensation, like an electric current going from my feet to my brain and setting little fires all the way up.
"Hey, cut it out!" I said, really squirming now. "You can't... this isn't..." and then I broke into a fit of giggles. I started really trying to pull my feet away, knowing I had to put out the fire he'd started before I got into trouble. He turned sideways in his chair and put both my feet in a football hold and went bananas on my defenseless peds.
"No, please!" I said between giggles. I really don't want to be another man's midlife crisis... "You don't understand! Stop! STOP!!!!"
But stopping was apparently the last thing he intended to do. He turned back around in his chair to face me again, repositioning my feet in the football hold, this time the other direction. "I've wanted to do this for so long," he said. This can't be happening...
He had my feet tucked behind him under his arm, and he gave a little tug on my legs to pull me halfway off my chair. I had to use my arms to keep my balance, and he started running his fingers up my legs, quickly finding the sensitive spots under my knees. He focused his attentions there for a bit, while I writhed and laughed and begged him, "Please! God, please, you have to stop..." I was getting so turned on, watching him and his beautiful smile, focusing all his attention on making me stark raving mad. Then he squeezed the top of my knee, and I screamed so loud I was sure people on the street could hear. I tried to grab his hands and pull them away, but he kept his hold on my knee and I was laughing so hard I couldn't think, and trying so hard to get free that I slid off the chair onto the floor. When I fell, he let go of my knee, and I quickly rolled over onto my stomach and up onto my hands and knees to try to crawl away. He was on the floor with me in an instant, grabbed my feet, pulled me over to him (which hiked my dress way up around my thighs), sat on my back, and pinned my hands over my head.
"HEY!!!" I yelled. "You can't be doing this. You're married! I have a boyfriend!! This is our frigging workplace!"
"Okay," he said, not releasing my hands. "I obviously can be doing this since I'm big and you're little." I loved that he said that; he was already winning me over (as if that would take effort). "I'm married and you're taken, but I have no intention of having sex with you. I think you're adorable, and I want to watch you squirm, and you want me to make you squirm. Right?"
Now, I am in the habit of holding my tongue rather than answering if I need to think about the question. He, of course, took my brief silence as affirmation and began the torture that marked the beginning of a very interesting friendship. He lightly stroked the insides of my upper arms, and I tried to pull my arms down, but he's a foot taller than I am and much stronger, so all I could do was whimper. I thought since I wasn't screaming with fits of laughter he'd move to a different place, but he kept softly touching my arms. I got goosebumps right away, and after a little while I was moaning with tortured pleasure, struggling against him as best I could. His hands wandered into my armpits and down my ribcage as far as he could, since he was still sitting on me. His touch was still very light, but my ribs are pretty ticklish and I started laughing again. Then he pushed his fingers into my ribs and wandered all over my back and sides. You'd think that a bit of back massage would have been good at that point, but my whole body was so sensitive that even my back was ticklish. I started screaming with laughter, writhing and bucking underneath him trying to get him off me, and I heard him laughing, too. I love his laugh; it's so genuine, not evil or fake. It's like music. Mine wasn't, I'm sure, and I was so insane with the sensations that I bucked hard enough to turn over underneath him. Big mistake. He took my hands down from over my head and pinned one under each of his knees. He was sitting on my thighs, and during the struggle my dress had ridden up high enough that he could see the hem. He tugged on it a bit, and I started screaming, "No! Please, you promised... Please don't take my clothes off!"
"Relax!" he said, so sweetly. "I wouldn't do that. I just want to get to your tummy... Oh, look! You're belly button's pierced. I bet that hurt."
"Yeah, it... aaaagh, God, stop!!!!" I cried, because as I began my answer he began his torment of my poor tummy. There's a spot near my hipbones that's so ticklish it makes me want to cry. A part of me prayed he wouldn't find it (must have been the part that keeps out of trouble), and the other part couldn't wait for him to get there. His fingers played my belly like a piano, and I was getting hot in more ways than one. I was starting to get tired from the struggle and sometimes I'd just lay there, giggling and moaning. He reached around behind him to squeeze my knee again, and the fight started all over. I screamed, begged, laughed, and was getting close to tears from frustration when he wandered back to my belly and found the spot. Oh, man, what people must have been thinking on the street corners. He just laughed while I screamed myself hoarse, and I didn't know begging before that moment. Sometimes he just held his wiggling fingers over my hips, and I nearly started to cry. I wanted him so bad! I knew this was probably all I'd ever get from him, and it was tearing me up knowing I could either endure this insanity or never have him touch me. What I really wanted at that moment was for him to let me up and hold me in his arms for a while... and then he dropped his wiggling fingers onto my hips again. I thought I'd truly go insane, with the sensation of tickling in the worst spot ever and the frustration of wanting this man that was really just playing with me. Everything got the better of me, and as I was screaming and begging for him to stop, laughing all the while, tears started streaming down my face.
"Okay, okay, it's all right," he said softly, and he moved his knees off my wrists. I smiled sheepishly through my tears and rubbed at my hands. "Here, let me," he said as he took my hands in his and rubbed the stiffness away. Then (it must be a dream) he picked me up and set me in his lap. I was shaking; I don't know if I just noticed it then or if it started when he put me in his lap. "I'm sorry, I guess I went a little overboard. Are you okay?"
I just nodded, sniffled a little, and rubbed my eyes. He put a hand on my head and pushed it down onto his shoulder, and then stroked my hair. I melted into him and he wrapped his other arm around me and hugged me close. Before I knew it, he was waking me up; my cell phone was ringing, and my friends were wondering if I was coming to the club. He lifted me to my feet and helped me straighten my clothes and hair. As I was getting ready to leave, he said, "Thank you. I really have been wanting that for a long time. I hope you're not upset with me. And, maybe, sometime, I... we... could do it again?"
 
Oh, Molly! What a wonderful story, and beautifully told. I loved your descriptions; to read your post felt like watching a movie. All the little details, the narrative comments of your thoughts and feelings, brought me right into the reality of your situation. I am a tickler, and to be brought inside the mind of the ticklee so vividly is both rare and sublime. I eagerly await your next story, and am glad you've joined this little community we have here.

glen
 
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