Even Through Jeans
Giving myself a final look in the mirror turning this way and that as I attend to the last details of my dress in anticipation of my meeting, my meeting with my tickle master, my tormentor the core of all hot desires and wildest fantasies. My hand skims over the roundness of my cheeks, cheeks wrapped nice and cozy in my tight jeans. A shiver runs down my spine for I remember, yes delight in the memory of our 1st meeting, how it tickled, surprised and even flushed me that I was so deliciously sensitive in this region of my body even through the material of jeans. Your tender but strong hands found the way to make the sensations deliver itself through the thickness of the material and now my mind is racing with untapped trials of having my cheeks explored, ravished, taken over with ticklish sensations. I envision myself in many different positions all with myself delightfully exposed to your touch, can you see myself there for you? Take it, take all you want, touch me, tickle me, make me giggle, make me moan, make me dance for you. For in all my fantasies, in all my visions I am your tickle slave. With a wandering lustful mind I see myself standing hands raised and captured by a hook in a ceiling, my legs left unbound, I am clothed but how long that remains to be seen. You approach me with a stern but playful smile, I can see the hunger in your eyes, your hands ready to devour. You grab my hair and pull my head back with meaning but without pain making my neck bend down slowly as you plant a kiss on my lips, nibble my neck and whisper into my ear "I want to hear you laugh...I want to see you dance for me, but do not fight me my slave". Your fingers meet mine but slowly travel down my arms sending a thousand electric shocks to every nerve; I let out a whimper, a giggle. You stare into my eyes never losing contact, never losing a touch of my skin, slowly traveling down to make acquaintance with the softness of my underarms, my body is quivering, can you see it in my eyes master? Can you read the emotions, the energy, and the excitement in my mind? Do you know I am already yours? Your hands wander to either side of me exploring, tickling, filling me. Again I feel you over my jeans just a sliver of those sweet sensations, tickling feeling wonderful but leaving me wanting more, the need for hands on skin, for more teasing more contact. Are you reading my mind again? Staring into my eyes you open the button to my pants, slowing pull them down, never losing the opportunity to tickle the legs along the way. You raise a foot to pull off a pant leg taking a toe and licking it, nibbling it, a bolt of lightning flashes across the room, you do the same to the other never leaving an inch of flesh in denial. I feel you tickling your way up my legs, tickling, feathering and being the awesome tickler that you are. I want to run away and bend to you all at the same time, your at my inner thighs, hot, delightful and raw. You grab a tall stool so now you can bend me over your legs, there is no modesty, no protesting, how wicked and exposed this is. You round your hands over my cheeks, feeling them, sizing them up, exploring. You begin your tickle assault as I surrender to feelings unlike any other, you trace your finger, you tease, you ravish. Every line touched, dimples played, my mind in a place like no where else. Can you feel the heat? Can you feel it in me, do you know where I am? What you are doing to me? I am yours, take me. You can feel my need for release but yet you tease, tickle, always tickling. I am quivering, giggling, dancing. I am wild and free. Master I am yours. Explosions, a thousand stars, the earth stands still as my heart beats like a chorus of drums. Fantasy now, reality tonight…all from being tickled through jeans…
Giving myself a final look in the mirror turning this way and that as I attend to the last details of my dress in anticipation of my meeting, my meeting with my tickle master, my tormentor the core of all hot desires and wildest fantasies. My hand skims over the roundness of my cheeks, cheeks wrapped nice and cozy in my tight jeans. A shiver runs down my spine for I remember, yes delight in the memory of our 1st meeting, how it tickled, surprised and even flushed me that I was so deliciously sensitive in this region of my body even through the material of jeans. Your tender but strong hands found the way to make the sensations deliver itself through the thickness of the material and now my mind is racing with untapped trials of having my cheeks explored, ravished, taken over with ticklish sensations. I envision myself in many different positions all with myself delightfully exposed to your touch, can you see myself there for you? Take it, take all you want, touch me, tickle me, make me giggle, make me moan, make me dance for you. For in all my fantasies, in all my visions I am your tickle slave. With a wandering lustful mind I see myself standing hands raised and captured by a hook in a ceiling, my legs left unbound, I am clothed but how long that remains to be seen. You approach me with a stern but playful smile, I can see the hunger in your eyes, your hands ready to devour. You grab my hair and pull my head back with meaning but without pain making my neck bend down slowly as you plant a kiss on my lips, nibble my neck and whisper into my ear "I want to hear you laugh...I want to see you dance for me, but do not fight me my slave". Your fingers meet mine but slowly travel down my arms sending a thousand electric shocks to every nerve; I let out a whimper, a giggle. You stare into my eyes never losing contact, never losing a touch of my skin, slowly traveling down to make acquaintance with the softness of my underarms, my body is quivering, can you see it in my eyes master? Can you read the emotions, the energy, and the excitement in my mind? Do you know I am already yours? Your hands wander to either side of me exploring, tickling, filling me. Again I feel you over my jeans just a sliver of those sweet sensations, tickling feeling wonderful but leaving me wanting more, the need for hands on skin, for more teasing more contact. Are you reading my mind again? Staring into my eyes you open the button to my pants, slowing pull them down, never losing the opportunity to tickle the legs along the way. You raise a foot to pull off a pant leg taking a toe and licking it, nibbling it, a bolt of lightning flashes across the room, you do the same to the other never leaving an inch of flesh in denial. I feel you tickling your way up my legs, tickling, feathering and being the awesome tickler that you are. I want to run away and bend to you all at the same time, your at my inner thighs, hot, delightful and raw. You grab a tall stool so now you can bend me over your legs, there is no modesty, no protesting, how wicked and exposed this is. You round your hands over my cheeks, feeling them, sizing them up, exploring. You begin your tickle assault as I surrender to feelings unlike any other, you trace your finger, you tease, you ravish. Every line touched, dimples played, my mind in a place like no where else. Can you feel the heat? Can you feel it in me, do you know where I am? What you are doing to me? I am yours, take me. You can feel my need for release but yet you tease, tickle, always tickling. I am quivering, giggling, dancing. I am wild and free. Master I am yours. Explosions, a thousand stars, the earth stands still as my heart beats like a chorus of drums. Fantasy now, reality tonight…all from being tickled through jeans…
