(This is a "sequel" to the fictional fantasy, WHEN EM ES MET STEPH, recently posted, where Em Es and Steph, two tickle enthusiast pen pals, meet for the first time.)
Steph and I don't realize how much of an appetite we have until we arrive at the restaurant. Fortunately, the service is good and the food arrives quickly. While we enjoy the conversation and the meal, each of us wastes no finishing the food so we can return to the motel.
I ask the waitress for the check, which she places on the table. I reach for it but Steph tickles my ribs, causing me to pull my arm back before I can grab the check. As I am about to learn, it is a preview of what's going to happen once we get back to our motel room.
"My expense account will cover this," says Steph as she gives me a 'gotcha' grin. She hands a credit card to the waitress, who is smiling at us, amused at Steph's tickle technique.
Steph excuses herself to the restaurant ladies room. As I wait for her, the waitress returns with Steph's receipt. Still smiling about the way Steph tickled me, she gives me a look that says, 'you're ticklish and now I know it.' I half consider asking when she gets off work. But when Steph returns, I discard the idea - Steph will be enough action, I figure. Soon I will know I figured right.
A short while later we return to the motel. Steph locks the door and turns toward me with a devilish look.
For as eager as we were to get back behind closed doors, I suggest we finish what's left of the wine, not wanting to rush things. But after maybe half a glass, the anticipation proves too strong.
I tell Steph, "Wait right here," as I grab my bag and step into the motel room bathroom.
A few minutes later I come out wearing just a thong. Steph does a double take at the sight of me. Referring to my TMF true stories about Mistress Kassandra, Steph says, "So you really do have one of those things?"
As Steph smiles, I am not sure if she thinks I look good or merely silly. But as she picks up the restraints I had left on the floor after tickling her earlier that day, I know what she's thinking next!
Directing me to the bed, Steph has me rest on my back. Swiftly - almost in fast motion - she ties my ankles and wrists to the bedpost, the classic "X" position for tickle torture. Steph's speedy work impresses me, but so does her job in tying me down firmly without making the restraints so tight that it hurts.
As my keenness builds, Steph slowly walks around the bed without breaking eye contact. She stops briefly and then steps back one or two steps.
"I think I'm overdressed, Em Es," Steph says, comparing my near-nudity to her pants and shirt. I almost forget Steph is about to tickle me as I watch her remove her outer wear to reveal the sexiest matching flesh-colored bra and thong panties I've ever seen.
Climbing onto the bed, Steph straddles me. With a smile that says, 'You've had it now,' she tickles my ears and neck. I'm already laughing, and Steph can't help but to giggle at my ticklish situation.
As if she called Mistress Kassandra for advice, Steph then tickles my shoulders and chest, two sensitive areas a lesser tickler would overlook. Only a few minutes into it, Steph has me writhing and laughing in ticklish agony, reminding me how crazy I've made so many of the girls I've tickled.
"Come on, Em Es," Steph says, tickling my bare upper body with all ten fingers. "Get it off your chest!"
Steph moves her hands towards my armpits. Just I think she's going to give it to my underarms, she instead moves up to the palms of my hands and lets her fingers do the walking, slowly down my arms. Steph's tiny steps finally reach my underarms and she digs with a harder motion than she's used so far. Now I'm doing involuntary sit-ups, bouncing up only to be pulled back down by the restraints on my wrists.
I'm laughing as hard as I've ever laughed and vainly try to pull my arms to my side. But Steph's done as good a job tying me down as she is in tickling me.
Without so much as a brief pause, Steph slides her knees down the bed a little as she switches her tickle torture to my ribcage. She tickles me up and down, pressing her fingers in every rib, counting aloud how many ribs I have.
"Let's see, Em Es. One rib, two ribs, three ribs, four-"
My lower torso almost levitates in reaction to Steph's tickles. My vain struggling almost knocks her off me.
"Oh, darn, Em Es. You made me lose count. Now I have to start over. One rib, two ribs, three ribs, - say, Em Es. How much is ten minus nine?"
Between laughs, I manage to answer, "One,"
Proud I fell for her trick, Steph starts the rib tickling all over. "ONE rib, two ribs, three ribs . . ."
About half an hour has passed. Sensing I need a break, Steph stops the tickles and rests her behind on my thighs. Thanks to her thong, her bare buttocks rub against me and it feels good.
"Not that you are in a position to negotiate, Em Es," Steph says, "But let me make you an offer. I'll take off my bra and tickle you for another hour or keep my bra on and tickle you for just another half hour."
As I start to ponder prolonged tickle torture versus another look at Stephanie's mountain range, she does not bother to wait until I have thought it out.
"Screw it," Steph says as she unsnaps her bra, letting it fall to the side of the bed. "I hope you have another hour to spend with me!"
I have but a moment to admire Stephanie's ripe honeydews before she picks up where she left off, rotating her index fingers around my stomach. Then she does the classic tickle move, going at my sides with pokes and squeezes. For the hell of it, she revisits my ribs and chest. Steph tickles my helpless torso for a LONG time. Were I not concentrating on bearing Steph's tickles, I might have time to enjoy the sight of her 40-D bosoms, just inches from my face.
"It's 'Left, Right' time," Steph says.
Before I can say "What's that?," Steph tickles my left side, then my right, over and over as I turn in either direction uselessly trying to protect myself from her tickling fingers.
"Left, right, left, right," Steph says, laughing at me. "The breeze feels good, Em Es!"
Once again without pause, Steph moves back so she can work on my legs. Kneeling between my spread-eagle legs, she tickles my inner thighs, up and down, causing me to tense up and bust out in goose bumps. Next she squeezes her way down my legs, paying extra attentive torture to my knees.
Steph lightly glides her fingertips along my calves. By now I'm sweating and almost out of breath from laughter.
Satisfied that she's tickled my legs adequately, Steph stops and moves forward a few inches. Making eye contact, she gives me a serious look as I watch her hands move in back of her towards my feet. The closer she reaches, she breaks into a grin and then a broad smile.
Then I feel the inevitable sensation of foot tickling. I jerk my head back in ticklish agony.
Steph stops. "Boy, your feet are pretty ticklish, Em Es."
Just as I think she's going to have no mercy on my bare soles, Steph gets off the bed and unties my ankles. I wonder what she's doing. Is she going to spare my feet?
But I realize I'd better think again as Steph ties my ankles together. Moving as swift as a deer, Steph takes both the blanket and bedspread from the other motel room bed. Folding them up, she places them under my calves, elevating my feet. Then she ties the restraints holding my ankles together to the footboard.
For a girl who is primarily a ticklee, Stephanie proves a well thought-out tickler. This little Italian vixen has my bare feet elevated - so I can't push my soles down, and taut - so I can't pull away.
To rub it in, Steph rests next to me in the tickler's version of 69. Her feet are by my face, not that I can grab and tickle them with my arms tied overhead. And of course, Steph and her free hands are down at my feet.
Steph starts slowly but steadily, running an index finger along my soles. The break I had while Steph re-tied my legs is over as the tickling sensation of her fingertip on my feet makes me quiver. She increases it to her index and middle fingers, then five fingers, and ultimately all ten tickling fingers torturing my bound, bare helpless soles.
Long past my struggles to pull away or push down my feet, I am shaking as though it was one of those vibrating beds as Steph tickles away. I'm laughing hard, but Steph is laughing, too - well, laughing AT me.
"You should have let me tickle you first, Em Es," Steph says. "You taught me a few things about tickling when you had me this afternoon."
Keeping her right hand to my feet, Steph reaches her left hand underneath me, as my legs are slightly elevated from the folded blanket and bedspread under my calves. She tickles the bottoms of my thighs and lower buttocks, giving me a wicked grin as I wriggle even harder in ticklish reaction.
Steph jumps up on her knees and faces me.
"God, how I like this," Steph squeals in girlish delight, shrugging her shoulders with excitement. I sense a grand finale about to commence.
As if I had just cued her, Step digs her fingers into me, rapidly tickling me all over. Ribs. Stomach. Underarms. Chest. Legs. Feet. As if she was getting paid by the tickle, Steph works me into a ticklish frenzy!
The hour Steph promised is up and she stops tickling, looking as if the play has taken as much out of her as it did me. She flops down on me, resting her head on my shoulder while rubbing her bare breasts against my chest. After a minute or so, she slowly unties me.
I lay my arms to my side and recuperate from Steph's tickle torture. Resting alongside me, Steph props herself up on her left elbow and starts rubbing her right hand down my torso, chest to waistline, just shy of making contact with my erection, still bulging in my thong. We look at each other, each wondering if the other is going to make the move.
Without words, we communicate that while her husband and my wife don't understand our tickling passion, neither of us wants to move our tickle play into full-blown adultery.
I step into the bathroom and finish myself. From the other side of the bathroom door, I hear Steph moaning. To give her privacy, I wait until she's quieted before rejoining her.
We get dressed and have a long farewell hug. I walk Steph to her rental car and watch her drive away.
I stand there in the motel parking lot watching Steph's car vanish into the evening horizon.
"Where were you when I was single, Steph?," I say aloud.
Steph and I don't realize how much of an appetite we have until we arrive at the restaurant. Fortunately, the service is good and the food arrives quickly. While we enjoy the conversation and the meal, each of us wastes no finishing the food so we can return to the motel.
I ask the waitress for the check, which she places on the table. I reach for it but Steph tickles my ribs, causing me to pull my arm back before I can grab the check. As I am about to learn, it is a preview of what's going to happen once we get back to our motel room.
"My expense account will cover this," says Steph as she gives me a 'gotcha' grin. She hands a credit card to the waitress, who is smiling at us, amused at Steph's tickle technique.
Steph excuses herself to the restaurant ladies room. As I wait for her, the waitress returns with Steph's receipt. Still smiling about the way Steph tickled me, she gives me a look that says, 'you're ticklish and now I know it.' I half consider asking when she gets off work. But when Steph returns, I discard the idea - Steph will be enough action, I figure. Soon I will know I figured right.
A short while later we return to the motel. Steph locks the door and turns toward me with a devilish look.
For as eager as we were to get back behind closed doors, I suggest we finish what's left of the wine, not wanting to rush things. But after maybe half a glass, the anticipation proves too strong.
I tell Steph, "Wait right here," as I grab my bag and step into the motel room bathroom.
A few minutes later I come out wearing just a thong. Steph does a double take at the sight of me. Referring to my TMF true stories about Mistress Kassandra, Steph says, "So you really do have one of those things?"
As Steph smiles, I am not sure if she thinks I look good or merely silly. But as she picks up the restraints I had left on the floor after tickling her earlier that day, I know what she's thinking next!
Directing me to the bed, Steph has me rest on my back. Swiftly - almost in fast motion - she ties my ankles and wrists to the bedpost, the classic "X" position for tickle torture. Steph's speedy work impresses me, but so does her job in tying me down firmly without making the restraints so tight that it hurts.
As my keenness builds, Steph slowly walks around the bed without breaking eye contact. She stops briefly and then steps back one or two steps.
"I think I'm overdressed, Em Es," Steph says, comparing my near-nudity to her pants and shirt. I almost forget Steph is about to tickle me as I watch her remove her outer wear to reveal the sexiest matching flesh-colored bra and thong panties I've ever seen.
Climbing onto the bed, Steph straddles me. With a smile that says, 'You've had it now,' she tickles my ears and neck. I'm already laughing, and Steph can't help but to giggle at my ticklish situation.
As if she called Mistress Kassandra for advice, Steph then tickles my shoulders and chest, two sensitive areas a lesser tickler would overlook. Only a few minutes into it, Steph has me writhing and laughing in ticklish agony, reminding me how crazy I've made so many of the girls I've tickled.
"Come on, Em Es," Steph says, tickling my bare upper body with all ten fingers. "Get it off your chest!"
Steph moves her hands towards my armpits. Just I think she's going to give it to my underarms, she instead moves up to the palms of my hands and lets her fingers do the walking, slowly down my arms. Steph's tiny steps finally reach my underarms and she digs with a harder motion than she's used so far. Now I'm doing involuntary sit-ups, bouncing up only to be pulled back down by the restraints on my wrists.
I'm laughing as hard as I've ever laughed and vainly try to pull my arms to my side. But Steph's done as good a job tying me down as she is in tickling me.
Without so much as a brief pause, Steph slides her knees down the bed a little as she switches her tickle torture to my ribcage. She tickles me up and down, pressing her fingers in every rib, counting aloud how many ribs I have.
"Let's see, Em Es. One rib, two ribs, three ribs, four-"
My lower torso almost levitates in reaction to Steph's tickles. My vain struggling almost knocks her off me.
"Oh, darn, Em Es. You made me lose count. Now I have to start over. One rib, two ribs, three ribs, - say, Em Es. How much is ten minus nine?"
Between laughs, I manage to answer, "One,"
Proud I fell for her trick, Steph starts the rib tickling all over. "ONE rib, two ribs, three ribs . . ."
About half an hour has passed. Sensing I need a break, Steph stops the tickles and rests her behind on my thighs. Thanks to her thong, her bare buttocks rub against me and it feels good.
"Not that you are in a position to negotiate, Em Es," Steph says, "But let me make you an offer. I'll take off my bra and tickle you for another hour or keep my bra on and tickle you for just another half hour."
As I start to ponder prolonged tickle torture versus another look at Stephanie's mountain range, she does not bother to wait until I have thought it out.
"Screw it," Steph says as she unsnaps her bra, letting it fall to the side of the bed. "I hope you have another hour to spend with me!"
I have but a moment to admire Stephanie's ripe honeydews before she picks up where she left off, rotating her index fingers around my stomach. Then she does the classic tickle move, going at my sides with pokes and squeezes. For the hell of it, she revisits my ribs and chest. Steph tickles my helpless torso for a LONG time. Were I not concentrating on bearing Steph's tickles, I might have time to enjoy the sight of her 40-D bosoms, just inches from my face.
"It's 'Left, Right' time," Steph says.
Before I can say "What's that?," Steph tickles my left side, then my right, over and over as I turn in either direction uselessly trying to protect myself from her tickling fingers.
"Left, right, left, right," Steph says, laughing at me. "The breeze feels good, Em Es!"
Once again without pause, Steph moves back so she can work on my legs. Kneeling between my spread-eagle legs, she tickles my inner thighs, up and down, causing me to tense up and bust out in goose bumps. Next she squeezes her way down my legs, paying extra attentive torture to my knees.
Steph lightly glides her fingertips along my calves. By now I'm sweating and almost out of breath from laughter.
Satisfied that she's tickled my legs adequately, Steph stops and moves forward a few inches. Making eye contact, she gives me a serious look as I watch her hands move in back of her towards my feet. The closer she reaches, she breaks into a grin and then a broad smile.
Then I feel the inevitable sensation of foot tickling. I jerk my head back in ticklish agony.
Steph stops. "Boy, your feet are pretty ticklish, Em Es."
Just as I think she's going to have no mercy on my bare soles, Steph gets off the bed and unties my ankles. I wonder what she's doing. Is she going to spare my feet?
But I realize I'd better think again as Steph ties my ankles together. Moving as swift as a deer, Steph takes both the blanket and bedspread from the other motel room bed. Folding them up, she places them under my calves, elevating my feet. Then she ties the restraints holding my ankles together to the footboard.
For a girl who is primarily a ticklee, Stephanie proves a well thought-out tickler. This little Italian vixen has my bare feet elevated - so I can't push my soles down, and taut - so I can't pull away.
To rub it in, Steph rests next to me in the tickler's version of 69. Her feet are by my face, not that I can grab and tickle them with my arms tied overhead. And of course, Steph and her free hands are down at my feet.
Steph starts slowly but steadily, running an index finger along my soles. The break I had while Steph re-tied my legs is over as the tickling sensation of her fingertip on my feet makes me quiver. She increases it to her index and middle fingers, then five fingers, and ultimately all ten tickling fingers torturing my bound, bare helpless soles.
Long past my struggles to pull away or push down my feet, I am shaking as though it was one of those vibrating beds as Steph tickles away. I'm laughing hard, but Steph is laughing, too - well, laughing AT me.
"You should have let me tickle you first, Em Es," Steph says. "You taught me a few things about tickling when you had me this afternoon."
Keeping her right hand to my feet, Steph reaches her left hand underneath me, as my legs are slightly elevated from the folded blanket and bedspread under my calves. She tickles the bottoms of my thighs and lower buttocks, giving me a wicked grin as I wriggle even harder in ticklish reaction.
Steph jumps up on her knees and faces me.
"God, how I like this," Steph squeals in girlish delight, shrugging her shoulders with excitement. I sense a grand finale about to commence.
As if I had just cued her, Step digs her fingers into me, rapidly tickling me all over. Ribs. Stomach. Underarms. Chest. Legs. Feet. As if she was getting paid by the tickle, Steph works me into a ticklish frenzy!
The hour Steph promised is up and she stops tickling, looking as if the play has taken as much out of her as it did me. She flops down on me, resting her head on my shoulder while rubbing her bare breasts against my chest. After a minute or so, she slowly unties me.
I lay my arms to my side and recuperate from Steph's tickle torture. Resting alongside me, Steph props herself up on her left elbow and starts rubbing her right hand down my torso, chest to waistline, just shy of making contact with my erection, still bulging in my thong. We look at each other, each wondering if the other is going to make the move.
Without words, we communicate that while her husband and my wife don't understand our tickling passion, neither of us wants to move our tickle play into full-blown adultery.
I step into the bathroom and finish myself. From the other side of the bathroom door, I hear Steph moaning. To give her privacy, I wait until she's quieted before rejoining her.
We get dressed and have a long farewell hug. I walk Steph to her rental car and watch her drive away.
I stand there in the motel parking lot watching Steph's car vanish into the evening horizon.
"Where were you when I was single, Steph?," I say aloud.
