10-02-2001, 09:02 PM
I just think it's kind of funny....
10-03-2001, 03:45 PM
oh my... very stange but cool find. did you look into any more of her 'art'?
10-03-2001, 06:28 PM
damm....that was just weird
10-03-2001, 09:44 PM
Thats a funny-ass picture.
10-03-2001, 10:28 PM
10-03-2001, 10:36 PM
Well, y'all got me curious, so I looked...
...now I wish I hadn't.
10-04-2001, 09:38 PM
She looks just like my high school english teacher!
10-04-2001, 11:24 PM
I love this picture. It encompasses so very much of what appeals to me about tickling, even though it is F/M, which is not my preference.
Observe the visually undeniable demonstration of power and dominance. That big behemoth is as solid as a mountain; look at her thighs, her backside; they are immovable objects, and poor skinny man is absolutely, impossibly helpless underneath her. He will go nowhere until she chooses to release him, which obviously will not be for a very, very, very long time; she has waited too long for this opportunity. With her large body and shrunken head, she has been alone for ages, but she is not without sensuality. Note how she has taken care to dress herself attractively; note the pretty red bow above her bosom and the fashionable hairstyle. Her bed, too, indicates an erotic side, with the heart carved into the headboard, shown red with the wallpaper behind. She has love to give, affection to give, but these emotions were stifled in adolescence or earlier and so now she craves tickling instead of more traditional sex. Finally she has the chance she has so long dreamed of, and you can bet that those helpless bare feet are making spasmodic twitch-twitch-twitches emerge from deep within her; beneath her fatty collops she's oozing juice all over Mr. Skinny's nice blue pyjamas.
As for poor Mr. Skinny, his situation is utterly without hope. He is in for quite a bit of torture, and I am getting a hard-on just thinking about it. Odd; why should I? I'm I tickler, not a ticklee, but maybe not as absolutely as I've always thought. So poor Mr. Skinny is struggling to squeeze free, and you can see he's got his torso stretched as far away from her as he can get it -- oh, the woe, when she turns to his ribs! His arms are free, for now, and his head cranes outward, but all that matters are his poor feet, which remain trapped in the behemoth's clutches. And just look at her: she's so happy about it, you can read her thoughts: "Tickly feet! Tickly feet! I've got a pair of tickly feet!" She can scarcely believe her fortune, and this one moment of bliss makes up for all her lonely years. Suddenly she no longer cares about all the boys in high school who never asked her out; she's got a pair of tickly feet to play with...all she ever wanted...and she's never letting go.
Okay, okay, that's some pedantic rambling. I should just delete this, but what the hell. I'll post it before I have time to second-guess myself. Thanks y'all for indulging me.
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