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Big-breasted tickling: the college years

Grolsch

TMF Regular
Joined
May 14, 2001
Messages
202
Points
18
Hi. This is a different style of story for me. I hope you enjoy, but as always I'm open to feedback. G.

“No, Arina, I’m not going to do it!”

“Look it as this, Michelle”. When Arina pronounced
“Michelle”, it sounded like “Mee-shayll”. “It”
(sounded like “eet”) “is not something of which I
request. I am making demand on you”.

“Arina, no! I can’t dance. I’m a terrible dancer.
You do it. You’re on the dance team. You love the
attention. You do it!”

“I am thinking not. I am promoter. I cannot be as
the dancer girl.”

“Arina! You’re on the f-ing dance team! You dance
every basketball game!”

“I am not like it for this. You will bring crowd.
Many will pay if they know you are to be dancer”.

“Why is that? You’re pretty! You are popular! You
have big…”

“But, sweetheart (sounded like ‘sveethart” – nobody is
as big up top as you…”.

“Would you for once just speak fluent English! What
the hell is ‘I am not like it for this’! What the
hell is ‘sveetheart’! NO! NO! AH! HA HA HA HA HA HA
HA HA! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

Arina’s thumbs dug into Michelle’s hips, reducing
Michelle to a jiggling, fleshy ball of laughter.

Arina and Michelle were college students. In many
ways, they were very similar. Both were extremely
bright. They routinely competed for the same grants
and scholarships. By now (the 2 20-year-olds were
college sophomores). Each had won and lost their fair
share. Both had rumors of wealth surrounding them.
College gossip held that Michelle stood to inherit
millions upon graduation. Gossip also held that Arina
had close ties to Russian organized crime. In fact,
she lived off campus and rode to and from school in a
limousine.

There were considerable differences between them,
though. Michelle was a genuinely well-liked person.
She may have had a face like Anna Kournikova and an
exotic, no, impossible body (36-26-36, but possessed
of gigantic, unworldly breasts – sort of like a cross
between beach balls and watermelons), but she was
friendly, funny, and truly kind-hearted. The blonde,
buxom student turned heads and hearts.

Arina was not friendly, not unless she thought she had
something to gain. She’d dated professors, college
staffers, anything to gain an edge. It was
perplexing, because she truly could accomplish
anything on her own. The 5’3”, dark-haired,
olive-skinned girl was larger (40-30-38, with very
round, full breasts), but also quite athletic. She
was a member of the dance team, and despite her unique
figure an excellent track athlete and swimmer.

In contrast, Michelle’s body eliminated many of those
activities. Each 50-pound breast jiggled, bounced and
protruded to the point that even wearing a seat belt
was a challenge. Michelle couldn’t drive a car – her
breasts got in the way. She couldn’t run, sleep on
her stomach or fit into small spaces. She couldn’t
tie her own shoes, which is why she always wore
slides. Those ungainly yet well-shaped breasts were
just too much to deal with. So when Arina “demanded”
that Michelle dance at her private party, it just
seemed impossible to the heavily busted girl.

Oh, there was another factor. Early on, Arina had
learned Michelle had a weakness. Michelle was
horrendously ticklish. Just one finger swiping her
belly could have the gorgeous, topheavy girl rolling
on the floor, helpless with laughter. Arina, however,
was not ticklish at all. Michelle had done double
academic duty all year, completing Arina’s work. All
because Arina would threaten to tickle her.

Example:

“NO! ARINA! YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T TICKLE ME
TODAY!”

“That was yesterday. Do you have biochemistry
homework done?”

“NO! I HAVE A TEST TODAY!”

“You know what you will get.” A finger reached out
and touched Michelle’s middle. The Kournikova-like
girl shrieked and gyrated. Each unwieldy breast flew
in the air. Another jab got her ribs. Michelle’s
body was not her own when tickled. She tilted
sideways. The combined effect of lost strength due to
tickling and the extreme weight of her bosom had her
wobbling. When Arina squeezed Michelle’s sides,
Michelle fell to the ground. Those titanic breasts
quaked and compressed, bounced left and right and
refused to settle down.

“You have 1 hour. Or…”

“NOO! NOOOO! I’LL DO IT!”

Arina held her fingers over Michelle’s shivering
breasts, specifically the nipple area. Just the
threat made Michelle cave. And that wasn’t the only
time…


ANOTHER EXAMPLE

Michelle was flat on her back. She couldn’t see past
her own bosom, which jutted out 3 feet into the air
above her. She’d a better chance of seeing over the
Rocky Mountains. The European economics take-home exam
lay to her side.

“ARINA! NO! YOU ARE EUROPEAN…NO!
HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Arina thrust the stiff peacock feather into Michelle’s
soft, sensitive cleavage area. Suddenly, 100 pounds
of breast-flesh shook like pizza dough in mid-spin.
Arian jerked that feather around as if it were a
jackhammer. Michelle submitted, purple-faced,
tear-streaked and helpless.

FRUITLESS SITUATION

Once, Michelle tried turning the tables. She
convinced two of the football players in the dorm to
try tickling Arina one night when Arina came over for
her completed computer programming homework. Quckly,
Arina found herself held down to a dorm lounge table.
Her tight black sweater was rolled up around her
middle, and the athletes had a crack at her. Arina’s
body was in fantastic shape. Those ripped abs were
squeezed and caressed, no laughter. Her feet were
massaged and stroked, no laughter. Her underarms, her
ribs, every conceivable part of the dazzling girl’s
body was explored, but it was true. She wasn’t
ticklish.

“I do let you know Ukrainian women are not so weak.
Not like overfed, huge-breasted American girl…”

Those football players tickled Michelle into oblivion.
Her bra broke, her shirt actually ruptured and she
wet her pants. It was one of the worst tickling
episodes Michelle ever had. Her abdominal muscles
hurt for days as a result of the vigorous squeezing
and poking.


BACK TO THE PRESENT

And so now, when Arina “offered” this chance to
Michelle, she wondered if she could really refuse.
Arina sat on top of her.

“You cannot see my hands for your monster-size pancake
wobbling bosom”.

Michelle interpreted that to mean she was about to get
the crap tickled out of her.

“Please….please let me go…please don’t do this to me…”

“I think it is time for you for relaxing. Let us try
foot massage”.

Michelle’s feet. So big (size 12, big for a 5’8”
girl), so wrinkled, so ticklish. Were Michelle’s
breasts not so large and awkward, she might have
escaped. Instead, she just took the tickling. Until
she knew it was hopeless.

“Good. Then I see you at Club Molinari. Your costume
will be in dressing room. I even put star on door!
Ha ha ha!”


AT THE CLUB

Well, this was it. Michelle had endured many odd
situations. She’d dressed as a “Hooter’s Girl” for a
cocktail gig on a yacht. She’d consented to dressing
as “Jeannie” for a frat party. In those cases, money
talked. She may have stood to inherit millions, but
those millions were not in her bank account now.
Michelle needed money, and making a few bucks off her
body was ok with her.

Michelle stood on the stage. It took several shots of
whiskey before she could bring herself to do it, but
she spun on that pole as best she could. Arina
certainly arranged everything for her. Michelle’s
leather bra and shorts were as good a fit as possible
– the bra, of course, was custom-made. Arina was also
right, in that the crowd (largely young to middle-aged
men) went absolutely wild when the super-bosomy girl
hit the stage.

Of course, her first problem occurred when a customer
tried to insert a dollar bill into her tight, black
leather shorts. He traced the paper from her abs to
her pantline. The combined effects of alcohol and
tickling caused Michelle to buckle. She fell into the
man’s lap.

Ron wasn’t a mean guy. Like so many people, he was in
his late 30s and just wanting some sexual
entertainment. But when this blonde, Anna
Kournikova-faced young woman with breasts the size of
beach balls fell into his lap, he couldn’t help
himself.

Michelle was only marginally supported by the man.
After all, she weighed about 250lbs (100 pounds from
her breasts). Her back arched across his knee. Her
long blonde hair and her flushed face, combined with
her leather attire only heightened the effect for Ron.
He was pleasantly surprised that this striking woman
was on him, but even more surprised that her
mid-section seemed so tight and defined. She was
practically a comic-book character.

Ron used both hands and frisked Michelle’s belly. He
made sure his finger matched every muscular line.
Michelle’s belly was quite white – she was Nordic,
after all – but when she felt those fingers you’d have
sworn she was of Latin temperament. Michelle screamed
with laughter. Her strength wore out. She was
originally arched across Ron’s lap, but now was
frantically trying to fight off both the laughter and
her own breasts from smothering her own face.

Michelle’s breasts jiggled wildly, and it wasn’t long
before some of Ron’s friends noticed that Michelle’s
breasts were visible from beneath her leather bra.
Nor was it long before somebody grabbed her feet and
started tickling.

Arina watched, knowing full well that this behavior
could only lead to more drinks, more tips, and in
short a more successful party.

Of course, take a semi-intoxicated crowd, and the next
thing anybody would know is that Michelle’s breasts
were being fondled. That was unfortunate. Not only
was it a gross personal violation, but it tickled.
Badly.

Michelle had an orgasm. It always happened to her if
her breasts were tickled. It had gone on for over 15
minutes, and that bra was off. Michelle couldn’t
possibly laugh any harder than she did when several
people probed, stroked, frisked, massaged and kneaded
her gargantuan mammary glands. Her face felt like it
would explode. Urine – already passed. She was
helpless, laying on the sticky floor, practically
blinded by the tickling she received. Nobody had seen
anything like it before.

Except Arina. Arina knew what this was like for
Michelle. Arina was much, much stronger – but there
was still one spot, one spot that tickled her. Not
that she would ever admit it.

By the end of the night, Arina had sold strokes of
Michelle’s bosom for $10. A nipple stroke was $50 –
because it created a tickle so awful it forced
Michelle into orgasm immediately. By midnight,
Michelle’s entire body ached and she was speechless.
Arina shoved her into the limousine, with directions
to take her back to the dorm. As a final act of
dominance, Arina shoved Michelle’s “paycheck” between
Michelle’s breasts. It was a terrible tickle, but
$2000 would help Michelle quite a bit.

For now.
 
i hope to read some more stories like this. also can you do some on pam anderson or anna nicole being tickled like crazy!!! :jester: :jester: :eek: :yowzer: :yowzer: :yowzer: :poke3: :poke3: :evilha:
 
So... Arina IS ticklish somewhere.

Since the guys tried tickling all the usual spots, might the magic spot be... Her butt?
 
I have not really decided where Arina's ticklish spot should be yet. It's out there, though!
 
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