greenshade08
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- Joined
- Mar 4, 2003
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hey all... this is pretty much my first real post, and also my first story. it's an actual fantasy of mine, and i've thought about it so many effin times i had to put it down for all to see. maybe one day i'll be able to experience it - sadly, no tickling for me yet...
please tell me what you think - if it's ok, i can come up with more...
***
It’s been a particularly rough, stressful day at work, and you’ve taken me out for a nice meal to take the edge off. We walk to my flat, and you come upstairs, knowing you’ll stay the night at the beckoning of an unspoken invitation. We settle onto the couch to watch late-night television, me on my stomach, head in your lap. I feel the remains of the day ebb from my body as you stroke my hair and rub my back, never more than gently firm, simply releasing tension and inviting me to relax. Sometimes you accidentally graze my sides or the back of my neck, eliciting an almost inaudibly faint squeal – a reaction you relish but wish to withhold for later. You begin to massage my shoulders, and I softly moan. You ask if I’d like to turn this into a full-body massage, I gladly acquiesce, and we move to the bedroom.
We light candles, put on some soft music, crack open a window, dim the lights. You undress me as we kiss deeply, leaving only my panties on. I’m shy around you – our relationship is still relatively new, and we’ve just begun real intimacy – but you smile and kiss me and immediately I feel comfortable. I lay on the bed, back to you, and you sit beside me. You’ve massaged me before, and know I love a massage that ends with my back, so you start at my feet and work around my whole body – legs, hands, arms, head and neck – before returning to my back. Your touch is deep and relaxing, your hands warm, and I’m already filled with bliss. You pretend to ‘end’ the massage by scratching and rubbing my back, and as your touch gets lighter I begin to twist very slightly when your fingers reach more sensitive spots. This is what you’ve been waiting for, and you start to stiffen at the thought of what lies ahead.
Though never yet this intimately close, we’ve shared some deepest fantasies and you are interested in one of mine in particular. You’ve rehearsed what you’d say, how you’d move, the strokes of your fingertips, knowing all the while that these matters are unscripted. At the very least, you thought, you’d surprise me by remembering in subtle, suggestive ways. And it worked beautifully. Throughout the night you’ve been gracing my back with your fingertips, pinching my hips lightly as we walk side by side, hinting that you’ve remembered my secret.
You try to remember one of your lines you’ve rehearsed, but in the heat of the moment you lose your script, and awkwardly ask if I’d like to be restrained and lightly tickled. We laugh at the clumsy gesture but I agree and my pulse starts to race. You retrieve handkerchiefs from a drawer – the only thing you have handy – and you tie my wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed, leaving me on my stomach with my legs slightly spread. While the cool night air breezes softly over my body, giving me goose bumps, you undress and return to the bed.
Not wanting to startle me – at least not yet – you begin by innocently rubbing my back and rapidly lighten your touch, letting just your fingertips glide over my skin. My back is highly ticklish, and I writhe and wriggle under your fingers, though with the restraints there is no room for me to move. I like it this way. You draw a straight line down my spine with just two fingers, and I squeal as you reach the curve of my lower back. You take those fingers and trace the waist of my panties around to my sides. I giggle softly and try to wriggle away. As you move back up my sides, you spider your fingers out, and I gasp hard. I’m not a laugher, but my reaction is just as satisfying. My muscles start to spasm and my goose bumps stiffen noticeably. You repeat this pattern very slowly, and the anticipation kills me. I grunt and gasp, trying hard to playfully fake nonchalance but knowing that my reactions betray me. You decide to vary your movement and begin to draw random circles and figures on my back. I jerk and gasp and grunt and bury my squeals in my pillow. You write love letters to me with your fingertips. You lean in to my ear and whisper some silly, syrupy line about using my back as a canvas. We laugh together again and you agree not to try any more rehearsed one-liners. I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime now. You draw horizontal, vertical lines over my back. You trace the shapes of my shoulder blades, the edges of my ribs, the waistband of my panties. I jerk and writhe more and more, squeal and gasp and grunt and giggle and react more strongly with every passing minute. You claw at my skin, poke and prod my sides, walk your fingers up and down my muscles, but you never grab too roughly – you know that I’m much more sensitive to the lightest touch, and you intend to keep it that way. I feel like I’m going insane but I never want it to end, and I feel myself getting wetter and wetter.
After what feels like an eternity (though an eternity too short for me) you move from my back down my ass and legs. You draw circles on my ass, and I nearly scream, having not known that my ass could be so ticklish. My muscles spasm uncontrollably. After reducing my ass to a quivering mess, you dance your fingers down the backs of my upper thighs. There you pause for just a moment, running a fingertip up and down my satin-covered pussy. “Holy shit”, I mutter, and moan excitedly. My panties are noticeably damp and you softly laugh at my disappointment as you move further down my legs and reach my feet.
You take your fingertips and run them over the hills of my heels, down the sides of my feet and finally to the balls of my feet. My feet are not unbearably ticklish but for some reason the nerves in my feet seem to have a direct connection to the nerves in my pussy. You drag your nails up and down my arches, and I try to spread my legs slightly further apart. I’ve never told you how much foot tickling turns me on, but you can plainly see my erotic discomfort – which makes you stay and play even longer. You bend my toes back and lightly dance your fingers at the base of my toes. You draw circles on my inner arches. I giggle softly but erotically as I start to wish you’d forget about the rest of my body and fuck me with your mouth instead. My pussy’s on fire.
Finally, you decide to give me a short break. You loosen the bonds and ask me to turn over onto my back. We kiss like lost lovers united. You lean into me on the bed, pressing your cock onto my thigh, letting me know how hot you are. I start to massage your cock but you stop me. Leaving me unsatisfied, you pull away early, remove my panties, and secure me on the bed once again, this time face-up with legs spread.
Beginning where you left off, you move to the end of the bed to attend to my feet. Using your nails and fingertips, you spider the tops of my feet, like breaking a ticklish egg over each foot. My toes twitch and wiggle with the stimulation. Your fingers dip down my arches and slide up and down the soles of my feet. At this point I’ve become completely engulfed by the erotic pleasure of your fingers on my feet, and I moan louder and more forcefully with each passing minute. You know this drives my crazy and wild with desire, and you stay just a bit longer to bring me to the edge.
You trail your fingers up my legs, dancing for a second on my knees and continuing up my thighs. As you lean over, your cock finds its way to my foot, and I wiggle my toes teasingly. You grunt and move to the side of the bed, not wanting to spoil the night early. As you move, your fingers drag in random patterns on my thighs, keeping me guessing. Lazy circles and teasing touches move ever closer to my pussy, and my demeanor changes noticeably. You actually see my pussy start to open and drip. As much as I want to fuck you and climax, I never want the tickling to end.
You take one finger and draw a straight line up my stomach. Like my back, my stomach is also highly ticklish, and I sharply gasp as you lightly tease me. When you reach the bottom of my breasts, you take your other hand and put two fingers up my pussy, so you can feel my reactions from inside me, feel me tighten with desire. Your finger draws slow and deliberate lines on my stomach, always teasing and dipping down my sides, causing my muscles to spasm wildly. I grunt and gasp and giggle, and moan when I feel your fingers move inside me. Finally you take your other hand from inside me and tickle both of my sides at the same time, skittering feather-light over my ribs and playing piano on my hips. I gasp and twitch so hard that I can’t suck in a proper breath. Your hands pass over my breasts, tickling my nipples and stiffening them to the point of pain. I want it so bad, but I want you so bad, and I beg you to fuck me with your tongue…
please tell me what you think - if it's ok, i can come up with more...
***
It’s been a particularly rough, stressful day at work, and you’ve taken me out for a nice meal to take the edge off. We walk to my flat, and you come upstairs, knowing you’ll stay the night at the beckoning of an unspoken invitation. We settle onto the couch to watch late-night television, me on my stomach, head in your lap. I feel the remains of the day ebb from my body as you stroke my hair and rub my back, never more than gently firm, simply releasing tension and inviting me to relax. Sometimes you accidentally graze my sides or the back of my neck, eliciting an almost inaudibly faint squeal – a reaction you relish but wish to withhold for later. You begin to massage my shoulders, and I softly moan. You ask if I’d like to turn this into a full-body massage, I gladly acquiesce, and we move to the bedroom.
We light candles, put on some soft music, crack open a window, dim the lights. You undress me as we kiss deeply, leaving only my panties on. I’m shy around you – our relationship is still relatively new, and we’ve just begun real intimacy – but you smile and kiss me and immediately I feel comfortable. I lay on the bed, back to you, and you sit beside me. You’ve massaged me before, and know I love a massage that ends with my back, so you start at my feet and work around my whole body – legs, hands, arms, head and neck – before returning to my back. Your touch is deep and relaxing, your hands warm, and I’m already filled with bliss. You pretend to ‘end’ the massage by scratching and rubbing my back, and as your touch gets lighter I begin to twist very slightly when your fingers reach more sensitive spots. This is what you’ve been waiting for, and you start to stiffen at the thought of what lies ahead.
Though never yet this intimately close, we’ve shared some deepest fantasies and you are interested in one of mine in particular. You’ve rehearsed what you’d say, how you’d move, the strokes of your fingertips, knowing all the while that these matters are unscripted. At the very least, you thought, you’d surprise me by remembering in subtle, suggestive ways. And it worked beautifully. Throughout the night you’ve been gracing my back with your fingertips, pinching my hips lightly as we walk side by side, hinting that you’ve remembered my secret.
You try to remember one of your lines you’ve rehearsed, but in the heat of the moment you lose your script, and awkwardly ask if I’d like to be restrained and lightly tickled. We laugh at the clumsy gesture but I agree and my pulse starts to race. You retrieve handkerchiefs from a drawer – the only thing you have handy – and you tie my wrists and ankles to the corners of the bed, leaving me on my stomach with my legs slightly spread. While the cool night air breezes softly over my body, giving me goose bumps, you undress and return to the bed.
Not wanting to startle me – at least not yet – you begin by innocently rubbing my back and rapidly lighten your touch, letting just your fingertips glide over my skin. My back is highly ticklish, and I writhe and wriggle under your fingers, though with the restraints there is no room for me to move. I like it this way. You draw a straight line down my spine with just two fingers, and I squeal as you reach the curve of my lower back. You take those fingers and trace the waist of my panties around to my sides. I giggle softly and try to wriggle away. As you move back up my sides, you spider your fingers out, and I gasp hard. I’m not a laugher, but my reaction is just as satisfying. My muscles start to spasm and my goose bumps stiffen noticeably. You repeat this pattern very slowly, and the anticipation kills me. I grunt and gasp, trying hard to playfully fake nonchalance but knowing that my reactions betray me. You decide to vary your movement and begin to draw random circles and figures on my back. I jerk and gasp and grunt and bury my squeals in my pillow. You write love letters to me with your fingertips. You lean in to my ear and whisper some silly, syrupy line about using my back as a canvas. We laugh together again and you agree not to try any more rehearsed one-liners. I feel like I’ve known you a lifetime now. You draw horizontal, vertical lines over my back. You trace the shapes of my shoulder blades, the edges of my ribs, the waistband of my panties. I jerk and writhe more and more, squeal and gasp and grunt and giggle and react more strongly with every passing minute. You claw at my skin, poke and prod my sides, walk your fingers up and down my muscles, but you never grab too roughly – you know that I’m much more sensitive to the lightest touch, and you intend to keep it that way. I feel like I’m going insane but I never want it to end, and I feel myself getting wetter and wetter.
After what feels like an eternity (though an eternity too short for me) you move from my back down my ass and legs. You draw circles on my ass, and I nearly scream, having not known that my ass could be so ticklish. My muscles spasm uncontrollably. After reducing my ass to a quivering mess, you dance your fingers down the backs of my upper thighs. There you pause for just a moment, running a fingertip up and down my satin-covered pussy. “Holy shit”, I mutter, and moan excitedly. My panties are noticeably damp and you softly laugh at my disappointment as you move further down my legs and reach my feet.
You take your fingertips and run them over the hills of my heels, down the sides of my feet and finally to the balls of my feet. My feet are not unbearably ticklish but for some reason the nerves in my feet seem to have a direct connection to the nerves in my pussy. You drag your nails up and down my arches, and I try to spread my legs slightly further apart. I’ve never told you how much foot tickling turns me on, but you can plainly see my erotic discomfort – which makes you stay and play even longer. You bend my toes back and lightly dance your fingers at the base of my toes. You draw circles on my inner arches. I giggle softly but erotically as I start to wish you’d forget about the rest of my body and fuck me with your mouth instead. My pussy’s on fire.
Finally, you decide to give me a short break. You loosen the bonds and ask me to turn over onto my back. We kiss like lost lovers united. You lean into me on the bed, pressing your cock onto my thigh, letting me know how hot you are. I start to massage your cock but you stop me. Leaving me unsatisfied, you pull away early, remove my panties, and secure me on the bed once again, this time face-up with legs spread.
Beginning where you left off, you move to the end of the bed to attend to my feet. Using your nails and fingertips, you spider the tops of my feet, like breaking a ticklish egg over each foot. My toes twitch and wiggle with the stimulation. Your fingers dip down my arches and slide up and down the soles of my feet. At this point I’ve become completely engulfed by the erotic pleasure of your fingers on my feet, and I moan louder and more forcefully with each passing minute. You know this drives my crazy and wild with desire, and you stay just a bit longer to bring me to the edge.
You trail your fingers up my legs, dancing for a second on my knees and continuing up my thighs. As you lean over, your cock finds its way to my foot, and I wiggle my toes teasingly. You grunt and move to the side of the bed, not wanting to spoil the night early. As you move, your fingers drag in random patterns on my thighs, keeping me guessing. Lazy circles and teasing touches move ever closer to my pussy, and my demeanor changes noticeably. You actually see my pussy start to open and drip. As much as I want to fuck you and climax, I never want the tickling to end.
You take one finger and draw a straight line up my stomach. Like my back, my stomach is also highly ticklish, and I sharply gasp as you lightly tease me. When you reach the bottom of my breasts, you take your other hand and put two fingers up my pussy, so you can feel my reactions from inside me, feel me tighten with desire. Your finger draws slow and deliberate lines on my stomach, always teasing and dipping down my sides, causing my muscles to spasm wildly. I grunt and gasp and giggle, and moan when I feel your fingers move inside me. Finally you take your other hand from inside me and tickle both of my sides at the same time, skittering feather-light over my ribs and playing piano on my hips. I gasp and twitch so hard that I can’t suck in a proper breath. Your hands pass over my breasts, tickling my nipples and stiffening them to the point of pain. I want it so bad, but I want you so bad, and I beg you to fuck me with your tongue…
