story -- first attempt f/m m/f
Breaking Routines
Quickly putting away her credit card when she heard the key in the door, Gail arranged herself on the couch, picked up her new book and pretended to be almost too engrossed to notice Brian entering the room. She glanced up briefly, blowing a kiss at him. He began his after work routine, dropping his briefcase in the corner, pulling his tie from around his neck as he crossed the room to place a light kiss in the center of Gails' forehead before heading down the hall towards their bedroom. There he would shower and change into jeans and a sweatshirt before logging onto the computer to work on his caseload from home. His home office was where he spent most of this time.
Their marriage had become rather strained as of late. Why had their lovemaking, once passionate and frequent, dropped to twice a month, almost always initiated by her? Why did they seem to have so little in common anymore, a mere three years after the recently graduated lawyers were married?
Gail thought she knew. A recent case she had litigated had taught her more about computers than the use of the spreadsheet or word-processing program. A major piece of evidence in a recent custody case had come, not from files the husband had saved, but by perusing the cache on the computer, the spot where windows places any files viewed on the internet. While she had always known that the cache existed, what with her computer regularly telling her to empty it, she'd never realized that she could enter any graphics program and see all images viewed since the last time it was emptied. The evidence in the divorce case had ended with the mother taking custody of the children as an overly prim judge deemed the father to be a disgusting man who was unlikely to provide as stable a home as the mother.
Gail had come home early once her case was finished, curious to try out her new knowledge on their home computer. She'd expected to maybe find some pictures of girls in there. After all, Brian was a man. But she was not prepared for what she DID find.
Shocked, Gail watched a slideshow depicting women in various states of undress. Not recipients of some dark sexual act as so many sites seemed to offer, but simply being TICKLED! Some women were simply being tickled by other women, some in stocks, some hog-tied or tied with their arms over their head, legs dangling, while they were poked and prodded at, or lightly stroked with fingers, feathers, toothbrushes. She did not find any place where a sexual act was being performed, yet almost all in some way erotic.
Gail had quickly disabused herself of the notion that Brian's interest was in any way unusual by simply going to google.com, a popular search engine, and typing the word tickling. Site after site promised images, stories, pictures, videos, or audio clips of women (or men) being tickled, many of them obviously adult sites. She investigated some of this quite thoroughly, shocked at first, and then surprisingly, while reading a story on one of the sites, she had found herself responding to the eroticism in a way she had not responded to Brian in some time.
She deliberately ignored the fact that she'd already spent hundreds of dollars on forgotten lingerie, pornographic tapes, and edible underwear, all of the tools of a woman desperate to save her marriage, starting with the bedroom first. Gail logged onto a site that promised "tickling" related merchandise and videos and typed in her credit card.
********************************************************
Today was the day. This morning she'd had a large cardboard box delivered to her office. It took all of her patience and ingenuity to get through the remainder of the afternoon. She could not wait to examine the contents and only minutes after stepping in the door of their condo she'd torn the box open, packing materials strewn across the floor as she nervously examined each item. A long ostrich feather, extremely soft. Leather cuffs lined with a faux-fur to prevent chafing, for wrists and ankles. Gail shivered. Not cold, she realized. Anticipation. Just in case he was into some of the more extreme pictures she'd found, she'd bought a gag, a thin piece of cloth, one of the more innocuous she'd found on the site. And three videotapes plainly labeled with the production company's name and a number rather than a title.
Putting these away in the bedroom, Gail went into the kitchen and began dinner. So often one or the other of them ended up working late, grabbing dinner on the run. Dinner together had become a rarity, something they had to plan for. When she'd gotten the package in Gail had called Brian and made arrangements to have a nice quite dinner at home tonite, no special occasion. Sensing another of her "variety is the spice of life" moods, he'd seemed a little reluctant but had capitulated, it having been several weeks since they'd dined together.
Gail was lighting the last candle at the dinner table as Brian came home. She met him at the door, kissed him gently, taking his bag from him. Leading him into the dining room.
"Come, I have a new recipe from Marci." Marci was Gail's current secretary, a 70-wpm typist and a mean cook. "I've been dying to try it out." She spoke the words brightly, as if sitting down to dinner with the man she loved was not unusual.
"Do I have time to shower first? Or is soup on already?" Routines were being broken, and Brian seemed mildly at a loss.
"Ten minutes and it's on the table. Think you can make it?" She said this, implying a challenge, almost impish, if a thirty-year-old woman could carry impish.
Hair a little damp still, they sat through dinner, Brian complimenting her on the recipe, loosening up, attempting small talk at first, then resolving that he would not fight her attempts at romance. He even became mildly flirtatious, swatting her behind with a towel as he helped her clear the table, doing dishes. Domesticity at its best. He did love her. He was just so afraid that if she ever discovered his… what he knew she would consider a perversion… she'd leave him instantly.
He sighed softly, then followed her to the bedroom, wishing he could be more open about his needs and desires. But Gail, as much as she thought of herself as open and experimental, was actually quite prudish about most things…
Gail waited for him in skimpy lingerie, and a secretive smile that suggested she'd read another "save your marriage" book and found a new cure for what could probably not be cured. She crooked a finger at him, gesturing towards the bed.
"Lay down" she whispered. "I have a surprise for you".
He eased himself down on the bed, looking at her expectantly. It was not as if he did not enjoy their sex life, and his wife was very beautiful, especially when she set out to seduce him. Sometimes he wondered if he didn't hold back just to have her initiate with one of her wild plans she concocted from reading books, magazine articles, or while talking to her girlfriends.
He quickly shook off these thoughts as he felt the first cuff close around his wrist. Shock. "Huh? What are you DOING?"
Gail circled the bed, securing both wrists and both ankles, grinning at him as if…. Yes, that was it.. She's gone completely mad, Brian thought to himself…..
He continued on this line of thought until he saw the ostrich feather. Gail was running it through her hand, looking first at it, then at his feet, which were exposed, very close, where she stood with the feather. He shivered slightly.
"So, honey.. I've never thought to ask… are you ticklish?" Amusement in her voice, with a slight touch of nervousness underlying the tone. Only living with her as long as he had enabled him to recognize it.
Brian felt a soft fluttering feeling on the bottom of one sole, where Gail touched him experimentally with the tip of the feather. He bucked slightly, a mild feeling of exhilaration. "What on earth are you doing, Gail? Have you gone insane?" He tried to speak calmly but found his breathing had already become erratic.
"I? I am tickling you. Here" the feather slid down his side gently "and here" down the inside of his leg.. "and here" darting up, the feather stroked the soft part of his neck, the hollow at the shoulder blades. Brian strained against the cuffs, laughter bubbling up in his throat, very aware that he had an erection from almost the moment she'd touched him with the feather.
Gail abandoned the feather, climbed on the bed, straddling his legs. She drew her recently manicured nails down the his chest, lightly brushing over his nipples then concentrated on his stomach, seemingly oblivious to his sharp intake of breath, his squirms, his protests.
"Interesting."
This Gail declared with seeming clinical detachment. Brian waited, his breath catching in his throat, thinking fearfully about what she would do next. Where had she come up with this idea? His body cringed away from her as she reached out, but he realized that she was releasing the cuffs, setting him free. He looked at her quizzically.. "What's gotten into you, Gail?"
"Oh, well. It's like this" and she proceeded to remind him of how a few weeks ago she'd won the custody case she'd been working on the basis of the pornographic files found on the father's computer. Not saved as files, but in the internet cache. She told him how she'd tried it at home on their computer, and the shock when she'd found his tickling pictures, girls in various states of dress, being tickled by males or females, tied, untied, using various tools. How she'd researched the subject to see what was what, how she'd read some stories, how she'd decided to bring this into their lovelife as a way of trying to save their marriage. She looked at him a little nervously, aware that he could take the invasion of his privacy the wrong way, turning this into a very tense situation.
Instead, Brian sighed with relief. "Honey, I can't believe the way you are taking this. I was so sure… I mean… I thought you would think there was something wrong with me… One of my old girlfriends, in my freshman year…" He shivered again, this time remembering the shame, the embarrassment. "I learned never to share this side of me, thought I could hide it."
Gail giggled. "I have to admit, it was a shocker. But rather than the total oddity I thought it to be at first, a little research online showed me entire communities dedicated to tickling.. and… I figured if that's what you wanted, I'd give it to you. You like?" She had a single dimple that showed up only when she was truly enjoying herself, adding to the mischievous look.
Brian looked at her appraisingly for a long moment. "You want to give me what I want?" He looked at her, eyebrows raised.
"Of course! I love you!" and then she blushed a little. "Besides, while I was .. ahh.. researching this tickling stuff, I actually read a few stories people had written.. I found them rather stimulating."
"I see" Brian seemed to ponder this for a moment. He could not believe that this was his prudish wife. Ah, well.
Then he acted. Grabbing her legs, he threw her up over his shoulder, lifting her to the bed where he set her down. She shrieked with surprise, then a little bit of fear when she felt the cuffs closing over HER wrists, HER ankles. "If you really researched my interests, you'd know that I am more interested in being the tickler, not the ticklee, my love."
With that, he grabbed the feather from the floor where it had fallen and began to tease her with it, much the same way she had done to him. Yet where she had stopped, letting him recover his senses, Brian was relentless. He tickled her feet until her body whipped back and forth across the bed, looking so much like a fish on a hook, trying to get free. He stopped just long enough for her to catch her breath then started on her armpits, marvelously exposed due to the cuffs pulling her arms up over her head. Wild giggles escaped from her mouth as he tickled first one, then the other, using the feather at first but soon throwing it to the side to dig in with his fingers, one hand tickling under her arm on one side while the other hand went for her other side.
She began to laugh out loud, protesting in one breath, giggling hysterically with the next. "No, this is NOT fair" she exploded with another gale of laughter, twisting her body like a contortionist to avoid his probing fingers. "I can't take any more!" Her face began to ache from laughing, while every nerve in her body was alive, responding to his slightest touch. His torture wound down almost immediately, replaced by gentle massages, then his lips followed the paths his fingers had taken so recently. Still afire, her body twitched as if to guard against a new onslaught of tickling.
"Set me free" she breathed, exhaustion evident in her voice. "I cannot believe how wild that makes me.. I want to touch you." Brian looked at her eyes and smiled. He reached up and began the process of freeing her hands, then her legs. She reached out for him, a light tickle on his side. He grinned. He had a feeling that their routine had changed… for good.
Breaking Routines
Quickly putting away her credit card when she heard the key in the door, Gail arranged herself on the couch, picked up her new book and pretended to be almost too engrossed to notice Brian entering the room. She glanced up briefly, blowing a kiss at him. He began his after work routine, dropping his briefcase in the corner, pulling his tie from around his neck as he crossed the room to place a light kiss in the center of Gails' forehead before heading down the hall towards their bedroom. There he would shower and change into jeans and a sweatshirt before logging onto the computer to work on his caseload from home. His home office was where he spent most of this time.
Their marriage had become rather strained as of late. Why had their lovemaking, once passionate and frequent, dropped to twice a month, almost always initiated by her? Why did they seem to have so little in common anymore, a mere three years after the recently graduated lawyers were married?
Gail thought she knew. A recent case she had litigated had taught her more about computers than the use of the spreadsheet or word-processing program. A major piece of evidence in a recent custody case had come, not from files the husband had saved, but by perusing the cache on the computer, the spot where windows places any files viewed on the internet. While she had always known that the cache existed, what with her computer regularly telling her to empty it, she'd never realized that she could enter any graphics program and see all images viewed since the last time it was emptied. The evidence in the divorce case had ended with the mother taking custody of the children as an overly prim judge deemed the father to be a disgusting man who was unlikely to provide as stable a home as the mother.
Gail had come home early once her case was finished, curious to try out her new knowledge on their home computer. She'd expected to maybe find some pictures of girls in there. After all, Brian was a man. But she was not prepared for what she DID find.
Shocked, Gail watched a slideshow depicting women in various states of undress. Not recipients of some dark sexual act as so many sites seemed to offer, but simply being TICKLED! Some women were simply being tickled by other women, some in stocks, some hog-tied or tied with their arms over their head, legs dangling, while they were poked and prodded at, or lightly stroked with fingers, feathers, toothbrushes. She did not find any place where a sexual act was being performed, yet almost all in some way erotic.
Gail had quickly disabused herself of the notion that Brian's interest was in any way unusual by simply going to google.com, a popular search engine, and typing the word tickling. Site after site promised images, stories, pictures, videos, or audio clips of women (or men) being tickled, many of them obviously adult sites. She investigated some of this quite thoroughly, shocked at first, and then surprisingly, while reading a story on one of the sites, she had found herself responding to the eroticism in a way she had not responded to Brian in some time.
She deliberately ignored the fact that she'd already spent hundreds of dollars on forgotten lingerie, pornographic tapes, and edible underwear, all of the tools of a woman desperate to save her marriage, starting with the bedroom first. Gail logged onto a site that promised "tickling" related merchandise and videos and typed in her credit card.
********************************************************
Today was the day. This morning she'd had a large cardboard box delivered to her office. It took all of her patience and ingenuity to get through the remainder of the afternoon. She could not wait to examine the contents and only minutes after stepping in the door of their condo she'd torn the box open, packing materials strewn across the floor as she nervously examined each item. A long ostrich feather, extremely soft. Leather cuffs lined with a faux-fur to prevent chafing, for wrists and ankles. Gail shivered. Not cold, she realized. Anticipation. Just in case he was into some of the more extreme pictures she'd found, she'd bought a gag, a thin piece of cloth, one of the more innocuous she'd found on the site. And three videotapes plainly labeled with the production company's name and a number rather than a title.
Putting these away in the bedroom, Gail went into the kitchen and began dinner. So often one or the other of them ended up working late, grabbing dinner on the run. Dinner together had become a rarity, something they had to plan for. When she'd gotten the package in Gail had called Brian and made arrangements to have a nice quite dinner at home tonite, no special occasion. Sensing another of her "variety is the spice of life" moods, he'd seemed a little reluctant but had capitulated, it having been several weeks since they'd dined together.
Gail was lighting the last candle at the dinner table as Brian came home. She met him at the door, kissed him gently, taking his bag from him. Leading him into the dining room.
"Come, I have a new recipe from Marci." Marci was Gail's current secretary, a 70-wpm typist and a mean cook. "I've been dying to try it out." She spoke the words brightly, as if sitting down to dinner with the man she loved was not unusual.
"Do I have time to shower first? Or is soup on already?" Routines were being broken, and Brian seemed mildly at a loss.
"Ten minutes and it's on the table. Think you can make it?" She said this, implying a challenge, almost impish, if a thirty-year-old woman could carry impish.
Hair a little damp still, they sat through dinner, Brian complimenting her on the recipe, loosening up, attempting small talk at first, then resolving that he would not fight her attempts at romance. He even became mildly flirtatious, swatting her behind with a towel as he helped her clear the table, doing dishes. Domesticity at its best. He did love her. He was just so afraid that if she ever discovered his… what he knew she would consider a perversion… she'd leave him instantly.
He sighed softly, then followed her to the bedroom, wishing he could be more open about his needs and desires. But Gail, as much as she thought of herself as open and experimental, was actually quite prudish about most things…
Gail waited for him in skimpy lingerie, and a secretive smile that suggested she'd read another "save your marriage" book and found a new cure for what could probably not be cured. She crooked a finger at him, gesturing towards the bed.
"Lay down" she whispered. "I have a surprise for you".
He eased himself down on the bed, looking at her expectantly. It was not as if he did not enjoy their sex life, and his wife was very beautiful, especially when she set out to seduce him. Sometimes he wondered if he didn't hold back just to have her initiate with one of her wild plans she concocted from reading books, magazine articles, or while talking to her girlfriends.
He quickly shook off these thoughts as he felt the first cuff close around his wrist. Shock. "Huh? What are you DOING?"
Gail circled the bed, securing both wrists and both ankles, grinning at him as if…. Yes, that was it.. She's gone completely mad, Brian thought to himself…..
He continued on this line of thought until he saw the ostrich feather. Gail was running it through her hand, looking first at it, then at his feet, which were exposed, very close, where she stood with the feather. He shivered slightly.
"So, honey.. I've never thought to ask… are you ticklish?" Amusement in her voice, with a slight touch of nervousness underlying the tone. Only living with her as long as he had enabled him to recognize it.
Brian felt a soft fluttering feeling on the bottom of one sole, where Gail touched him experimentally with the tip of the feather. He bucked slightly, a mild feeling of exhilaration. "What on earth are you doing, Gail? Have you gone insane?" He tried to speak calmly but found his breathing had already become erratic.
"I? I am tickling you. Here" the feather slid down his side gently "and here" down the inside of his leg.. "and here" darting up, the feather stroked the soft part of his neck, the hollow at the shoulder blades. Brian strained against the cuffs, laughter bubbling up in his throat, very aware that he had an erection from almost the moment she'd touched him with the feather.
Gail abandoned the feather, climbed on the bed, straddling his legs. She drew her recently manicured nails down the his chest, lightly brushing over his nipples then concentrated on his stomach, seemingly oblivious to his sharp intake of breath, his squirms, his protests.
"Interesting."
This Gail declared with seeming clinical detachment. Brian waited, his breath catching in his throat, thinking fearfully about what she would do next. Where had she come up with this idea? His body cringed away from her as she reached out, but he realized that she was releasing the cuffs, setting him free. He looked at her quizzically.. "What's gotten into you, Gail?"
"Oh, well. It's like this" and she proceeded to remind him of how a few weeks ago she'd won the custody case she'd been working on the basis of the pornographic files found on the father's computer. Not saved as files, but in the internet cache. She told him how she'd tried it at home on their computer, and the shock when she'd found his tickling pictures, girls in various states of dress, being tickled by males or females, tied, untied, using various tools. How she'd researched the subject to see what was what, how she'd read some stories, how she'd decided to bring this into their lovelife as a way of trying to save their marriage. She looked at him a little nervously, aware that he could take the invasion of his privacy the wrong way, turning this into a very tense situation.
Instead, Brian sighed with relief. "Honey, I can't believe the way you are taking this. I was so sure… I mean… I thought you would think there was something wrong with me… One of my old girlfriends, in my freshman year…" He shivered again, this time remembering the shame, the embarrassment. "I learned never to share this side of me, thought I could hide it."
Gail giggled. "I have to admit, it was a shocker. But rather than the total oddity I thought it to be at first, a little research online showed me entire communities dedicated to tickling.. and… I figured if that's what you wanted, I'd give it to you. You like?" She had a single dimple that showed up only when she was truly enjoying herself, adding to the mischievous look.
Brian looked at her appraisingly for a long moment. "You want to give me what I want?" He looked at her, eyebrows raised.
"Of course! I love you!" and then she blushed a little. "Besides, while I was .. ahh.. researching this tickling stuff, I actually read a few stories people had written.. I found them rather stimulating."
"I see" Brian seemed to ponder this for a moment. He could not believe that this was his prudish wife. Ah, well.
Then he acted. Grabbing her legs, he threw her up over his shoulder, lifting her to the bed where he set her down. She shrieked with surprise, then a little bit of fear when she felt the cuffs closing over HER wrists, HER ankles. "If you really researched my interests, you'd know that I am more interested in being the tickler, not the ticklee, my love."
With that, he grabbed the feather from the floor where it had fallen and began to tease her with it, much the same way she had done to him. Yet where she had stopped, letting him recover his senses, Brian was relentless. He tickled her feet until her body whipped back and forth across the bed, looking so much like a fish on a hook, trying to get free. He stopped just long enough for her to catch her breath then started on her armpits, marvelously exposed due to the cuffs pulling her arms up over her head. Wild giggles escaped from her mouth as he tickled first one, then the other, using the feather at first but soon throwing it to the side to dig in with his fingers, one hand tickling under her arm on one side while the other hand went for her other side.
She began to laugh out loud, protesting in one breath, giggling hysterically with the next. "No, this is NOT fair" she exploded with another gale of laughter, twisting her body like a contortionist to avoid his probing fingers. "I can't take any more!" Her face began to ache from laughing, while every nerve in her body was alive, responding to his slightest touch. His torture wound down almost immediately, replaced by gentle massages, then his lips followed the paths his fingers had taken so recently. Still afire, her body twitched as if to guard against a new onslaught of tickling.
"Set me free" she breathed, exhaustion evident in her voice. "I cannot believe how wild that makes me.. I want to touch you." Brian looked at her eyes and smiled. He reached up and began the process of freeing her hands, then her legs. She reached out for him, a light tickle on his side. He grinned. He had a feeling that their routine had changed… for good.
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