SLAP & TICKLE
by JenSorel
SMACK!
The palm of my flattened hand abruptly spanks across the cheek, catching the recipient of the slap completely by surprise.
"Who do you think you are?" I inquire as Jack recoils from the force of my blow.
Then, just like in the movies, he pauses momentarily, his head cocked to his right as a slow smile wipes the shock from his face, ushering back his smugness.
"I'm the guy that's going to give it to you hard tonight."
SMACK! Another slap. Another snide smile.
"You like it rough, do you?" Jack goads.
My slender hand whisks through the air for a third time, heading to toward the face of the man I met only two hours ago, my blind date for the night on a double date I had such high hopes for. My hand whisks, but is suddenly caught in mid air by the wrist, by the man I want to strike again, the man I loathe, the man that declares, "So, is this foreplay?"
"This isn't foreplay," I reply. "This isn't going anywhere. I don't like you. And this date is over."
"Just like that?" Jack questions as I grab my purse. "You're going to give up just like that?"
"Give up what?"
"You say you don't like me, but I bet I can make you like me," Jack says. "I bet I can get you into bed. I bet you'll beg me to make love to you before the end of the night."
"You're delusional."
"Want to make a bet?"
I stop and stare at the ass of man sitting across from me. We're in a club. It's Saturday night. The double date we're on began at dinner and led to dancing. Christine and her man, the other half of the foursome, are currently getting along quite well on the dancefloor. They're headed toward a night of bliss, while I am faced with Jack.
Looking at his smug smile, I recall the beginnings of the night.
Earlier this eve, at home, after a long bath and a meticulous forehead to tippy-toe skin treatment of lotions and oils, I picked out the perfect outfit. I donned a sleeveless and backless ivory colored mock turtleneck sweater made of cotton and silk. A matching cardigan sweatercoat accompanied me, but was discarded long ago in this warm and cozy club. A short black suede skirt hugged my hips and matching black suede Ferragamo boots coated my calves and feet. I wore no underwear as I long ago deemed those lacy garments an unnecessary step in getting where I needed when things got going. I also find they only get in the way if things get going sooner, like say under the table in a restaurant or in a car on the way home. So, no underwear, just silk and suede on my skin and bones tonight. I dressed with visions of a good time in my head. I remember slipping my pampered and pedicured, pretty little size seven feet into my favorite new boots and zipping them up, up and away in hope they would be released sometime in the night and made love to by someone mysterious and new. I had hope of meeting a dashing, funny, handsome, interesting Clark Kent type. Instead, I met Jack.
"Jackass," I think to myself as I ask, "A bet? What kind of bet."
"Well, from our short time together, I have assessed a few things about you. You love being in control. You're competitive. And I'm betting you're very ticklish."
"Where is this going?"
"I'm betting I can tickle you into submission."
"You're a weirdo. I'm leaving."
"Stay. Show me I'm wrong."
For some reason I stay. I don't know why, but I do. Maybe I know it'll be too easy to prove this man wrong. Maybe I need to flex my control a bit. Maybe I am competitive. Maybe I just want to win the bet. Whatever it is, I stay and keep listening.
"Grab the bars above your head," Jack instructs.
"Is that how you get off? Tickling? Do women actually fall for this?"
He doesn't answer the question, instead he repeats, " Grab the bars above your head."
I hesitate, but when Jack motions with his head, I raise my arms and grab the set of steel bars of the booth we're in, the bars just behind my head. I do this because I realize I am not one who should be passing judgement on people's desires and needs. Me, a lover of the foot, a fanatic of spanking, disciple in the world of light bondage, bisexual, starfvcker and a bit of a sex addict, should not be judging the ticklers of the world.
Hands wrapped around steel, I smile at the jackass.
"Good girl," Jack teases.
"Now, I'm going to tickle you and if you let go I get to take you home."
"And if I don't let go?"
"You get to take me home."
"Very funny. How about this, if I win, you hit the dancefloor in your birthday suit."
Jack glances at the crowded dancefloor, then back at me.
"You kidding?"
"Nope. And you dance till they kick you out."
"I'll get arrested."
"Not if you win. If you win, you get to arrest me, all night."
"You got a bet little girl," Jack boasts. "Five minutes of tickling, you can't let go."
"Five minutes of tickling and you'll be dancing the buck naked."
"We'll see. We'll see," Jack mutters as he eyes me up and down. His eyes float across my body searching, I assume, for his point of attack. I laugh, holding onto the bars I will never let go of.
That's when I decide to have some fun. I decide to get a little pleasure out of this pathetic charade this conceited individual thinks will win me over. As Jack's eyes dance across my ribs, midriff, armpits and thighs, I subtly move my booted feet across the floor, into the shadows of the booth. Jack notices, just as I knew he would. Jack smiles just as I knew he would. Jack leans in just as I knew he would and he grabs my left leg by the ankle and raises it into the air.
He unzips the boot slowly, revealing the smooth skin of my calf as he pulls downward on the metal tag. The boot slips off my foot and Jack catches the falling, naked size seven with his free hand.
One. Two. Three. Just like with all the rest who have come before, I gain the advantage as he lays his eyes on the flawless foot in his hands.
One, his eyes dart across my sexiest body part, squinting as the sheer beauty of it registers in his brain.
Two, his desire kicks in and blood begins to rush to both his heads.
Three, amid the erotic sight and the seductive aroma, Jack gives into the allure of the awe inspiring foot, pitches a tent in his pants and loses focus of his every intent.
Advantage Sorel.
I wiggle my toes to snap him out of the dream staring state I recognize so well. Jack comes back to reality and he looks me in the eyes longingly, silently saying what so men have speechlessly said before.
"I know," I respond. "But I'm sorry to say that tickling is as close to making love to any part of me you will ever get. So, enjoy what you can."
I wiggle my toes again.
Jack takes a deep breath.
That's when it begins. The bet. The tickling. The control.
Jack's fingers danced across my soles and I have to admit, he is good at what he obviously desires. His tickling is very delicate and methodic. It isn't until I reacted to a certain technique within a specific area with a flinch or a smile or a little giggle that Jack really goes to work. When I show a sign of pleasurable weakness, Jack centers on that vulnerability and teases it to a full tilt by rubbing and scratching and pinching with his experienced hands. I, in turn, squirm and jump in delight when these spots on my tender soles, dainty toes and supple heel are dissected and tantalized.
My middle toe is my weakest link. The slightest fingertip prodding on its underside send a ripple of electric pleasure up my amusingly agitated body and suddenly makes me feel damp and achy between my thighs. Jack takes full advantage of this weakness, rolling the toe between his fingers and ever-so-lightly tickling the droplet of flesh on the digit's underside with the pinky finger on his right hand. I laugh out loud, start panting and arch my back in fun delight. I hold on firmly though, enjoying the moment but intent on winning.
Point Jackass.
That's when a finger slides between two toes. That's when I yelp from the ticklish delight that makes my body shudder and feel like I'm a little girl in an amusement park of fun rides that put butterflies in my stomach and a grin on my face all at once. That's when Jack teased the hypersensitive skin in between my beautiful toes with two fingertips while somehow running another pair along the bottom of my sensitive sole.
If I yelped before, this time squeal in a pleasure filled announcement of gladness and bodily satisfaction. It's like I'm going down the biggest hill on the highest rollercoaster again and again, faster and faster. My brain wants it to stop but my body wants it to continue as I tingle all over in a dizzying delight I have never felt before.
Advantage Jackass.
Fingers dance across my responsive feet as the club's loud music provides a resounding beat for my growing delight that nears the point of blissful unconsciousness. I giggle like a schoolgirl as Jack produces a piece of ice from his cocktail and begins to coat the underside of my foot in chill as he moves the frigid cube all over my curvy sole and exposed toes.
I squeeze the bars in my hands and arch my back again as my thighs squish together, now swimming in the pool between my legs. I rotate my hips and moan loudly as the frozen water turns the tip of each of my red painted toes pink and even more sensitive to any touch or tickle.
Jack-the-Tickler, of course, knows this.
The ice evaporates into the skin and he begins blowing on the bottom of my foot with a cool stream of breath. He holds the sole up, moves his face closer and tortures every inch of my chilly foot with an aimed exhale. The effect is unreal as it shoots up my leg and through my body, making goose pimples appear everywhere on my smooth and pampered skin. My delight is quickly turning into carnal joy.
As Jack began scratching lightly at my thawing feet, I rotate my hips slowly and dance in the booth, rubbing my lubed loins into the cushions underneath my ass. I think of Christine and hope I can hop in her bed later in order to turn all this churning hope into a blissful climax. I think of her feet and long toes in my mouth as my own big toe is assaulted by Jack, as my body tenses and wholeheartedly responds to the tickles down below.
I think of Christine and her lovely body, her model features and her mouth-watering long toes. I think of the many adventures we have shared, naked and panting between the sheets, probing each other with fingers and toes. As my feet are assaulted by a man I despise, my eyes roll back into my head and I thinking about making love to someone tonight. As my body flinches from the tickles on my toes, my crotch drips with savory and gooey joy and I think about making to anyone tonight while giggling joyfully.
That's when I do it. I let go of the steel bars. I lose the bet. I let go not because I have to, but because I want to. Jack tickled me not only into submission, but he administered a pleasure so full it filled my passageway with slippery stuff that adamantly yearns for something thick and hard. I need something filling me, slamming in and out of me, pushing and pulling me in and out of overjoyed consciousness. I let go because I need Jack to give me a delightful pounding, need him to put me into post-coital bliss. I let go because I desire him inside me.
If this were a movie, we'd dissolve right into a scene with me completely nude in my bed, that yearning puddle between my slender and spread legs and Jack, buck naked, his thick and hard shaft poking me exactly where I hankered to be poked. Gyrating above me, Jack fills me with himself and strokes me with it, closer and closer to a wonderful climax. I buck and tremble in the bed, arching my back and crying out in vocalized pleasure from the physical pleasure I feel all over. With an ample tool inside my quivering home and a skilled lover at the door, I come quickly and effectively, as my tepid body shudders and as the bed shakes from our love. I come, wrapping my long legs around the man I slapped a few hours ago, who now slaps his meat deep into me as he nears his own delightful pinnacle. I use my legs to guide his thrusting pelvis faster and faster, harder and harder. I grab the sheets around me and arch my back again. My ample breasts push into the air and Jack makes a meal of them as he moves in and out. I squeal and moan as he bores into me. I enjoy my moment of bliss. It makes me feel complete. Then, to help him along, I look him in the eye and utter naughty things naughty girls utter in the throes.
"Harder. Do it harder. Come all over. I want you to come all over. Ride me harder. Faster. Deeper. Oh, god, come all over me. Come all over me," I scream as Jack's thrusts escalate and as his body reacts to his building joy.
He begins to moan, and the moment I see him tense up, I use my legs and feet to push him away and out of me. In one swift movement, I immediately sit up and grab his throbbing tool and begin stroking it, barely missing a beat in our rhythmic lovemaking. I pump it with my hand and open my mouth. Out comes my tongue to lick the purple head and out come the words, "Come on. Come all over. Make me dirty. Come all over me and make me so dirty. "
I wrap my lips around his member, bob my head in time with the carnal beat and suck him closer to his end. His bulbous head pops out of my mouth and I continue with my hand, adding the words, "Spill it on me. I want to see you come. I want to see your face when you come, feel you all over me. Come on my skin. All over."
With that Jack erupts, the first burst shooting onto my chest, coating my left breast in goo. The second bullet shoots across my chin and lodges in my hair. I open my hungry mouth and feel the third on my lower lip and tongue. The fourth and fifth blast spill onto my stomach. The final blast, a draining stream of warm and salty juice slops onto my left thigh. Jack falls back in ecstasy and I followed suit. I lay on my bed in post-coital bliss, covered in a warm and sticky coat of lust. I feel so dirty and so angelic at the same time. I taste my blind date's cum and swallow his salty present, before I stretch out on the mattress, bare feet seeking out and locating his deflating organ.
The overworked Jackhammer immediately springs to life between my toes, and the warming flesh tickles my soles as it grows. That's when I sit up a bit, reach above my head and grab my wrought-iron headboard with both hands, daring the man at my feet to tickle me into submission again.
"Bet I can make you let go," Jack says as he grabs my right foot and raises it into the air.
"I'll take that bet," I reply, moving my naked left foot up and down his attentive shaft as he begins to tickle me with his magic fingers.
Somehow I think Jack will win the bet again. At least I'm rooting for him.
by JenSorel
SMACK!
The palm of my flattened hand abruptly spanks across the cheek, catching the recipient of the slap completely by surprise.
"Who do you think you are?" I inquire as Jack recoils from the force of my blow.
Then, just like in the movies, he pauses momentarily, his head cocked to his right as a slow smile wipes the shock from his face, ushering back his smugness.
"I'm the guy that's going to give it to you hard tonight."
SMACK! Another slap. Another snide smile.
"You like it rough, do you?" Jack goads.
My slender hand whisks through the air for a third time, heading to toward the face of the man I met only two hours ago, my blind date for the night on a double date I had such high hopes for. My hand whisks, but is suddenly caught in mid air by the wrist, by the man I want to strike again, the man I loathe, the man that declares, "So, is this foreplay?"
"This isn't foreplay," I reply. "This isn't going anywhere. I don't like you. And this date is over."
"Just like that?" Jack questions as I grab my purse. "You're going to give up just like that?"
"Give up what?"
"You say you don't like me, but I bet I can make you like me," Jack says. "I bet I can get you into bed. I bet you'll beg me to make love to you before the end of the night."
"You're delusional."
"Want to make a bet?"
I stop and stare at the ass of man sitting across from me. We're in a club. It's Saturday night. The double date we're on began at dinner and led to dancing. Christine and her man, the other half of the foursome, are currently getting along quite well on the dancefloor. They're headed toward a night of bliss, while I am faced with Jack.
Looking at his smug smile, I recall the beginnings of the night.
Earlier this eve, at home, after a long bath and a meticulous forehead to tippy-toe skin treatment of lotions and oils, I picked out the perfect outfit. I donned a sleeveless and backless ivory colored mock turtleneck sweater made of cotton and silk. A matching cardigan sweatercoat accompanied me, but was discarded long ago in this warm and cozy club. A short black suede skirt hugged my hips and matching black suede Ferragamo boots coated my calves and feet. I wore no underwear as I long ago deemed those lacy garments an unnecessary step in getting where I needed when things got going. I also find they only get in the way if things get going sooner, like say under the table in a restaurant or in a car on the way home. So, no underwear, just silk and suede on my skin and bones tonight. I dressed with visions of a good time in my head. I remember slipping my pampered and pedicured, pretty little size seven feet into my favorite new boots and zipping them up, up and away in hope they would be released sometime in the night and made love to by someone mysterious and new. I had hope of meeting a dashing, funny, handsome, interesting Clark Kent type. Instead, I met Jack.
"Jackass," I think to myself as I ask, "A bet? What kind of bet."
"Well, from our short time together, I have assessed a few things about you. You love being in control. You're competitive. And I'm betting you're very ticklish."
"Where is this going?"
"I'm betting I can tickle you into submission."
"You're a weirdo. I'm leaving."
"Stay. Show me I'm wrong."
For some reason I stay. I don't know why, but I do. Maybe I know it'll be too easy to prove this man wrong. Maybe I need to flex my control a bit. Maybe I am competitive. Maybe I just want to win the bet. Whatever it is, I stay and keep listening.
"Grab the bars above your head," Jack instructs.
"Is that how you get off? Tickling? Do women actually fall for this?"
He doesn't answer the question, instead he repeats, " Grab the bars above your head."
I hesitate, but when Jack motions with his head, I raise my arms and grab the set of steel bars of the booth we're in, the bars just behind my head. I do this because I realize I am not one who should be passing judgement on people's desires and needs. Me, a lover of the foot, a fanatic of spanking, disciple in the world of light bondage, bisexual, starfvcker and a bit of a sex addict, should not be judging the ticklers of the world.
Hands wrapped around steel, I smile at the jackass.
"Good girl," Jack teases.
"Now, I'm going to tickle you and if you let go I get to take you home."
"And if I don't let go?"
"You get to take me home."
"Very funny. How about this, if I win, you hit the dancefloor in your birthday suit."
Jack glances at the crowded dancefloor, then back at me.
"You kidding?"
"Nope. And you dance till they kick you out."
"I'll get arrested."
"Not if you win. If you win, you get to arrest me, all night."
"You got a bet little girl," Jack boasts. "Five minutes of tickling, you can't let go."
"Five minutes of tickling and you'll be dancing the buck naked."
"We'll see. We'll see," Jack mutters as he eyes me up and down. His eyes float across my body searching, I assume, for his point of attack. I laugh, holding onto the bars I will never let go of.
That's when I decide to have some fun. I decide to get a little pleasure out of this pathetic charade this conceited individual thinks will win me over. As Jack's eyes dance across my ribs, midriff, armpits and thighs, I subtly move my booted feet across the floor, into the shadows of the booth. Jack notices, just as I knew he would. Jack smiles just as I knew he would. Jack leans in just as I knew he would and he grabs my left leg by the ankle and raises it into the air.
He unzips the boot slowly, revealing the smooth skin of my calf as he pulls downward on the metal tag. The boot slips off my foot and Jack catches the falling, naked size seven with his free hand.
One. Two. Three. Just like with all the rest who have come before, I gain the advantage as he lays his eyes on the flawless foot in his hands.
One, his eyes dart across my sexiest body part, squinting as the sheer beauty of it registers in his brain.
Two, his desire kicks in and blood begins to rush to both his heads.
Three, amid the erotic sight and the seductive aroma, Jack gives into the allure of the awe inspiring foot, pitches a tent in his pants and loses focus of his every intent.
Advantage Sorel.
I wiggle my toes to snap him out of the dream staring state I recognize so well. Jack comes back to reality and he looks me in the eyes longingly, silently saying what so men have speechlessly said before.
"I know," I respond. "But I'm sorry to say that tickling is as close to making love to any part of me you will ever get. So, enjoy what you can."
I wiggle my toes again.
Jack takes a deep breath.
That's when it begins. The bet. The tickling. The control.
Jack's fingers danced across my soles and I have to admit, he is good at what he obviously desires. His tickling is very delicate and methodic. It isn't until I reacted to a certain technique within a specific area with a flinch or a smile or a little giggle that Jack really goes to work. When I show a sign of pleasurable weakness, Jack centers on that vulnerability and teases it to a full tilt by rubbing and scratching and pinching with his experienced hands. I, in turn, squirm and jump in delight when these spots on my tender soles, dainty toes and supple heel are dissected and tantalized.
My middle toe is my weakest link. The slightest fingertip prodding on its underside send a ripple of electric pleasure up my amusingly agitated body and suddenly makes me feel damp and achy between my thighs. Jack takes full advantage of this weakness, rolling the toe between his fingers and ever-so-lightly tickling the droplet of flesh on the digit's underside with the pinky finger on his right hand. I laugh out loud, start panting and arch my back in fun delight. I hold on firmly though, enjoying the moment but intent on winning.
Point Jackass.
That's when a finger slides between two toes. That's when I yelp from the ticklish delight that makes my body shudder and feel like I'm a little girl in an amusement park of fun rides that put butterflies in my stomach and a grin on my face all at once. That's when Jack teased the hypersensitive skin in between my beautiful toes with two fingertips while somehow running another pair along the bottom of my sensitive sole.
If I yelped before, this time squeal in a pleasure filled announcement of gladness and bodily satisfaction. It's like I'm going down the biggest hill on the highest rollercoaster again and again, faster and faster. My brain wants it to stop but my body wants it to continue as I tingle all over in a dizzying delight I have never felt before.
Advantage Jackass.
Fingers dance across my responsive feet as the club's loud music provides a resounding beat for my growing delight that nears the point of blissful unconsciousness. I giggle like a schoolgirl as Jack produces a piece of ice from his cocktail and begins to coat the underside of my foot in chill as he moves the frigid cube all over my curvy sole and exposed toes.
I squeeze the bars in my hands and arch my back again as my thighs squish together, now swimming in the pool between my legs. I rotate my hips and moan loudly as the frozen water turns the tip of each of my red painted toes pink and even more sensitive to any touch or tickle.
Jack-the-Tickler, of course, knows this.
The ice evaporates into the skin and he begins blowing on the bottom of my foot with a cool stream of breath. He holds the sole up, moves his face closer and tortures every inch of my chilly foot with an aimed exhale. The effect is unreal as it shoots up my leg and through my body, making goose pimples appear everywhere on my smooth and pampered skin. My delight is quickly turning into carnal joy.
As Jack began scratching lightly at my thawing feet, I rotate my hips slowly and dance in the booth, rubbing my lubed loins into the cushions underneath my ass. I think of Christine and hope I can hop in her bed later in order to turn all this churning hope into a blissful climax. I think of her feet and long toes in my mouth as my own big toe is assaulted by Jack, as my body tenses and wholeheartedly responds to the tickles down below.
I think of Christine and her lovely body, her model features and her mouth-watering long toes. I think of the many adventures we have shared, naked and panting between the sheets, probing each other with fingers and toes. As my feet are assaulted by a man I despise, my eyes roll back into my head and I thinking about making love to someone tonight. As my body flinches from the tickles on my toes, my crotch drips with savory and gooey joy and I think about making to anyone tonight while giggling joyfully.
That's when I do it. I let go of the steel bars. I lose the bet. I let go not because I have to, but because I want to. Jack tickled me not only into submission, but he administered a pleasure so full it filled my passageway with slippery stuff that adamantly yearns for something thick and hard. I need something filling me, slamming in and out of me, pushing and pulling me in and out of overjoyed consciousness. I let go because I need Jack to give me a delightful pounding, need him to put me into post-coital bliss. I let go because I desire him inside me.
If this were a movie, we'd dissolve right into a scene with me completely nude in my bed, that yearning puddle between my slender and spread legs and Jack, buck naked, his thick and hard shaft poking me exactly where I hankered to be poked. Gyrating above me, Jack fills me with himself and strokes me with it, closer and closer to a wonderful climax. I buck and tremble in the bed, arching my back and crying out in vocalized pleasure from the physical pleasure I feel all over. With an ample tool inside my quivering home and a skilled lover at the door, I come quickly and effectively, as my tepid body shudders and as the bed shakes from our love. I come, wrapping my long legs around the man I slapped a few hours ago, who now slaps his meat deep into me as he nears his own delightful pinnacle. I use my legs to guide his thrusting pelvis faster and faster, harder and harder. I grab the sheets around me and arch my back again. My ample breasts push into the air and Jack makes a meal of them as he moves in and out. I squeal and moan as he bores into me. I enjoy my moment of bliss. It makes me feel complete. Then, to help him along, I look him in the eye and utter naughty things naughty girls utter in the throes.
"Harder. Do it harder. Come all over. I want you to come all over. Ride me harder. Faster. Deeper. Oh, god, come all over me. Come all over me," I scream as Jack's thrusts escalate and as his body reacts to his building joy.
He begins to moan, and the moment I see him tense up, I use my legs and feet to push him away and out of me. In one swift movement, I immediately sit up and grab his throbbing tool and begin stroking it, barely missing a beat in our rhythmic lovemaking. I pump it with my hand and open my mouth. Out comes my tongue to lick the purple head and out come the words, "Come on. Come all over. Make me dirty. Come all over me and make me so dirty. "
I wrap my lips around his member, bob my head in time with the carnal beat and suck him closer to his end. His bulbous head pops out of my mouth and I continue with my hand, adding the words, "Spill it on me. I want to see you come. I want to see your face when you come, feel you all over me. Come on my skin. All over."
With that Jack erupts, the first burst shooting onto my chest, coating my left breast in goo. The second bullet shoots across my chin and lodges in my hair. I open my hungry mouth and feel the third on my lower lip and tongue. The fourth and fifth blast spill onto my stomach. The final blast, a draining stream of warm and salty juice slops onto my left thigh. Jack falls back in ecstasy and I followed suit. I lay on my bed in post-coital bliss, covered in a warm and sticky coat of lust. I feel so dirty and so angelic at the same time. I taste my blind date's cum and swallow his salty present, before I stretch out on the mattress, bare feet seeking out and locating his deflating organ.
The overworked Jackhammer immediately springs to life between my toes, and the warming flesh tickles my soles as it grows. That's when I sit up a bit, reach above my head and grab my wrought-iron headboard with both hands, daring the man at my feet to tickle me into submission again.
"Bet I can make you let go," Jack says as he grabs my right foot and raises it into the air.
"I'll take that bet," I reply, moving my naked left foot up and down his attentive shaft as he begins to tickle me with his magic fingers.
Somehow I think Jack will win the bet again. At least I'm rooting for him.
