Brag about it! Your last time!

Hehehe... that's cuuute. Thanks for sharing it!

My last time was Saturday, March 4th.
Goddess Shelly , after she had me wrapped up in the sleep sack, put the Whitehead gag (see below) in my mouth and proceeded to tickle the roof of my mouth with a folded pipe cleaner. It was maddening! She kept it up for about five minutes, by which time I was laughing and gurgling uncontrollably.

I can't believe nine months elapsed since the last time my wife tickled me in any kind of a prolonged fashion. If you'd asked me to estimate I would've guessed it was a much briefer interval than that, but the thread doesn't lie.

So family was gathered for the holidays -- this was about a week ago or so -- and my wife, her sister and I were lazing around the living room. I don't remember what preceded it, or whether I incited this in some fashion, but the first thing I remember, seemingly apropos of nothing, is my sister-in-law saying "Let's tickle him."

Instantly I sprang to my feet, on high alert, eyeing the exits. But suddenly my wife and her sister were on their feet as well, flanking me, their hands at the ready.

"No," I said. "No. Why? No. Why?"

There were no explanations forthcoming. I feinted in one direction and darted in another, heading for the door to the kitchen. My advancing sister-in-law forced me to modify my trajectory, trying to avoid being intercepted by her, until I was grazing the wall. She was almost upon me and I wasn't gonna make it to the door and the nerve endings in my sides were already jumping with apprehensive anticipation, so I couldn't help it; I whirled to try and fend her off -- my hands in front of me, darting this way and that, trying to anticipate and deflect her expected attack even as I kept sidling toward the kitchen door. But suddenly I found myself twitching violently, my torso jerking wildly to the left -- my wife had come up to my side and her fingertips were dancing up my side and my ribs. Already primed for hysteria I overreacted to this initial assault -- the involuntary laughter that leapt from my throat was loud and desperate and just high-pitched enough to be hilarious to my tormentors.

Acting solely on instinct now I shifted my attention to my wife, grabbing and swatting at her arms and wrists as my abdomen twisted out of her reach, but of course by then her sister had reached me and her fingers were darting at my stomach and scribbling at my side. Another throaty, giddy giggle escaped from my lips as I started turning pointlessly from side to side, my elbows planted at my sides, my T-rex arms flailing ineffectually at the twenty fingers fluttering and skittering at my writhing trunk. My pleas began to get swallowed up by the building cascades of giggles: "No c''mon, guys why, why are you, c'mon NO," and the two of them grinning and laughing agreeably as they went about the amusing work of darting their hands from one twitchy ticklish spot to another and back again.

Inevitably, as always, I sank to the floor, squirming and thrashing, my protests now dissolved in a constant stream of helpless giggles, my arms and hands in constant motion, reflexively trying to defend my sensitive spots but hopelessly outnumbered and put at a distinct disadvantage by the fog of hysteria consuming me. This was my inescapable fate from the moment my sister-in-law suggested tickling me: wriggling helplessly on the floor as the two of them scrabbled their crazy-making fingers on one ticklish spot after another, laughing delightedly at my entertaining predicament.

My wife attacked my stomach, kicking my laughter into a higher register, and suddenly I felt her sister's strong hands mischievously gripping the tops of my knees. I emitted a wordless hiccuping howl, thrashing anew as I tried in vain to dislodge her maddening grasp. Finally I found myself rolling over onto my stomach, trying to defend my stomach and knees, but of course the tactic was of limited value -- my wife's fingers started scampering insistently against my sides just above my waist, driving me to new heights of wild cackling, and then I felt my ankle in the firm grip of her sister's elbow -- no no NO NO NO -- and the fingers of my sister-in-law's other hand started dancing mercilessly up and down the sole of my immobilized and socked foot.

I was hysterical. "WHY ARE YOU," I yelped through the mindless laughter. "WHY ARE YOU, WHY ARE YOU," and then it was just all laughter; I had no control over my body anymore; it was all just the involuntary responses to their merry stimuli.

And then they stopped. Simultaneously they each let out a satisfied sigh. "That was fun," my sister-in-law said, as they both got up and headed for the kitchen, leaving me panting and blushing on the floor.

"What's going on in there?" I heard my mother-in-law ask. In response her daughters just burst into delighted giggles.

Thanks for sharing your experience here, Wade. It was delightful to read, as always.

My last time was on Friday. Goddess Shelly put me in a straightjacket and attached my ankle cuffs to a spreader bar for foot tickling. She used her fingers, plastic bear claws, and electric toothbrushes to tickle my soles without mercy. She took the photos below right before she began the tickle-torture.

My last time was in May, when I was tickled by Vinyl Queen. I had to get in one last session before moving from California to Colorado.

I posted a clip from part of that session, where she's tickling me while I'm standing in the living room to Black Thorn dungeon.

She was wearing one of my favorite things: a long (at least mid calf length ), red, double breasted Burberry trench coat that I'd bought her (got one hell of a deal on Ebay ).

During part of it, she wrapped one of arms around me so I was up against her(that part is on her OnlyFans page) That coat felt so good against my bare skin.

Unfortunately, the dungeon isn't air conditioned well in summer, so she had to take the coat off. I mean, I loved her nylon outfit, too...but I wish she could've kept the coat on the whole time...especially when she had me tied to the bed, and pinning me down further to tickle me.

It was actually fun being filmed for her OnlyFans page...wonder how many saw me tickled live that time.

My husband/Dom has been out of town the last six nights. He is finally home and I am long over due.

Great story Wade. That was really well written and enjoyable. 4 hands at once is brutal huh? Does your sister in law know you have a thing for tickling?

My last time was July of last year.

I had a fantastic session with Megan Jones and Mia Annabella. They are very into tickle wrestling and are both amazing at it. I faced them both 1v1 followed by a 2v1 match and I went a solid 0-3. Man was it fun though. One hold in particular that was brutal was when Megan held me in a full nelson from behind and also wrapped her legs around my legs so I was completely exposed and Mia just went to town on me. They're both good ticklers too alternating between light and heavy and they found all my worst spots. I had also never been tickled by 2 girls at once before and I can honestly say that 2 is exponentially worse than 1. I felt like I ran a marathon afterwards.

I have a couple of stories. I once dated this girl who was extremely ticklish and had a zero tolerance policy... Except for her feet, which I discovered during some foreplay. She was still quite ticklish on her feet, but nowhere near as bad as the rest of her body, to the point where she was laughing happily from having her feet tickled as opposed to screaming in terror from being tickled elsewhere. She had the cutest feet ever and she actually let me tickle them any time we were together. And feet are my favorite tickle spot.

But I am more of a lee at heart. She found out how ticklish I am before I even brought the subject up. We were making out and our hands were going all over each others' bodies. I try to be firm in my touch because so many girls I've known freak out over tickling, but most girls I've been with have a softer touch. So she hits my first tickle spot and I squeal. Then she hits another and I squeal again. She apologizes and tells me I'm very ticklish. I tell her I know it and I love it. She tickled my belly and sides for a short minute.

Once we ended up in bed, our feet were rubbing against each other as we cuddled . Then her toes brushed against the bottom of my feet and I screamed out loud. "Ticklish feet?" she asked, as she scratched my soles with her toes again and again. I didn't resist or pull back because I love having my feet tickled more than anything. She couldn't stop laughing at how I was reacting.

At one point we made love in a position where I could massage, tickle and nibble on her feet as we both climaxed. She loved it. I was still feeling very turned on after that. I lied on my back next to her and started to pleasure myself during our pillow talk. She thought it was funny and moved to the end of the bed.

Then she began to tickle my feet as I was pleasuring myself. I sqealed uncontrollably as bare feet are my favorite tickcle spot, and I proceded to climax multiple times as she continued tickling my bare feet. It was out of control and I nearly lost my mind. As she scribbled underneath my toes, she teased me about my ticklish feet and it drove me over the edge again. As I finally reached the point of exhaustion, she kept playing with my toes. "I love playing with your feet," she said with a laugh as I came down from the most intense sensory experience of my life.

Sadly we are no longer together. She lives in another city hours away and we had trouble making it work. But for the rest of my life I will wonder if anyone can ever make me feel that way again and I will always remember her for it.

Another incident that happened recently, like within the last year or two, was really embarrassing.

I have a friend who is gay and has always had a crush on me. He always hosts afterparties at his apartment near this bar my friends and I frequent. One night we all went back to his place after closing time and it was snowy so we all took our shoes off when entering. In the past he has asked if I was ticklish and tried to tickle me in public, poking at my stomach and sides, and I would suck it in and resist and say I wasn't ticklish because I didn't want to be seen in public being tickled by another guy. The night of this afterparty things went differently.

We were all in his living room playing video games and drinking more and partaking in other substances. As we were all without shoes, we were all vulnerable to the tickle attacks two of my friends are known to launch. I'd had a little too much and was basically passed out on the couch. Then a female friend at the end of the couch scratched at my soles when I wasn't waking up. my memory is a little foggy, but I know I let out a loud laugh and didn't have the energy to resist or pull away.

I came to when another friend sat on my legs and my socks got pulled off. People immediately started tickling my feet, and then I reallly woke up screaming with laughter. I couldn't move. I'm a tall guy with a bit of muscle, but I'm helpless when tickled. Everyone in the room was laughing at me as I kept getting tickled on my bare feet. People teased me with tickle talk and called me out on having said I wasn't ticklish. I could barely talk but managed to say that everybody has ticklish feet. Then they went for my rinbs and belly and I really started screaming once I was being tickled in three awful tickle spots. They kept tickling me for what felt like several minutes and all my friends now know how ticklish I am.

There are only two friends who still take advantage of this. They will wait until I'm in the middle of serious discussion with someone and grab my sides and start tickling me in public just to take me down a peg. It's humiliating, but part of me loves it.

This was about two weeks ago:

My wife was complaining about how cold it was, and she slipped her cold hands up inside my shirt to warm them against my abdomen. The shock of her cold palms against my bare skin, of course, made me flinch, but after a moment it became bearable and I let her keep her hands up in there.

Then she moved to turn her hands around -- to warm the backs of her hands against me as she'd been doing the palms. The movement of her hands and fingers against my skin, the grazing of the smooth ridges of her knuckles along my stomach, sent fluttering sensations oscillating through my system; my abdominal muscles contracted involuntarily, my trunk twisted ever so slightly, my hands startled toward my middle, and a high-pitched chuckling noise erupted unbidden from my lips. The most detached observer would have been able to tell: my ticklish reflexes had been activated.

"You are so ticklish," my wife said, matter-of-factly, as casually and unremarkably as if she'd been saying "Those clouds are pretty."

Then she went to flip her hands around again, palms against my stomach, and her hands skimming across my skin under my clothing was just more than I could take -- I flinched again and grabbed at her wrists through the fabric of my shirt and another embarrassing sound slipped out of me, this one a sort of giddy, multisyllabic groan.

She smiled broadly and widened her eyes at me theatrically as if to say "You're too much," and then she succumbed to temptation: her fingertips started rippling purposefully against my sensitive stomach. I doubled over, still gripping ineffectually at her hands through my shirt, stumbling backwards and collapsing back on the carpeted stairs that lead up to our second floor. My treble-heavy giggles were pouring forth unimpeded now as I twisted one way and another on the stairs, Amanda looming serenely over me, her hands having penetrated the insufficient defenses of my shirt and blithely wreaking havoc on my ticklish inner sanctum, her fingers waltzing lightly and expertly and relentlessly against the spots she knew full well would totally incapacitate me.

My laughter was full-throated and frantic before she stopped -- a full-on AH HA HA AH HA HA AH HA HA, a new peal issuing forth with every breath. Then, finally, she stopped, calmly withdrew her hands from under my shirt, crossed her arms nonchalantly on her propped-up knee, and said "My hands are warmer now."

My last quick one...doctor's visit. I have a bad back and bad knees. Plus the yearly physical I can't say "tickle". So inevitably they do something that causes a response...ask why....and I can't say it....so it happens.

My last intentional, well wasn't my intentional. I was asleep and my then partner decided it was a good time to do a full blown tickle attack. I woke up in hysterics!

I tired out my new straitjacket I bought off of Wish. My husband put me in it, we sat down on the couch, and then he tickled my legs and feet. It was a lot of fun and we recorded it.

chicago said:

My armpits have been extra tickly lately and Rhino takes every chance to remind me. Think I got tickled for like 2 hours last night

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I would say I'm sorry, but that would be a lie lol. Hurts so good!

For some reason I’ve actually become ticklish under my arms. It’s never worked before, I could never stand being touched there.

My wife has gotten me a few times by accident when she’s feeling affectionate. She’ll wrap her arms around my arm and accidentally poke me there, which gets a jump and sometimes a laugh out of me. I think it’s the intimate connection that started it.


I’ve gotten her a few times lately, the most recent one was when she was sleeping on the couch. I just bought her some really cute, really soft fuzzy socks, and I just couldn’t resist. She woke up, with a smile on her face and asked “What are you doing to my feet?”

“Playing with your cute socks.” I replied. She knows full well what I was doing.

Hrm, latest would be going to a massage place. I innocently asked the masseuse if she'd tickle me instead and she was sokay with it, seemed hesitant at first but after she tried a few times and I really confirmed that's what I wanted, she went all out, did a light sort of spider tickle all over from head to toe, spent a lot of time in my legs and butt when she realized that was ticklish, she was giggling herself at my hysterics, fortunately I was the only client at the time so I didn't have to completely muffle.

She tickled all over my back around the rib cage, snuck into the sides every so often, traveled down to the legs and butt, worked my feet with that same touch, bit intense enough to have me shrieking, but she kept my giggling uncontrollably, then I flipped for the back half of the appointment and she got under my arms, and even squeezed all over my ribs.

I was exhausted by the end, but thoroughly enjoyed it, definitely a place I'll go back to at some point.

Sent from my Z982 using Tapatalk

I'll jump on this train. I did indeed tickle the ever-loving hell out of her, so I hope you don't mind the overhwelming sexual overtones. Skip this post if you're not the "sexually into tickling" type...it's a little graphic.
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She was mine.

I don't mean she was my fiance and she's completely loyal to me. True though that may be, she was mine in the sense that she was my property, my toy, my sex doll. She presented herself to me wearing exactly what she knew would please me - black pantyhose and a ballgag, nothing more. I made a point of slitherng my eyes down along her nearly naked body, drinking in the beauty that was my perfect woman. When I stepped toward her and took her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, her eyes widened and she sucked in a gasp around the red rubber ball between her lips, trembling as the double lance of pinching pain shot through her chest.

By the time she was on her back, I had kissed and nibbled every inch of her breasts, fluttered the tip of my tongue against her neck, and slipped my hand between her legs. I could feel the heat oh her arousal, and only a few gentle rubs brought her honey through the gusset of her pantyhose. She pressed against me and grabbed the throbbing member she wanted so badly to please, and I allowed her to indulge herself for a few moments before pushing her playfully onto the mattress.

Leather cuffs around her wrists were tightly bound to the center of our headframe, and I tugged her by the hips along the length of the bed to stretch her out. She whimpered as her body was pulled taut, and I could hear her breathing more heavily as I slid our firmest pillow under her lower back. She blushed as I folded a towel and placed it underneath her thighs. I wrapped a second pair of cuffs around her ankles and tied them to the opposing corners of the bed, making sure she had no wriggle room whatsoever.

I couldn't help it. After binding both ankles to the frame of the bed, I couldn't resist the urge to tease that helpless, sensitive little nyloned foot of hers. I slid my fingertips along the smooth fabric, and she began giggling through her gag. She was watching me with excitement and I could see the haze of arousal in her eyes, so I held her eye contact as I leaned over and took her stockinged toes into my mouth.

Her eyelids flutters, and her eyes rolled up into her head. Her back arched - as much as she could get it to, anyway - and she groaned loudly. Her passionate, muffled cry dissolved into manic giggles as my fingertips, arched and deft, spidered rapidly against the spot here her arch meets the ball of her foot. My nails scrabbled quickly against the most ticklish place on her sole, and she yanked on the tight bonds, squealing and sputtering as she fought the conflicting sensations of intense ticklishness and the warmth of my tongue against the undersides of her toes. Being the good little girl that she is, she made sure to keep her feet and legs as still as possible in spite of the bolts of sensation coursing through her body, keeping her toes flexed back and her silky soles as exposed and vulnerable as she could.

For many long moments I drank in her reactions and listened gleefully as she squealed and cried out, her fists balled and her eyes squeezed shut. When I finally had mercy on her poor, sensitive foot...I moved to the other. She was gasping and mewling in that way only a lifestyle participant can truly appreciate, and just before I began assaulting her untouched foot, she glanced down at me, bleary fear mixed with excitement in her eyes.

By the time I had my temporary fill of playing with her feet, I was as high as one can become without taking drugs. I could smell her arousal - it had permeated the room like a delicious thick vapor, spurring me towards more sensation play. My hands slid up along her nyloned legs, my nostrils sending pure pleasure to my brain as I slowly licked the inside of each pantyhosed thigh. I planted cruelly close kisses around her womanhood, feeling the heat pulsing from between her legs as I slid my arms under her silken thighs. She gasped and writhed with anticipation, fearful of the intensity of what was to come next. At the same moment my lips pressed against her nub, the tip of my tongue sliding against the moist gusset of her pantyhose, my fingertips began a gentle, light stroking of both her sides, sliding over the smooth, sensitive flesh of her ribcage. She pushed herself eagerly against my mouth, gasping and arching before the laughter came. My tongue pressed flat against her as my fingertips danced along her sides, and it wasn't long before I lost patience with the gusset.

The knife on the end table was sharp, and as I took it between my toy's legs, she gasped and shuddered, watching me carefully. With extreme precision, I slowly slit the fabric and removed the soaked gusset, revealing her hot, pink sex. She inhaled sharply when I slid the flat of the cold blade against her warm lips, and she pressed her head back into the mattress and moaning woefully as I allowed it to carefully glide up and down along her wetness. Replacing the knife from whence it came, I dove back to my previous engagement, sliding my arms back under her thighs and rapidly sliding my tongue up and down her aching sex. She screamed behind her gag as my arms wrapped around her thighs, pulling her taut against the headframe and down onto my eager lips.

I counted off three orgasms, lapping up each drop of honey she offered and ignoring her occasional pleas for mercy as each climax built towards it overloading release. She laid on the bed, limp and steaming, trying to catch her breath. She was the most beautiful sight my eyes had ever laid upon - newly crotchless pantyhose framing her perfect legs and red-painted toenails, ballgag pressed into her mouth, sweat plastering a few strands of hair against her forehead. Her head lolled back and forth in post-orgasm exhaustion, and I took the opportunity to press a padded leather blindfold over her eyes, carefully lifting her head and buckling it tightly. She moaned softly in protest, but gasped when I slid my hand between her thighs again, laying next to her and cooing teasingly into her ear.

"No, no, nononononoo~!"

She shook her head rapidly as three fingers invaded her pussy, finding her soft pleasure center immediately and rubbing it with merciless pressure as I held her close. She squealed and strained, cumming immediately and writhing against me in her tight bondage. Her warm skin against mine made my cock throb against her thigh, my hand coming away soaked in her honey when she was finally done spasming with nearly painful ecstasy. She panted and whimpered for several seconds before I lost against the temptation to tickle her exposed, deliciously fragrant underarms.

My fingers skittered lightly over her skin, tips dancing against her smooth pits one-at-a-time. First one, then the other, then both, then back to the first. The exhausted, ticklish little toy laying against me laughed with every stroke, giggling at even the threat of another touch, and her cheeks and chest shone pink with the blush of her arousal. My legs wrapped around hers, and the feel of her warm skin under the nylon against my bare leg nearly made me explode against her thigh as I teased and tickled her nipples, breasts, underarms, hips and tummy. I held her there, one arm slid underneath her back as my other hand played with her flesh, and for many long minutes she hysterically squealed, swore and screamed, the intensity of my tickles slowly ramping up until she could barely stand it. Small breaks of mercy were given when I would pinch her stiff nipples or slide my fingertips against the crease between her womanhood and her thighs.

When my tickle toy sputtered and coughed, unable to laugh any further for the moment, I allowed her a moment's respite while I reached for the Hitachi. When the motor clicked to life and hummed it's tune of pleasure in the open air above my babygirl's bound body, her breath caught in her throat and she quite literally froze in place. Her words were muffled, but their syllables were clear - "please no, please please please!"

The instrument of personal pleasure before me was tuned so tightly, keyed so high, that the moment that soft rubber head grazed the hood of her clit, she lost her mind. Screaming like a wild animal, she thrashed in the tight bonds, unable to find a single second of mercy from the onslaught of brutal, cruel pleasure that suddenly filled her tight body. The low, gentle hum of the vibrator was barely audible above her squeals of passion, and I slowly rubbed it's head up and down between her forcibly spread thighs, causing the poor girl to squirt heartily onto the towel I'd thoughtfully laid out beneath her. She pressed her head into her biceps, biting hard into the red ballgag between her teeth and cumming her little heart out several times as I mercilessly slid the implement up and down against her sex. The towel never stood a chance.

She seemed asleep as I unbound the ropes securing her cuffed, nyloned ankles to opposite sides of the bedframe. Her legs here heavy and limp, her calves soft against my hands as I lifted them. The ropes I secured to the top of the headframe, taking out slack first on one side then the other as she lay there, breathing deeply and nearly unconscious from the exertion of being forced to cum with such intensity. When I was finished, she was folded at the waist, her pantyhosed soles faces the ceiling, her thighs spread embarrassingly wide, and her glistening, upwards-facing womanhood was pink, wet, and begging for more attention. Who would I be to allow such a tempting, eager treat to go undevoured? She tasted so sweet, like nectar from Heaven above, and she sounds that poured from behind her gag as I teased her core with my tongue were nothing less than orchestral. When I slid the humming vibrator down the back of her nyloned thigh, she attempted to draw her knees together, but her pantyhosed legs could move only a very limited distance, and she strained so beautifully against the bondage that I couldn't help but take her right there.

I positioned myself against her, removing the pillow from the small of her back and sliding into her. With my right hand, I held the humming white pleasure device lightly against her clit, and with the other, I stroked the silken, helpless arch just to my left. Long courses of touch at first slid along her nyloned sole, and I slid very, very slowly in and out of her. Her body was unable to bear the multitude of sensations for very long and withing seconds, I could feel her pulsing and throbbing against me in climax as a confused mixture of ticklish giggles and deep, animalistic groans of pleasure poured from her lovely, muffled mouth. I made sure to pay equal attention to each nyloned sole as I treated her little aching clit to the constant buzzing, never allowing her eager writhing against my hips to lure me into speeding my thrusts. The sensation of her helplessly exploding honeypot gushing onto me over and over was delectable, and soon, the only sound she could make was the uncontrolled, hysterical laughter of a woman who's body had been pushed far beyond it's capacity for pleasure. She screamed with panicked laughter as I tickle tortured her helpless soles, the runaway train of ecstasy wiping her mind of all sensible thought, and she later told me that she'd been unable to tell the difference between the end of one orgasm and the beginning of the other, suspecting she'd been spasming and cumming non-stop for a period of time she was unable to quantify. Needless to say, it wasn't long after that when I put the vibrator down, grabbed her by her cuffed ankles, and showed her the definition of the phrase "getting fucked." Her screaming laughter turned into wails of panicked "OOOOOH!"s as my fingertips found her nipples, pinching tightly, and my orgasm joined hers.

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My wife and I have a teenage son so it's tough to get times we can have intense tickling sessions. We improvised last week and drove out to a woodland lake nearby (we live in the rural midwest) where nobody was likely to be around and she had me sit in the back seat in the middle and take my shoes and socks off. Then she had me stretch me legs out across the middle console and she pulled out some soft nylon rope she had stashed under the seat and wrapped it around my ankles and then tied my feet to the middle console of the car. I self pedicure my feet and keep them very soft and smooth and she made it worse by adding some lotion to my soles before tickling me senseless. She's loves my bare feet and every time she tickles, she makes sure to cover every part of my feet so one spot doesn't get too desensitized. The ball of my foot and the base of my toes are incredibly ticklish. I have pictures of my feet in my profile too.
My wife really loves when I beg and I never fake beg. I make her earn it by resisting as much as I can and then I get pathetic and beg when I can't handle it. I think I lasted about 10 minutes maybe in the car last week before I started begging for mercy. And then she tickled me for at least another half hour on my bare feet while I begged the whole time. She's a small gal and I'm 6'3" with size 12 feet and she gets off on tickling me into submission and desperation. It's never a short session if ropes come out!

One of our favorite little scenes: Coconut oil, paintbrushes, and a very squirmy, giggly canvas who eventually had to have "help" holding still; of course, what kind of monster would a bodypaint artist would have to be, to "take advantage" of a model who can't move?

Me. I'm that kind of monster.

Wolf said:

One of our favorite little scenes: Coconut oil, paintbrushes, and a very squirmy, giggly canvas who eventually had to have "help" holding still; of course, what kind of monster would a bodypaint artist would have to be, to "take advantage" of a model who can't move?

Me. I'm that kind of monster.

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That's why I call you The Wolfman!

(That's a real interesting recipe you described there! Coconut oil, paint brushes, check.)

My last time was posted in the true stories section.

Wesker28 said:

My last time was posted in the true stories section.

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And they’re my favorite true stories [emoji41]

I finally had my legs tied to the arm rests of a chair via my ankles. My husband watched Netflix while he tickled my feet.

My last time was Monday. I went to get a message which I knew sometime during the message I was going to be tickled, because I know how ticklish I am, and it was my first time with this masseuse. I told the masseuse at the beginning to use firm touches so it didn't tickle me as much and she was great up until she hit my feet. She was using just the right firmness on all other parts of my body, but she lightened the touch for the feet because she was afraid of hurting me since the feet are more sensitive on the body (she told me this later after we were done). She messaged my leg muscles and had me completely relaxed (almost to the point of falling asleep), and then she went to my right heal and I felt a slight tickling but not anything I couldn't endure (besides I was hoping for something just because I like the ticklish sensations). Then she moved from the heal up the sole of the foot to the toes and I almost went through the ceiling, it tickled a lot more than I expected it to and I had to really concentrate on not kicking her because I do hit and kick when tickled. She did this twice before she used a firmer pressure which still tickled but again not to the point of being unbearable but was enjoyable instead. Then she went to the left foot with the same thing, that time I almost did kick her and she figured out light touches just won't work, and moved to the firmer pressure again. After she finished with the feet had me turn over and worked on my back for a while, which she did find a couple of my tickle spots (accidentally of course) and I jumped when she hit them. One was when she went along my spine which has always been a ticklish spot for me (my chiropractor loves me when I can't keep still for him because it tickles), and then again when she was using strokes from the spine down the sides. All in all it was a very enjoyable experience and I may ask her next time to use the lighter touches on certain areas of my body so that it will tickle a little more but not the feet because I don't want to hurt her by kicking.

Unprovoked, this morning my wife started darting her fluttering fingers at my ribs and didn't stop until I was rolling around on our bed cackling with helpless laughter. When she was done she smiled and said "I couldn't have married a more ticklish person if I was trying to!"