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With the Restraints her Mother Bought for her (Part 2) ff/m

wrestlingclown

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A couple months passed after my wife used the bondage restraints her mother gave us. I didn't ask her to repeat the act, though I thought of the experience during foreplay and intercourse. The memory made me frantic with desire, especially remembering how her mother texted tickling instructions during the bondage. (See: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?283278-With-the-Restraints-her-Mother-Bought-for-her-f-m) Every time I heard her phone signal an incoming text I got an erection. I believed it was a 1 time experience and that my desire to be tied and tickled was satisfied. I now merely had to fantasize about it to get an erection during sex. In the meantime I fucked her like I was a great macho porn star and this made her pregnant. She was starting to show and her titties were getting bigger.

I was relaxing on the couch watching a baseball game after a Sunday church service when I heard my wife's phone signal an incoming text. As usual, this made me hard but this time there would be a reason for it. My wife entered the room and said her mother told her to tie me up this afternoon. She said this in a surprisingly matter of fact manner. I felt excited--my heart began pounding. I recalled glancing at her mother's backside at church earlier that day, and she caught me looking. Mrs. Anderson has a big jiggily ass and I couldn't resist checking out the way her blue dress swayed back and forth. I wondered if that was the reason she ordered my bondage.

We went to the bedroom and undressed. I submitted to be spread-eagled and as soon as I was helpless I heard an incoming text.

"My mom says to sit on you. She says you'll love my extra weight on top of you."

She complied with her mother's instruction and smothered my face with her breasts to boot.

She masturbated me and I kissed her breasts. Another text came in.

"She's coming over. She says not to start tickling you until she gets here. She wants to hear you laugh."

"What? No. This is ridiculous. Let me go."

She tugged at my penis.

"Are you sure you want me to let you go? I thought you liked being tickled."

"I do but it's embarrassing for your mom to see me like this."

"My mom says there's nothing to be ashamed of...lots of men like to be tickled."

She kissed and hugged me and this calmed my panic.

Her mother must have been on the way because we heard her car pull into the driveway. My wife looked out the window. Mrs. Anderson had her own key. We heard the door open. I tried to escape the bonds, suddenly embarrassed over my helpless nakedness. But the restraints held me fast. These women were in control and there was nothing I could do about it.

"Hi mom."

Mrs. Anderson entered the room. She was still wearing that tight blue dress.

"I hear you are ticklish," she said and she walked right up to my feet and gave them both a quick tickle, much to my alarm.

I couldn't pull my feet away, the restraints prevented that reflexive action. I realized they were both going to tickle me, and I felt as helpless as a baby. Mrs. Anderson sat down on a chair on the other side of the room.

"Lightly rub his chest and neck. That'll keep him on the edge of laughter," her Mrs. Anderson said.

My wife started doing that, and I struggled hard to keep from laughing out loud. I squirmed.

"Does that tickle?"

I was trying so hard not to laugh, I couldn't answer.

"Just give in. You know you are going to burst out laughing any minute." Mrs. Anderson said.

Finally, to keep from laughing loudly, I let myself laugh silently. It was like a release valve. Mrs. Anderson stared at my smiling face in fascination.

"Tickle his cock with your finger nails."

My wife followed orders. I yanked at the restraints with my arms, unable to stop her tormenting fingers. I moved my hips in a futile attempt to keep my penis away from her fingernails.

"Tickle, Tickle," Mrs. Anderson said.

"I think his armpits are his most ticklish part. See," my wife said.

She dug her fingers into my sides and armpits, and I laughed like crazy. I felt more ticklish than I did the first time she tied me down.

"You are very ticklish. You know what that means. It means you are oversexed. Is he oversexed?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

"I think so. Are you oversexed?" my wife asked as she kept tickling my underarms.

"Yeah, yeah," I admitted between giggles.

"I've got to pee. I'll be right back. Mom, take over while I'm gone."

I felt mortified. Nevertheless, I watched my wife's naked ass flop around as she walked to the bathroom, and her mother saw me looking.

"I'm going to tickle you," Mrs. Anderson warned in a teasing voice.

Mrs. Anderson took a shaving brush out of her purse and approached me. I strained in vain trying to escape again. I heard a tinkling sound from the bathroom. Mrs. Anderson used the shaving brush to tickle my ears and neck, forcing me to jerk my head around in a futile attempt to avoid the bristles. This didn't make me laugh but it was maddening.

Mrs. Anderson asked in a very low voice so only I could hear, "You like looking at derrieres, don't you?"

I shook my head yes and she brushed my throat. A funny sound escaped my lips.

My wife came back and sat on my middle again while her mother kept tickling my neck. She resumed tickling my underarms, and I burst out laughing. Mrs. Anderson was lightly tickling me while her daughter tickled me hard, and the sensations were too much--I wanted it to stop. I wanted to ride, like a macho porn star. But I was afraid to say the safe word, worried they might ignore it, and then I would feel terrified, afraid they would never stop tickling me until I literally died laughing.

Mrs. Anderson handed her daughter the shaving brush.

"Here use this on his testicles."

Mrs. Anderson turned around and marched toward my feet, putting an extra bounce in her walk, so that her fanny fat jiggled. She tickled my feet, but this time it wasn't brief. I squirmed and laughed myself into a state of exhaustion. My wife tickled my side with 1 hand and kept brushing my balls with her other, while Mrs. Anderson mercilessly used her fingernails on my foot soles.

I could have endured the tickling indefinitely but I wanted to fuck so badly, I broke down and gave up.

"Pink bunny! Pink bunny. Stop. Stop."

My wife stopped tickling me, but Mrs. Anderson didn't.

My wife blankly stared at me as I kept laughing.

"That's the safe word, mom," she said.

Mrs. Anderson stopped tickling, much to my relief.

"Well, well. You're not so tough after all. I'll leave now and let you 2 get busy."

My wife released me and I rode on top of her to climax.
 
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