Captain Satan
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Mar 24, 2011
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She spidered a set of black fingernails under my left arm, and all I could do was laugh into her tits as she wiggled them in my face.
"Awwwwh honey, this was such a bad idea wasn't it?" she teased, still applying those unbearable light tickles to my underarm. She leaned back to steady herself and began to give equal attention to my other underarm. The dual assault was simply too much. I begged, my words reduced to mad spluttering. She wasn't listening anyway. She just wanted to hear me suffer. She had found out that I like tickling, and she had more recently found out that she liked to tickle.
Three Hours Earlier
I'm not a submissive person, usually, but she's always been dominant. Niamh is eleven years older than me, but she very often patronizes me like I'm a clueless teenager. She's not doing it to make me feel bad, she's just a natural queen bee type. She likes to have me where she wants me. Our friends still don't know about our late night weekend rendezvous. That either means she doesn't want commitment (either do I), or our age difference is a problem for her. She doesn't seem to have much a problem with it when we're having sex.
I was at the pub at 9 pm with a handful of other friendly eejits when my phone buzzes.
"u out?"
"Yep, you?"
"come up later. home at 12 x"
For whom the bell tolls.
You've got to buy your alcohol before ten o'clock in Ireland because all off-licenses close by then. So I ran down the road to get a bottle of white wine and a few cans of Bavaria and stashed them until later.
I arrived at her apartment at 12:30 am and she was still dressed up and drunkenly merry. She wore a pair of black leggings and some kind of white crop top with no shoulders to speak of, it just seem to cling to her. She ushered me inside with a wink. I was aroused immediately.
She was particularly handsy tonight, and we were almost spilling our drinks as we kissed and fumbled around on the couch. She pushed me onto my back, put her wine glass down, and pulled my shirt off over my head. Her light kisses felt great against my skin, until she began to linger on my stomach. She planted kiss after kiss just above my belly button, over and over - and I knew what she was trying to do. I was wise to her game.
"Why are you being so difficult?" she groaned, before sitting up, grabbing my wrist, and leading me upstairs.
If you read my last story, "She Has Experience", you already have an idea of how this next part works.
She had told me the week before that she enjoyed tickling me. It wasn't really a fetish for her, but she said that the act of tickling was "hard to not like". She mentioned the bondage, nudity, and power exchange as reasons for why she dug it. She also liked that it was a huge fantasy of mine, and the sex afterwards was great. I think she also felt more comfortable using me as some kind of tickle toy because I was younger. I think she feels a lot more in control with a younger man. She told me to strip down to my socks and underwear, and then she bound my wrists to the bed. She took off her top and straddled me.
I was so, so ready.
She doesn't understand the concept of build-up or tickling foreplay, so she just went straight for raking my sides and my chest with her long black fingernails. Fluttering them over my neck, under my arms, and across my chest and stomach. Her "straight in, no kissing" approach didn't give me much time to acclimatise to my new ticklish surroundings, so I was instantly coughing up laughs which, judging by her wide grin, seemed to delight her to no end.
She poked and prodded and raked and danced her nails all over my upper body, from public line to armpits, for the majority of the torture, which lasted about ten minutes or so. But she knew she had to visit my feet at one point as she'd learned very early on of their particular weakness.
But as she slid down my body to get to them, she felt the erection throbbing in my underwear. She looked like pure fucking evil when she spotted that.
She slowly unbuttoned the keyhole of my underwear until my dick spilled out from them. I thought she was going to blow me, but her wiggling fingers said otherwise. She began to flutter a set of fingers from my testicles up to the head of my penis, up and down, over and over again, and she just watched me squirm from her perch above me. I've never been tickled there before, and I don't mince my words when I tell you it was unbearable. It was sick and inhumane torture. And she lapped up every bit of my suffering.
I'll spare you the explicit details of what happened next, but we'll say she eventually traded her fingers for lips. Which was nice for a while.
She was about to untie me when a light bulb lit up over her head.
"Oh my god, I almost forgot!" she cried, falling back on the bed and wriggling over to my feet.
I was still on cloud nine after the blowjob, so when she pinched off the sock on my right foot I was taken aback. She slid it off with one hand while simultaneously and lightly scratching from my heel up my foot like a sick, perverted elevator to hell. She was laying on my legs so all I could do was wriggle my ankles and toes, which did absolutely nothing to stop her assault. She toyed with my feet as my eyes watered with laughter for about two or three minutes.
Then she finally sat up and returned her attention to my penis for the remainder of our night together. But she left the cuffs on.
"Awwwwh honey, this was such a bad idea wasn't it?" she teased, still applying those unbearable light tickles to my underarm. She leaned back to steady herself and began to give equal attention to my other underarm. The dual assault was simply too much. I begged, my words reduced to mad spluttering. She wasn't listening anyway. She just wanted to hear me suffer. She had found out that I like tickling, and she had more recently found out that she liked to tickle.
Three Hours Earlier
I'm not a submissive person, usually, but she's always been dominant. Niamh is eleven years older than me, but she very often patronizes me like I'm a clueless teenager. She's not doing it to make me feel bad, she's just a natural queen bee type. She likes to have me where she wants me. Our friends still don't know about our late night weekend rendezvous. That either means she doesn't want commitment (either do I), or our age difference is a problem for her. She doesn't seem to have much a problem with it when we're having sex.
I was at the pub at 9 pm with a handful of other friendly eejits when my phone buzzes.
"u out?"
"Yep, you?"
"come up later. home at 12 x"
For whom the bell tolls.
You've got to buy your alcohol before ten o'clock in Ireland because all off-licenses close by then. So I ran down the road to get a bottle of white wine and a few cans of Bavaria and stashed them until later.
I arrived at her apartment at 12:30 am and she was still dressed up and drunkenly merry. She wore a pair of black leggings and some kind of white crop top with no shoulders to speak of, it just seem to cling to her. She ushered me inside with a wink. I was aroused immediately.
She was particularly handsy tonight, and we were almost spilling our drinks as we kissed and fumbled around on the couch. She pushed me onto my back, put her wine glass down, and pulled my shirt off over my head. Her light kisses felt great against my skin, until she began to linger on my stomach. She planted kiss after kiss just above my belly button, over and over - and I knew what she was trying to do. I was wise to her game.
"Why are you being so difficult?" she groaned, before sitting up, grabbing my wrist, and leading me upstairs.
If you read my last story, "She Has Experience", you already have an idea of how this next part works.
She had told me the week before that she enjoyed tickling me. It wasn't really a fetish for her, but she said that the act of tickling was "hard to not like". She mentioned the bondage, nudity, and power exchange as reasons for why she dug it. She also liked that it was a huge fantasy of mine, and the sex afterwards was great. I think she also felt more comfortable using me as some kind of tickle toy because I was younger. I think she feels a lot more in control with a younger man. She told me to strip down to my socks and underwear, and then she bound my wrists to the bed. She took off her top and straddled me.
I was so, so ready.
She doesn't understand the concept of build-up or tickling foreplay, so she just went straight for raking my sides and my chest with her long black fingernails. Fluttering them over my neck, under my arms, and across my chest and stomach. Her "straight in, no kissing" approach didn't give me much time to acclimatise to my new ticklish surroundings, so I was instantly coughing up laughs which, judging by her wide grin, seemed to delight her to no end.
She poked and prodded and raked and danced her nails all over my upper body, from public line to armpits, for the majority of the torture, which lasted about ten minutes or so. But she knew she had to visit my feet at one point as she'd learned very early on of their particular weakness.
But as she slid down my body to get to them, she felt the erection throbbing in my underwear. She looked like pure fucking evil when she spotted that.
She slowly unbuttoned the keyhole of my underwear until my dick spilled out from them. I thought she was going to blow me, but her wiggling fingers said otherwise. She began to flutter a set of fingers from my testicles up to the head of my penis, up and down, over and over again, and she just watched me squirm from her perch above me. I've never been tickled there before, and I don't mince my words when I tell you it was unbearable. It was sick and inhumane torture. And she lapped up every bit of my suffering.
I'll spare you the explicit details of what happened next, but we'll say she eventually traded her fingers for lips. Which was nice for a while.
She was about to untie me when a light bulb lit up over her head.
"Oh my god, I almost forgot!" she cried, falling back on the bed and wriggling over to my feet.
I was still on cloud nine after the blowjob, so when she pinched off the sock on my right foot I was taken aback. She slid it off with one hand while simultaneously and lightly scratching from my heel up my foot like a sick, perverted elevator to hell. She was laying on my legs so all I could do was wriggle my ankles and toes, which did absolutely nothing to stop her assault. She toyed with my feet as my eyes watered with laughter for about two or three minutes.
Then she finally sat up and returned her attention to my penis for the remainder of our night together. But she left the cuffs on.
Thanks for sharing your experience here. 
