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  1. #1

    Smile Jenni The Clown Has Captured You! POV F/?

    Wanna know something about me? I would like to say it’s a secret. A dirty, naughty secret. I can’t though, cause just about everyone who knows me is aware…

    I… love… tickling.

    Like… I REALLY love it.

    It all started when I was little. I got tickled a lot at home. I just had that kind of family. It was my mom mostly. But there were also frequent visits with my cousin, Damon. He’s a couple years younger than me, though. And he’s a bit more ticklish, so I usually won the tickle fights we used to have whenever I babysat him. Then there were kids at school. I never believed in violence, so if I was being bullied, I would respond by pinning them and tickling them till they either cried or worse. As you can imagine… I got in trouble pretty often, even if my teachers had a hard time keeping a straight face when punishing me for making Amy Rannell or Billy Roth pee themselves.

    It wasn’t until later in life that I discovered that tickling could be so much more than a fun way to pass the time. It might surprise you, but tickling during sex or foreplay as a concept never even occurred to me till I was already out of my teens. I had only had a couple of sexual partners up to that point and most guys that age aren’t nearly as interested in play as they are in getting off. I was 21 the first time that I used tickling to break down a grown man. His name was William. He was a single father who didn’t feel like laughing during my act at his son’s birthday party.

    What’s that? What do I mean by “act”?

    Don’t worry. We’ll get to that later.

    Let’s talk about you a little bit. I knew the minute I saw you that you would make an excellent tickle test subject. You came into the bar by yourself. It didn’t strike me as unusual. There are two types of people who go to such places. Those who go in groups and those who go alone. Those who go in groups are typically just looking to have fun. Play some pool… take some shots… sing some karaoke… whatever. But those who come in alone… They are the ones who are looking to meet people. Whether it’s a guy looking to get lucky, or a gal just looking to hang out. Those are the easiest people to entice.

    When you had first walked in, I was playing pool with a friend and had just played You Make Me Laugh by Lauren Christy on the jukebox. Now, I know that when I initially sat down next to you, you didn’t immediately acknowledge me. You were a bit distant. But a couple of beers and dirty jokes later, we were pretty good friends. That made it easy to get you to come back to my place with the promise of more booze. I don’t think that it was necessary to tempt you with drinks though. I think at that point, you wanted to come home with me for more… let’s say… carnal reasons.

    In hindsight, I’m glad you didn’t end up TOO drunk. A little alcohol can go a long way in getting someone to loosen up. But too much can cause one to go a bit… numb. And I want you, and your body, to be fully receptive. That’s why I put that little pill in your cocktail glass while we were sitting in my living room. I only needed you to go sleepy bye for an hour or so while I got you ready for your session…









    I watch as you start to stir. You open your eyes, blinking them a few times, and realize that I have taken the liberty of undressing you while you were knocked out. Do you like the chair I have you strapped to? It can come apart into sections, you know. But I’m sure it’s comfy enough. I’m also sure you’ve noticed the pattern on the cushions. The little smiley faces. Cute, huh? Hehe. I was so nice, I even adjusted the temperature so that you wouldn’t be cold upon awakening.

    Stripping you isn’t all I did, though. I also changed, myself. I wonder if you recognize me. I am sure that my brand new, blue and pink clown jumpsuit caught your eye first. On the other hand, maybe it was my make-up. I had started with a white base covering all of my face, neck, and ears. Then I did my eyes, blending bright blue and glittery purple to terrific effect. In lieu of wearing a big clown nose, I simply painted a red spot on the tip of my own. Matching, ruby red lipstick was applied next. And then, the cherry on top: A nice, pink feather symbol on the left cheek, and a blue one on the right. The simplest part was putting my hair up in pigtails for you.

    Have you guessed what I meant earlier by “act”?

    I’m a clown. A children’s entertainer. Have been for years. I went into business for myself when I was 19 and still in college. I have always loved making people laugh… whether they want to or not.

    Which brings me back to why you’re here…

    “Careful now. Don’t hurt yourself.” I plead with you in a calming voice as you struggle a bit. Everyone struggles at first, but no worry. I have time to wait for you to get tired. I am sure there are many things you would like to say to me, if it weren’t for the duct tape over your mouth. Probably not nice things either. But, that’s okay. I understand your anger. And like a child throwing a tantrum, you will wear yourself out before too long. Then, we can continue.

    There now, that’s better.

    “I bet you’re wondering why you’re here in my basement. My playroom.” I begin. “You are soooo lucky! You have the distinct honor of being a test subject for my hobby. Someone for me to try different, and sometimes innovative techniques on.”

    You start to struggle again. You must think I mean to slice you open or something.

    “Oh, sweetie pie, don’t you fret. I’m not going to hurt you. Honest Injun.” You must believe me as you settle back down. “What I have planned has nothing to do with pain. It DOES have a good deal to do, though, with your SKIN.” I can see that you are having trouble picking up on what I’m trying to say, so I clarify it for you. “I’m gonna tickle you, Silly.”

    Your eyes are a little wider for a moment or two. I’m 100% positive that, if you could, you would feed me some bad lie about how you aren’t ticklish. You would count on me believing said lie. You might even try to fight back the laughter as I kitchy you. You might depend on me becoming bored, or that I will stop after a couple of minutes and think that you weren’t such a good choice for a test subject after all. You might be thinking all of that.

    But there’s something you don’t know.

    See, as we are both aware, I undressed you while you were asleep. I took my sweet time, too, relishing the reveal of every inch of your skin. I have to say, though, whatever you spent your day doing must have caused you to sweat… a LOT. You either work outdoors or just love to exercise. I’m not sure which, but in any event, you were pretty smelly. So I took it upon myself to scrub you down a bit with some soap and water. Just the important areas. Under your arms, around your groin, your backside… and of course, your big ole feet.

    I didn’t mind the work. Really, I didn’t. It gave me a chance to learn a bit about your body. See, there were a handful of times while I was wiping you down where I caught you flinching. Twitching. Jerking. At one point, you even had a nice, happy smile on your face, even though you were still passed out.

    Subsequently, I would LOVE to know what you were dreaming about at the time. Hehe. But at any rate, I know for a FACT that you are ticklish. And, more than that, I have a few good ideas where to start.

    So, let’s see about those feet.

    “I figure we can start your exam with the what is usually considered to be the most common tickle spot.” I see you glancing fearfully at a black, leather satchel sitting on the floor down to your right. “Don’t mind that. It’s just a bag for some of my toys.” I offer a saucy wink and remove the tape from your mouth as I strut over to your bare feet. I could leave it on, of course, but I want to hear it when you laugh.

    There is a kind of show that I like to put on when I tickle someone. Part of this is just a natural inclination given my line of work. I’m a performer. I like to be theatrical. Grand gestures and wild eyed facial expressions are all part of the game. But more importantly, as I said earlier, my first tickler was my mom. A parent. This is true for just about everyone. Odds are, you first discovered your own ticklishness at the hands of a parent when you were too little to fight back. They made you feel small, didn’t they? Helpless. Their cooing voices… a threatening wiggle of their fingers just before touchdown… They made you feel giddy, didn’t they? Like they could make you laugh before actually doing anything.

    Replicating that feeling is important. And though there is no scientific data to back it up, I have a strong belief that the reason a person’s feet are often the most ticklish part of their body has to do with the number of nerves down there, yes. But also, because they are the farthest body part from an individual’s reach. That makes your tootsies the hardest tickle spot to protect. From a psychological standpoint, that makes it devastatingly easy peasy to create anxiety in a tickle subject. Especially with the straps holding you in place…

    “Is somebody ticklish on their feetsies?” I ask with raised eyebrows. You are trying so hard to look calm. It’s adorable. I kneel down, just inches from your nervous, wiggly toes. I smile sweetly and hook my gloved fingers, giving you an idea of what’s coming.

    I curl my fingers against your soles, in a motion resembling someone mimicking quotation marks. You are grinning already. Damn… I should get a job working at a photographer’s studio. I could make even the most stuck up sourpuss crack a smile.

    “Tickle tickle tickle...” I tease quietly, finding a soft spot of thin, pink skin near your left instep. You’re fighting the urge to laugh, just as I knew you would. I smirk, and give that spot a maternal kiss. It’s that innocent peck which grants me the first giggle. My lips are awfully tickly, aren’t they? I brush them back and forth against the bottom of your foot, coating them with my random gusts of my warm breath. The giggles are flowing a bit more freely now.

    Gotcha.

    I search your soles for more sweet spots. My satin fingertips stroke along your insteps, poke under your toes, and trace random wrinkles on your arches. Whenever your giggles start to become less frequent, I attack your weak spots again with my lips and tongue.

    “Tickle tickle… Such big feet for someone your size… so much room for my fingers to play… Gitchy gitch-UT! Was that a squeal? I think I heard a squeal. How about these arches? Are they happy arches? Oh, it looks like they ARE!”

    I taunt you relentlessly. I want you to know that, out in the real world, you might be anybody. You might be anything. Someone of extreme importance. Someone with tremendous responsibility who many people depend on. Someone with the world on their shoulders. But… in here… with me… you’re just a ticklish baby.

    “These toes are so plump and cute! I just wanna gobble those piggies up!” I snicker when I see your panicked reaction to the threat. Now I just HAVE to follow through. I begin to playfully nibble the toes, going back and forth from foot to foot and making “Nom nom” noises. Your anxiety is peaked and it’s so much fun watching you break down over something so infantile.

    “Now that these feet are nice and tender...” I reach for my bag, pulling out a small shoe polishing brush The bristles are soft. “Let’s give em a good pumicing!”

    You lose your shit the second the brush makes contact with that wonderful flesh. I hold your toes back and rub the brush up and down rapidly, alternating between the two feet every 15 seconds or so. You’re laughing so hard, now. Your cheeks are rosy and your eyes are beginning to water. I stop after a minute or two to give you a breath.

    “Whew!” I pantomime wiping sweat from my brow. “All clean! I can see my face in em, I swear! That was fun.”

    You plead with me. It starts with a request to be freed. It’s an understandable request, without a doubt. But I have no intention of being so nice. There is much exploring to do, after all.

    “Sorry, Sweetbird. No can do.” You look so defeated when I deny your freedom. It cuts right through me. “Tell you what. You hang in there and let me finish my exam, and I’ll treat you to something… friendly… when I am done.” I have your curiosity now. That should keep you compliant. At least for the time being.

    “That’s better. Now, the next stop for the tickle train is...” I playfully scuttle my fingertips up your shins to your knees, playing at your kneecaps. I draw little circles around them and lobster claw you just above them. You chuckle and try to kick your legs. It’s all so damn cute. “Forgive me while I seize and tease these ticklish knees.” I grin at my own rhyming skills as I tickle. It really gets you when I reach underneath them and stroke behind. “Tickle tickle ti-ckle!”

    As much as I love tickling knees, I admit that there isn’t too much you can do with them after a few minutes, so after another short break, it’s time to move on…

    I decide to set my sights on your belly next. In my… ahem… studies… I have found that, while both genders typically cite their stomach as a ticklish spot, the reactions almost always appear to be stronger in men. I have no idea why. Further research is required. One thing is certain: The best tools for tickling a tummy are a woman’s fingernails. I slowly peel off my gloves and pop my knuckles before positioning my hands over your belly. Once again, your look of concern tells me more than words ever could.

    “Ready, Hon?” I ask with a huge grin, as if any answer would stop me. Before you even would have been able to respond, I start splaying my fingers in and out, making fists, then flat hands, in and out, in and out in swift movements. You’re giggling again in no time, writhing your hips and trying to suck in your tummy to evade my touch. While splaying my fingers, I also make sure to position my hands over different areas. I learn in no time that you are particularly ticklish near your sides and around your bellybutton. I fashion my hands into claws and gently rake them up and down your tummy. “Better watch out, this kitty’s got claws!” I tease and make you laugh more. A few moderate pokes along your pantline make you jump and twitch, much to my delight.

    But now it’s time to get serious. I wanna get that bellybutton.

    Walking back over to my bag, you take the moment of reprieve to catch your breath and try once again to get free of your ties.

    Good luck with that.

    When I come back into view, I see you take notice of the hot pink colored device in my hand. You ask me what it is and I am all too happy to enlighten you.

    “This, giggle goose, is my Squiggle Wiggle Writer. It’s a pen. But when I press this little button here, it vibrates, so that I can make circles and loops with it. Never used it for tickling before, but it seems to me that might work wonders on that cute little button of yours.”

    There you go, pleading again. Begging me to let you go. I lean over, resting my forearm across your belly to try and hold you still. I press the button. Your ears actually perk when you here the buzzing sound. I dip the pen into your navel and watch you kiss your dignity goodbye.

    The pen circles the knotted flesh of your bellybutton, whirring against the inner walls of the depression. You are instantly babbling and laughing your fool head off and I can’t get enough of it. It’s like a drug to me.

    “Tickle tickle tickle!”

    After about 30 seconds, you are LITERALLY crying. My heart is split in two. On one hand, I am having WAY too much fun torturing you. On the other hand, however, every good tickler knows when they have pushed their ticklee past their comfort zone. I take another 30 seconds to enjoy your suffering before I turn off the device. I take a minute to dry your eyes with a soft rag.

    “There there…” I can be affectionate from time to time. I cradle your head as I calm you down. “I hope you’re never trusted with state secrets or anything. It would suck if nuclear codes were on the line and some big bad interrogator got their hands on you poor widdle tummy.” The joke gets a weak chuckle out of you. Good to see you still have your sense of humor. You ask once again if I will let you go.

    You’re joking, right? I thought I was the clown...




    THE FOLLOWING SECTION IS F/F. FOR THE F/M SECTION, PLEASE SCROLL DOWN.




    My fingers want to do some traveling. I slip my soft gloves back on and place my fingertips on your naked hips. Your lips curl a little. That tickles all by itself, huh? I smile and start to creep my fingers up your sides, just a couple millimeters at a time. You squirm and bite your lip. I know it tickles. But it doesn’t get any belly laughs or anything. When I get near your ribs, you get a little more restless.

    I think a little deep tissue tickle is in order.

    I pop my knuckles again and clench my hands into tight fists. I see the look of confusion on your face. Don’t worry, I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. I press my fists against your ribs and rub them with my knuckles. You bite your lip again. I step up the ticklish massage and knead the ribs meticulously. You can only hold out for so long before the giggles return.

    “That’s right… You’re so ticklish… You can’t help it… just laugh for me...” I command huskily and watch your breasts wobble a bit from the rib rubbing. You might be a bit more surprised than I am about how hard your nipples are getting. It’s a natural response to such a sensual torture, I assure you. I lightly wiggle my thumbs against the sides of your quivering breasts. The new sensation does nothing to keep your nipples from standing at attention. I can feel myself getting wet as I tickle you there. I’m bisexual, and nothing turns me on like manipulating someone’s flesh. Especially when it makes them laugh. “Gitchy goo...” I am almost purring.

    I have just GOT to test out those puppies.

    I go back to my little black bag. Time to change gloves. I remove my satin costume gloves and put on a brand new pair of rainbow colored chenille winter gloves. If this doesn’t tickle you, it will definitely make you cum. Perhaps even both. I dunno… let’s see.

    If you’re anything like me, your boobies are frightfully ticklish. My pumpkins are easily among my worst spots. Even more so than my feet. On the other hand, some women aren’t ticklish on their chest at all.

    I trace your breasts around their bases. I am once again treated to a beautiful pearly white smile, but it’s admittedly hard to tell if it’s a ticklish smile or if you are just enjoying my touch. I trace underneath them. Now your lips are curling a bit more. I have my answer. I tease the undersides of your breasts, gently gliding me fingertips from side to side like upside-down windshield wipers. You’re trying hard not to laugh. I press my fingers in a bit and wiggle them.

    Atta girl. That’s what I wanna hear.

    You buck a little in the chair as I tickle your boobs. I place my hands over them, my palms covering your nipples, and proceed to ticklishly grope them. It’s an excruciatingly teasing tickle and soon, you’re blushing and snickering like a child at a dirty joke. I see you rub your thighs together. Could it be you’re as turned on as I am? I think so…

    I attack your nipples directly, gently tweaking them with my soft, fuzzy fingers. They are like pebbles.

    “We should get you a job at a coal mine. Betcha could break down rocks faster than any hammer with these babies. Tickle tickle...” I continue to tease you with tickle taunts. Your laughter enchanting. Musical even. I can smell you. I know what you want. But I have more spots to test.

    I don’t want you reaching ecstasy yet, so I give your boobs a rest. You look like your dog just died. I know the feeling. Sometimes I can cum from having my nipples tickled. But I turn my attention to your head. Specifically, your ears. Those fuzzy fingers lightly tickle your ears.

    There’s that smile again.

    I tickle underneath and behind them, across the lobes, up and around the helix, watching in amusement as you try to shake your head. Your hair is a mess. Hehehe. But the worst is when I tickle just inside. It must feel like ants crawling about in your ears. I have trouble imagining a more infuriating kind of tickle. Maybe just inside your nose… or the roof of your mouth.

    Once my cruel side has been sated, I pull the gloves off and step over to the seat of the chair. Till now, you have been propped up, almost completely horizontal. But I kneel down and start to turn a knob near the base of the chair. I’m sure you are wondering what I am doing. You find out when I am able to unsnap the seat of the chair, pulling away the section that your hind end was resting on. Like the belly, I have found that fingernails work best on a ticklish rump. A little gentle clawing lends credence to that as your cheeks instantly clench and your laughter fills the air.

    “Awww… tickle tickle bottom?” I can’t help but tease you. It’s half the fun. The centers of your cheeks are the most sensitive. My nails tickle there and you squeal in forced delight. I make myself comfortable, sitting indian style on the floor and tickling your butt with one hand on each cheek. The nails swirl about in random patterns, keeping you on your toes. It’s not long before I catch your scent again. You like my booty tickles.

    “Well, I think that about does it!” I get up off of the floor and see relief wash over your face. “Oh, but wait! I DID promise you something nice if you behaved yourself.”

    It takes a woman to know a woman’s body. I unscrew two more small knobs on either side of the chair, releasing the armrests, and retrieve a stiff, red feather from my bag.

    “That’s better. Now, like the bread said to the butter knife… spread em.” I step between your legs and make myself at home. A single, naked fingertip slowly runs down your slick labia. I watch you shudder and plan out my pussy tickle strategy. Most guys are ignorant. They think a vagina is a freaking Rubik’s Cube. But don’t you fret. I know what I’m doing.

    First, my thumbs tickle the sides of your groin with brushing motions. I can tell you like it, even though it tickles. A quick dusting of the perineum with my feather comes next. You make the cutest little chirping sound when I tickle there. But the real showstopper is when I slide the feather along your labia, softly sawing up and down. You tremble and your toes curl.

    “Tickle tickle...” My voice is more seductive now. I want you to remember this for the rest of your life. I slip a couple of fingers inside of you, slowly pumping them in and out while using my thumb and other fingers to spread the labia open. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when my feather begins sawing up and down your clitoris at a nice, leisurely pace. I have all the time in the world. However, your number’s up. I slip my pinky finger down to your slippery perineum and in seconds, you are practically crushing my fingers as your ticklish pussy contracts in time with your orgasm. I don’t stop massaging or tickling until you go limp.

    You look so tired. I must have completely exhausted you, because you are asleep in no time at all. It’s okay. My tickle sessions tend to wear people out.

    We’ll continue when you wake back up…




    THE FOLLOWING SECTION IS F/M.




    No… no… there is so much more of you to play with. My hands go down, but they aren’t heading where you think (Or probably hope). Instead, I grab you by your hips, holding you firmly in my grip. My thumbs are laid out across the creases between your legs and torso. You’re chuckling already.

    “Whassa matter?” I giggle at you. I knead those creases with my thumbs and you jerk while laughing. I only have to push in with my thumbs a little bit to tickle you. If I push in too hard, it will hurt. I have mastered the touch. You don’t stand a chance. Soon I am tracing the creases and you look like you absolutely hate it. Well… as much as you can hate something while you are laughing.

    Then something interesting happens. You stop laughing. You are still thrashing a little, so your sensitivity isn’t in question. You’re willingness to be my widdle gigglebox, however, is.

    “Oh, a tough guy, eh?”

    To be fair, props to you for taking advantage and finding a moment to control yourself. Not everyone can do that, though everyone tries. So… what should we do about your little bout of newfound stubbornness? It becomes apparent to me that I will have to find what I call a Giggle Reserve: A spot on your body that you might have previously known was ticklish, but that you wouldn’t expect a tickler to attack.

    I have an idea.

    I move back up to face you, my head isn’t more than a foot from yours. I can see that, at first, you are unsure of what I am up to. You find out soon enough, though, when you feel my sharp nails tracing the back of your neck.

    See, I recalled visiting a friend, Tiffany, at her work a few weeks back. She works at a hair salon. I wasn’t able to catch her on her break, but we got to talk while she was cutting a 10 year old’s hair. He was there with his parents, getting a buzz cut. All was well and good till she took her trimmer to the back of his neck, trying to even the hair out. He busted out laughing and Tiffany and I got a good laugh out of watching her inadvertently tickle torture him.

    Now my fingernails are teasing the back of YOUR neck and you’re having a bit more trouble keeping a straight face. You try to scrunch your neck, but it doesn’t help much. You try to push your head back against the headrest, but trapping my fingers doesn’t stop my nails from wiggling. Soon, all you can you is treat me to more of your delicious giggles.

    “There’s a good boy. Tickle tickle...” I move my nails to the sides of your neck, the front of your throat, and even along your collarbone. But, now that my tickles have so tenderly seduced you again, let’s go visit the pits.

    I don’t give even a hint of warning. I just draw my nails up and down your ribs once or twice and dip my fingers into your underarms.

    Holy shit!

    You go absolutely bonkers. I play with the hair and diddle my fingertips. I think this tickles more than when I tormented your bellybutton. You can’t stand it one bit.

    “Whoa, dere!” I say in a terrible southern accent, as if I’m taming a horse. “Whooooaaaa, dere!” I can’t help but laugh along with you. You are far too ticklish under your arms for your own good. I had been nice when dealing with your navel, but I’m not letting you off the hook so easily here. I wriggle my fingertips. I poke. I stroke. I draw little circles and stars. I write out letters of the alphabet. I count from one to ten, starting over by pretending to lose count halfway through due to your loud laughter. But when I sing tickle tickle to you, you start crying again.

    Not sure how long that seven minutes of armpit tickling seemed to you, but it was seven minutes in Heaven for me. You are beside yourself for a few minutes even after I have stopped. But, I’m a patient girl. I wait until you have finished collecting yourself.

    “How are you feeling?” I ask. And gee golly wow, the profanity that spews from your mouth… Shame on you, talking to a lady that way. It’s not smart to piss off a tickle monster, ya know. Especially when you are all nakey and at her mercy. I guess I’ll have to keep teaching you that.

    I lean down to the base of the chair, turning a knob that releases the seat cushion. Till now, you have been propped up, almost completely horizontal. But now, your ass is mine… LITERALLY.

    I could use my nails, but I feel like experimenting. I go back to my trusty bag o’ tricks. It doesn’t take me long to find more duct tape… and my trusty remote controlled egg vibrator. I unscrew two more small knobs on either side of the chair, releasing the armrests, and am able to spread your legs open enough to worm my way in there. I lift your balls up a bit, not missing your quiet gasp, and tuck the vibrator down between your cheeks and against your asshole. Then, a few strips of the duct tape over the area to keep the device in place. With the touch of a button, you are squirming like a worm on a hook. The vibrator tickles your hole and simultaneously coaxes your penis into a massive erection.

    “How’s that for a stiffy in a jiffy?” I can’t help but laugh at my dirty sense of humor.

    Now, I could turn the device off at any time, but I don’t really have the inclination to do so. I recall my earlier promise of something nice if you behaved yourself. I suppose you have earned a treat. As you wiggle and giggle silently, I put my satin gloves back on, retrieve a stiff, red feather from my bag, and return to my place between your legs.

    I take your gigantic cock in my hand and run my feather along it, up and down the underside and along the base, even flicking it playfully against the head a couple times. A good pickle tickle is fun now and again, and if you do it right, guys go cuckoo for freakin’ coco puffs. I don’t let my feather have all the fun though. I periodically creep up and down the sides with my fingertips. I know that tickles. It also seems to make you harder, if that’s possible.

    You are so incredibly turned on right now. I catch you slowly thrusting your hips, as if you’re trying to match my finger movements and jerk yourself off. One of my fingers daintily presses against the covered vibrator, pushing it right up against you.

    Wow, that was a loud moan. I tease you, pushing the vibrator against your hole and rubbing it around while feathering your penis. Soon, you are begging me to finish you. What’s really funny is that your pleading sounds more genuine now than it did when you were wanting me to let you go. The finger that was manipulating the vibrator trails up your perineum and you yelp like a puppy.

    Oh, goody!

    I use that finger to wiggle softly against the newly discovered tickle spot and soon you are belly laughing like you were when I tickled your tummy.

    “Gitchy goo!” My free hand takes ahold of you and I slowly jerk you with my gloved fingers while I tickle. Your whole body is shaking at this point. I’m not sure how much more you can take.

    We’re gonna find out though. The finger that was teasing your perineum now begins a new pattern. It starts just above your hole, where the tape stops. Then it trails upward to your balls. It then draws around the base of the balls, right up to where they meet your cock, playfully tickles the seam with a little wiggle, then wraps back down the other side of your testicles, and back down to the tape before starting again.

    I am only able to send my naughty finger on this tickly journey four times before semen is jetting out of you onto your belly. Thank God this room is sound proof. I jerk you till you’re empty and turn off the vibrator.

    Poor boy. You are a mess. And on top of that, you’re out cold again. It’s okay. I sometimes have that effect.

    We’ll continue when you wake back up...
    Please enjoy all of my stories in my archive.

    http://www.ticklingforum.com/forumdi...-Story-Archive

    Also, check out my ebooks featuring extended and original stories with Jenni The Clown, on sale at Lulu.com! http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?c...utorId=1464141

  2. #2
    Join Date
    Jan 2002
    Location
    NY City
    Posts
    453,860
    Blog Entries
    12
    Great story! I love the Jenni series.
    <== the sacred soles of Goddess Shelly



    A link to my stories on the TMF.


    Buy my first novel "Sorority Sisters" here.

    Buy my nonfiction epic here.

    Buy my popular novel "Jennifer's Revenge" here.

    Order one of my collections of short stories from MTJ Publishing here:

    TRAPPED AND TICKLED series
    Order Today!


    עם ישראל חי
    אֶרֶץ יִשְׂרָאֵל חי

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Nov 2006
    Location
    Canada
    Posts
    57
    Love th f/m. What a great story.

  4. #4
    Join Date
    May 2001
    Location
    London, UK
    Posts
    1,502
    PVTGVK shows once again why he is the man (writing like a woman) whether you're a man or a woman.

    Great stuff!

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Dec 2014
    Location
    champaign, il
    Posts
    58
    Nice story honey! For a man you write well from the perspective of a woman.
    Thanks so much! Make sure to checkout more of my writing and work on Deviant art under lookingformysoul!

  6. #6
    Quote Originally Posted by milagros317 View Post
    Great story! I love the Jenni series.
    Thanks, Milagros!
    Please enjoy all of my stories in my archive.

    http://www.ticklingforum.com/forumdi...-Story-Archive

    Also, check out my ebooks featuring extended and original stories with Jenni The Clown, on sale at Lulu.com! http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?c...utorId=1464141

  7. #7
    Quote Originally Posted by suikoden View Post
    PVTGVK shows once again why he is the man (writing like a woman) whether you're a man or a woman.

    Great stuff!
    Kinda like the dude, playing a dude, pretending to be another dude. Gotta love multiple personalities. Jk.
    Please enjoy all of my stories in my archive.

    http://www.ticklingforum.com/forumdi...-Story-Archive

    Also, check out my ebooks featuring extended and original stories with Jenni The Clown, on sale at Lulu.com! http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?c...utorId=1464141

  8. #8
    Quote Originally Posted by softtickles1 View Post
    Nice story honey! For a man you write well from the perspective of a woman.
    Thanks, hon!
    Please enjoy all of my stories in my archive.

    http://www.ticklingforum.com/forumdi...-Story-Archive

    Also, check out my ebooks featuring extended and original stories with Jenni The Clown, on sale at Lulu.com! http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?c...utorId=1464141

  9. #9
    Quote Originally Posted by ltickler1 View Post
    Love th f/m. What a great story.
    I'm glad you enjoyed it, Itickler1!
    Please enjoy all of my stories in my archive.

    http://www.ticklingforum.com/forumdi...-Story-Archive

    Also, check out my ebooks featuring extended and original stories with Jenni The Clown, on sale at Lulu.com! http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?c...utorId=1464141

  10. #10
    Join Date
    Feb 2006
    Posts
    153
    Captured and helpless at the mercy of the curvaceous Jenni... My mind reels and my nerves jump just imagining it. I wouldn't stand a chance. Another great story!

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