Eternal Tomboy
TMF Master
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2001
- Messages
- 980
- Points
- 18
Since November, I've met three really great guys who I've been having sessions with. My first "Personal Ad to Play Date" story was about the first 'ler I met (you can read about it here: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?303303-From-Personal-Ad-to-Play-date! ). I liked the idea of writing about these amazing play dates because I know years from now, the memories of them will get fuzzy, and these stories will be something fun for me (and them) to look back on. This story is about an encounter with the second 'ler I met - his user name on the TMF is B0xr (he gave me permission to use it). Hope you enjoy it! 
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The polar vortex had New York firmly in its icy grip, and I was cursing myself for not bundling up more. I didn’t really see the point in having to strip off all those layers since I was moments away from being tied down to a bed in nothing more than a t-shirt and yoga pants. By the time I arrived at the hotel, B0xr had already gotten us a room and was waiting for me inside. The room, while warmer than the brutally cold winds whipping around outside, was still pretty chilly because the previous occupants hadn’t left the heat running. We cranked the heater up to 85 degrees, and I placed my socked feet over the vents to warm up my toes a bit. The thought of taking off my socks and going barefoot sent a chill up my spine. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the last few months worth of tickle sessions, I was going to be PLENTY warm in about fifteen minutes!
I help him set up the under-mattress restraint system he had purchased for our last session, and within a minute or two, I’m laying down and being cuffed into place. Even though this is my eighth session since I placed my personal ad (with three different ‘lers), the first few moments of being restrained still make the nervous butterflies in my stomach take flight. Making myself that vulnerable to a person is never easy for me, but my gut instincts haven’t steered me wrong yet – all of my playmates have been amazing.
In my face-up position, I watch him as he circles the bed and makes the final adjustments to all my bonds to make sure I'm secured tightly. After our last session, he told me that this time he wanted to take things slowly at first, and then gradually build up the intensity of the session. He begins to lightly scribble his fingers around various places on my body – the soles of my feet, up my legs, and down the underside of my arms. He is getting some steady squirming with the occasional squeak from me when he hits a particularly ticklish spot, but because he’s taking it really easy on me, he hasn’t earned his first giggle yet. His little warm-up doesn’t last more than a minute or so before I can feel him begin to amp things up. His tickles become much firmer and more deliberate at trying to get me to laugh out loud.
When he begins to tickle my neck and collarbone with his fingers, my composure is lost. My laughter and thrashing begin immediately upon contact with one of the most ticklish spots on my body, and only get worse when he decides to use his mouth along with his fingers. When I can manage to get a word or two out through my intense laughter, I start begging – “Please! Wait! Stop! Shit!!” None of my pleas or cursing do anything to stop his relentless tickling. Even when I'm not restrained, my neck is one of those tickle spots that make me feel totally helpless when it's attacked because I have no defense against it - unless you count curling up like a hedgehog a defense mechanism. But stretched out on the bed like I am now, powerless to use my hands to try and push him off me, all I can do is take the torture.
"I believe you told me to ignore you when you say words like "please" and "stop" because you don't really mean them. I'm just following directions," he teases and keeps tickling.
I don’t even think a minute or two go by before the dreaded safeword pops out of my mouth, “TOO TICKLISH!!” We picked that safeword because of my complete inability to use any version of the t-word outloud. I knew I’d rather go through torture than have to say it…. I guess that threshold for torture isn’t very high when my neck is being targeted
He stops tickling me, and I try to catch my breath, “What happened to starting off slowly??” I joke.
“What? That wasn’t slow?” he teases.
He only gives me a few moments to rest before his tickling fingers begin their explorations again. This time, he targets my knees. He lobster-claws the spot right above my kneecap and my laughter and thrashing begin again. But he doesn’t stay in that one spot for long – he surrounds the entire knee area (behind and along side it) with 360 degrees of ticklish scribbles and he keeps changing locations so I have no ability to adapt to his ticklish touches. He is also laying down on my shins, so I can’t try to squirm away from him, not that the bondage would allow me much distance anyway.
“I want to thank you for telling me just how ticklish this spot is,” he says with a laugh. He’s referring to our previous emails where I divulged all the ticklish spots and techniques that drive me nuts.
That wiseass comment earns him a frustrated growl from me along with more laughter. Perhaps revealing my ticklish secrets to a sadistic ‘ler wasn’t such a smart move on my part. In THEORY, giving a ‘ler the detailed roadmap of all your most ticklish spots is a great idea because it means increasing your chances of having a fun session filled with lots of laughter. However, in REALITY, being tickled in these hellish spots is a lot harder to take than any online role playing game or tickle story would have you believe. There’s a reason why they call it torture, people It flirts with the line between love and hate, and crosses over that line dozens of times during the course of a session.
Thankfully, he abandons my knees before I safeword again, and travels up to test the ticklishness of my upper body. I warned him before our first session that he probably wouldn’t get much of a reaction out of me from tickling my ribs or underarms – some squirming and smiling, but probably not much beyond that. When he begins to scribble around my ribcage, my predicted reactions are all he gets. But then he changes his technique and starts to poke me instead. Much to my surprise, I start to struggle against the bondage and giggle a little. He lays down on my legs so my movement is limited to nothing more than my torso bucking from side to side, and he picks up the pace. He is only using two fingers to randomly poke all over my ribs and sides, and since my eyes are closed tightly, I never know where he’s going to strike next. After a minute of this kind of rapid, unpredictable tickling, I’m even more surprised when real laughter begins.
“Boy, it’s a good thing your upper body isn’t ticklish,” he teases and continues this new method of torture for me.
“IT’S NOT!!” I yell through my laughter.
“I can see that,” he laughs. He then pokes around that soft spot on either side of my waist, right between where the ribcage ends and my hipbones begin. My thrashing and laughter increase. “Yeah, definitely not ticklish.”
This method of "tasering" my waist is surprisingly tough to take. I have no idea how long he keeps this up for, but when he changes locations again, it’s to a spot he knows is even more ticklish – my hips. Since his fingers are already positioned at my waist, all he has to do is move down half an inch before they reach their new tickle target. Rather than using his fingers, he takes his thumbs and just gently circles and kneads the top of my hipbones. The ticklish sensations are completely off the charts – a solid, and unbearable TEN. My begging and laughter are a garbled mess, and I’m trying desperately to buck him off me. As his thumbs make these endless circles, he catches a ligament (tendon?) that lay just inside my hipbone (kind of on my lower belly). Every time he passes it, he twangs it like a guitar string and it tickles like crazy!! I’ve never had any spot on my belly tickle before, so this is a very new sensation for me.
“Ok! Ok! Please! STOP!!!” I beg and continue to laugh hysterically.
“You know the two words you have to say to get me to stop,” he says to try and prompt me to safeword.
“FUCK OFF!” I yell as a joke.
“Nope, not the two words I want to hear,” he laughs and amps up his tickling.
I can’t hang on anymore. The tickling is WAY too intense and I’ve reached another breaking point. “TOO TICKLISH!!!” I yell again, earning him another safeword.
He stops tickling me, and I’m completely out of breath. It takes me a solid thirty seconds to form a coherent sentence, and when I do, I jump almost immediately back into instigation mode. “Oh my god, you are SUCH an asshole,” I say with a laugh.
The words barely have the chance to come out of my mouth before he pounces on me, and begins to tickle me intensely again around my hips and ribs. “What did you just call me?” he says with a laugh.
I have no ability to take any more torture since I barely got the chance to catch my breath from the last round, so my apology, begging, and laughter begin immediately, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!!! Please!!!” come out of my mouth in rapid-fire bursts when I can catch some air. He continues to torture me for another minute or so, just to demonstrate that my mouth won’t be tolerated without some retribution. Being the good student that I am, I learn that lesson really quickly. No more name-calling for him.
After he stops, I focus on trying to bring my heart rate back down and normalize my breathing. I point one of my fingers at my water bottle that is sitting on the nightstand by the bed. “You want a drink?” he asks. I just nod. He hands me my bottle, but doesn’t unclip my restraint, so I can’t bring it up to my mouth to drink from it. A second or so later, we catch each other's eye and both of us burst out laughing. I have to admit, this sort of tormenting is something I would've done if I was playing 'ler. Our sense of humor is so similar that it has made for some very funny interactions, even when tickling wasn't involved.
“You are SO mean,” I say, still giggling.
After he sets my hand free from its bonds, I gulp down as much water as I can, and then hand it back to him. I lie back down on the mattress and feel exhausted, but I know we are only about halfway through our session. As I try and recoup a little bit, he goes into the bathroom and comes back with a cold compress and puts it across my forehead. How can someone with such a sadistic side also be so sweet?
With the amount of body heat I’m throwing off right now, it isn’t long before the washcloth starts to warm up. It’s funny to think that less than an hour ago, I was huddling around the heater vent for warmth.
He uses his fingers to gently tickle around my neck and says, “You have to keep that washcloth on there.” The second his fingers touch my neck, I laugh and my head whips to the side of his attack, which sends the washcloth flying. “Or not,” he laughs.
He clips the cuff on my wrist back into place and then takes a walk down to the end of the bed. I know what’s coming next. I told him about how ticklish my feet can be when either a brush or the dog-grooming glove I brought (picture provided underneath story) are used along with a lubricant to scrub my soles. I’m sure that’s another ticklish tidbit that I’ll be regretting I shared with him in just a few minutes. I had set everything out on the dresser in the room before he tied me down. I warn him that he doesn’t need much of the Astroglide – just a dime-size amount is all it takes to make my soles nice and slippery.
He chooses the hairbrush to start off the tickling with. Once he starts scrubbing the ball of my foot and toes, my leg reflexively yanks hard on the bondage to try and get away from him, and my laughter begins. He mixes up the feeling of the brush and his fingernails, which keep me guessing about which ticklish sensation is coming next. He then gives my other foot the same treatment. The brush and his fingernails explore all the tickle spots that get me laughing: ball of my foot, toes, arches and the tender tops of my feet are all exploited. When he finishes with the brush, he puts on the glove. I can tell when he starts to scrub my sole with it, he’s doing it gently (maybe he’s afraid he’s going to hurt me?). This lighter pressure makes the tickling much more bearable for me. My laughter is still steady, but not at the helpless stage yet.
I have safeworded from my feet being tickled, but usually only from harder, relentless scrubbing with the glove – a fact that he might not be totally aware of at this point. He also doesn’t know how a guy using his mouth on my feet usually sends me right through the roof…. at least I managed to hang on to SOME of my ticklish secrets.
I don’t know how long he torments my feet – I’m finding that time has zero meaning to me during these sessions. I have no idea if something lasts for five minutes or thirty. I guess my brain has enough to contend with just trying to cope with the torture without losing my mind; no need to add a silly thing like time into the mix. Once he finishes with this area of attack, I breathe a sigh of relief and the giggles continue to bubble out of my mouth for a little while after.
“Well at least you didn’t get a safeword out of me that time,” I say and try to steady my breathing again.
“I already know all your spots – I can get a safeword out of you any time I want,” he threatens playfully and then buries his face in my neck again. His fingers start to scribble around my collarbone and once again, he brings my ticklish level back up to a ten before I’ve even had the chance to brace myself.
I’m begging, cursing and laughing all at the same time, and my arms are pulling hard against the restraints in the hopes that one of them will give out and I’ll be able to push him off me – no such luck. I’m sure this torture doesn’t go on for more than a minute before “TOO TICKLISH!” comes booming out of my mouth again.
Three fucking safewords in one session!! I’m pissed off at myself for caving in so easily. I really want to give him a little bit of attitude, but considering what he did to me the last time I tried to backtalk him, I keep quiet instead. We hear his phone buzz on the dresser, and he gets up to look at it. His daughter had texted him pictures (of herself and family) from their trip to Disney that week.
He laughs, “My daughter has no idea that I’m having more fun than they are right now.”
“Wow, no one’s ever told me I’m more fun than Disneyland before. I guess the **hotel name** really is the happiest place on Earth,” I say with a laugh.
Once I’ve had a little bit of a break, he starts more ticklish explorations. He’s targeting my legs this time with light scribbles. Most spots earn him some giggles and squirming, but when he hits the back of my thighs, my laughter amps up and I start to beg him yet again. “No! No! No! Please!!” My legs pull hard on the bondage, and I can feel my muscles straining against their stubborn resistance. I dig down deep for the ability to withstand whatever tickle torture he’s dishing out because I DON’T want to safeword again! He’s already got too many bragging rights – I don’t think I can hold onto my self-proclaimed title of stubborn ‘lee after what he’s put me through today.
He starts to verbally tease me, “I’m only going to do this for ten more seconds. You can hang on for ten seconds, right?” I remember this trick from our last session – I think I might be screwed. “Ok ready? One…. two…. three…. four…. five…. six…. seven…. three…. four…. five….wait, I lost count. Let me start over. One…two…”
“PLEASE STAHAHAHP!!!” I’m begging....again. I'm such a whimp.
He stops torturing the back of my thighs, and I think I’m out of the woods….until he finds his way back up to my hips. Every R-rated expletive is coming out of my mouth along with absolutely helpless laughter as he starts those dreaded circles with his thumbs around my hipbones again. He knows this is a prime safeword spot. I know it too. I dig my heels in and refuse to safeword….my stubborn resolve ends up lasting about a minute. Pathetic. “TOO TICKLISH!!” comes out yet again. That’s it, game over. I’m a disgrace to stubborn ‘lees everywhere
Thankfully for me, that was his grand finale and he begins to free me from my restraints. After drinking water, and catching my breath, I get up from the sweat-soaked mattress and make my way into the bathroom to try and put myself back together again. My once curly hair now looks as though birds have been nesting in it. I break curly hair rule number one and run a brush through the tangled mess, then put the (now poofy, frizzy) hair back in a semi-neat ponytail.
Peeling off my play clothes is like trying to take off a wet bathing suit after a day at the pool. I dry myself off, get into some comfy clothes that I brought, and make my way back into the bedroom area. He’s got the comforter on the bed to shield us from the sweaty mess I left behind, and he arranged the pillows in place. I immediately curl up along side of him because I can feel that my body temperature has already started to drop, and the chills have started. He gently scratches my back, and I can feel the goosebumps forming all over my torso – next to tickles, goosebumps are my favorite.
We chill out and talk on the bed for about a half hour, but then we both know it’s time to leave because he has to go to work. We pack up all our stuff and hug goodbye. This is the worst part of every session for me because I know the fun is over and I’ll probably have to wait another couple of weeks before it comes around again. I know - my ‘lers have spoiled the hell out of me. Before I placed my personal ad, I used to go YEARS without any tickle action, and now I can barely make it a couple weeks without complaining that it’s been too long, lol.
Lucky girl
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The polar vortex had New York firmly in its icy grip, and I was cursing myself for not bundling up more. I didn’t really see the point in having to strip off all those layers since I was moments away from being tied down to a bed in nothing more than a t-shirt and yoga pants. By the time I arrived at the hotel, B0xr had already gotten us a room and was waiting for me inside. The room, while warmer than the brutally cold winds whipping around outside, was still pretty chilly because the previous occupants hadn’t left the heat running. We cranked the heater up to 85 degrees, and I placed my socked feet over the vents to warm up my toes a bit. The thought of taking off my socks and going barefoot sent a chill up my spine. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from the last few months worth of tickle sessions, I was going to be PLENTY warm in about fifteen minutes!
I help him set up the under-mattress restraint system he had purchased for our last session, and within a minute or two, I’m laying down and being cuffed into place. Even though this is my eighth session since I placed my personal ad (with three different ‘lers), the first few moments of being restrained still make the nervous butterflies in my stomach take flight. Making myself that vulnerable to a person is never easy for me, but my gut instincts haven’t steered me wrong yet – all of my playmates have been amazing.
In my face-up position, I watch him as he circles the bed and makes the final adjustments to all my bonds to make sure I'm secured tightly. After our last session, he told me that this time he wanted to take things slowly at first, and then gradually build up the intensity of the session. He begins to lightly scribble his fingers around various places on my body – the soles of my feet, up my legs, and down the underside of my arms. He is getting some steady squirming with the occasional squeak from me when he hits a particularly ticklish spot, but because he’s taking it really easy on me, he hasn’t earned his first giggle yet. His little warm-up doesn’t last more than a minute or so before I can feel him begin to amp things up. His tickles become much firmer and more deliberate at trying to get me to laugh out loud.
When he begins to tickle my neck and collarbone with his fingers, my composure is lost. My laughter and thrashing begin immediately upon contact with one of the most ticklish spots on my body, and only get worse when he decides to use his mouth along with his fingers. When I can manage to get a word or two out through my intense laughter, I start begging – “Please! Wait! Stop! Shit!!” None of my pleas or cursing do anything to stop his relentless tickling. Even when I'm not restrained, my neck is one of those tickle spots that make me feel totally helpless when it's attacked because I have no defense against it - unless you count curling up like a hedgehog a defense mechanism. But stretched out on the bed like I am now, powerless to use my hands to try and push him off me, all I can do is take the torture.
"I believe you told me to ignore you when you say words like "please" and "stop" because you don't really mean them. I'm just following directions," he teases and keeps tickling.
I don’t even think a minute or two go by before the dreaded safeword pops out of my mouth, “TOO TICKLISH!!” We picked that safeword because of my complete inability to use any version of the t-word outloud. I knew I’d rather go through torture than have to say it…. I guess that threshold for torture isn’t very high when my neck is being targeted
He stops tickling me, and I try to catch my breath, “What happened to starting off slowly??” I joke.
“What? That wasn’t slow?” he teases.
He only gives me a few moments to rest before his tickling fingers begin their explorations again. This time, he targets my knees. He lobster-claws the spot right above my kneecap and my laughter and thrashing begin again. But he doesn’t stay in that one spot for long – he surrounds the entire knee area (behind and along side it) with 360 degrees of ticklish scribbles and he keeps changing locations so I have no ability to adapt to his ticklish touches. He is also laying down on my shins, so I can’t try to squirm away from him, not that the bondage would allow me much distance anyway.
“I want to thank you for telling me just how ticklish this spot is,” he says with a laugh. He’s referring to our previous emails where I divulged all the ticklish spots and techniques that drive me nuts.
That wiseass comment earns him a frustrated growl from me along with more laughter. Perhaps revealing my ticklish secrets to a sadistic ‘ler wasn’t such a smart move on my part. In THEORY, giving a ‘ler the detailed roadmap of all your most ticklish spots is a great idea because it means increasing your chances of having a fun session filled with lots of laughter. However, in REALITY, being tickled in these hellish spots is a lot harder to take than any online role playing game or tickle story would have you believe. There’s a reason why they call it torture, people
It flirts with the line between love and hate, and crosses over that line dozens of times during the course of a session.Thankfully, he abandons my knees before I safeword again, and travels up to test the ticklishness of my upper body. I warned him before our first session that he probably wouldn’t get much of a reaction out of me from tickling my ribs or underarms – some squirming and smiling, but probably not much beyond that. When he begins to scribble around my ribcage, my predicted reactions are all he gets. But then he changes his technique and starts to poke me instead. Much to my surprise, I start to struggle against the bondage and giggle a little. He lays down on my legs so my movement is limited to nothing more than my torso bucking from side to side, and he picks up the pace. He is only using two fingers to randomly poke all over my ribs and sides, and since my eyes are closed tightly, I never know where he’s going to strike next. After a minute of this kind of rapid, unpredictable tickling, I’m even more surprised when real laughter begins.
“Boy, it’s a good thing your upper body isn’t ticklish,” he teases and continues this new method of torture for me.
“IT’S NOT!!” I yell through my laughter.
“I can see that,” he laughs. He then pokes around that soft spot on either side of my waist, right between where the ribcage ends and my hipbones begin. My thrashing and laughter increase. “Yeah, definitely not ticklish.”
This method of "tasering" my waist is surprisingly tough to take. I have no idea how long he keeps this up for, but when he changes locations again, it’s to a spot he knows is even more ticklish – my hips. Since his fingers are already positioned at my waist, all he has to do is move down half an inch before they reach their new tickle target. Rather than using his fingers, he takes his thumbs and just gently circles and kneads the top of my hipbones. The ticklish sensations are completely off the charts – a solid, and unbearable TEN. My begging and laughter are a garbled mess, and I’m trying desperately to buck him off me. As his thumbs make these endless circles, he catches a ligament (tendon?) that lay just inside my hipbone (kind of on my lower belly). Every time he passes it, he twangs it like a guitar string and it tickles like crazy!! I’ve never had any spot on my belly tickle before, so this is a very new sensation for me.
“Ok! Ok! Please! STOP!!!” I beg and continue to laugh hysterically.
“You know the two words you have to say to get me to stop,” he says to try and prompt me to safeword.
“FUCK OFF!” I yell as a joke.
“Nope, not the two words I want to hear,” he laughs and amps up his tickling.
I can’t hang on anymore. The tickling is WAY too intense and I’ve reached another breaking point. “TOO TICKLISH!!!” I yell again, earning him another safeword.
He stops tickling me, and I’m completely out of breath. It takes me a solid thirty seconds to form a coherent sentence, and when I do, I jump almost immediately back into instigation mode. “Oh my god, you are SUCH an asshole,” I say with a laugh.
The words barely have the chance to come out of my mouth before he pounces on me, and begins to tickle me intensely again around my hips and ribs. “What did you just call me?” he says with a laugh.
I have no ability to take any more torture since I barely got the chance to catch my breath from the last round, so my apology, begging, and laughter begin immediately, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!!! Please!!!” come out of my mouth in rapid-fire bursts when I can catch some air. He continues to torture me for another minute or so, just to demonstrate that my mouth won’t be tolerated without some retribution. Being the good student that I am, I learn that lesson really quickly. No more name-calling for him.
After he stops, I focus on trying to bring my heart rate back down and normalize my breathing. I point one of my fingers at my water bottle that is sitting on the nightstand by the bed. “You want a drink?” he asks. I just nod. He hands me my bottle, but doesn’t unclip my restraint, so I can’t bring it up to my mouth to drink from it. A second or so later, we catch each other's eye and both of us burst out laughing. I have to admit, this sort of tormenting is something I would've done if I was playing 'ler. Our sense of humor is so similar that it has made for some very funny interactions, even when tickling wasn't involved.
“You are SO mean,” I say, still giggling.
After he sets my hand free from its bonds, I gulp down as much water as I can, and then hand it back to him. I lie back down on the mattress and feel exhausted, but I know we are only about halfway through our session. As I try and recoup a little bit, he goes into the bathroom and comes back with a cold compress and puts it across my forehead. How can someone with such a sadistic side also be so sweet?
With the amount of body heat I’m throwing off right now, it isn’t long before the washcloth starts to warm up. It’s funny to think that less than an hour ago, I was huddling around the heater vent for warmth.
He uses his fingers to gently tickle around my neck and says, “You have to keep that washcloth on there.” The second his fingers touch my neck, I laugh and my head whips to the side of his attack, which sends the washcloth flying. “Or not,” he laughs.
He clips the cuff on my wrist back into place and then takes a walk down to the end of the bed. I know what’s coming next. I told him about how ticklish my feet can be when either a brush or the dog-grooming glove I brought (picture provided underneath story) are used along with a lubricant to scrub my soles. I’m sure that’s another ticklish tidbit that I’ll be regretting I shared with him in just a few minutes. I had set everything out on the dresser in the room before he tied me down. I warn him that he doesn’t need much of the Astroglide – just a dime-size amount is all it takes to make my soles nice and slippery.
He chooses the hairbrush to start off the tickling with. Once he starts scrubbing the ball of my foot and toes, my leg reflexively yanks hard on the bondage to try and get away from him, and my laughter begins. He mixes up the feeling of the brush and his fingernails, which keep me guessing about which ticklish sensation is coming next. He then gives my other foot the same treatment. The brush and his fingernails explore all the tickle spots that get me laughing: ball of my foot, toes, arches and the tender tops of my feet are all exploited. When he finishes with the brush, he puts on the glove. I can tell when he starts to scrub my sole with it, he’s doing it gently (maybe he’s afraid he’s going to hurt me?). This lighter pressure makes the tickling much more bearable for me. My laughter is still steady, but not at the helpless stage yet.
I have safeworded from my feet being tickled, but usually only from harder, relentless scrubbing with the glove – a fact that he might not be totally aware of at this point. He also doesn’t know how a guy using his mouth on my feet usually sends me right through the roof…. at least I managed to hang on to SOME of my ticklish secrets.
I don’t know how long he torments my feet – I’m finding that time has zero meaning to me during these sessions. I have no idea if something lasts for five minutes or thirty. I guess my brain has enough to contend with just trying to cope with the torture without losing my mind; no need to add a silly thing like time into the mix. Once he finishes with this area of attack, I breathe a sigh of relief and the giggles continue to bubble out of my mouth for a little while after.
“Well at least you didn’t get a safeword out of me that time,” I say and try to steady my breathing again.
“I already know all your spots – I can get a safeword out of you any time I want,” he threatens playfully and then buries his face in my neck again. His fingers start to scribble around my collarbone and once again, he brings my ticklish level back up to a ten before I’ve even had the chance to brace myself.
I’m begging, cursing and laughing all at the same time, and my arms are pulling hard against the restraints in the hopes that one of them will give out and I’ll be able to push him off me – no such luck. I’m sure this torture doesn’t go on for more than a minute before “TOO TICKLISH!” comes booming out of my mouth again.
Three fucking safewords in one session!! I’m pissed off at myself for caving in so easily. I really want to give him a little bit of attitude, but considering what he did to me the last time I tried to backtalk him, I keep quiet instead. We hear his phone buzz on the dresser, and he gets up to look at it. His daughter had texted him pictures (of herself and family) from their trip to Disney that week.
He laughs, “My daughter has no idea that I’m having more fun than they are right now.”
“Wow, no one’s ever told me I’m more fun than Disneyland before. I guess the **hotel name** really is the happiest place on Earth,” I say with a laugh.
Once I’ve had a little bit of a break, he starts more ticklish explorations. He’s targeting my legs this time with light scribbles. Most spots earn him some giggles and squirming, but when he hits the back of my thighs, my laughter amps up and I start to beg him yet again. “No! No! No! Please!!” My legs pull hard on the bondage, and I can feel my muscles straining against their stubborn resistance. I dig down deep for the ability to withstand whatever tickle torture he’s dishing out because I DON’T want to safeword again! He’s already got too many bragging rights – I don’t think I can hold onto my self-proclaimed title of stubborn ‘lee after what he’s put me through today.
He starts to verbally tease me, “I’m only going to do this for ten more seconds. You can hang on for ten seconds, right?” I remember this trick from our last session – I think I might be screwed. “Ok ready? One…. two…. three…. four…. five…. six…. seven…. three…. four…. five….wait, I lost count. Let me start over. One…two…”
“PLEASE STAHAHAHP!!!” I’m begging....again. I'm such a whimp.
He stops torturing the back of my thighs, and I think I’m out of the woods….until he finds his way back up to my hips. Every R-rated expletive is coming out of my mouth along with absolutely helpless laughter as he starts those dreaded circles with his thumbs around my hipbones again. He knows this is a prime safeword spot. I know it too. I dig my heels in and refuse to safeword….my stubborn resolve ends up lasting about a minute. Pathetic. “TOO TICKLISH!!” comes out yet again. That’s it, game over. I’m a disgrace to stubborn ‘lees everywhere
Thankfully for me, that was his grand finale and he begins to free me from my restraints. After drinking water, and catching my breath, I get up from the sweat-soaked mattress and make my way into the bathroom to try and put myself back together again. My once curly hair now looks as though birds have been nesting in it. I break curly hair rule number one and run a brush through the tangled mess, then put the (now poofy, frizzy) hair back in a semi-neat ponytail.
Peeling off my play clothes is like trying to take off a wet bathing suit after a day at the pool. I dry myself off, get into some comfy clothes that I brought, and make my way back into the bedroom area. He’s got the comforter on the bed to shield us from the sweaty mess I left behind, and he arranged the pillows in place. I immediately curl up along side of him because I can feel that my body temperature has already started to drop, and the chills have started. He gently scratches my back, and I can feel the goosebumps forming all over my torso – next to tickles, goosebumps are my favorite.
We chill out and talk on the bed for about a half hour, but then we both know it’s time to leave because he has to go to work. We pack up all our stuff and hug goodbye. This is the worst part of every session for me because I know the fun is over and I’ll probably have to wait another couple of weeks before it comes around again. I know - my ‘lers have spoiled the hell out of me. Before I placed my personal ad, I used to go YEARS without any tickle action, and now I can barely make it a couple weeks without complaining that it’s been too long, lol.
Lucky girl
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Your comment made my day.... it also reminded me that I totally forgot to reply to your PM about your tickle story. So I may be a decent writer, but I'm also a thoughtless asshole, lol. I'm going to go back and reread it this weekend and then I promise to write to you about it.
