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Trapped by Taylor The Tickling Masseuse (f/m)

JoePTickle

1st Level Red Feather
Joined
Nov 30, 2011
Messages
1,035
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(Friendly notes: This was inspired by an actual massage I had yesterday, except as you might expect for the tickling part. Everything else but the therapist’s name is accurate. Also I meant for this to be short, but the length turned out to be more for those who enjoy the anticipation as much as the tickling. Thanks and enjoy.)

“I’ll leave that on you for 5 minutes and be right back, ok?” Taylor said.

I’d picked Taylor to be my massage therapist once a week for the last month to help work out some knots in my left shoulder. Since I’d strained it working out I knew I’d need someone familiar with sports massage, and her advertisement fit the bill as a former college gymnast.

From the first time I walked in she’d exceeded all expectations.

For one thing, her cozy little spa has that immaculate look and lavender scent to it. I hadn’t known that she also specializes in skin care but it made complete sense given her clean bronze complexion (turns out she’s also outdoors a lot as a runner and wakeboarder). She’s a slim 5’4” with fine, dark brown hair that matches her eyes, usually pulled back into a long smooth pony tail. Today she was wearing a tight black T-shirt with a college logo on it. At 24 years old she looked like she was still competing.

Also she has a near bubbly personality, which is nice since I prefer conversation during massage. This was the end of our fourth hour session which means we’d gotten really familiar with each other by then. We had similar senses of humor and occasionally got a little silly, but mostly just talked about work, life and whatnot.

She’s actually trained internationally, so unlike other therapists I’ve been with she has these high-priced methods of improving blood flow to the muscles like the “cupping” that pro basketball players use. Today she brought out a gadget I hadn’t seen before.

I was lying face up and since she’d worked the left shoulder pretty deeply, she rested a warm infrared lantern on top of that whole arm. It was a rectangular shape maybe two feet long and narrow. As she rested it on my bicep and then slid the sheet over the top of it and up to my neck, she made the comment about it staying there for 5 minutes.

This usually meant she’d leave the room and it seemed to me like the lantern could easily lose balance and crash to the ground. So I made some offhand only half-jokey goodbye remark like “I’ll be sure to hold still and stay awake so this thing is one piece when you get back.”

Now it turns out that the lantern’s made of some kind of unbreakable plexiglass - of course the manufacturers made sure it would be idiot-customer-proof. But I didn’t know that, and by the tone of my voice she knew I didn’t know that. And somehow she hatches a plan in like a half second.

She stopped in her tracks, and spun her head around to look at me. That was a first. Then even in the dark of the room I see her lips spread into this perfectly white smile, I strangely hear a lock click softly as she takes her hand off the doorknob and slowly turns to come toward me.

In a serious tone she says “I think you’d owe me big if it was broken,” and while I’m still trying to process the contradiction of the threatening words with her playful grin, she reaches the foot of the table.

The next two seconds last about 10 in my memory. She looks down at my feet and lightly lifts the sheet back just enough to expose them. She pulls up a chair from the wall, starts to sit down while looking me straight in the eyes, which must have bugged out.

Everything floods my mind at once.

Of course the first thing I thought of was tickling, wouldn’t we all? But I sure as hell don’t talk about my fetish, so how could she even think... positive I didn’t flinch while she was massaging my feet I make a point not to... pedicures came up when she‘d commented that my feet were soft, did I give something away? Or just a calculated guess by her?

As a tickle lover I’d naturally noticed early on that her nails were shall we say tickle-shaped, especially compared to a typical masseuse. Only in my dreams would I have imagined anything like this. And without saying a word, she wiggles those nails high in the air so I can see them and then starts gradually descending.

HOLY SHIT. THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING. And of course some panic sets in because of the lantern, and besides being helplessly naked under the sheet at the risk of kicking it off, plus a certain part of me was starting to show a little too much excitement if you know what I mean. She’d always talked so straight-laced, and tickling clients is out of bounds professionally so it was just shocking in the best possible way.

She got lucky. My feet happen to be by far my most wildly ticklish spot and for some reason small fingernails have always tickled the most. I started stuttering about being serious about the lantern and she brushed it off like it’d be my word against hers, and that I’m the one who threatened to fall asleep so she had to make sure I didn’t, that she was hoping to buy a new lantern and this would be a perfect chance to get one for free, etc.

Now I had this extra heat source warming my arm on top of the embarrassment and erotic rush, she pins an ankle down and I feel her nails start gliding up and down my arches and I pretty much can’t talk and am stifling laughter for some last shred of dignity. When she says the place is empty and no one can hear me, then starts in with this tickle baby-talk I just lose all control. She starts laughing like she just won the lottery, hops up on the table and plants herself in a kneel-sitting position on my shins. I can’t budge.

God it’s like they teach tickling at massage school. Or probably they teach how to avoid it and she figured out the rest. My feet were so slippery with oil that it felt like she had 20 fingers. I must’ve babbled something about it while she was scribbling around on my soles, because she REACHES FOR THE OIL, RE-COATS THEM, and then goes after them twice as fast, or traces one nail at a time with extra verbal teasing.

She keeps “counting down” the 5 minutes but I know it’s overdue by now. I don’t care about the sheet falling off, I reach across with my right arm to hold the lantern in place which exposes my chest up. She’s paying zero attention. Like some sort of tickle scientist she peels back my toes with one of those insanely strong gymnast hands and eventually figures out that the combination of scratching around underneath my toes with a lot of “kitchy coo” talk is the winner so she goes all in on that. When I try to cover one foot with the other she just switches feet and laughs at me. She must have been someone’s evil babysitter once.

I didn’t mention that she massages barefoot when the weather’s warm, so although she probably doesn’t know the full effect this is all having on me I also feel a bit of sexual frustration since her soles are so close I could easily tickle them back, if only I wasn’t so occupied holding the damn lantern. And just as I’m about to give up and let it crash, she stops and vaults off. She was still giggling as she slipped out the door. “You OK?” she asked, and obviously I was. Like I said, we had good rapport by then and my guess is she could tell I was kinda enjoying it.

I thought the checkout might be awkward, but she actually gave me a discount and a wink, and I tipped her extra. The hour session had run 10 minutes over. We set up next week’s appointment like usual, and she asked with a smile if I’d like it to be 70 minutes instead. I said definitely. :)
 
I love this! And the videos you are in! I missed this story, somehow, but glad I found it now. Thank you!
 
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