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Laphz part 4 (m/f)

Kid Indy

TMF Expert
Joined
Oct 12, 2001
Messages
365
Points
18
Part 1: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?319940-Laphz-part-1-(setup-and-brief-m-f)
Part 2: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?319985-Laphz-part-2-(m-f)
Part 3: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?319999-Laphz-part-3-(m-f-f-f)

Here it is--the fourth and final part of Laphz!

I strongly recommend you read the first three parts first. And when you do, leave some feedback!

Enjoy!

Laphz part 4 (m/f)

by

Kid Indy

“Hey ladies! You lookin’ for a good time! I got some for you here!”

Brianna and Stephanie rolled their eyes; they were just a block away from the Fun Room, a place whose good times the moron in the pickup truck could hardly imagine, but out in the streets of Dallas, things were just as stupid as they had ever been.

They passed the normal entrance and paid their cover with their phones. Brianna was wearing a loose skirt and a crop top, a normal thing to see outside but inside an invitation to make an offer. Stephanie, the thinner of the two, wore her normal draped party dress, leading the imagination to the skin beneath and, now that her reputation was growing, letting the club’s eyes know that the rising star was on the scene.

Both of their phones were buzzing before they got anywhere near the dance floor--they were a pair of attractive, ticklish Money Makers, and any time they wanted to leave the club with more money than they arrived with, they could. But tonight was something different. It was Friday night.

It was Emilio time.

They sat and ordered drinks. Brianna scrolled to see an offer to get her feet tickled in the reclining benches. She put her hand on Stephanie’s wrist. “I’m going to go make a little money, Stephanie. Text me when you’re going to meet with Emilio, okay?”

Stephanie sipped her drink, smiled, and nodded. She kept watching her phone for the offer that she’d been anticipating and dreading since last Saturday night, the one from Emilio. She had watched him work three women now and heard about Brianna’s adventures with him. Where most men came to the Fun Room to spend money on Laphz and tickle strangers, Emilio was a pro; women sought out his hands and paid good money for him to put them to work, and she had never heard of anyone disappointed. And now he was watching her, Stephanie, the girl who had only been at the Fun Room a few weeks. She looked down at her phone again. Two new offers.

Perhaps she’d just take one of them and forget this Emilio business. She started to scroll the offers. Thirty dollars for four minutes of feet-tickling. Forty dollars for five minutes on the motorcycle seat. Twenty dollars for three minutes of feet-tickling.

Then the message came. Screen name EMILIOCOSQUILLAS. The photo hardly did justice to the man, but it was unmistakably him. She held her breath for a moment but then huffed her indignation. “Five dollars for five minutes?”

She looked one way, then another through the crowd. No sign. Her thumbs attacked her phone’s screen. Thirty dollars for five minutes.

Send.

She waited, looking at her screen. The seconds dragged on. She saw Brianna coming back to the table.

“You must not have understood me.” Stephanie gasped as Emilio’s voice came from behind her. “Most women pay me money for a tickling they never forget. You don’t raise the price if I’m offering you money.”

Stephanie could tell she had hit a nerve, and the proud South American was off his guard. “I don’t know what kinds of girls you usually do business with, Emilio, but I’m not that easy.”

Emilio collected himself and took his phone in his hand. Brianna joined them at the table. “Ah, Senorita Brianna! You need to tell your friend how things work with Emilio!”

“How much is she offering you?”

“Offering me? I’m trying to pay her!” Brianna grinned as she saw the most sought-after tickler in Dallas feeling the sting of momentary rejection. “So you want to tickle her that much, do you?”

Emilio grinned at Brianna. “Don’t play tough with me, Senorita! You know I can get those hips of yours singing if I want to!”

Brianna kept up the flirtation. “You can come and get them any time you want, Caballero!”

A wave of chatter was starting to sweep the club as people spotted the girl everyone wanted to tickle at a table with the most notorious lady-tickler. “So what do you say? You get five dollars, Stephanie, but more importantly, you get to be seen as ticklish as you’ve ever been. People will pay whatever you ask of them once I show them just how ticklish you can be!”

Stephanie’s lips curled into a delicious smile. “And you get even more famous with the ladies, isn’t that right? For that, Emilio, you’ve got to pay!”

“Very well, then.” He looked down at his phone, and Stephanie could see that people were watching from every direction. She looked down at her phone.

Seventy dollars. Ten minutes. The couch. Tickle anywhere.

She held her breath as she showed Brianna the screen. Emilio rolled his eyes as she taunted him. “Ooh, Emilio! Are you in love?”

He stood up from his seat and advanced to Brianna. “I’ll show you love, Senorita! Since she’s not going to work with me, maybe I’ll just light you up for a few minutes right here!”

Then he glanced over. A large green rectangle was illuminating the middle of his screen.

ACCEPTED.

Emilio and Stephanie made their way towards a nearby tickling couch, and the eyes of the club followed them. He sat at one end, and she sat next to him and took her shoes off. Emilio leaned close to her and whispered: “Ten minutes is a long time, Senorita. And if I’m paying for them, I’m going to make them worthwhile!”

Stephanie leaned back against him, felt his suit on her back. “I think you’re all rumor and no action, Emilio. What can you even do?” She could feel him shift his weight to move his hands into position. With a motion that she could only experience as human liquid his hands grabbed her thin waist from both sides, and she screamed as he went from zero to hysterical torment instantaneously. She cackled as he pinched up and down her sides, and as she squirmed he had already moved his own weight out from under her. She writhed onto the bench as he stood up in a low crouch, and her stratagem evaporated as soon as she attempted it: she hoped she could flirt and snuggle and reduce the range that his hands could reach, but now she was on her back, on the bench, knees kicking up as he found ticklish spot after ticklish spot on her midsection. She tried to grab at his arms, but every time she thought she knew where to grab his hand slipped from her grasp, and his fingers found another spot to pinch or to poke or to scratch. Her feet flailed and her arms continued to grab at the air, and Emilio was not slowing down.

She finally got a grip on one arm of his suit, but she realized that his hand hadn’t slowed down accidentally; his hand was locked onto her lower ribs in a crab’s pincer hold, and she squealed as its grip pulsed and pinched. And the other hand, somehow knowing her body without Emilio’s having to look where it was going next, slipped under her arm, which was still extended as she tried to grab at his pinching arm, and began to wriggle under her arm. Her back instantly went from a tickled tuck to a writhing arch as he tickled under her arm, and she released his arm to try to press her elbow into her side. No luck, of course: his hand was already there, and trying to close off her underarm did nothing except to give his left hand a chance to grab at her hip and put her in an impossible supine dance: when she extended her arms to bat at the hand tickling her hip, her underarms became exposed. And when she tried to put her arms to her sides to protect her armpits, anything below her ribs was fair game. She howled as his hands found open spot after open spot, and she could not even see the crowd that was swelling with every tickled scream she let out. She was really in over her head this time: her plan to flirt with the Ecuadorian legend had evaporated within seconds, and now he had ten minutes to do as he pleased.

Without warning what pleased him shifted, and he went back to her belly with a quick, merciless series of pinches. Stephanie’s knees came up again, and when they did, his other hand grabbed her thigh not far from where her panties started and squeezed. She screamed and arched her back again, pressing her shoulders down on the mat and arching her hips towards the club’s ceiling, but the hand was already there, and her bottom fell back down as she squealed and bucked. Without releasing his grip on her thigh he moved his other hand to the back of her knee. Both masterful hands went to work on one leg, and Stephanie could only pound the bench with her hands as he turned her long, delicious leg into a weapon against her. His hands switched places quickly, and the hand that had her thigh took over squeezing her knee. Meanwhile, the knee-tickling hand moved up her inner thigh, and Stephanie’s panic rose as he scratched at skin that she never knew as this ticklish. She could not bring her knees together--the tickling had taken away her ability to move at will--and Emilio, who knew when he felt vulnerability, tickled at her knee and her inner thigh longer than Stephanie could ever remember being tickled. Her hands came up to cover her face as she laughed and moaned in ticklish surrender.

But Emilio was not interested in surrender: with her hands all the way up at her face, his hands shot with practiced speed to her hips, and Stephanie’s back once again arched as he squeezed. Her laughter broke into a cackle, then slid back into a singing, bubbling laughter, and her hands, whose strength had departed many tickles ago, pawed feebly at his suit’s sleeves as he led her hips in a ticklish dance. She began to gasp for air, and he released his grip on her hips, but only to reverse his knee-and-thigh hold before, and now her other leg received his undivided attention. One of her screams caught itself, folded back into a gasp that told Emilio that she could not draw any more breath, and he released her leg. She lay panting on the bench, her hair in a halo around her head. Emilio looked at the timer on his phone’s app. Six minutes left.

A round of applause went up around them, and Emilio grinned as he scanned the crowd. He could see the women among the men and their fantasies about being on this bench with him, and he knew that this was going to be worth every one of those fifty dollars.

He turned back to Stephanie and sat on the end of the bench opposite where her head lay. He picked up one calf, and then the other, placing her ankles across his lap.

“Wait… I can’t breathe yet…”

“Then I would keep your feet in my lap, Senorita. If you take them down, I go full speed again, and this time I don’t stop until the timer does!”

She nodded meekly and once again put her hands over her face. Emilio took one fingertip and ran it from her heel up to the ball of her foot, and she let out a squeal at the sensation--her skin was turned up as high as it got for sensitivity from his masterful tickling, and now he was going to take his time on the most sensitive spots on her feet. So his fingers took a stroll around her heels and up her soles. Stephanie had no idea how he did it: she fell backwards, her shoulders landing softly on the bench, as she let loose a spontaneous song of giggling and squealing. Emilio kept the deliberate, rhythmic strokes going across her instep, along the ball of one foot, then the other. He secured her right foot gently with one hand and with the other started poking his first three fingers on the other hand between her toes, and with every such move she let out a playground scream, then resumed laughing.

Never pushing her to the breathless desperation where he had held her for the first four minutes, his fingertips just knew where to wander next to keep her laughing and squirming, and he did for minute after minute. He looked over at his phone and saw the timer wind down to ninety seconds. With a grin that Stephanie could not see through her closed eyes, Emilio lifted her ankles from his lap, sprang back to a crouch in front of the couch and in front of Stephanie’s body, and slid a hand between her knees with a speed she couldn’t have stopped even if she could have seen. His thumb and fingers latched onto her inner thigh, and her arms shot into the air, her abs too tired to sit up. She screamed as he tickled her leg, and his other hand found its way under her reaching arm to tickle the unprotected skin there. Stephanie wailed as fatigue clashed with Emilio’s cruel, experienced, tickling fingers, and for the next minute the South American pinched and rubbed and scratched every ticklish spot from her neck to her belly to her knees to her ankles, hopping up and down the length of her body as his hands extracted her exhausted, ticklish laughter. Her hands were too weak to block, but her body writhed under the torture, and Stephanie moaned through her laughter as he pushed up to the last second and well past her endurance.

When Emilio’s timer expired, a whole circle of people bust into applause and cheering, and Emilio extended a hand to help Stephanie up. Her hair was a wild mane, and her face was part Saint Teresa’s ecstasy and part Hell’s fury.

She slid her shoes back on, and Brianna led her back to their table to let her breathe. Stephanie’s phone was a constant buzz: fifty dollars for five minutes on the couch. Sixty dollars for five minutes on the reclining benches. Eighty dollars for seven minutes on the high bar.

Brianna leaned in, all sexually-charged nerves from watching her friend’s torment. “So what was it like?”

“Never mind that. Let’s make some money.”
 
Great work, man! I've read your other stories as well, they're really well-written.

Love the emphasis on thigh-tickling too, it isn't written about as much. Looking forward to more!
 
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