Apex Predator M/f

[TickleMantis]

From The Short Story Collection 'Tickle Tutor International'

By TickleMantis

M/f

‘APEX PREDATOR’​

Everyone always assumed it was the accident. The truth lived on in the only survivor and he wasn’t the talkative type, he never had been. That was the part no one understood, the quiet thoughtfulness, or ‘cold-cunningness’ as one social worker put it when they thought he was out of earshot, had always been there. His parents knew and so too did his older siblings which is why they feared him. Which is why they tried to drive him four hundred miles from home to go live at a ranch in the middle of nowhere, and why he shoved their station wagon careening over a lookout after the first two hundred. Everyone always assumed it was the accident, but Samuel Lucas knew better.

In the five years that followed Sam got a lot better at blending in. Some days it came easier than others but he never quite fit in all the way. It helped of course that the strapping young black man was tall and handsome, there was a great people were willing to look passed in someone’s personality if they good looking. Though his Aunt Cleo encouraged him to socialize throughout his teenage years, the simple fact was he never had much interest in it. He could talk, certainly, make a joke or flirt, though it often seemed to Sam he could learn a considerably more about people by watching and listening. Listening in particular was a favourite pastime, especially when it came to his vivacious aunt.

Cleo was Sam’s aunt by marriage. The bubbly thirty-something year old lived a thousand miles from where he’d grown up but despite their distance and her divorce from Sam’s uncle years before, Cleo kept in touch with his mother. Hardly bosom buddies, the two women weren’t overly close, catching up by phone once or twice a year. Nevertheless, after the accident it was that tenuous link to family that saw Sam move all the way to Los Angeles and into the care of his kindly aunt. Unlike at home, Cleo’s small two-bedroom house was regularly full of laughter. Sam seldom even cracked a smile, but his Aunt Cleo laughed often and laughed loudly. It was the one thing the growing boy enjoyed listening to more than anything else, especially when it came through the thin wall between their bedrooms.

“Eeeheehee! Stop!” Cleo’s partially muffled voice giggled playfully through the drywall. “Terrell! Eheee! Stohop!”

Looking up from his book, Sam frowned as he thought about how much he would miss that sound. Newly turned eighteen it was only another week before he shipped off to the Marine Corp. Always organized to the point of perfection Sam had graduated early. He kept his small bedroom spotless, nothing out of place. The military, he imagined, would appreciate his fine attention to detail. The routine appealed to him, the discipline and focus required to succeed. A place for Sam to finally hone that part of him that so often separated him from other people. Eager as he was for all that satisfying order, it was nowhere near as exciting as the chaos of Cleo’s squealing laughter.

“Yeeeii! Not there!” She yelped, followed by the distinctive sound of a half-hearted slap.

Sam placed his book down gently and lumbered up from the single-wide bed in naught but a pair of black sweat pants. At a mountainous 6’3ft the muscular young man had outgrown his bedroom at least three years before. He turned, keeping a keen ear on the ongoing squeaks and frisky pleas, put his large hands down flat on the already flawless blanket and ironed it out smooth. Moving the few short steps toward their shared wall Sam began to imagine his aunt’s mirthful state. More than anyone he knew Cleo’s body well, 5’5ft of buxom curves, wide flaring hips and huge cushiony breasts all under a head of frizzy jet black hair. He’d watched her everyday, spied her naked a handful of times and as enjoyable as the unnoticed voyeurism could be it was Cleo’s alarmingly sensitive skin that truly fascinated the stealthy lad.

Pressing one ear to the wall, Sam could hear his aunt moaning softly. Unable to help herself, giggles continued to bubble up as she and her visitor enjoyed each other’s company. It was the same with all of Cleo’s suitors, not a single one of the men who entered her room over the years had been able to touch her without eliciting laughter. Some were apologetic, others would do their best to ignore her sporadic giggling. Most of Cleo’s lovers would tease her a bit, poking and prodding at her until they were sufficiently horny enough to get distracted by something they found more appealing. Rarely was it ever that a man would push his luck, make her shriek and howl with laughter, but those were Sam’s favorites.

Hearing Cleo plead breathlessly through insuppressible cackling, begging her prospective paramour to stop whatever he was doing, those were the ones the hulking young man remembered most. Those men never lasted, promptly yelled at and kicked out the door with nary a chance for a second date. It was the reason Sam had never truly tried his own luck with his buxom aunt, maintaining peace at home always took priority over what had become his most longed after fantasy. Perhaps then that was why, as he stood leaning against the wall listening to Cleo’s girlish giggling, it occurred to Sam that he would not be home for all that much longer.

“Eeiiee! Terrell!” A sudden spike in his busty aunt’s volume caused the strapping young man to feel a distinctive swelling below the beltline. “I said not there! Eeeheehee! Terrell! Noho! Ohnodon’t! Eeiiiieheehee!”

Shifting his immense weight, Sam rolled his head on the wall from one side until he leaned against it with his forehead. Looking down he could see the rapidly growing bulge between his legs and wished it were him on the other side of the wall instead of Terrell. Sam had only met Terrell in passing but he seemed a step above Cleo’s usual choice in men. He’d been a soldier for one thing, a veteran according to Sam’s aunt and a well celebrated one at that. Terrell had also treated Sam like a grownup, an equal even, in their brief encounter. Where most of his aunt’s boyfriends would greet the big lad with a patronizing ‘Hey boy’ or some lame attempt to relate with a hearty ‘What’s up man?’, Terrell had simply said Hello. Nothing showy, nothing disrespectful. That went a long way in Sam’s book, as did the torrent of increasingly frantic squeals coming from the other side of his bedroom wall.

“Ohmygod! Eeeheeiihee! Terrell! Eeehe! Stop!” Cleo was trying to put some grit in her voice but it was undermined immediately by her flustered laughter. Sam could hear his aunt’s old queen-size bed rattling under the loud ordeal. “Let me go! Eeeheehee! Ohnaha! Nahahaha!”

High pitched giggling turned to surprised belly laughter and Sam wished there was a hole in the wall to see through. Whatever Terrell was doing got her good, as Cleo’s pleas started to lose that hint of giddy flirtation and instead were turning more serious. His large cock rock hard beneath his pants, Sam knew from experience that his aunt was struggling to keep her cool. The more the buxom woman liked a man the more she would try and remain cheerful. As hypersensitive as Cleo was it didn’t usually take long before she was barking mad, but Terrell had been teasing her for well over a minute and she was still holding on. Trying not to sound too aggressive and still convey the fact she was in dire straights, a hard balancing act to perform especially for someone so swiftly losing control.

Sam put one hand up high on his bedroom wall and slid the other down under his pants. His huge cock was pulsating as he pulled it free, let his huge erection curve up toward the ceiling. Cleo was getting angrier now even if she did like Terrell, that familiar growl working its way into her throat then overrun by the laughter she couldn’t stop. The brawny lad closed his eyes, tried to picture where the former soldier’s hands were, which part of his aunt’s body was being pinched or squeezed. He imagined her rolling around among the bed sheets helpless to stop the much larger man, or held down and defenseless. Rubbing his thick shaft slowly, Sam savored every sporadic squeal and desperate appeal for mercy.

“Pleaahahaha! Nohahaha! Terreheehahaha!” Cleo was having trouble getting her words out and the frustration she must have felt turned her nephew’s bulbous purple cockhead slick with lust. How maddening, Sam thought, to try so hard to make someone stop only to laugh with a mindless grin instead. The thought sent the young man’s hand sliding a little faster while his other hand gripped at the drywall overhead.

“Open up.” Terrell’s deep voice vibrated through the wall.

“Nohoho! I can’t! Eiee!” The voluptuous woman squawked.

“Spread them legs woman.”

“Terrehehehell! Nohahahaa! Ohmygohahahad!”

“Come on now or I’m gonna get nasty.”

“Uhh…uhh okay…” Cleo sighed with what sounded something like uncertain relief. “Just no…no more tickling baby…”

Tickling, the word struck a chord in Sam’s libido and he strengthened the grip around his large cock. If there was a more arousing word in existence the sinewy teen didn’t know it, and hearing it come out of Cleo’s mouth was all the sweeter. In his effort to blend in with the rest of humanity the muscular man had seldom managed to indulge his greatest desire. Sam was nothing if not patient, he did not mind waiting if it meant he would one day be able to let lose on some poor, agonizingly ticklish woman. The right opportunity would present itself eventually and as Cleo’s muffled giggles started up again the hungry young man was starting to think he might have waited long enough.

“Ehee! Yehee! Your beard!”

“Open up…” There was a compelling weight to Terrell’s words, like not obeying would only make things worse.

“I cahahahn’t! It’s too tickly!”

“Alright, have it your way.”

“Yeeiiheehee! Ahaha! Noho! Okay! Okay!”

“That’s a girl.”

“Awh! Oh-oh god!” Cleo moaned, her voice turned husky. “Ah! Ah! Ahee! Your beahh! Your beard! Awhh!”

His hard shaft pulsing Sam grit his teeth as he pleasured himself. Between her delighted moans his aunt squeaked and giggled, likely clawing at her sheets or running her long nails through Terrell’s short-clipped hair. Cleo’s cries of pleasure grew louder and more strained, hoarse words of approval for her latest lover’s oral technique. There weren’t a lot of men who’d come through her door that would perform the act and Sam never understood why not. Evidently Terrell was quite skilled in the practice of it as Cleo’s moans turned to high pitch gasps. She was close now, Sam knew, he’d heard her make those name noises countless times with or without a partner.

“AH! AH! AHYES! Ahey! Hey! Noho!” Cleo’s voice was shrill with tension as the sound of her bed rocking accompanied the interruption. “Ahgod! Eeeiee! Don’t! AH! I’m nearly there! Aheehee! Terrell!” She balked, loud moans and erupting laughter mixed with her flustered pleas.

For all the glorious sounds Sam had listened to through that wall over the years, he had never heard that before. Tightening his jaw and tugging himself eagerly, the Herculean lad relished his aunt’s newfound suffering. Pleasure and teasing rolled into one bewildering move, it was a masterstroke. Using a person’s own lust against them, Sam was in awe of the idea.

“Aahaha! I’m gonna cum! Aheeheee! Stop!” She shrieked as helplessly turned on as she was ticklish. “Not like this! AhahahAH! AH! NO!”

That old bed was putting its frame to the test as Cleo begged and squealed. Knowing his aunt’s troubles weren’t going to end until Terrell wanted them to, Sam could feel his own satisfying end pass the point of no return. A storm of rapid slapping sounds joined a high-pitched series of piercing screams, the buxom woman no doubt doing her level best to fight off the inevitable. Squealing laughter followed for a few manic seconds then Cleo bellowed, her voice all strained as she cursed her way through one of most explosive orgasms on record.

“FFFFUCK! AWHA! AWGAWD!” Her barely muffled wailing sounded more like an exorcism than an act of carnality. Rarely ever did Cleo swear, even during her most vulgar moments, but Terrell had clearly bought out the best in her. “AH! OHBABY! AH! Ahaha! Aheeiehe! Stopticklingme! AH! AH! TERRELL! Aheeheeiie!”

Terrell was still tickling her, he hadn’t stopped. Cleo might have been distracted enough at the height of climax to ignore her lover’s teasing but now that the orgasm was subsiding she was thrown back into fitful laughter. Sam’s own orgasm charged to full power, his huge cock pumped burst after thick burst of hot cum against his bedroom wall. Stifling a few guttural groans the brawny lad embraced the chaos, his aunt’s frantic squealing and desperate pleas the perfect soundtrack to his lustful payoff.

“Y-you’re the worst!” Cleo gasped, her laughter trailing off into a mess of stuttering sighs.

To the sound of quick shuffling and quiet grunts, Sam backed away from the disgraced wall. His thick cum was splattered across the paint and down onto the carpet, a more sordid mess the well-organized teen would never have allowed. It didn’t matter, there was no mess that couldn’t be cleaned and it was far from the first time Sam had let loose while eavesdropping on his aunt. For all he loved order, everything in its place, he loved the anarchy of tickling someone senseless even more.

“Ah! Ohh…OH!” Surprised moans came through the wall while Sam tucked his almost painfully erect cock back into his pants. “Ah! Go-go slow….ahh…oh god you’re big…sl-slowaahhh!”

Certain Cleo’s bed was sure to collapse one of these days, the giant young man wandered toward his door stone-faced. The best part was over, Sam had no interest in hearing Terrell get his end of the deal though he could hardly say the man hadn’t earned it. Frankly, the stoic lad thought as he strolled out into the narrow hall, it was a surprise Cleo hadn’t kicked the man to the curb after that display. Out in the kitchen Sam could hear the rocking of his aunt’s bed getting faster, springs squeaking and headboard slamming against the wall all in time with each other. Cleo was moaning, cussing and sounding rather holy if all her talk of god was anything to go by. Terrell grunted and growled, doing the lion’s share of the work and sounding not entirely unlike the king of the jungle to boot. As he grabbed a roll of paper towel and cleaning spray, Sam thought it must be have been pretty good to be king.

As he always did, Sam woke early the next morning, one minute exactly before his alarm. Unusually the scent of something frying caught the perceptive lad’s attention before he had opened his eyes. Sitting upright he switched his alarm off and pivoted around to plant his feet, the same maneuver every day, meticulously executed. Over to his drawers of perfectly folded clothes the sinewy lad removed a plain white t-shirt and slipped it on, his wide shoulders and brawny chest pushing at the tight fabric. Out into the hall, sunrise lighting the living room, Sam wandered down toward the kitchen where he was surprised to hear the hiss of a frying pan.

“Mornin’.” Terrell glanced back over his broad shoulder to give Sam a nod. The younger man had to admit he was a touch surprised the older man had even heard him, Cleo always said he moved quiet as a damn cat.

Realizing he’d raised one curious eyebrow Sam returned his expression to its default state of stony thoughtfulness. If Terrell noticed the younger man’s surprise he hadn’t shown it. Looking around the kitchen Sam tried to think of another time he’d found one of Cleo’s friends up this early, let alone busying themselves making breakfast. Perhaps even more surprising was the fact Terrell was still in the house after the previous night’s raunchy debacle. Not entirely sure what to make of finding the man there, Sam wondered if maybe Cleo had tried to kick him out and his presence there was unwelcome after all. Taking a few cautious steps further into the room, the younger man sized up his potential opponent.

He’d been a soldier and carried himself with confidence, but Terrell wouldn’t have been an easy fight even without the training. Height-wise he and Sam stood much the same, it was his bulk where the older fellow took advantage. While the teenage lad had his own brawn Terrell had a good deal more, arms bulging and neck thick as a tree. What might have been mistaken for husky around the mid-section if he wore a jacket was unmistakably pure muscle in the white singlet he wore. Not favoring his chances in a straight brawl Sam eyed his aunt’s knife collection beside the sink, if he had to fight there didn’t seem any sense in fighting fair.

“Eggs?” Terrell said, his own eyes flashing quick to Sam, to the knives and back to Sam. A knowing glance if ever there was one.

“No.” The younger man said plainly. He turned to the fridge and grabbed the handle, not sure what for but it seemed like it might be strange to simply stand in the middle of the kitchen and stare.

“Listen uh…I feel like I owe you an apology.” The bulky soldier said in his deep bass voice and sounding quite genuine for it. “Sorry for not…checking with you first. You know, if it’s okay that I stay. It ain’t an excuse but, I got caught up with your aunt, she’s a hell of a woman.”

Terrell’s hulking shoulders shrugged humbly and Sam said nothing. If someone was going to make themselves vulnerable you might as well let them. There was the chance, albeit a small one, that the man was putting on a good act and playing to his audience. Watching people as he did, Sam felt reasonably confident in his ability to read people. In fact, it would probably have taken a full-blown sociopath to get a lie passed the cunning teen. He took a carton of juice from the fridge and kept quiet. Most people have a need to fill silences and the more they talked the more they revealed about themselves. So far as Sam saw it, the more you knew about a person the easier it was to get what you want from them.

“She uh…she says you’re off to the Corp soon.” Terrell slid a couple of fried eggs from the pan out onto a plate. There were a couple of sausages and some hash brown there already, his breakfast hot and ready. Sam waited for his aunt’s guest to reach for the element switch.

“Eggs.” The younger man purposely screeched one of the dining chairs out at the head of the small table.

Terrell paused, fingers paused to turn the stove off. “Uh…what was that?”

Sam took his seat and set a glass down with the carton of juice. “I changed my mind. I’ll take some breakfast.” He chose his words purposefully. I’ll take some breakfast. This is my house, I’ll take your breakfast.

“Sure, yeah, of course.” The big man grinned and scooped up his plate. “I’d make your aunt somethin’ but she looked fast asleep.”

Silence again as Terrell put the plate down in front of Sam. Cooked breakfast served at the head of the table. If someone was willing to give up their food you might as well let them. Hell, the brawny young man wasn’t even particularly hungry. At least he’d proven his point, whatever it was. Looking down at the well cooked meal Sam did give himself cause to wonder why he was trying to get one over on the visitor. Nothing so far suggested Terrell was looking for a fight and he had been respectful, far more so than the usual dregs Cleo bought home. More importantly Sam did greatly admire the older man’s performance from the night before, even if he did wish it had been him making his aunt cackle madly.

“I head to San Diego next week.” Sam said, reasoning you attract more flies with honey.

“Oh yeah?” The burly man was cracking an egg into the pan. “You nervous?”

Even if he was nervous, the stoic teen wouldn’t have said so to someone he’d just met. As it was Sam couldn’t have known what being nervous felt like if it slapped him the face. Thinking about it then, perhaps taking a second or two too long to reply, the sharp lad realized that fact was true of most emotions. Rarely ever did he get angry and he couldn’t remember a single time when he’d yelled or even raised his voice. He could fake a smile with the best of them, feign sadness if need be. The only time he really felt much beyond what he imagined were muted imitations of actual feelings was when someone was in distress. A very specific kind of distress, by no coincidence the same squealing anguish Cleo tended to experience on a regular basis.

“No.” Hearing how robotic his own delivery was the artful teen felt the need to add a bit more humanity. “Not really. I’m just…looking forward to learning.” He hoped that sounded normal enough, it happened to be true after all.

“Good stuff!” Terrell nodded enthusiastically, then snapped his hand back from the pan as a piping hot piece of fry-spit hit his skin. “Shit!” He turned to give a hopeless kind of eye roll then went back to the eggs. “You’ll dig it. Best thing I ever did was join up. You can learn a lot, keep your head down, do the work.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good man, good man.” The older man sounded more like he was stating a fact than pandering. He slid a couple of eggs out onto a fresh plate and tossed another sausage on.

“Cleo told me you have some medals?”

“Uh yeah, ha, you know. Saved some folk, that’s all.” Terrell appeared a touch sheepish on the subject. “Get a few drinks in me I might be keen to talk about it, but uh…it ain’t really good conversation for breakfast.”

“Fair enough.” Sam said, and meant it. “You like my aunt then?” He ventured a change in subject. He could have asked what Terrell did for work or what he liked to do in his spare time but the perceptive teen liked keeping the older man on the defense, even if it was just a little.

“Ohh…yeah.” Turning with his plate toward the table, the great beast of man gave an agreeable chuckle. “Like I said, hell of a woman. Damn fine lady.”

“What are your intentions with her?” Squinting suspiciously the brawny lad spoke with as straight a face as he ever had.

“Aha! …uhhh.” Terrell stopped halfway to sitting then lowered himself with some hesitance into the seat opposite. “Well uh…”

A wide grin spread across the teen’s face, it was mostly forced but he was glad to have caught his guest off guard. “I’m joking.”

“Oh-ho! Shit son.” The big man laughed and slapped both hands down on the tabletop. “That was…damn, you got me.”

“A fine lady though, you’re right.” Sam said, lifting the tension and lulling Terrell into a false sense of security. By the time this conversation was over the veteran fighter would have whiplash. “And a wonderful laugh.”

“Yeah she…does…“ With a nod the bulky man stopped, his smile dropping as fast as his security. “You uh, you heard that huh?”

A coy smirk crossed Sam’s lips, practically a fireworks display of emotion as he tipped his head slightly. “Hard not to.”

Terrell’s turn to go silent, though in his case it didn’t seem so much a keen strategy as it was simple embarrassment. Right as he looked about to say something, Cleo appeared in the hallway door.

“Good morning boys.” The buxom woman said standing in a dark purple silk robe that was at least two sizes too small for her curvaceous figure. Around the back the lower half barely covered her big round butt, Sam knew this well as he’d seen and enjoyed the sight of her wearing it many times before. “I thought I smelled something.”

“Here you go.” Sam slid his untouched plate across to one side of the table. “Still hot.”

“Not hungry?” Cleo said as her nephew stood up from his chair.

“Not for that.” One more little dig at Terrell. Sam had run circles around the older man, leading him this way and that with their conversation. He turned to walk out of the kitchen, or step out of the thing, leaving his opponent confused and bloodied on the ropes.

“Any plans for the day?” His aunt called after the self-satisfied teen as he wandered back down the hall toward his bedroom.

“Nothing much. I’ll take a walk.”

Which is what Sam did most days. During weekends and summers, then after graduating early, the quiet lad would spend his time wandering through neighborhoods and city streets. Observing people, mostly, the way they acted and interacted. Today he had a slightly different plan. The manipulative lad would have liked to work Terrell a little more before Cleo showed up, but at least he’d planted the seed. Reminding the older man about all the fun he’d had the night before, Sam had to see if it was a one time occurrence or not. He slipped into his bedroom and made a point of closing the door a little louder than usual.

While he got changed the shrewd teen could hear Cleo and Terrell’s muffled chitchat, not loud enough to make out any words. As he normally would have Sam left his room, making sure his footsteps were noticeable. He opened the hallway closest, waited a beat as if he were removing his shoes, and closed it again. A moment passed, the time he normally would have putting on his shoes, then Sam opened the front door.

“Byyyee!” Cleo called from the kitchen.

“See ya.” Sam said and shut the front door, though he still stood inside. With the same silent footsteps that so often startled his aunt, the naturally stealthy lad shifted back down the hall toward the kitchen. Just around the corner, just out of view of Cleo and her visitor, he stood and listened.

“I think he likes you.” The curvaceous woman was saying.

“I don’t know.” Terrell’s tone was a touch glum. “I mean hell, I get it. Random dude in the house? Can’t say I’d be too happy in his shoes.”

“He sat here and talked to you didn’t he? Believe me, that’s more than Sam’s ever done for anyone else.”

“Anyone else huh?” The man’s voice shifted to having a hint of humor in it.

“You know what I mean.” Cleo said and the hidden young man could tell she was smiling.

“There been a lot of ‘anyone elses’ through here?” More humor in the hulking man’s voice, teasing now.

“You ain’t get to ask me that, so…”

“I can always make you tell me.”

There it was. Sam narrowed his eyes. Reminding Terrell had been the seed and the façade of interrogation was the water to make it grow. Once the idea had been resurrected there was no other way their conversation could have gone, the older man must have had nothing else on his mind. Terrell would have found any excuse to get his hands on Cleo again, just as Sam predicted he would.

“Don’t you dare!” His aunt’s voice had a mix of excitement and playful fear. “I had more than enough of that last night.”

“Come onnn…” The Herculean man used a sing-song voice, the kind that could only be spoken through a cheeky grin.

“Seriously, you get away!” Cleo’s chair squeaked as she stood up. Sam slunk back a step, put his back flat to the wall and a second later his aunt strode quickly by the doorframe.

“Oh, you gonna tell me!” Another chair sliding and Terrell was on the move too.

“No! No it’s too early!” The buxom woman’s footsteps moved off the kitchen floor and onto the carpet in the living room. “You leave me alone!” Her voice was giddy and struggling to sound serious, though Sam had no doubt she very much was.

“Too early?” Terrell marched by the hallway door, both hands ups in front and fingers clawing boisterously at the air. “You saying I can tickle you later?”

“No! No tickling!” She squawked. There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver in their quaint living room. Sam shifted from the wall that joined Cleo’s bedroom to the one that split the hall and living room. Either his aunt would retreat out the door beside the closest or be captured before she made it around the coffee table. “Nonono!” Cleo blabbered and the younger man figured she was trying to hustle down the narrow gap between the couch and table.

“You in trouble now woman!” Terrell growled energetically.

“Ah! Noho! Let me go!” The busty woman’s voice shot high, the last second panic of prey that knew it was caught. “Ayyieee! Terrell! Ahaha! Ohnohohoho! Terreheehell!”

Cleo’s newly frantic giggling joined a sound of shuffling feet. Someone’s leg bumped the coffee table, the pair of them wrestling together for very different outcomes. Terrell growled again, less playful that time and more one of effort. Cleo made a few straining sounds herself between the laughter, her pleading become noticeably more desperate with every struggling second. Sam heard a sudden flump, the weight of someone’s body making a clumsy landing on the couch cushions.

“Get off me! Eeeheehee! Oh-ho! Ohhoho! Ohnotthere! Eeehahaha!” Cleo cackled, the sound of her bare feet slamming against one arm of the couch. She was pinned probably, stuck under the immense weight of her giant lover, kicking helpless.

Moving down toward the other living room door, the one that entered the hall beside the closet, Sam wondered where on his aunt’s voluptuous body she was being teased. Barely protected under that flimsy robe of hers it would have been easy enough to poke or squeeze at her hypersensitive flesh almost anywhere. Even if the silken garment did get in the way Cleo had a habit of tying the belt loosely, undoing it would not be complicated. Sam could think of a better use for that belt anyway, and the thought caused his cock to press rigidly against the inside of his boxers.

“No more! Ahahaaa! Nomorahaha!” Almost a foot shorter than her attacker and nowhere near as strong, the curvy woman’s fitful attempts at escape were almost entirely useless. Part of the fun, Sam thought as he listened to her straining to get free, hitting the cushions and slapping at Terrell to no avail. “I’m too ticklish! Hahaha! I’mtootickliheeheesh!”

“You think this is bad?” The hulking man gave a hearty laugh. “We’re just playing! You want I should really get going?”

“No! Ahaha! Ohgodno! Aheehee! STOP!” Cleo’s pleas were rapidly losing that tone of playfulness. Evidently she was not at all enthused by the idea of a more focused effort to drive her mad with wiggling fingers. Sam, on the other hand, was all for it.

“Let’s get rid of this!” Terrell said and a second later the flailing silk belt of the helpless woman’s robe came flying out into the hall. Sam watched as the slack belt hit the floor and slid a few inches to stop beside the baseboard.

“Aheeiieehee! Get out! Ahaha! Get out of there!”

Closing his eyes, Sam imagined his aunt writhing, her arms flailing as fingers ran wild over her exposed body. He thought about her wide smile, the kind she couldn’t wipe from her full lips no matter how hard she tried. His cock rock hard beneath his pants, the thought of Cleo’s huge boobs bouncing as she squirmed made the young man’s erection throb. Pressing the back of his head against the wall Sam clenched his fists as he tried to picture the feeling of his aunt’s skin twitching, her muscles flexing and spasming under his own hands.

“Stop! Ahaha! I mean it!” Cleo was sounding a little breathless, a clear tinge of anger in her voice. “Enough! Ahaheeehee! ENOUGH!” She wailed and continued on with gasping laughter.

“Say I’m the best!” Terrell teased as he did who-knew-what with his devious fingers. “Say I’m the greatest!”

“You’rethebeeeheest!” The busty woman complied a lot faster than Sam thought she would. A little protest maybe, a little fight before just giving up, that would have made sense. It seemed Cleo was even more desperate to stop being tickled than the fiercely aroused teen thought. “Ahehee! You’rethegreatestahaha! Stop!”

“Say you’ll suck my dick!”

“Get off me! Ahaha! You bastard!”

“Say it!” Terrell teased and caused a sudden torrent of frantic high-pitched giggling to erupt from his buxom plaything.

“Eeiiehehokay! Okayhayhay!”

“Say it or I’m not gonna stop!”

“I’ll do it! Eeeiehehe! I’ll suck yahaha! Ahaha!” Her laughter cut off Cleo’s words as she fought to get out all four simple words. “I’llsuckyourdick! Aeeheiiheehee! Stopstopstop!”

“Alright.” The big man said followed immediately by a loud slapping sound, Terrell’s hand spanking one of Cleo’s severely round ass cheeks most likely. “Get on up then, come on! I ain’t got all day!”

“I’m going! I’m going!” Cleo giggled, either from fear of more tickling or relief it had stopped, probably both. “In my room, come on…”

Sam saw his aunt’s shadow slide across the hallway floor. Terrell grunted as he hauled himself up off the couch. With footsteps shuffling toward the door, the undetected young man strolled casually down toward the kitchen. As the former soldier’s own looming shadow engulfed Cleo’s smaller one, Sam slipped out of sight just as the pair of lustful adults wandered utterly unawares into the hall.

“Pick up the pace woman!” Terrell said like a mock-demand. “I got work soon!”

“Eeiee!” A surprised squeak was followed by hurried footsteps heading in Sam’s direction. “I’m going! Eiie! Don’t! Ehehe!”

As their footfalls neared his aunt’s bedroom door, Sam took the calculated risk of leaning his head around the corner just enough to see. If he got caught what did it matter, it was his house, free to come and go as he pleased. Then again, as the young man realized when he saw his fleeing aunt just two quick steps from her bedroom door, both Terrell and Cleo were far too distracted to see much of anything. With her robe flapping open and big bare boobs jiggling, the comely woman’s wide eyes were fixed firmly on her destination. Right behind the giggling prey was her pursuer, his hands upturned and fingertips wiggling along the underside of her apparently very ticklish butt cheeks.

With a thoughtless swing of the door the pair of giddy lovers disappeared into the dimly bedroom as it slammed behind them. Stepping squarely into the doorframe at the end of the hall, Sam could hear his aunt’s high-pitched laughter and Terrell’s voice, too low to make out the words. Girlish giggling turned to husky, hastily whispered chatter as Sam wandered back down toward his room. Stopping beside the living room door, the young man crouched down, listening as Terrell started to groan in a most approving manner. As the older man’s sounds of satisfaction increased Sam picked up his aunt’s discarded belt and slid it gently between his fingers. Terrell was good, the quietly thoughtful teen thought as he pulled the belt tight and tested its strength, but he never quite went far enough.

Over the next five days Sam allowed things to settle down at his house. Cleo and Terrell still fooled around every night, the bosomy woman unable to help but giggle her way through their carnal pastimes. She would shriek now and then, a brief howl of surprise, nothing like the escapades of that first night and following morning though. Sam remained pleasant enough, mostly staying out the way as he saw no harm in letting his aunt’s lover stick around. If anything the conniving teen was doing her a kindness given what he intended to do.

On the day he was due to head off to San Diego the future Marine hadn’t thought much about his impending career in the military. Sam’s mind had been laser focused on his one primary, sinister goal. He’d gone through numerous plans, researched various ideal positions, studied knots and looked at all manner of devices online. For a solid thirty minutes on the Sunday night Sam even looked into a number of incapacitating drugs, only to reason that knocking Cleo out would be considerably more trouble, and probably more difficult, than he was wanting. In the end the tactful lad decided that the more elaborate his plans were the more could go wrong, and simple was better. In any case, for a first time it was best not to over complicated things.

When the Tuesday morning finally rolled around Terrell left early for work, just as Sam knew he would. He offered a solid handshake and wished the younger man good luck, said he looked forward to seeing him again and all the other pointless pleasantries. Keeping up appearances Sam replied graciously, somewhat maliciously enjoying the fact his polite words were masking a head full of vile thoughts. When Terrell closed the door behind him the brawny teen turned immediately to look at his aunt’s bedroom door. Making his way down the hall, Sam unfurled the silk belt, the one Cleo had been looking for all week, from his pants pocket.

Straightforward though his plan was there still relied an element of luck. Approaching the older woman’s door with his silent steps, Sam tensed his jaw at the thought of relying on luck for any part of any strategy. He liked control, ideally every part of a plan down to the finest detail would be meticulously, precisely managed. Taking a gentle grip of the door handle the young man had to concede that achieving full control over anything was at least close to impossible. Terrell could come back in for some reason, a loud noise might occur outside, the phone could ring. Or, Cleo’s cellphone might right, Sam had unplugged the house phone during the night.

Cleo’s bedroom door opened with smooth motion, the hinges silent from the oiling Sam gave them the day before. Onto the carpet he turned back, closing the door slowly and controlling ever fraction of an inch that it moved. She lay atop the sheets, duvet bundled around the foot of the bed and the early morning light barely lighting her room through the closed curtains. Sam, in his black sweat pants and white singlet, stalked toward the bedside and looked over his slumbering aunt. Luck was on his side, for the moment at least, Cleo’s curvaceous body breathing softly under her frilly pink nightgown. Laying on her side the bottom of the buxom woman’s wide butt could be seen, the gown ridden up just above where her big round cheeks met the backs of her thick thighs.

Reaching out with one large hand Sam was half-tempted to stroke a few fingertips across that spectacular crease between her ass and legs, instead opting to take a careful grip around Cleo’s slender wrist. She shuffled a little as the discreet lad’s touch, her smooth legs rubbing together and bare feet sliding on the sheets. With the silk belt in his other hand, Sam slowly lifted his aunt’s arm up and toward the bed head.

“Mm…mhm…” Cleo murmured softly. Some folk might have skulked away or simply bolted, but Sam carried on unabated. As he pressed her wrist gently against one of the headboard’s vertical rails, the busty woman started to roll ever-so-slowly onto her back. “Hm…hmterrell...” She mumbled, the movement of her lips almost imperceptible.

Sam wound one end of the belt around Cleo’s wrist and railing, looping it over itself to form a lasso of sorts. Not quite tight enough to squeeze but just firm so it held her hand in place. Truly luck was with him as the snoozing woman’s other arm was now easily accessible. Repeating the process, Sam lifted her other arm up to join its counterpart, winding the belt around both wrists and leaving one dangling end just above his oblivious aunt’s head.

“…not now baby…” The half-conscious woman’s brow furrowed a little as she tugged gently at her raised arms. “Nff…terrell...?...what…”

Lady luck wasn’t just on Sam’s side, it seemed, she was going to bat for him. Throughout all his hours of dedicated plotting and careful thought not once had the sly lad considered that Cleo might mistake him for Terrell. As she was starting to stir, eyebrows frowning a little harder and arms flexing more against her bonds, the muscular teen had to think fast. Eyes darting around the dimly lit room he quickly focused on the chest-of-drawers and slid one open.

“T-Terrel…nff…” Cleo winced and tried to turn her head only to be stopped by the rolled up blouse being coiled around her temples. Black would have been nice but white would do, a simple button up number that she normally wore for work. Sam placed one sleeve over his aunt’s eyes and wrapped the rest around tight. “What are you…ah-god, what are you doing?”

She was sounding a lot more lucid and starting to writhe but Sam was already securing the knot at the back of her head. Her arms were next, a solid pull and the scantily clad woman could have tugged hands out. He grabbed at that one slack end of the belt and yanked it before his aunt could try too hard, her wrists snapping back tight against the headboard. Cleo gasped and her biceps tensed, fingers curling into fists as she strained harder and then jerked harder still when she realized that didn’t work. Standing back to full height Sam looked over his aunt’s wriggling hips, the sheer nightgown hardly covering much of anything.

“Are you crazy?” Cleo said, her arms shaking as she continued to test her silk restraint. “Let me go! Terrell! Untie me right now, I swear to god…”

Sam took a moment, somewhat surprised everything he’d been working toward had gone so well. Better than expected, in fact. The makeshift blindfold added a whole new level of vulnerability to Cleo’s predicament and he hadn’t even considered covering her eyes in any version of the plan. And there she was, just like that, after five long years and countless nights hearing her squeak and squeal and occasionally scream. Aunt Cleo, tied up and hyperticklish before him. Sam let himself smile, one corner of his mouth rising up just a touch.

With a single fingertip the curious young man reached out and, as delicately as he could, ran it less than an inch along the bottom of the trapped woman’s bicep. “Eiee!” Cleo twitched, snatching her arm away and catching as the bondage stopped her going any further. Her skin was smoother than that silk belt and warm to the touch. Sam gazed down to his aunt’s smooth, unprotected underarms and wondered if she had ever been so defenseless. Again he stroked that same finger along the underside of her arm, up and down in the same couple of inches. “Eehee! Aha! Don’t do that!”

Sam could have stood there all day just doing that, but he also had a bus to catch. There was time, he was packed and had a change of clothes ready to go, no real rush was necessary. Still, after dreaming about something for so long even a man as patient as he was had to succumb eventually. Climbing up onto the bed, Sam swung one leg swiftly over his aunt’s hips and bought his weight down on top of her. If Cleo was going to notice the bulk difference between him and Tyrell straddling her she would have to hurry, Sam wasn’t going to wait any longer. Bringing one hand up on either side, the eager lad began slowly wriggling his five fingertips just below both of the confused woman’s bent elbows.

“Terrell!” Cleo snapped, voice almost shrill as she waved her upturned arms from side to side and wriggled beneath him. Dancing his fingers gently, Sam started to move them lower down the length of his bosomy aunt’s arms. “Eiiehee! Aha! Noho! Stop it!”

Maybe it was from being tied up or the rude awakening, or maybe the giggling woman just didn’t need to be so polite with Terrell anymore, but she seemed to have skipped over her usual flirtatious start to proceedings. Where the first minute or two of Cleo being teased tended to be fairly playful, this time she’d gone straight to step two; a touch frantic but trying to keep her cool and sound serious all at once. Sam flickered his inquisitive digits halfway down to her invitingly soft hollows. With every inch he drew closer his fitful aunt’s distress became more and more apparent.

“It’s not fair! Ahahaheehee!” Between her laughter and fruitless attempts at worming away, the hopelessly ticklish woman’s large boobs jiggled beneath her gown. “Don’t do it! Eeehahaha! Terrehehell!” Sam squeezed her hips tight between his thighs and dropped his hands, five fingers running wild around Cleo’s supremely delicate underarms. “Yaaahahaha! Ohnohoho! Ahahaha! Stop! STOP! Ahahaha!”

Twisting madly one way and then the other, the curvy woman’s ample bosoms swayed along with her. Under the thin nightgown Cleo’s big brown nipples slid against the sheer material. She shook her head and jerked forcefully at her arms, wooden headboard knocking repeatedly against the bedroom wall. Laughing loudly, the spasming woman’s bare legs kicked against her mattress, her pleas for an immediate end shrill with desperation. For his part, Sam’s cock was already painfully hard, the feeling of his aunt struggling under him a bigger thrill than any of his fantasies had come close to conjuring.

“You have to stop! Eiiehaha! It’s too muhahahach!” Cleo squawked and drove her hips upward, bucking beneath the muscular teen as he explored down along her supple ribcage. “Ahahaha! Ahahanohono!”

Her back arched and her arms flexed to full strength, none of it enough to do anything about the fingertips poking into the soft spots between each rib. Sam watched in lustful awe as his aunt’s brow shifted, her eyes likely closing and bursting open wide at random beneath the blindfold. Cleo’s full lips spread into a wide, involuntary grin and contorted to a agonized O-shape, then again to an agonized grimace and back to that helpless toothy smile. Perhaps part of the reason the feverishly sensitive woman remained calmer for longer under Terrell’s tickling hands –the real Terrell- was because she had the illusion of freedom. Pinned under a heavy man at least there was some possibility of escape, even if it was a slim one. Tied up and held down, unable to see even, the poor woman must have been reeling with the knowledge she could do nothing to stop the assault.

“Please! Aeheeheiiee! I can’t breathe!” The shaking captive wailed as Sam pinched down to the tender sides of her heaving tummy. Cleo could breathe, of course, she was just starting to panic. Almost at Terrell’s worst, they were starting to reach the limit of how long the older man had ever tickled her in one nonstop attack. There were always breaks, whether it was Terrell or some other overly boisterous lover, a few seconds here and there maybe, but they always let the wildly ticklish woman take a moment. Sam had only just started his first round and, unfortunately for his poor unsuspecting aunt, wasn’t even considering a breather. “Ohogohahahad! Ahahaha! Pleasepleaheeheese!”

Her stressed words were music, the supple flesh between his fingers Sam’s instrument. An instrument of torment if he had his way, the young man’s heart racing and his rigidly stiff cock throbbed beneath his pants. Cleo’s fitful, sporadic movements would have been glorious simply to look upon, feeling her fight and shake between his fingers gave the teen a sadistic delight he didn’t know possible. The more his voluptuous aunt struggled the more she spurred Sam on, the louder she begged the more eager he was to drive her crazy with laughter. Broken words were forced through hectic squealing, helpless pleas that only achieved the opposite effect of stopping her bewildering misery.

Shifting himself back a few inches, Sam kept a tight squeeze of his legs as he sat just above the crazed woman’s knees. Her legs rendered all but immovable, Cleo’s upper body rocked and rolled as much as her trapped position would allow. Never ending the wiggling of his devilish digits, the sinister teen danced his fingertips down below the hem of his captive’s nightgown. Dancing his fingers cruelly around the outsides of her quivering thighs, Sam slid his hands upward and pushed the sheer material up along with them. Within a few short seconds the cackling woman’s lower half was entirely exposed, her smooth pussy laid bare before the wicked lad’s eyes.

“Terrell! Eeeheehee! This is crazy! Yahaheeheeee!” A little shriek entering her voice, the comely woman was far more concerned about the fingertips spidering up and over her hips than being half naked. “Stop! Ohogahad! Stahahahap!”

As her laughter ramped up Sam continued to push the nightgown higher. Off of Cleo’s writhing hipbones and onto the soft flesh of her lower tummy, the younger man’s pokes were gentle and quick. Terrified anticipation or flustered disbelief, whatever was going through his helpless aunt’s mind made her struggle with a new vigor. He would have her naked soon, he could have her naked in seconds if he desired, a wonderland of hyperticklish flesh to explore. Sam wouldn’t waste the opportunity of having his aunt’s body to toy with, not like the who-knew-how-many men before him. Not like Terrell, showing mercy in lieu of pleasure, the weak fool. Every inch of Cleo was his for the taking and by the sadistic teen’s raging hard cock he would take it all.

“You have to stop! Eeiieha! Youhavetostop!” Cleo balked, twisting madly as unseen fingers crawled up to the skin of her heaving lower ribs. The bosomy woman’s full lips gaped with anguish, contorting into a strained grin as she fought to wipe it from her face. “Stahahap! Stop! STOP! Noho! NOHO! AHAHA! OHGAHAHAHD!”

Wrapping his large hands around the convulsing woman’s ribcage, Sam dug in deep. Forming claws, the pitiless young man kneaded at his aunt’s tender sides as she exploded with terrified laughter. Holding her in place with his considerable strength, Cleo could only thrash as far as the man she thought was Terrell would let her. Memorized by the frenzied woman’s struggling, Sam tightened his jaw as he tried to remember if he had ever heard her laugh quite like that. There was such a note of agony in it, riotous screaming laughter that came from way down in her core. Strangely, the young man found as he watched Cleo’s huge boobs bounce under her bunched up gown, a sudden desire struck him for her to know exactly who was making her suffer. It hardly seemed fair, after all, that anyone else should take the credit for driving the crazed woman to such new heights of ticklish terror.

Finally lifting his hands, the cunning lad thought about revealing his true identity then and there. A good moment, undoubtedly shocking, but not a great one. Cleo could be more shocked, more horrified. Sam was looking for those extremes, as he peeled up the gasping woman’s nightgown over her rising bosoms, the emotional heights, the most chaos possible to make him feel more than his usual dull sense of numbness. Admiring his curvy aunt’s now completely bare breasts, the sinister lad considered that perhaps never revealing who he was might be even better. A lot to consider, Sam thought as he took the left strap of Cleo’s nightgown in both hands and snapped it in two.

“T-Terrell? Terrell baby? St-stop now…okay?” She was putting on her best sweet voice as the muscular young man broke her other shoulder strap. “Just…just untie me and we can do whatever you want…”

Taking the nightgown by its collar, the stone-faced lad thought how his aunt’s sweet-talking offer probably would have worked on Terrell. Of course, Terrell would never have tied her up, or torn her nightgown in half. With a loud ‘shrrrrip’ Sam split the gown the middle. One swift tug to pull it out from under her and the athletic teen tossed the destroyed garment aside, leaving poor Cleo completely nude. She was still muttering, begging or bargaining something, but Sam wasn’t listening. Looking her up and down like a lion trying to pick the juiciest cut of an antelope, the brawny young man licked his lips at all the sweet, curvy and excruciatingly ticklish flesh.

“Ahh! Ah, no!” Cleo winced as Sam let his weight off her a little. He grabbed at the squirming older woman just under her back on one side and started forcing her to roll over. “Stop! What-what are you doing?” The shapely tickle-toy tried to resist but it didn’t take much effort at all to make her lay facedown or, more importantly, ass up.

Planting himself back down over the back of his trapped aunt’s thick thighs, Sam straddled her with those big round butt cheeks curving up between his legs. He wondered if Terrell had ever tried tickling his aunt’s wide ass, or if anyone had. What a shame, the savagely aroused teen mused, to think Cleo might have gone her whole life without anyone tormenting one of her most obvious and spectacular assets. Squeezing his knees tight around the bound woman’s hips, Sam held all ten of his fingertips a few inches over her two quivering mountains and began wiggling them slowly.

“What are you doing?!” Whipping her head from side to side as if you see over her shoulders, the blindfolded woman’s tone was brimming with uncertainty. “Terrell please! No more tickling! I’ll…I’ll suck your cock!” Tempting, but no, Sam thought and lowered his dancing digits onto her hopelessly ticklish skin. “Ohnoho! Ohnoho! Terreheheiiieee! Ahahaha!”

Cleo bucked, her big ass cheeks quaking as she pulled madly at her makeshift bondage. Behind Sam the older woman’s lower legs kicked madly, tops of her bare feet smacking rapidly into the bed sheets. Frolicking his speedy fingertips from her lower-back down to the crease at her thighs, he watched with pleasure as the squealing woman’s huge breasts ballooned out from either side of her. Disbelief and embarrassment echoed thick through the bound woman’s high-pitched laughter, her butt muscles tightening and flexing as she fought to avoid the maddening digits.

“I can’t! I cahahahan’t!” Cleo was hollering as Sam raced his fingertips down the outer sides of her expansive backside. “Eeehee! I can’t take it! Stahahap!”

Spidering his delicately dancing fingers over his aunt’s tailbone, the mischievous young man wanted to voice his disagreement. Cleo very much could take her suffering, she just didn’t want to. She didn’t like it, she hated it, but ultimately it didn’t matter because whether she could stand it or not was irrelevant. She had no choice but to take it. With a flurry Sam sent all ten fingers feathering down the inside edges of the helpless woman’s cheeks, a maneuver that made her shake violently and yowl like a wounded animal. Cleo burst into a furor of hectic pleading, one squealed word falling into the next. Naturally, he did it again. Another shrill yelp as the fiendish lad’s fingers ran wild up her butt crack. Reaching her tailbone again the crazed older woman gasped, taking in air for another bout of spluttered begging, but not fast enough. Sam scribbled his fingertips back down the inner most sides of her cushy rear end.

Up and down, up and down, Cleo was ballistic. At a glance anyone might have thought the frenzied woman was being poked with a hot metal rod, although she’d have probably preferred that, Sam thought. Not a single coherent word escaped the shrieking woman’s lips, only deranged and tumultuous laughter. Fighting like a caged animal, his naked aunt shook the bed frame, her arms shaking madly as she bucked uselessly beneath the brutish teen. After what must have been more than a full minute the relentless lad noticed a light coat of sweat forming across Cleo’s flexing, twitching flesh. In the dim light of her bedroom the sweat sheened down the sides of her bulbous squishing bosoms and along her forcefully arching spine.

If the strapping lad had ever experienced a harder erection he couldn’t remember when. Curling his nimble fingers into vicious lobster claws, Sam ran his hands savagely up both of the manic woman’s sides. Shrieking turned to deep guttural laughter, then to wild cackling when his fingertips steamrolled over her ribcage. Into those silky underarms with a five-finger invasion on each side and Cleo squealed loudly. Screaming unintelligible madness the poor woman seemed to have lost all sense of tact, no more sweet-talk or offers of alternate pleasures, not that any of it mattered. Sam did enjoy hearing it, the feeble attempts to sway his mind, but the fact he had tormented his helplessly ticklish aunt to the point she was no longer capable of words made his huge cock ache with arousal.

After so many years of build-up the young tyrant was beyond ready to indulge himself. Engorged as Sam was, his most base instinct was to ravage the naked, woeful woman, to rip his pants off and have her as she squealed beneath him. But after all that time and all those fantasies the muscular lad would have been remiss not to explore every vulnerable inch of Cleo’s unwilling body. Besides, it would be some time indeed before he got the opportunity again. There was one area in particular Sam longed to toy with, one she had no qualms about showing off around the house and one her numerous lovers almost always ignored. Looking back over his brawny shoulder, the heartless teen eyed the buttery soft soles of his aunt’s upturned feet.

“H-help!” Cleo cried breathlessly, gasping either side of her desperate plea. Shuffling his weight, Sam ignored the older woman’s pitiful yell as he pulled up his shirt. “Someone! Help me! Please! Sam! Sam heeeelp!”

Panting for air the busty woman’s screams came out at half the volume they would have otherwise. Tossing his shirt aside, the strapping teen couldn’t help a miniscule smirk from pricking at one corner of his lips as she cried his name. She’d have had better luck getting help from Santa Claus. While Sam lumbered around, turning his great weight to straddle her thighs in the opposite direction, Cleo tugged at her tied wrists with considerably less strength than she’d done earlier. Between hollering for someone to come rescue her and the deep, drawn in breaths the clearly frightened woman was fighting back sobs. As she called his name again in a hoarse, desperate wail, Sam spread his large hands out over his aunt’s calf muscles. Running his open palms over Cleo’s smooth skin, the steel-chested teen stopped just as he reached the backs of her tender heels.

“N-n-no! N-not there! NOT THERE!” She balked, jerking with renewed force at her silken prison. Sam recognized those words immediately, ‘not there’. He’d heard her say them countless times in that same frantic tone and often wondered where ‘there’ was, it all made sense now. “Terrell! You promised! You swore you wouldn’t!” Cleo’s vocal chords twanged with anxiety, her toes curling into tight fists and wrinkly her pale soles.

Sam wondered how that conversation had gone, the hulking Terrell giving his word to never touch the much less powerful creature’s feet. What an imbecile. Still, it worked beautifully in the cunning teen’s favor, the shock of assumed betrayal in his aunt’s panicked cries turning that tiny smirk of his into a wry grin. Whatever Cleo’s previous experience with having her feet tickled was about to be a forgotten bump in the road. Sliding the bottoms of his palms up onto the begging captive’s marshmallowy soft heels, Sam took a second to hover his fingers over the devastatingly fragile skin. Undoubtedly sensing what was about to happen the buxom woman froze, her pleas for mercy replaced by short sharp breaths. He could feel her trembling beneath him, petrified and no longer struggling against the inevitable.

“…no…please…” Was all Cleo could muster in a barely audible squeak, right before ten digits descended onto her arches like they were tapping madly on a typewriter. “AHAHA! AHAHA! NYEEEIIGGHAHAHAAAA!”

Her toes spread immediately and the bosomy woman’s back arched so hard her head almost hit Sam in the spine, even with her legs pinned. Slamming back down to the bed sheets, Cleo was howling with uproarious laughter, the English language undoubtedly forgotten in her madness. Thrashing furiously as the teen’s ten fingertips danced around her hypersensitive soles, the voluptuous torture-toy had gone berserk, struggling so violently the wooden bed frame could be heard cracking in places.

Against his fingertips the frazzled woman’s skin felt supple and invitingly warm. The eager lad’s speedy digits stroked and crawled all over, across the tender balls and along her wriggling toes, up to the heels and scratched back down her arches. In all his daydreams of this very scenario Sam had never accounted for how thrilling it would be to feel every twitch and helpless jolt, the strain of her feet against his hands as he easily held them in place. Cleo could do nothing, not a thing to stop him and he knew she knew it. How terrifying, how unfathomably crippling to be trapped and completely unable stop someone with such sadistic intent. Whose only goal it was, whose utter delight it was, to make you suffer as much as possible, and then some. The thought sent a sharp sting of lust through the base of Sam’s throbbing shaft and it spurred him into a fiendish fervor.

Wrapping his sinewy arms around Cleo’s lower legs, the young man bent her knees back as he sat tall. With her agonizingly soft heels pressed against his chiseled pecks, the brawny lad curled his crossed-over hands around from the tops of his aunt’s bare feet and scratched alarmingly at the outer edges of her soles. As she wailed with unhinged laughter, Sam held her straining legs tight and wet his lips. Like a starved beast he descended on the cackling woman’s silky arches, ravenously licking and nibbling at every defenseless inch of her excruciatingly ticklish feet.

Hard teeth scraped over the delicate flesh just behind her toes and soft lips brushed around them with infuriating tenderness. Somewhere in there was the pointed tip of a long, flickering tongue, every little lap of it causing his aunt to shriek so loud Sam was sure she would shatter the windows. Thinking back to all those times he’d heard Cleo giggling through the bedroom wall, all her playful and sometimes not so play protests, the brutish lad couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as he knew she’d never once laughed like this. He would miss this feeling in the Marines, the normally numb teen would long every day for the heights of raw emotion he could achieve using his hapless aunt’s body. He wished he’d started using her sooner, and knew even then he could drive her to all new levels of ticklish agony if given enough time. Best to make use of the time he had then, Sam thought, and bent Cleo’s toes back so her feet stretched taut.

“STOOOP! NOGOD!” The bosomy bound woman managed to wail before her tormentor’s wet tongue slithered down between her toes. “AAAAYYYIEEE! AAAHAHAHAHA!”

Working his tongue methodically between each outstretched toe, Sam listened with a heavy sense of satisfaction to his aunt’s inhuman screams. Cleo’s shrill howls could hardly even be called laughter anymore, her shapely body convulsing so violently even her Herculean attacker had to hold on a little tighter. When each explosively sensitive gap had been thoroughly licked Sam started over, and when that was done he went back through all eight spaces between all ten toes and gave them another tongue-lashing. By that point the merciless teen was sweating a little himself, a light glisten across his rippling abs and mason-carved chest. It was a good thing, Sam supposed as he nibbled the balls of Cleo’s right foot, that he’d passed the fitness test with flying colours. Torture, as it turned out, was hard work.

When he finally let the manic woman’s feet drop her soles were a light shade of red. Sam sat upright, stretching his back with a groan, the huge peak under his pants protruding upward as he did. Behind him Cleo wheezed, still giggling mindlessly and twitching erratically as if she was about to be tickled. Maybe she was, unbeknownst to the exhausted captive her tormentor hadn’t yet made up his mind. His mind, of course, was willing to continue but his body had other ideas. Patient as he was, a great deal more than most folk, the fact remained he was still human and his human sense of arousal was very much at its rigid, pulsating limit.

Lumbering up from the bed, the frame creaking far more than usual, Sam dropped his pants and stood entirely nude. Turning toward his trembling aunt, the blindfolded woman’s curvaceous body lay disheveled before him. Her hair was a mess, sweat soaked and sticking to her neck, the sheet was damp around her torso. Cleo shuddered with quivering breaths, her wrists red around the fiercely tight binding. The normally bubbly and cheerful woman, the one who took a troubled young man in when no one else would and raised him the best she knew how. She’d done a good job, all things considered, and this was how he repaid her. Taken advantage of her in perhaps the worst way either of them could have imagined. Looking over the softly crying woman then, knowing he had betrayed her irredeemably, Sam averted his eyes and instead looked down as his bulbous purple cockhead. He looked at his thick, throbbing shaft and by god, he could not wait to cum all over her.

Pouncing onto the bed like a rabid beast the ferocious lad caused everything to shake and his aunt to let out a terrified yelp. Before she could get over being startled the naked mass of muscle she thought was Terrell was on her, clawing hands driving up and down her sides. Swinging one leg over her thighs as she bucked and squealed, Sam pressed his rock hard cock onto the manic woman’s big bouncing ass. Bringing his full weight down on top of the crazed captive, the insatiably lustful teen slid his huge shaft down between her well-rounded butt cheeks. As his slick cockhead rubbed over Cleo’s tailbone, the cushy inner sides of each cheek squished around her tormentor’s raging erection. Firing five fingers wiggling into each of the cackling woman’s underarms her wild movements massaged Sam’s huge cock and he grind himself into her even harder.

Letting loose any sense of order or thoughtfulness, the barbaric young man was being driven purely by primal urge. Cleo kicked and screamed as her big tits were squeezed, fingers drilled into her ribs and the sides of her ass were pawed with a pitiless roughness. Pressing his face down, Sam forced himself in between his aunt’s neck and shoulder, biting, sucking, licking greedily at the nape behind her collarbone. As mindless a creature as she was, the growling lad snarled and roared, great booming groans of pleasure as he felt a shock of ecstasy surge through his loins. Thrusting forcefully into her ass, Cleo’s thick flesh against his hips, the grunting man grit his teeth and shut his eyes tight.

Sam’s stony abs flexed and his big paws grabbed handfuls of bed sheet. Squashing the poor woman under him the straining teen’s biceps swelled, every sinew across his back deeply lined as he came with almighty force. Burst after thick white burst flew up Cleo’s sweat-slicked back, pumping a vulgar fountain of cum from between her butt cheeks. Squirming beneath him the voluptuous woman’s cushy flesh continued rubbing against the blissful teen’s pulsating cock. With a few final, open-mouthed groans and shuddering thrusts, Sam relaxed, laying and breathing heavy atop his writhing aunt.

For a long while the spent young man lay almost motionless. He enjoyed the smell of Cleo’s frazzled hair and her sticky skin, he liked the warmth and the gentle rising and dropping as she breathed under him. He liked, he found to some surprise, being in close proximity to another human. It was the first time, perhaps ever, that Samuel Lucas didn’t have his guard him. What wonder it might have been to lay there forever, savoring his grand work. Yet, before long those feeling started to fade. Cleo’s fine scent turned to as neutral an aroma as a school classroom, her hair and skin things to be pulled or poked. Peeling himself off of her, Sam soon realized he was once again quite numb to the world around him.

Picking up his pants and shirt, the towering nude teen started for the door. As he took hold of the door handle he could hear Cleo whimpering softly behind him. “T-Tyrell…?” She said weakly as Sam opened the door and let light spill into the room. “…Tyrell…please…say something…” With his usual cat-like silence the stoic lad stepped out into the hall, but his devastated aunt wasn’t done. “…Tyrell…is-is that you?”

Sam stopped in place, one hand on the door handle. With a furrow of his brow the big lad used his free hand to stroke gently across his clean-shaven jaw.

“…who…who are you?” Cleo said, her voice barely louder than a breath.

“You know who I am.” The young man said and closed the door behind him with a definitive click.

Over the years Sam thought he knew all the noises his aunt could make quite well indeed. After tying her up, deceiving her and eliciting a wide range of spectacular sounds the young man might have even considered himself something of an expert. Cleo’s various yelps and howls were familiar territory, but the screams she made after he closed her bedroom door were like nothing he’d ever heard. A repeated shrieking, consistent nonstop wailing, one after the other with little difference from one to the next, the sounds of a person’s mind truly, totally broken.

Everyone always assumed it was the accident. Now at least, one more person knew better.

The End
​