Mastertank1
2nd Level Yellow Feather
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- Jan 21, 2006
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Almost a Butterface
A True Tickling Story
Butterface is a casually cruel term coined by thoughtless young men. It refers to a woman who is attractive in every part but her face. It usually connotes great facial ugliness combined with an outstandingly lovely body. Because of the way men treat such women, it is often highly traumatic for women to live with this condition, but some overcome it.
Heather was almost a butterface; her face was not really ugly, just plain. It was only by contrast to the truly exceptional beauty of every other part of her person that her face came as a disappointment to the thoughtless and stupid.
Due to a combination of genetics, careful diet and immensely hard work in the gymnasium, Heather was simply stunning for the most part. From her cute, round little toes and exquisitely shapely feet, up past her perfect ankles, enticing calves, knees and thighs, delectably womanly hips, slightly rounded belly, delightfully globular firm buttocks, wonderfully feminine curved flanks and ribcage, large and lovely rounded breasts, interestingly shaped collarbones and shoulders and long, elegant neck, all the way to her glorious cloud of slightly kinked bright auburn ‘Jewfro’ hair, she was a beauty. Her plain face came as a jar the fist time one saw her.
Once one got to know Heather, her animation and the lively, quick intelligence that lived behind that face made one completely forget the plainness. After talking to her for a while you wondered why you had ever thought her face plain. Heather was a madame who owned her own brothel. She was also a hooker for those willing to pay three times the rate charged by Heather’s employees. To me she was a former employer and a valued friend.
I had first met while working as a bouncer in a brothel owned by someone else, where Heather briefly worked to get enough together to open her own place. We had become friends.
When she opened her own place, I worked for her for a few months at far less than my usual rates to help her get started. We both knew that I would leave when she could afford a regular bouncer or when one of my regular bodyguarding clients called.
One evening, after the last customer had left and the place was closed for the night, Heather walked out in a filmy pink negligee and plopped herself down on my lap. She put her arms around my neck and gazed very directly into my dark brown eyes with her blazing light hazel ones. The invitation was unmistakable.
I was very tempted. Heather’s 5’10” 130 pound frame made a very sexy lapful indeed. It was with obvious reluctance that I told her, in tone that the other ladies could hear clearly; “Never with an employer, Heather. It isn’t ethical, it might be distracting at the wrong time, and I just don’t do it.”
Heather accepted that with a light kiss on my forehead. She knew I meant exactly what I said, but still, I knew she felt somehow rejected. She was understandably sensitive about rejection. I resolved to correct that impression if I ever got the chance.
A few months later I was off with a bodyguard client and when I came back Heather was in a relationship. When that ended I was in one. What with one thing and another, it was four years before I got my chance to show Heather how desirable I really thought she was.
It started out as me doing Heather a professional favor. A regular customer had become an obsessed, threatening stalker. This was an occupational hazard to any woman in Heather’s line of work. She had her own brothel by then, and was doing quite well, but the task of coping with a stalker was beyond the capabilities of the unsubtle bruiser who was the bouncer in her shop. She called me.
By that time, 1978, the rates I commanded were way higher than Heather could have afforded, but I wouldn’t hear of letting a friend of such long standing pay for my services. Heather, then 28 years of age, was if anything lovelier than ever in her body, legs and feet. She moved with a practiced grace and deliberate sexiness.
She made part of her living as a dominatrix those days, and was quite bisexual, taking on clients of both sexes and sometimes couples. In her private life she had a full time, live in lifestyle submissive named Ellen, who also acted as phone girl and manager of Heather’s house.
For almost three days I followed Heather around at a distance, dressed in a nondescript manner and staying at a distance. As big as I am, I can fade into the background when I have to. Then, the stalker struck.
It was a Saturday night. Heather’s house had just closed for the weekend and we were walking the short distance to her home. He erupted from the shadows of a deep doorway.
He was a skinny bastard, standing 6’3” and weighing about 175. He grabbed Heather and shoved her into an alley. Then, oblivious to my bulk closing in from behind, he stood there explaining to Heather that she was his and no one else was allowed to touch her and etcetera and so forth.
He was just warming up to his theme when I grabbed him from behind and slammed him face first into a cinder block wall. I pulled him back and slammed him into the wall three more times just to make certain I had his attention.
At that time my 6’1” frame carried between 290 and 300 pounds. There was about 20-30 pounds excess in there, but I still had a solid 270 pounds of muscle and the fat was a relatively thin layer over that much bulk. I was 30 years old, and stronger than I had ever been before.
I began to punch the stalker in the kidneys with my right fist. Short, hard, damaging shots. After a dozen, I began to whisper in his ear.
“Heather does NOT belong to you!” (Thud.)
“She belongs to herself.” (Thud. Thud.)
“I’m not her boyfriend.” (Thud.)
“I’m her bodyguard.” (Thud. Thud.)
“I come from an agency.” (THUD!)
“As of tomorrow, I’ll be replaced by a colleague.” (Thud. Thud. Thud.)
“There will always be one of us watching her.” (Thud. Thud. Thud.)
“You’ll never know who he is.” (Thud. Thud.)
“If one of them has to lay hands on you again...” (THUD. THUD. THUD.)
“He will hurt you a LOT worse than I just did!” (THUD! THUD!! THUD!!!)
I left him there, crying. Heather never saw him or heard from him again. Men who abuse or terrorize women are always cowards. Always. I’ve never known an exception. He probably pissed blood for a month.
Later that night Heather and Ellen and I were hanging out in the apartment they shared in the Tudor City development on Manhattan’s East Side Midtown.
I was sitting on the luxuriant carpet, leaning back against the edge of an armchair, playing with Heather’s Pomeranian, Terrence. Heather snapped the leash onto Terrence’s collar and handed the other end to Ellen. She told Ellen to take Terrence out for a walk.
Heather didn’t know how acute my hearing was. She thought I didn’t hear her whisper to Ellen; “After the walk, take Terrence back to the house and spend the night there. I want to be left alone with Tank. One way or another, I am going to get laid by that man tonight! Come back tomorrow in time to join us for brunch.”
Heather went into her bedroom and fussed with something there while I watched a nature show on cable. She came out, switched the TV to a classical music channel, and stood between my spread legs with a hank of rope in her hands.
She was in her stockinged feet with lowrider jeans and a man-tailored white shirt not tucked in. The two top and the two bottom buttons were undone. Heather’s cleavage and belly button were both showing, and looked very inviting.
In a deceptively mild tone, I asked; “What’s the rope for?”
She replied; “I’m going to tie you up.” Very matter–of-factly.
I told her; “Heather, I’m a stone dom. That is NOT gonna happen!”
She frowned. “Huh! So am I! That’s a problem, isn’t it?”
I answered; “Nope. Not at all.”
Then, i scissored her legs with own, knocking her off her feet. Before she could hit the carpet, I had lunged forward to catch her with my right arm around her back just above her waist. I lowered her to the floor with no bruising impact.
There was a brief flurry of activity, and the next thing Heather knew she was flat on her back. I was kneeling straddling of her waist. I had placed her flattened hands, palms down and fingers extended, across my massive calves. I had then lowered my weight down so that her hands were pinned between my thighs and calves.
Heather was quite trapped, but not alarmed at all. She knew me, and trusted me with her very life. She was starting to get turned on. She knew I was not going to hurt her, and she asked me what i was planning to do next.
With a wide, evil grin, I mused aloud; “If I remember correctly, you once told me that you are not ticklish anywhere...except for your ribs!”
As I spread my hands out on her luscious ribcage, I could see Heather mouthing “Oh, NOOOOO!”
Then, she was laughing. And that was just intoxicating. You see, there was something about Heather’s face.
Some women, and I’m sure you’ve all known at least one, have faces that are plain most of the time, but become really pretty when she smiles. A very few have faces that shoot right past pretty, all the way to beautiful when they laugh.
Any normal guy who is lucky enough to know such a woman spends a great deal of time finding ways to make her smile and laugh. As if we needed ANOTHER reason. Heh heh.
Well, Heather started laughing out loud the second I started to tickle her ribs. There was no holding back, no resistance, she laughed and she squirmed. She tried to dig her nails into my calves, but the angle and the thick denim I wore stopped her. She tried to knee me in the back, but the angle was wrong there too. She tried to buck me off, but as strong as she was I was simply too massive for her to budge.
Usually, I don’t enjoy tickling ribs, for a reason. With most women, one has to dig in to tickle her ribs. I don’t like being that rough with my ‘lees. But, with Heather, her ribs were so ticklish that a relatively light touch was all it took. Little more than a mild massage, and it had Heather helplessly laughing.
Confident that I would not bruise her or make her sore, I kept up the first round of tickling for five solid minutes. I could tell that Heather was trying her best to stop laughing, but it was no use. As long as my fingers kept moving on her ribs, she had to keep laughing. She couldn’t control it at all.
There was another reaction she couldn’t control. She was getting turned on. The rise of her nipples was visible right through her bra and shirt. There was a distinctive, pleasant aroma wafting from the area below her waist.
After five minutes I stopped to let her get her breath back. Heather tried to stifle her reflexive giggling while getting her breath back. She grinned when I started to open the buttons of her shirt, but mock protested. I told her; “I heard what you told Ellen.”
“All of it?”
“Every last word. One way or another, you said. Well, this will be the way you get what you wanted. Nothing turns me on more than tickling the woman I’m making love to.”
Heather gulped, but then nodded. The way the relatively brief tickling had already aroused her had made her curious. She now wanted to see where this tickling thing might lead.
With the shirt out of the way, I was able to make my touch on Heather’s ribs even lighter. She laughed even harder. Her laugh had a sweet, musical sound. The laughter transfigured her face.
After several minutes I leaned down and kissed her wide open, laughing mouth. When I broke that kiss two minutes later, Heather’s interrupted laughter resumed with wild, happy peals. Her arousal had quite clearly leapt to a far higher level.
I asked Heather if she would like to move these activities to the bed, and she nodded her head. It was the work of minute or so, with her eager cooperation, to divest her of shirt, bra, jeans, pantyhose and panties. I carried her into the bedroom by the grip of both hands on her ribs, making her laugh the whole way.
As I carried Heather to the bed, I saw that she had set the four-poster up for bondage. Stout leather cuffs were attached to the corner posts with double headed snaphooks that linked half rings set into the wood with rings attached to the leather cuffs.
The cuffs were fully adjustable. Heather regularly used them to restrain Ellen, whose wrists and ankles were far thinner than Heather’s. She had hoped to use them on me. Well, if they had closed at all, it would have been just barely. They held Heather very securely.
The naked, bound and smiling Heather was quite a sight. I began by lying on the bed between her spread legs, and I slowly nibbled, kissed and licked my way up her lovely calves, going from one to the other as I trended upward.
My fingers was skillfully teasing the backs and insides of her thighs as I worked my way up, then her groin and the area right around her sex. Heather was reacting very strongly now, letting me know how turned on she was.
When my mouth reached the backs of her knees, Heather emitted a high pitched and very loud; “Heeeeeeeee hee hee heeeee!”
I lingered there for a while, getting more wild giggles as a reward. I remarked that I seemed to have found another place where she was ticklish. Heather agreed, and said she hadn’t been aware that she was ticklish there. With an exaggerated leer, I told her we’d soon find out what other hot spots she had but didn’t know about. She giggled nervously.
As my mouth moved up her gorgeous thighs, my hands went up her torso. We soon found a ticklish area on her flanks, above the hips but below the rib cage.
Then my mouth arrived at her pussy.
As I gently explored, I got my lips and tongue into position to gently and relentlessly stimulate Heather’s clit while my fingers were poised up on her ribs. I began to stimulate both areas at once.
Heather had already been teased to the brink, and it was only two minutes into the combined rib tickling and cunnilingus when, for the first time in her life, Heather came laughing.
I paused for the moment. I rested my chin on her mound and grinned up at her. Heather, a vary experienced woman, mentioned how incredibly intense that had been. I told her we were just getting started. The movement of my chin as I spoke made her giggle.
I explained to Heather how the orgasm she had just had was even now releasing a flood of hormones into her bloodstream. I pointed out how these hormones would shortly nearly double her tactile sensitivity and responsiveness.
Heather allowed as how that accorded with her experience. Then, I point out that as a result, she was about to become twice as ticklish. Before she could do any more in the way of reaction than just look shocked, I was once again pleasuring her clit with even gentler touches of my lips and tongue. This time, I was also tickling her sweetly curved sides.
This time, when Heather exploded in glorious orgasm, I just kept going. She came once while her sides were getting tickled, then a third time while her armpits were being tickled. Her fourth took place while her lovely breasts were being tickled.
Heather came for a fifth time while I tickled her neck, throat, chin and ears, which seemed to drive her wild. Her sixth went off while I tickled behind her knees. Then I lifted my head to ask; “Heather, would you like to fuck now?”
Heather eagerly nodded her head yes while she gasped for breath. I reached out to her ankle cuffs and released the ends of the snaphooks that were attached to the bedposts, leaving them dangling from the cuffs.
I bent her at the hips, and reattached the hooks to the rings on her wrist cuffs. With all her working out and athleticism, this position was perfectly comfortable for her. I asked, with a smile; “You have condoms somewhere?”
“Don’t need them. I’m on the pill.”
“But...oh. That’s why you volunteered earlier that you and Ellen both came up clean on tests four weeks ago and had been with no one else since ten weeks before that, and still haven’t. That’s why you asked me if I could say the same.”
“Yes! And you said you could.”
“Well, I am free of all STD’s, and have been with no one else since long enough before the test to be sure. Huh. So, you like it better without the condom?”
“With you, yeah! I want to feel your flesh against mine, Tank!”
“Wow. Okay.”
I entered with ease. She was very ready. She gasped and said; “Oh, YEAH! Man, you are RIGHT on my sweet spot! I thought you would be when I saw you undress. MMMMmmmmm!”
I kissed Heather and she kissed back with passion. Then, with her eyes closed, she said; “Move, baby!”
“I plan on making you do all the moving.”
Heather’s eyes opened. She glanced to see my hands poised at her exposed, immobilized bare feet. She said; “But my feet aren’t ticklish!”
“After seven orgasms? Wanna bet?”
In a humorous tone, with a facial expression in which apprehension and anticipation were equally represented, she mock wailed; “Oh, no!”
Then I started to tickle her feet. Heather’s whole delicious body convulsed in combined ticklish torment and sexy delight.
I explored those cute little feet, finding every responsive nerve ending. She came while I tickled her heels, then again when I tickled the balls of her feet. Heather’s laughter grew wilder when I teased the flats of her soles and made her come laughing again.
Then I moved on to her toes. Heather’s toes wriggled desperately, trying to escape from the relentlessly pursuing tickling fingers. I felt Heather cum two more times while I played with her sensitive toes, then I went for the kill.
When I started to stroke Heather’s deep, tender arches she nearly went mad. When she came it was harder and deeper and more complete than ever before. She was laughing like a crazy woman. It was more than my self control could take. I climaxed powerfully, and she felt all of my muscles convulse with it.
Somehow, that made it even more satisfying for her. Then, something happened that is very rare.
I was young, healthy, vigorous, and incredibly turned on by Heather’s wonderful responsiveness to my tickling and teasing. I was inspired by the beauty of her body and the way her face became transfigured into loveliness when she laughed. After my climax, I actually stayed hard and continued until I got off a second time, which took about fifteen minutes.
During that time I continued to stroke Heather’s arches, tickling her unbearably, and she kept laughing crazily and cumming closer and closer together. The last few minutes were almost a single, endless ticklegasm for Heather, and she loved it when she felt me cum the second time.
I unbuckled the cuffs on Heather’s ankles, and the first thing she did was to wrap those long, strong legs around my hips and squeeze me into herself, hard. Her internal muscles rippled, as if to milk me. It was fantastic.
Then she rubbed her tingling arches against the big, hard muscles of my calves while I unbuckled the cuffs on her wrists. I also unhooked all the cuffs from the bedposts and tossed them into a corner across the room.
As we lay kissing and cuddling, I explained to Heather about how smiling and laughing changed the look of her face and made her beautiful. I told her how that beauty had caused me to be able to go twice in a row with no rest, which I had never done before.
I had to go use the bathroom. When I came back, Heather was smiling while softly crying. She explained that this was the first time anyone had ever called her face beautiful, and she knew that I really meant it. She was right. I did.
When Ellen brought Terrence back, we showered and dressed and all went to brunch. Heather and I remained friends and occasional lovers. Although we haven’t been in touch for years now, as far as I know we still are.
A True Tickling Story
Butterface is a casually cruel term coined by thoughtless young men. It refers to a woman who is attractive in every part but her face. It usually connotes great facial ugliness combined with an outstandingly lovely body. Because of the way men treat such women, it is often highly traumatic for women to live with this condition, but some overcome it.
Heather was almost a butterface; her face was not really ugly, just plain. It was only by contrast to the truly exceptional beauty of every other part of her person that her face came as a disappointment to the thoughtless and stupid.
Due to a combination of genetics, careful diet and immensely hard work in the gymnasium, Heather was simply stunning for the most part. From her cute, round little toes and exquisitely shapely feet, up past her perfect ankles, enticing calves, knees and thighs, delectably womanly hips, slightly rounded belly, delightfully globular firm buttocks, wonderfully feminine curved flanks and ribcage, large and lovely rounded breasts, interestingly shaped collarbones and shoulders and long, elegant neck, all the way to her glorious cloud of slightly kinked bright auburn ‘Jewfro’ hair, she was a beauty. Her plain face came as a jar the fist time one saw her.
Once one got to know Heather, her animation and the lively, quick intelligence that lived behind that face made one completely forget the plainness. After talking to her for a while you wondered why you had ever thought her face plain. Heather was a madame who owned her own brothel. She was also a hooker for those willing to pay three times the rate charged by Heather’s employees. To me she was a former employer and a valued friend.
I had first met while working as a bouncer in a brothel owned by someone else, where Heather briefly worked to get enough together to open her own place. We had become friends.
When she opened her own place, I worked for her for a few months at far less than my usual rates to help her get started. We both knew that I would leave when she could afford a regular bouncer or when one of my regular bodyguarding clients called.
One evening, after the last customer had left and the place was closed for the night, Heather walked out in a filmy pink negligee and plopped herself down on my lap. She put her arms around my neck and gazed very directly into my dark brown eyes with her blazing light hazel ones. The invitation was unmistakable.
I was very tempted. Heather’s 5’10” 130 pound frame made a very sexy lapful indeed. It was with obvious reluctance that I told her, in tone that the other ladies could hear clearly; “Never with an employer, Heather. It isn’t ethical, it might be distracting at the wrong time, and I just don’t do it.”
Heather accepted that with a light kiss on my forehead. She knew I meant exactly what I said, but still, I knew she felt somehow rejected. She was understandably sensitive about rejection. I resolved to correct that impression if I ever got the chance.
A few months later I was off with a bodyguard client and when I came back Heather was in a relationship. When that ended I was in one. What with one thing and another, it was four years before I got my chance to show Heather how desirable I really thought she was.
It started out as me doing Heather a professional favor. A regular customer had become an obsessed, threatening stalker. This was an occupational hazard to any woman in Heather’s line of work. She had her own brothel by then, and was doing quite well, but the task of coping with a stalker was beyond the capabilities of the unsubtle bruiser who was the bouncer in her shop. She called me.
By that time, 1978, the rates I commanded were way higher than Heather could have afforded, but I wouldn’t hear of letting a friend of such long standing pay for my services. Heather, then 28 years of age, was if anything lovelier than ever in her body, legs and feet. She moved with a practiced grace and deliberate sexiness.
She made part of her living as a dominatrix those days, and was quite bisexual, taking on clients of both sexes and sometimes couples. In her private life she had a full time, live in lifestyle submissive named Ellen, who also acted as phone girl and manager of Heather’s house.
For almost three days I followed Heather around at a distance, dressed in a nondescript manner and staying at a distance. As big as I am, I can fade into the background when I have to. Then, the stalker struck.
It was a Saturday night. Heather’s house had just closed for the weekend and we were walking the short distance to her home. He erupted from the shadows of a deep doorway.
He was a skinny bastard, standing 6’3” and weighing about 175. He grabbed Heather and shoved her into an alley. Then, oblivious to my bulk closing in from behind, he stood there explaining to Heather that she was his and no one else was allowed to touch her and etcetera and so forth.
He was just warming up to his theme when I grabbed him from behind and slammed him face first into a cinder block wall. I pulled him back and slammed him into the wall three more times just to make certain I had his attention.
At that time my 6’1” frame carried between 290 and 300 pounds. There was about 20-30 pounds excess in there, but I still had a solid 270 pounds of muscle and the fat was a relatively thin layer over that much bulk. I was 30 years old, and stronger than I had ever been before.
I began to punch the stalker in the kidneys with my right fist. Short, hard, damaging shots. After a dozen, I began to whisper in his ear.
“Heather does NOT belong to you!” (Thud.)
“She belongs to herself.” (Thud. Thud.)
“I’m not her boyfriend.” (Thud.)
“I’m her bodyguard.” (Thud. Thud.)
“I come from an agency.” (THUD!)
“As of tomorrow, I’ll be replaced by a colleague.” (Thud. Thud. Thud.)
“There will always be one of us watching her.” (Thud. Thud. Thud.)
“You’ll never know who he is.” (Thud. Thud.)
“If one of them has to lay hands on you again...” (THUD. THUD. THUD.)
“He will hurt you a LOT worse than I just did!” (THUD! THUD!! THUD!!!)
I left him there, crying. Heather never saw him or heard from him again. Men who abuse or terrorize women are always cowards. Always. I’ve never known an exception. He probably pissed blood for a month.
Later that night Heather and Ellen and I were hanging out in the apartment they shared in the Tudor City development on Manhattan’s East Side Midtown.
I was sitting on the luxuriant carpet, leaning back against the edge of an armchair, playing with Heather’s Pomeranian, Terrence. Heather snapped the leash onto Terrence’s collar and handed the other end to Ellen. She told Ellen to take Terrence out for a walk.
Heather didn’t know how acute my hearing was. She thought I didn’t hear her whisper to Ellen; “After the walk, take Terrence back to the house and spend the night there. I want to be left alone with Tank. One way or another, I am going to get laid by that man tonight! Come back tomorrow in time to join us for brunch.”
Heather went into her bedroom and fussed with something there while I watched a nature show on cable. She came out, switched the TV to a classical music channel, and stood between my spread legs with a hank of rope in her hands.
She was in her stockinged feet with lowrider jeans and a man-tailored white shirt not tucked in. The two top and the two bottom buttons were undone. Heather’s cleavage and belly button were both showing, and looked very inviting.
In a deceptively mild tone, I asked; “What’s the rope for?”
She replied; “I’m going to tie you up.” Very matter–of-factly.
I told her; “Heather, I’m a stone dom. That is NOT gonna happen!”
She frowned. “Huh! So am I! That’s a problem, isn’t it?”
I answered; “Nope. Not at all.”
Then, i scissored her legs with own, knocking her off her feet. Before she could hit the carpet, I had lunged forward to catch her with my right arm around her back just above her waist. I lowered her to the floor with no bruising impact.
There was a brief flurry of activity, and the next thing Heather knew she was flat on her back. I was kneeling straddling of her waist. I had placed her flattened hands, palms down and fingers extended, across my massive calves. I had then lowered my weight down so that her hands were pinned between my thighs and calves.
Heather was quite trapped, but not alarmed at all. She knew me, and trusted me with her very life. She was starting to get turned on. She knew I was not going to hurt her, and she asked me what i was planning to do next.
With a wide, evil grin, I mused aloud; “If I remember correctly, you once told me that you are not ticklish anywhere...except for your ribs!”
As I spread my hands out on her luscious ribcage, I could see Heather mouthing “Oh, NOOOOO!”
Then, she was laughing. And that was just intoxicating. You see, there was something about Heather’s face.
Some women, and I’m sure you’ve all known at least one, have faces that are plain most of the time, but become really pretty when she smiles. A very few have faces that shoot right past pretty, all the way to beautiful when they laugh.
Any normal guy who is lucky enough to know such a woman spends a great deal of time finding ways to make her smile and laugh. As if we needed ANOTHER reason. Heh heh.
Well, Heather started laughing out loud the second I started to tickle her ribs. There was no holding back, no resistance, she laughed and she squirmed. She tried to dig her nails into my calves, but the angle and the thick denim I wore stopped her. She tried to knee me in the back, but the angle was wrong there too. She tried to buck me off, but as strong as she was I was simply too massive for her to budge.
Usually, I don’t enjoy tickling ribs, for a reason. With most women, one has to dig in to tickle her ribs. I don’t like being that rough with my ‘lees. But, with Heather, her ribs were so ticklish that a relatively light touch was all it took. Little more than a mild massage, and it had Heather helplessly laughing.
Confident that I would not bruise her or make her sore, I kept up the first round of tickling for five solid minutes. I could tell that Heather was trying her best to stop laughing, but it was no use. As long as my fingers kept moving on her ribs, she had to keep laughing. She couldn’t control it at all.
There was another reaction she couldn’t control. She was getting turned on. The rise of her nipples was visible right through her bra and shirt. There was a distinctive, pleasant aroma wafting from the area below her waist.
After five minutes I stopped to let her get her breath back. Heather tried to stifle her reflexive giggling while getting her breath back. She grinned when I started to open the buttons of her shirt, but mock protested. I told her; “I heard what you told Ellen.”
“All of it?”
“Every last word. One way or another, you said. Well, this will be the way you get what you wanted. Nothing turns me on more than tickling the woman I’m making love to.”
Heather gulped, but then nodded. The way the relatively brief tickling had already aroused her had made her curious. She now wanted to see where this tickling thing might lead.
With the shirt out of the way, I was able to make my touch on Heather’s ribs even lighter. She laughed even harder. Her laugh had a sweet, musical sound. The laughter transfigured her face.
After several minutes I leaned down and kissed her wide open, laughing mouth. When I broke that kiss two minutes later, Heather’s interrupted laughter resumed with wild, happy peals. Her arousal had quite clearly leapt to a far higher level.
I asked Heather if she would like to move these activities to the bed, and she nodded her head. It was the work of minute or so, with her eager cooperation, to divest her of shirt, bra, jeans, pantyhose and panties. I carried her into the bedroom by the grip of both hands on her ribs, making her laugh the whole way.
As I carried Heather to the bed, I saw that she had set the four-poster up for bondage. Stout leather cuffs were attached to the corner posts with double headed snaphooks that linked half rings set into the wood with rings attached to the leather cuffs.
The cuffs were fully adjustable. Heather regularly used them to restrain Ellen, whose wrists and ankles were far thinner than Heather’s. She had hoped to use them on me. Well, if they had closed at all, it would have been just barely. They held Heather very securely.
The naked, bound and smiling Heather was quite a sight. I began by lying on the bed between her spread legs, and I slowly nibbled, kissed and licked my way up her lovely calves, going from one to the other as I trended upward.
My fingers was skillfully teasing the backs and insides of her thighs as I worked my way up, then her groin and the area right around her sex. Heather was reacting very strongly now, letting me know how turned on she was.
When my mouth reached the backs of her knees, Heather emitted a high pitched and very loud; “Heeeeeeeee hee hee heeeee!”
I lingered there for a while, getting more wild giggles as a reward. I remarked that I seemed to have found another place where she was ticklish. Heather agreed, and said she hadn’t been aware that she was ticklish there. With an exaggerated leer, I told her we’d soon find out what other hot spots she had but didn’t know about. She giggled nervously.
As my mouth moved up her gorgeous thighs, my hands went up her torso. We soon found a ticklish area on her flanks, above the hips but below the rib cage.
Then my mouth arrived at her pussy.
As I gently explored, I got my lips and tongue into position to gently and relentlessly stimulate Heather’s clit while my fingers were poised up on her ribs. I began to stimulate both areas at once.
Heather had already been teased to the brink, and it was only two minutes into the combined rib tickling and cunnilingus when, for the first time in her life, Heather came laughing.
I paused for the moment. I rested my chin on her mound and grinned up at her. Heather, a vary experienced woman, mentioned how incredibly intense that had been. I told her we were just getting started. The movement of my chin as I spoke made her giggle.
I explained to Heather how the orgasm she had just had was even now releasing a flood of hormones into her bloodstream. I pointed out how these hormones would shortly nearly double her tactile sensitivity and responsiveness.
Heather allowed as how that accorded with her experience. Then, I point out that as a result, she was about to become twice as ticklish. Before she could do any more in the way of reaction than just look shocked, I was once again pleasuring her clit with even gentler touches of my lips and tongue. This time, I was also tickling her sweetly curved sides.
This time, when Heather exploded in glorious orgasm, I just kept going. She came once while her sides were getting tickled, then a third time while her armpits were being tickled. Her fourth took place while her lovely breasts were being tickled.
Heather came for a fifth time while I tickled her neck, throat, chin and ears, which seemed to drive her wild. Her sixth went off while I tickled behind her knees. Then I lifted my head to ask; “Heather, would you like to fuck now?”
Heather eagerly nodded her head yes while she gasped for breath. I reached out to her ankle cuffs and released the ends of the snaphooks that were attached to the bedposts, leaving them dangling from the cuffs.
I bent her at the hips, and reattached the hooks to the rings on her wrist cuffs. With all her working out and athleticism, this position was perfectly comfortable for her. I asked, with a smile; “You have condoms somewhere?”
“Don’t need them. I’m on the pill.”
“But...oh. That’s why you volunteered earlier that you and Ellen both came up clean on tests four weeks ago and had been with no one else since ten weeks before that, and still haven’t. That’s why you asked me if I could say the same.”
“Yes! And you said you could.”
“Well, I am free of all STD’s, and have been with no one else since long enough before the test to be sure. Huh. So, you like it better without the condom?”
“With you, yeah! I want to feel your flesh against mine, Tank!”
“Wow. Okay.”
I entered with ease. She was very ready. She gasped and said; “Oh, YEAH! Man, you are RIGHT on my sweet spot! I thought you would be when I saw you undress. MMMMmmmmm!”
I kissed Heather and she kissed back with passion. Then, with her eyes closed, she said; “Move, baby!”
“I plan on making you do all the moving.”
Heather’s eyes opened. She glanced to see my hands poised at her exposed, immobilized bare feet. She said; “But my feet aren’t ticklish!”
“After seven orgasms? Wanna bet?”
In a humorous tone, with a facial expression in which apprehension and anticipation were equally represented, she mock wailed; “Oh, no!”
Then I started to tickle her feet. Heather’s whole delicious body convulsed in combined ticklish torment and sexy delight.
I explored those cute little feet, finding every responsive nerve ending. She came while I tickled her heels, then again when I tickled the balls of her feet. Heather’s laughter grew wilder when I teased the flats of her soles and made her come laughing again.
Then I moved on to her toes. Heather’s toes wriggled desperately, trying to escape from the relentlessly pursuing tickling fingers. I felt Heather cum two more times while I played with her sensitive toes, then I went for the kill.
When I started to stroke Heather’s deep, tender arches she nearly went mad. When she came it was harder and deeper and more complete than ever before. She was laughing like a crazy woman. It was more than my self control could take. I climaxed powerfully, and she felt all of my muscles convulse with it.
Somehow, that made it even more satisfying for her. Then, something happened that is very rare.
I was young, healthy, vigorous, and incredibly turned on by Heather’s wonderful responsiveness to my tickling and teasing. I was inspired by the beauty of her body and the way her face became transfigured into loveliness when she laughed. After my climax, I actually stayed hard and continued until I got off a second time, which took about fifteen minutes.
During that time I continued to stroke Heather’s arches, tickling her unbearably, and she kept laughing crazily and cumming closer and closer together. The last few minutes were almost a single, endless ticklegasm for Heather, and she loved it when she felt me cum the second time.
I unbuckled the cuffs on Heather’s ankles, and the first thing she did was to wrap those long, strong legs around my hips and squeeze me into herself, hard. Her internal muscles rippled, as if to milk me. It was fantastic.
Then she rubbed her tingling arches against the big, hard muscles of my calves while I unbuckled the cuffs on her wrists. I also unhooked all the cuffs from the bedposts and tossed them into a corner across the room.
As we lay kissing and cuddling, I explained to Heather about how smiling and laughing changed the look of her face and made her beautiful. I told her how that beauty had caused me to be able to go twice in a row with no rest, which I had never done before.
I had to go use the bathroom. When I came back, Heather was smiling while softly crying. She explained that this was the first time anyone had ever called her face beautiful, and she knew that I really meant it. She was right. I did.
When Ellen brought Terrence back, we showered and dressed and all went to brunch. Heather and I remained friends and occasional lovers. Although we haven’t been in touch for years now, as far as I know we still are.
