shytickler
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Jun 7, 2003
- Messages
- 138
- Points
- 18
Jane leaned back in her lounge chair, sipping her margarita. On her phone she flipped through reviews of “things to do while in Cabo”. Nothing too interesting. She opened the map app and searched for “shops near me”. The map of her hotel location filled with pins showing interesting local shops run by local families with history going back generations, and newer boutiques with their overpriced goods tailored for visitors. Scrolling around the map, she noticed an empty space with no name. It was just a gray area on one of the beaches nearby.
“Huh, that’s funny” she mused out loud.
When one of the pool attendants passed by, she asked in her broken Spanish if the attendant could tell her what was in the unmarked gray area on her map. She held up the phone so that he could see it.
The attendant’s face changed as he looked at her suspiciously. “That is la playa de la risa prohibida,” he said seriously. “No go there.” He turned and hurriedly went to take care of some other task.
“La playa de la risa prohibida” Jane repeated to herself. Opening up Google translate, she typed in the phrase. “Beach of forbidden laughter?” she said out loud. She quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard her shocked words. Everyone else was too busy with their own doings. The ladies tanned, the attendants moved to and fro with tall cool tropical drinks, and the men swam and pretended not to notice the women.
Today was her day. Charles, her husband, took the entire day to go snorkeling, something that she was deathly afraid of. Feeling a bit unappreciated that her husband had left her alone for an entire day, she decided today was the day to wear “the bikini”, that one that she packed that her husband hadn’t seen. The really small one.
Finishing her drink, she set it down in the cup holder for the attendant to pick up later, got up from her lounge chair, put on her flip flops, and grabbed her towel, tossing it around her shoulders for a little bit of modesty. She walked along the edge of the pool, appreciating the furtive glances of the male swimmers. If Charles was going to leave her alone all day, she deserved a little attention elsewhere.
She walked along the path that lead out of the pool area onto the beach. It was filled with even more people splashing and running and laughing, mostly pale white tourists, but a few bronzed locals. She felt her feet take the first step onto the warm sand. She walked slowly, pretending to aimlessly wander the beach, but her eyes were fixed on the gray, unmarked area on her iPhone’s map. “La playa de la risa prohibida”, she remembered the pool attendant say.
She kept walking along the beach, very much proud of the way her tiny bikini fit and shaped her, and the sidelong glances that she was receiving from many of the other tourists, primarily the husbands there with their wives. As she walked, the number of people began to dwindle. A few reeds of plants began to appear. Finally she got to an area where she found herself quite isolated from the rest of the beach. She looked back and saw the specks of people on the beach or in the sea, little white shapes moving busily.
She looked at her phone’s map. Directly in front of her was the gray, unmarked area on the map. There was nothing there, just empty beach filled with untrammeled reeds. She thought that it must be some undeveloped area that would soon be bought up and developed into another hotel, surrounded by the same overpriced boutiques.
As she stepped forward, she felt…something. The sand felt different, like it had an energy, a hum, a pulse. She took a second step, and a third, each step sending strange and subtle humming feelings up her legs. “What is this?” she wondered.
Intrigued that she may have discovered something unique to the local area, that those other touristy ladies who never ventured off the hotel would never find, she kept slowly placing one foot in front of the other. Jane had always prided herself on not following the crowd. She loved to find hidden local gems that no other tourist would find.
She stumbled. “What was that?” she wondered. Something had tripped her. She looked around, but there was nothing but sand and reeds. She paused and furrowed her brow for a second, then continued. This time, she felt it. Something had lightly grabbed her right foot. She felt something brush her foot, and quickly looked down to see something disappear into the sand.
“Ok”, she thought, “maybe I should go back.”
She turned and started to walk back, but something grabbed her firmly by the ankle. She looked down and saw…a hand. Horrified, she tried to pull away, but the hand held her firmly. Another hand appeared through the sand and grabbed her other leg, pulling it to the side, causing her to tumble over. As soon as she was on the ground, two other hands grabbed her wrists, pulling them above her head and out to the side.
“What’s happening!” she yelled. “Release me!” she commanded in her best entitled wealthy tourist voice. But the hands didn’t obey.
She felt the strange warm hum of the sand against her back as she looked straight up at the sky. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her bare tummy rising and falling quickly. She regretted deeply at this point wearing her “special bikini”. It was just so small. What were these hands going to do to her?
As if reading her thoughts, a hand slowly emerged from the sand and hung in the air above her body. She watched in horror as it made itself into a fist…and then extended its index finger. The index finger slowly turned and pointed itself downward, and began to wiggle.
“No….no no no no no” she yelled, but the hand could not hear, and did not obey.
The wiggling finger touched down inside her bellybutton, causing her to buck her hips up into the sky as hard as she could. The hands at her wrists and ankles held her with a grip so strong she couldn’t believe it. She thought she could at least cause the hands to budge, but they didn’t move at all, simply holding her as if they were made of stone.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” she howled in delight as she sank back down, unable to escape the hands holding her, or the hand tickling her.
“BAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOT THERE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH”. The hands somehow had a supernatural sense of exactly where she was the most vulnerable, and they were ruthless.
She felt a hand underneath her back undoing the strap of her tiny top, and then her top was gone, pulled under the sand, exposing her exquisitively sensitive breasts and nipples to the warm Mexican air.
Two new hands emerged from the sand on either side of her chest, and, just as she screamed “Not my nipples!” a wiggling finger from each hand had descended on each of her hard, erect nipples.
“Eeeeeehehehehehehehahahahahahah” she giggled madly as the two new hands teased and toyed with her exquisitely sensitive nipples. She again tried straining her wrists against the hands, pulling with her bicep muscles toned from years of yoga. As hard as she tried, the hands never moved even one hair’s breadth, remaining completely motionless, firm and solid. She was doomed.
“Do your worst,” she said out loud, closing her eyes and surrendering to the sweet torture.
The end.
“Huh, that’s funny” she mused out loud.
When one of the pool attendants passed by, she asked in her broken Spanish if the attendant could tell her what was in the unmarked gray area on her map. She held up the phone so that he could see it.
The attendant’s face changed as he looked at her suspiciously. “That is la playa de la risa prohibida,” he said seriously. “No go there.” He turned and hurriedly went to take care of some other task.
“La playa de la risa prohibida” Jane repeated to herself. Opening up Google translate, she typed in the phrase. “Beach of forbidden laughter?” she said out loud. She quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard her shocked words. Everyone else was too busy with their own doings. The ladies tanned, the attendants moved to and fro with tall cool tropical drinks, and the men swam and pretended not to notice the women.
Today was her day. Charles, her husband, took the entire day to go snorkeling, something that she was deathly afraid of. Feeling a bit unappreciated that her husband had left her alone for an entire day, she decided today was the day to wear “the bikini”, that one that she packed that her husband hadn’t seen. The really small one.
Finishing her drink, she set it down in the cup holder for the attendant to pick up later, got up from her lounge chair, put on her flip flops, and grabbed her towel, tossing it around her shoulders for a little bit of modesty. She walked along the edge of the pool, appreciating the furtive glances of the male swimmers. If Charles was going to leave her alone all day, she deserved a little attention elsewhere.
She walked along the path that lead out of the pool area onto the beach. It was filled with even more people splashing and running and laughing, mostly pale white tourists, but a few bronzed locals. She felt her feet take the first step onto the warm sand. She walked slowly, pretending to aimlessly wander the beach, but her eyes were fixed on the gray, unmarked area on her iPhone’s map. “La playa de la risa prohibida”, she remembered the pool attendant say.
She kept walking along the beach, very much proud of the way her tiny bikini fit and shaped her, and the sidelong glances that she was receiving from many of the other tourists, primarily the husbands there with their wives. As she walked, the number of people began to dwindle. A few reeds of plants began to appear. Finally she got to an area where she found herself quite isolated from the rest of the beach. She looked back and saw the specks of people on the beach or in the sea, little white shapes moving busily.
She looked at her phone’s map. Directly in front of her was the gray, unmarked area on the map. There was nothing there, just empty beach filled with untrammeled reeds. She thought that it must be some undeveloped area that would soon be bought up and developed into another hotel, surrounded by the same overpriced boutiques.
As she stepped forward, she felt…something. The sand felt different, like it had an energy, a hum, a pulse. She took a second step, and a third, each step sending strange and subtle humming feelings up her legs. “What is this?” she wondered.
Intrigued that she may have discovered something unique to the local area, that those other touristy ladies who never ventured off the hotel would never find, she kept slowly placing one foot in front of the other. Jane had always prided herself on not following the crowd. She loved to find hidden local gems that no other tourist would find.
She stumbled. “What was that?” she wondered. Something had tripped her. She looked around, but there was nothing but sand and reeds. She paused and furrowed her brow for a second, then continued. This time, she felt it. Something had lightly grabbed her right foot. She felt something brush her foot, and quickly looked down to see something disappear into the sand.
“Ok”, she thought, “maybe I should go back.”
She turned and started to walk back, but something grabbed her firmly by the ankle. She looked down and saw…a hand. Horrified, she tried to pull away, but the hand held her firmly. Another hand appeared through the sand and grabbed her other leg, pulling it to the side, causing her to tumble over. As soon as she was on the ground, two other hands grabbed her wrists, pulling them above her head and out to the side.
“What’s happening!” she yelled. “Release me!” she commanded in her best entitled wealthy tourist voice. But the hands didn’t obey.
She felt the strange warm hum of the sand against her back as she looked straight up at the sky. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her bare tummy rising and falling quickly. She regretted deeply at this point wearing her “special bikini”. It was just so small. What were these hands going to do to her?
As if reading her thoughts, a hand slowly emerged from the sand and hung in the air above her body. She watched in horror as it made itself into a fist…and then extended its index finger. The index finger slowly turned and pointed itself downward, and began to wiggle.
“No….no no no no no” she yelled, but the hand could not hear, and did not obey.
The wiggling finger touched down inside her bellybutton, causing her to buck her hips up into the sky as hard as she could. The hands at her wrists and ankles held her with a grip so strong she couldn’t believe it. She thought she could at least cause the hands to budge, but they didn’t move at all, simply holding her as if they were made of stone.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA” she howled in delight as she sank back down, unable to escape the hands holding her, or the hand tickling her.
“BAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOT THERE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH”. The hands somehow had a supernatural sense of exactly where she was the most vulnerable, and they were ruthless.
She felt a hand underneath her back undoing the strap of her tiny top, and then her top was gone, pulled under the sand, exposing her exquisitively sensitive breasts and nipples to the warm Mexican air.
Two new hands emerged from the sand on either side of her chest, and, just as she screamed “Not my nipples!” a wiggling finger from each hand had descended on each of her hard, erect nipples.
“Eeeeeehehehehehehehahahahahahah” she giggled madly as the two new hands teased and toyed with her exquisitely sensitive nipples. She again tried straining her wrists against the hands, pulling with her bicep muscles toned from years of yoga. As hard as she tried, the hands never moved even one hair’s breadth, remaining completely motionless, firm and solid. She was doomed.
“Do your worst,” she said out loud, closing her eyes and surrendering to the sweet torture.
The end.
