This story took place almost a couple years ago, but I still think about it because it was one of the most intense tickling experiences I’ve ever had.
A former romantic fling was visiting me for a weekend. I was about 23, she was about 22. She had gorgeous blonde hair, pretty eyes, and a very fit body (she does lots of yoga and hiking). When we used to live in the same city, we dated and had a lot of fun. She knew about my tickle fetish early on and really developed an interest and liking to it. I’ll have to write another story sometime just writing out the details of all the things she’d do (there were times I tickled her too, but she was very aggressive and even though I’m taller and bigger than her, she was really good at either wrestling or teasing her way to getting into control.)
One night we are hooking up and she’s on top; we’re kissing each other’s faces, necks, chests, etc. We’re sliding each other’s hands all over each other, giving slight tickles on each other’s sides, nipples, and legs.
Eventually she’s pulling my hair and really tickling my sides until she stops. She notices a hair brush on my night stand. I used to use it on her feet. She rolls over and grabs it, and then she looks at me with the most evil smile ever. Her eyes look so lustful and excited as she moves to sit on my legs. I’m begging because I have apartment mates, “No, —-, please don’t, please don’t, I can’t” but her smile is contagious so I’m also smiling while feeling terrified. She doesn’t stop and is about to sit on my legs, so I accept my fate and roll over so I can be facing the pillow. First she tickles my feet with her fingers and nails, and I’m already rolling around trying to contain myself, letting out “Oh fuck oh fuck” and “please please please, I can’t,” barely able to keep it to a whisper.
Then, she grabs the brush. She starts scrubbing across the arches of my feet, under my toes, everything. And she does not go easily; she is going back and forth quickly while also using one hand to hold down my ankle. At this moment, I fucking LOSE it. I am screaming into my pillow in hysterics, clenching my pillow or my sheets with my hands as hard as possible. My back is buckling and I try so hard to move my legs and feet, but I can’t. I can’t even take the risk to beg for her to stop because I can’t stop screaming and don’t want to remove the pillow from my mouth. I can slightly look back, and I see She looks back at me and her face is filled with joy, loving watching me squirm. She giggles a bit watching me. My body is heaving, and my skin is covered in sweat.
After what could have been minutes to dozens of minutes of this intense tickle torture, she eventually lets me go. I am a withered mess, breathing heavy, sweating, and catching my breath. She comes up next to me and takes in how much she destroyed me, and after I get my breath back, we go back to an intense hook up.
A former romantic fling was visiting me for a weekend. I was about 23, she was about 22. She had gorgeous blonde hair, pretty eyes, and a very fit body (she does lots of yoga and hiking). When we used to live in the same city, we dated and had a lot of fun. She knew about my tickle fetish early on and really developed an interest and liking to it. I’ll have to write another story sometime just writing out the details of all the things she’d do (there were times I tickled her too, but she was very aggressive and even though I’m taller and bigger than her, she was really good at either wrestling or teasing her way to getting into control.)
One night we are hooking up and she’s on top; we’re kissing each other’s faces, necks, chests, etc. We’re sliding each other’s hands all over each other, giving slight tickles on each other’s sides, nipples, and legs.
Eventually she’s pulling my hair and really tickling my sides until she stops. She notices a hair brush on my night stand. I used to use it on her feet. She rolls over and grabs it, and then she looks at me with the most evil smile ever. Her eyes look so lustful and excited as she moves to sit on my legs. I’m begging because I have apartment mates, “No, —-, please don’t, please don’t, I can’t” but her smile is contagious so I’m also smiling while feeling terrified. She doesn’t stop and is about to sit on my legs, so I accept my fate and roll over so I can be facing the pillow. First she tickles my feet with her fingers and nails, and I’m already rolling around trying to contain myself, letting out “Oh fuck oh fuck” and “please please please, I can’t,” barely able to keep it to a whisper.
Then, she grabs the brush. She starts scrubbing across the arches of my feet, under my toes, everything. And she does not go easily; she is going back and forth quickly while also using one hand to hold down my ankle. At this moment, I fucking LOSE it. I am screaming into my pillow in hysterics, clenching my pillow or my sheets with my hands as hard as possible. My back is buckling and I try so hard to move my legs and feet, but I can’t. I can’t even take the risk to beg for her to stop because I can’t stop screaming and don’t want to remove the pillow from my mouth. I can slightly look back, and I see She looks back at me and her face is filled with joy, loving watching me squirm. She giggles a bit watching me. My body is heaving, and my skin is covered in sweat.
After what could have been minutes to dozens of minutes of this intense tickle torture, she eventually lets me go. I am a withered mess, breathing heavy, sweating, and catching my breath. She comes up next to me and takes in how much she destroyed me, and after I get my breath back, we go back to an intense hook up.
