shytickler
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Jun 7, 2003
- Messages
- 138
- Points
- 18
Faith lay in her bedroom in the tastefully appointed bed and breakfast that she had rented for the night. How long ago was it since she had last laid in this very bed? 25 years? 30 years?
She stretched her arms over her head, her short horizontally striped shirt and soft, unbuttoned light jacket rose up just a little on her torso.
The large poster bed’s mattress and sheets felt exactly the same as when she was here as a college student, with her whole life stretched before her, the same way she now stretched herself out on the luxurious softness of the bed.
Grasping the rails of the headboard, she sunk into the mattress, as her mind went back to those times. The cafes. Late nights at friends’ apartment drinking champagne and smoking cigarettes. The smells of cigarettes and perfume and cologne and flowers.
She gripped the headboard rails tighter, her blouse creeping up her bare midriff.
She thought if she could just bring herself back to the same spot, maybe…
The window was open. It was a perfect May day in Paris. The white embroidered curtains fluttered in a soft breeze. Out of her heavy eyelids, she saw a small feather carried aloft on the breeze that passed in through her open window. She watched, entranced, as it swirled and danced to and fro on the meandering stream of air. Impossibly, the feather began to descend directly over her, over her exposed tummy, gliding back and forth in the breeze, until it softly nestled down in the cradle of her navel.
Faith closed her eyes and smiled. This was the right room.
She tensed her biceps, pulling even tighter on the headboard rails, arching her back, pulling her blouse up until her lower ribs began to show clearly. The soft feather nestled deeper into her navel. She let out a contented sigh, sinking down deep into the mattress, enjoying the light torment.
“I’ve still got it” she thought to herself.
Still as deliciously sensitive as she was all those years ago. Closing her eyes, she arched her neck back, a broad grin spread across her lips.
“Touch me” she whispered.
As if by command, a breeze blew in the window, picking up the feather softly from her navel, blowing it up towards her face, and setting it down softly on her upturned throat.
Faith’s smile spread to cover her entire face, as she felt the tickle of the feather teasing her exposed neck.
“You remember me?” she whispered.
The feather rocked gently to the left, then to the right, back and forth over the soft delicate skin of her throat.
Faith spontaneously arched her body, as a helpless giggle bubbled up through her soul and burst forth from her smiling lips.
“Tickles!” she gasped.
The feather began to slowly dance its way down her neck to the skin of her bare chest, exposed by the plunging neckline of her blouse. It slithered to the right side of her chest, gently bumped into the hemline of her blouse, then slithered back across her chest to the left.
Faith felt her mind go white as her mouth spread wide open and let out a deeply happy laugh.
“You’re tickling me!” she whispered again to the room. The room was silent in its knowledge of her secret.
A gentle breeze again breathed in through her open window, pushing the feather down her chest, below the plunging neckline of her gossamer blouse. Now Faith couldn’t see the feather, but she could feel it exploring her, teasing her, challenging her, questioning her. Each bristle asked a question, and each of her answers was a giggle, a moan, a squeal, or a helpless laugh.
A strong breeze blew in and somehow, somehow, it managed to blow open her belt, previously closed tight against her hips. Her bare tummy raised up and down freely with her excited breath, unconstrained now by the unbuckled belt.
Faith’s head turned to the side, she smiled, eyes shut, and whispered “What are you going to do to me?”
And then Faith filled the space of the room with helpless, feminine laughter, as the the breath of the room gently nudged the feather under her bra. The gentle feather rubbed against the inside of her right breast, somehow curved its way all around the bottom curve of her breast, and tumbled up the outer side of her breast. Her tummy shook in silent laughter as her hands tightly gripped the headboard rails, her knuckles turning white as she strained to hang on and enjoy each delicious morsel of her most pleasant torment.
As she secretly hoped, the feather found its way directly to her nipple. It circled her areola in achingly slow arcs. It dabbled at her rock hard nipple tip. It drove her absolutely insane. She moaned and giggled in utter thankfulness for its warm and gentle attention.
Her excited breathing pushed her tummy up and down, up and down, until the button on her jeans popped open with a satisfying popping noise. She felt the skin of her lower tummy exposed to the fresh, cool air of the secluded hotel room. Goose bumps rippled up the skin of her belly, and she felt each one form and send its individual shiver up her spine, causing her to arch her back even further, making her jeans slide down even more. She loved how she was caught in a delicious circle of arching her body, exposing her skin, new goose bumps forming, which sent her into further arching, and on and on, until she was arched so far off the bed that she could feel her back and shoulder muscles straining with effort.
At the absolute peak of her arch, the feather, that devilish feather, tumbled its way right into her waiting, open bellybutton, and set itself down inside for a good long while. She pressed and she heaved herself upwards into the feather, arching, howling with unreserved laughter. Her helpless tummy quivered with delight, as her peals of laughter echoed off the silent antique pictures in their antique carved oak frames.
A gust of air through the window picked up the feather slightly, causing it to tumble gently down the midline of her lower belly, rolling along the little faint blonde hairs below her navel. Her head lolled to the side, her face plastered with a full grin, as she felt the feather touch and explore each little hair on her stretched and exposed lower tummy.
Finally, the feather reached the waistband of her jeans. Faith inhaled a deep, delicious breath of cool, fragrant spring air. Another puff of air from the window filtered in, pushing the feather down inside her jeans, where she was smooth, shaved and waiting.
It was heaven.
FIN
She stretched her arms over her head, her short horizontally striped shirt and soft, unbuttoned light jacket rose up just a little on her torso.
The large poster bed’s mattress and sheets felt exactly the same as when she was here as a college student, with her whole life stretched before her, the same way she now stretched herself out on the luxurious softness of the bed.
Grasping the rails of the headboard, she sunk into the mattress, as her mind went back to those times. The cafes. Late nights at friends’ apartment drinking champagne and smoking cigarettes. The smells of cigarettes and perfume and cologne and flowers.
She gripped the headboard rails tighter, her blouse creeping up her bare midriff.
She thought if she could just bring herself back to the same spot, maybe…
The window was open. It was a perfect May day in Paris. The white embroidered curtains fluttered in a soft breeze. Out of her heavy eyelids, she saw a small feather carried aloft on the breeze that passed in through her open window. She watched, entranced, as it swirled and danced to and fro on the meandering stream of air. Impossibly, the feather began to descend directly over her, over her exposed tummy, gliding back and forth in the breeze, until it softly nestled down in the cradle of her navel.
Faith closed her eyes and smiled. This was the right room.
She tensed her biceps, pulling even tighter on the headboard rails, arching her back, pulling her blouse up until her lower ribs began to show clearly. The soft feather nestled deeper into her navel. She let out a contented sigh, sinking down deep into the mattress, enjoying the light torment.
“I’ve still got it” she thought to herself.
Still as deliciously sensitive as she was all those years ago. Closing her eyes, she arched her neck back, a broad grin spread across her lips.
“Touch me” she whispered.
As if by command, a breeze blew in the window, picking up the feather softly from her navel, blowing it up towards her face, and setting it down softly on her upturned throat.
Faith’s smile spread to cover her entire face, as she felt the tickle of the feather teasing her exposed neck.
“You remember me?” she whispered.
The feather rocked gently to the left, then to the right, back and forth over the soft delicate skin of her throat.
Faith spontaneously arched her body, as a helpless giggle bubbled up through her soul and burst forth from her smiling lips.
“Tickles!” she gasped.
The feather began to slowly dance its way down her neck to the skin of her bare chest, exposed by the plunging neckline of her blouse. It slithered to the right side of her chest, gently bumped into the hemline of her blouse, then slithered back across her chest to the left.
Faith felt her mind go white as her mouth spread wide open and let out a deeply happy laugh.
“You’re tickling me!” she whispered again to the room. The room was silent in its knowledge of her secret.
A gentle breeze again breathed in through her open window, pushing the feather down her chest, below the plunging neckline of her gossamer blouse. Now Faith couldn’t see the feather, but she could feel it exploring her, teasing her, challenging her, questioning her. Each bristle asked a question, and each of her answers was a giggle, a moan, a squeal, or a helpless laugh.
A strong breeze blew in and somehow, somehow, it managed to blow open her belt, previously closed tight against her hips. Her bare tummy raised up and down freely with her excited breath, unconstrained now by the unbuckled belt.
Faith’s head turned to the side, she smiled, eyes shut, and whispered “What are you going to do to me?”
And then Faith filled the space of the room with helpless, feminine laughter, as the the breath of the room gently nudged the feather under her bra. The gentle feather rubbed against the inside of her right breast, somehow curved its way all around the bottom curve of her breast, and tumbled up the outer side of her breast. Her tummy shook in silent laughter as her hands tightly gripped the headboard rails, her knuckles turning white as she strained to hang on and enjoy each delicious morsel of her most pleasant torment.
As she secretly hoped, the feather found its way directly to her nipple. It circled her areola in achingly slow arcs. It dabbled at her rock hard nipple tip. It drove her absolutely insane. She moaned and giggled in utter thankfulness for its warm and gentle attention.
Her excited breathing pushed her tummy up and down, up and down, until the button on her jeans popped open with a satisfying popping noise. She felt the skin of her lower tummy exposed to the fresh, cool air of the secluded hotel room. Goose bumps rippled up the skin of her belly, and she felt each one form and send its individual shiver up her spine, causing her to arch her back even further, making her jeans slide down even more. She loved how she was caught in a delicious circle of arching her body, exposing her skin, new goose bumps forming, which sent her into further arching, and on and on, until she was arched so far off the bed that she could feel her back and shoulder muscles straining with effort.
At the absolute peak of her arch, the feather, that devilish feather, tumbled its way right into her waiting, open bellybutton, and set itself down inside for a good long while. She pressed and she heaved herself upwards into the feather, arching, howling with unreserved laughter. Her helpless tummy quivered with delight, as her peals of laughter echoed off the silent antique pictures in their antique carved oak frames.
A gust of air through the window picked up the feather slightly, causing it to tumble gently down the midline of her lower belly, rolling along the little faint blonde hairs below her navel. Her head lolled to the side, her face plastered with a full grin, as she felt the feather touch and explore each little hair on her stretched and exposed lower tummy.
Finally, the feather reached the waistband of her jeans. Faith inhaled a deep, delicious breath of cool, fragrant spring air. Another puff of air from the window filtered in, pushing the feather down inside her jeans, where she was smooth, shaved and waiting.
It was heaven.
FIN
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