TicklishFMWrite
Registered User
- Joined
- Feb 25, 2018
- Messages
- 13
- Points
- 0
"And if I agree to do this little tickling fetish thing for you, you'll be okay?" said his mother. Her voice was cautious but open to it. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was really going to happen.
"YES," he pleaded. "I know it's weird, but it will calm me down so much and I don't know why, but, it works." He had a feeling that she could tell how sincere he was.
It had been three weeks since Ed had broken his arms in a motorboating accident, and while the recovery had been mostly smooth sailing after the accident, it had finally become too much to bear in a different way.
Ed was a bit of a ladies man, age 22 and heavily open about his fetish. Ed would meet girls out at the seaside bars on his boat and, with some level of light convincing, he could convince girls to tie him down in the private cabin quarters of his mini-yacht Katie Featherston III. Once tied up, he would request all manner of humiliation, BDSM, tickling, and foot fetish play, all ending in a handjob or footjob for him and a dinner for her. This was how Ed had lived since he was 18 years old, and until just three weeks ago, Ed's sex life had been put on hold.
Forced to recover at his old childhood home, his mother and aunt were keeping an eye on him around the clock. He was in his old bed, a twin-sized mattress up in the stuffy attic. It reminded him of the inside of his boat cabin.
His arms were set in a way that had him laying comfortably spread-eagled, no shirt and just boxer shorts. His feet were propped up above his head per instructed by the doctors, almost as if he was in stirrups at an OBGYN, except it wasn't stirrups that held his ankles up but a heavily-reinforced plushness of pillows that made it so that all he could see was the doorway between his own bare feet.
At this point in his life, due to his fetish, Ed had become incredibly foot shy around family. Every time he had to see his mother or aunt's face between his own bare feet, he would cringe knowing that they were able to see his helpless bare feet. The thought of them reaching out at any point and touching was his biggest nightmare. He loved being tickled by girls so much that the thought of somebody in his family doing it to him was a nightmare. At least, on day one it was.
On day seven, when Aunt Betty walked in to see how he was doing, she walked up and noticed, "You have a little fuzz on the bottom of your foot," and before he could say anything she brushed it away gently with three easy swipes of her palm. On the third and final swipe, Ed couldn't help himself and he let out a little yelp.
"Oops! Sorry baby!" Betty said, "Didn't mean to tickle you." And she meant it. She didn't go in for another tickle or touch but smiled and left. It was at that exact moment that Ed realized just how long it had been since he'd been touched, both by another woman but also by himself.
This began the excruciating second week of Ed's captivity to the bed, in a simulated experience that he had so desperately sought with the girls of Long Shore, but now in a nightmare of strange stewed sexual frustration from the fact that his arms could not reach himself, and that the only people who could help him had to interface with such a vulnerable version of him.
It was day thirteen that Ed began to ejaculate involuntarily, just from the sheer force of will of his erection against his boxers that would happen healthily and normally throughout the day. It was the worst in the night, where he'd wake up at 2AM with a raging erection and no way to do anything about it. Carefully he attempted to gyrate his hips up and down until the friction of his boxers gave him relief as he rubbed the front-bottom of his dick against the shallow opening. He came with such force he was almost afraid that it wouldn't be dried by the morning, but sure enough, he was in the clear by the time his mom came in for breakfast at 9AM.
Ed woke up every night between the thirteenth day and the twenty-first, spending an entire week humping the air and taking up to an hour just to feel the sweet relief of sexual tension letting go.
And on the 22nd day, Ed made a fatal mistake. While thrusting up in the air at 3AM, Ed allows himself to thrust a little too hard, which caused the shallow button indent of his boxers to easily open up.
Ed could not figure out what was worse: the fact that his penis was now completely exposed and able to be seen, or the fact that its exposure now meant that he couldn't push against it any longer. After 30 minutes, he decided it was the sexual frustration that was way harder.
And there was nothing Ed could do about it, except angrily and slowly drift off to sleep...
...until he woke up at 9AM, the door opening as he realized that he couldn't see the person walking into the room this time, because as he awoke, he realized that the thing he saw between his two feet was not the face of his caretaker, but to his horror, his penis, once again erect. It must have gone down in the night and then come back up through the hole. And here he was realizing that his mother was entering the room to see.
"Uh oh!" she yells, shielding her eyes somewhat and not knowing what to say. How could she? It's not like she can just tuck it back into his boxers for him. And it's not like he can get up and change.
"I don't know how it happened but I'm so sorry," he blurted. "I'm sorry!" he repeated. "I'm-
"Honey don't be sorry!" she almost yelled. For a moment he felt like he was in trouble and felt himself recoil, though a curious throb shot down to the tip of his dick at the reprimand.
"It's normal, you have been in here for a while and you can't really help yourself..." she wandered off. "You don't have a girlfriend right now either, I know that's hard." She was right, he hadn't been steady with a girl for over a year, which was why his parties with girls on the boat had intensified so much in recent times.
There was an awkward silence before his mom made a remark that made his ears flushed, "Is there anybody I can call to come over for you?"
How weird it felt to have your mom ask you if she could arrange a booty call for you. An adult playdate. "Hi, Samantha? It's Eddie's mom, you remember me from his birthdays ages ago? I was wondering if you still found my son attractive, because he broke his arms and needs a killer handjob. Think you can do it?" Is that what she was really offering?
But Ed couldn't think of a single girl he knew that would be willing to help him out right now. All of his friendly bridges had been burnt. Ed had a bad habit of not calling girls back, even if he was a gentleman when with them.
"No, I don't really have anybody I can think of," and he made a face that his mother must have taken for a pout, because very sternly after that, she said as if it was suggested,
"Honey, I'm sorry. I can't do it for you." And that was enough to make Ed on the defense.
"I WOULD NEVER," he blurts, but she puts up her hand and stops him.
"I know you well enough," she says gently, "I know how your mind works. You wanted to ask, because you're feeling desperate and you don't know what to do." Was she right? The thought hadn't consciously entered his mind, but then again... it was after Aunt Betty's light touch on the sole of his foot that triggered the pathetic and vigorous attempts at masturbating against the friction of his boxers. How many weeks more could he take of this?
Holy shit, he thought. She was right. He was going to ask her to help him out. Just like that ridiculous story on Reddit about the guy just like him who broke his arms and began a relationship of fucking his mom.
"I've been masturbating the last week sorta," he admitted quietly. She didn't make any judgment or comment but continued to listen. He could tell by her gaze so he continued. "I figured out how to sort of air hump the bed. It came out last night."
Her look became more concerned than it was before. "So you mean you've found a way to alleviate yourself, even without being touched? And now you can't because..." she let her eyes trail to his member and this time didn't look away. "You don't have anything to push against anymore?"
"Yeah."
She sighed and looked around the room, and then realized there was something she could do.
"Well..." she got, getting up and walking over to the computer desk where a soft clean towel lay. She picked it up and fluffed it, and then with a single swoop, turned and gently draped it across his body, obscuring his bare torso, legs, and most importantly his penis. As soon as she did this, the shockwave of the towel send a chill from the head of his dick to the base of his spine.
"If I leave now, you can finish up," she said, smiling and turning to go. And then out of nowhere he blurted out the last thing he ever thought he'd say to his mom."
"Tickle my feet."
What? Did he really just blurt that out? There's no way he said that. Yet it hung in the air as she stopped and looked back at him, a smile growing on her face with surprise. "What?" she said. and when he realized that she wasn't immediately turning to leave, he repeated it just as emphatically and this time a little desperately.
"Tickle my feet for me and I promise I'll be so much better off." And he realized that he meant it. All his horniness came from the unresolved sensation of his confinement, his bondage, his complete emasculation and the fact that his giant bare feet had been the centerpiece of his visual cortex for more than half a month. They remained propped up at the end of the bed and were the closest thing to her for this entire conversation. He became acutely aware of this only after she turned to walk away, that the presence of somebody down at his feet was turning him on more than it ever had in his life.
"Tickle your feet??" she asked, still smiling and almost chuckling. "You mean like you have an itch on them that you can't reach?" She didn't seem to understand. He wondered if he would have to explain himself or if she would just oblige no questions asked. He realized now that he'd have to be more open if he was gonna get this satisfaction.
"I-... uh... I.." he composed himself and found the words, "I get a really strong reaction from being tickled..." he paused and then had to add a single word for emphasis "...there." She looked confused still so he repeated the whole phrase with more coherence. "I get a big reaction when I'm tickled there."
She looked right at his soles. The electricity of the moment was so vivid to him he felt as though that simple gaze held a light tickle from the electrons bouncing off her eyeballs into his feet. "You get aroused when you have your feet tickled?"
"Yes." He had gone too far. He knew it. She already said that she wouldn't touch his penis, even though he didn't ask yet, and now he was going to face the rejection of having his feet touched. He just knew it. He just knew that the next thing out of her mouth was going to b-
"Is this a fetish?"
He was so embarrassed. He couldn't believe it. He was getting ready to apologize before she completed her thought:
"Because I always wondered who was responsible for that website in our search history." It was so unexpected that he ended up laughing, and so did she. She knew?? Or at the very least, she knew that someone in the house had looked up tickling content on the internet before? He had been so careful clearing the cache every time he looked or browsed. How could she have seen it?
"Oh my god," she said, having a dawning realizaiton, "this whole time, I thought it was one of your street rat cousins, looking up weird stuff on one of the holiday get-togethers. That was you?"
He was less embarrassed now than he would've been had his penis not been out and had she not just given him a towel to cum all over. But that was before when she thought she was leaving. At some point, Eddie now realized, his mother had reclosed the door.
"I have a tickling fetish," he said. "Basically I get turned on when girls tickle me." Said so plainly, it didn't even seem so bad. He continued, "sometimes girls will tie me up and we'll play games, like they'll interrogate me and find our where I'm ticklish as collateral. Or they'll"
"That's adorable!" his mom blurted. "I'm sorry I don't mean to interrupt but, are you serious?" Her eyes were glowing. "I used to play tickle games with my sister but it was never something that I imagined could feel like a turn-on."
"I don't know how to be tickled and not be turned on," Ed said.
And this was the realization that made it all come into play for Ed's mom, who understood now just how hard it was for her ticklish son to be this exposed and helpless and yet completely untouched and unable to touch himself. The conundrum was coming together.
"You want me to tickle your feet for you, baby?"
"YES." he said it more eagerly than he ever would have if he was with one of his dates; his mom laughed. "Eager!" she squealed. "Calm down mister!" His cheeks flushed again. She was teasing him in that domineering way that the girls he dated would. He felt his bulge rustle beneath and against the towel. It was thick enough that nobody could see.
"And if I agree to do this little tickling fetish thing for you, you'll be okay?" said his mother. Her voice was cautious but open to it. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was really going to happen.
"YES," he pleaded. "I know it's weird, but it will calm me down so much and I don't know why, but, it works." He had a feeling that she could tell how sincere he was.
A silence that felt like an eternity before the fateful two letters that changed Ed's perception of his tickling fetish forever.
"OK."
And with that, she sat down at the little footstool that rested near the end of the bed, the same one she sat at in previous weeks while taking care of him. Usually it was at the foot of the bed for keeping and it would be brought up closer to his bedside, but for the first time, it remained at the foot. And now, his mom's face appeared once again between his feet, only this time right between them.
And then a devilish smile as her hands started to rise.
"When did these..." she said placing all ten of her manicured long-nail fingertips on the soles of his feet, making him tense and squirm before she could even move them
"get so..." the pressure built as the fingertips found their perfect starting points of sensitivty, he began to squeal in anticipation
"BIG?" Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle, like a frenzy of ants all ten of her fingernails started to go ballistic down the bottom of his soles. Surging and dancing and somehow managing to hit spots that no girl in his history had ever grazed before.
"AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA" instantly the explosive laughter leaves his throat and he feels the throbbing against the towel begin. Three weeks of no touch, his entire body yearning to be explored, and all of it is concentrated down at the very bottom already-extremely-sensitive base of his self: his feet, which his mom seemed to know every hidden pathway and cranny of. She was too good. He had never realized. One moment her fingers would be jabbing the tender spots between his obscured toes before skittering down to that reflexive spot on his arch that would make his whole ankle flail. She would take advantage of how unclenched this made his toes, assaulting into them before repeating the loop again. So methodical and intense. The way his feet were propped up, there was no way to wiggle them away with strain. He simply could not get them away from a single exploring finger.
He laughed and laughed and laughed and finally he realized, the room was so full of laughs because she was laughing too. That made him feel better. They weren't doing anything weird; they were both just having fun.
In fact, he was having so much fun that, at about only three minutes into the ticklish assault on his feet, Ed realized that he was on the verge of exploding. In this moment, with horror, he realized that he had never explained the fact that being tickled in a refractory period was excruciating. Which means... he would have to tell her that he was about to cum, or risk being tickled post-orgasm for god knows how long.
"I'm almost there!" he managed to yell through the laughs. He didn't feel right saying "I'm gonna cum!" to her, and luckily she knew what he meant.
"Do you want me to stop?" she asked, not stopping to see if the answer was yes.
"AHAHAHA-NO-AHAHAH I-AHAHAHA JU-JU-AHAHA-HJUST", she stopped for a second to let him get the sentence out, "I just can't take it anymore after I've, uh..." She smiled and finished his sentence for him, the tickling resumed fiercely the moment she said it. "Cum??"
He did.
- - -
The towel lay crumpled in the corner. A new one had been draped freshly against him. His mom kept her eyes closed while changing it out so that she wouldn't have to see the cum or his post-ejaculated penis. Even if she had participated in this happening, that didn't mean she was going to witness every detail.
Ed lay panting and reeling, the bottoms of his feet still tingling from the sensation and the massive load he just blew evaporating microscopically on his wiped-down stomach. He really liked it when she wiped him down. She pressed on a spot just below his belly button while doing it and it caused a massive giggle outta him. She smirked but didn't say anything.
"I trust you'll be okay now, sweetie?" she said with earnest love in her voice. "I just want you to be okay. You only have two weeks left of recovery. You should be good now, right?"
Ed realized during the happening that it was likely going to be a one-time thing, but the disappointment must have shown in his voice anyway, "Oh, yeah..."
Mom started to depart, and Ed closed his eyes.
"Maybe next time I can see if those underarms are still as bad as your belly," his eyes opened and widened just in time to see her smiling between his bare feet as she shut the door.
END (to be continued?)
"YES," he pleaded. "I know it's weird, but it will calm me down so much and I don't know why, but, it works." He had a feeling that she could tell how sincere he was.
It had been three weeks since Ed had broken his arms in a motorboating accident, and while the recovery had been mostly smooth sailing after the accident, it had finally become too much to bear in a different way.
Ed was a bit of a ladies man, age 22 and heavily open about his fetish. Ed would meet girls out at the seaside bars on his boat and, with some level of light convincing, he could convince girls to tie him down in the private cabin quarters of his mini-yacht Katie Featherston III. Once tied up, he would request all manner of humiliation, BDSM, tickling, and foot fetish play, all ending in a handjob or footjob for him and a dinner for her. This was how Ed had lived since he was 18 years old, and until just three weeks ago, Ed's sex life had been put on hold.
Forced to recover at his old childhood home, his mother and aunt were keeping an eye on him around the clock. He was in his old bed, a twin-sized mattress up in the stuffy attic. It reminded him of the inside of his boat cabin.
His arms were set in a way that had him laying comfortably spread-eagled, no shirt and just boxer shorts. His feet were propped up above his head per instructed by the doctors, almost as if he was in stirrups at an OBGYN, except it wasn't stirrups that held his ankles up but a heavily-reinforced plushness of pillows that made it so that all he could see was the doorway between his own bare feet.
At this point in his life, due to his fetish, Ed had become incredibly foot shy around family. Every time he had to see his mother or aunt's face between his own bare feet, he would cringe knowing that they were able to see his helpless bare feet. The thought of them reaching out at any point and touching was his biggest nightmare. He loved being tickled by girls so much that the thought of somebody in his family doing it to him was a nightmare. At least, on day one it was.
On day seven, when Aunt Betty walked in to see how he was doing, she walked up and noticed, "You have a little fuzz on the bottom of your foot," and before he could say anything she brushed it away gently with three easy swipes of her palm. On the third and final swipe, Ed couldn't help himself and he let out a little yelp.
"Oops! Sorry baby!" Betty said, "Didn't mean to tickle you." And she meant it. She didn't go in for another tickle or touch but smiled and left. It was at that exact moment that Ed realized just how long it had been since he'd been touched, both by another woman but also by himself.
This began the excruciating second week of Ed's captivity to the bed, in a simulated experience that he had so desperately sought with the girls of Long Shore, but now in a nightmare of strange stewed sexual frustration from the fact that his arms could not reach himself, and that the only people who could help him had to interface with such a vulnerable version of him.
It was day thirteen that Ed began to ejaculate involuntarily, just from the sheer force of will of his erection against his boxers that would happen healthily and normally throughout the day. It was the worst in the night, where he'd wake up at 2AM with a raging erection and no way to do anything about it. Carefully he attempted to gyrate his hips up and down until the friction of his boxers gave him relief as he rubbed the front-bottom of his dick against the shallow opening. He came with such force he was almost afraid that it wouldn't be dried by the morning, but sure enough, he was in the clear by the time his mom came in for breakfast at 9AM.
Ed woke up every night between the thirteenth day and the twenty-first, spending an entire week humping the air and taking up to an hour just to feel the sweet relief of sexual tension letting go.
And on the 22nd day, Ed made a fatal mistake. While thrusting up in the air at 3AM, Ed allows himself to thrust a little too hard, which caused the shallow button indent of his boxers to easily open up.
Ed could not figure out what was worse: the fact that his penis was now completely exposed and able to be seen, or the fact that its exposure now meant that he couldn't push against it any longer. After 30 minutes, he decided it was the sexual frustration that was way harder.
And there was nothing Ed could do about it, except angrily and slowly drift off to sleep...
...until he woke up at 9AM, the door opening as he realized that he couldn't see the person walking into the room this time, because as he awoke, he realized that the thing he saw between his two feet was not the face of his caretaker, but to his horror, his penis, once again erect. It must have gone down in the night and then come back up through the hole. And here he was realizing that his mother was entering the room to see.
"Uh oh!" she yells, shielding her eyes somewhat and not knowing what to say. How could she? It's not like she can just tuck it back into his boxers for him. And it's not like he can get up and change.
"I don't know how it happened but I'm so sorry," he blurted. "I'm sorry!" he repeated. "I'm-
"Honey don't be sorry!" she almost yelled. For a moment he felt like he was in trouble and felt himself recoil, though a curious throb shot down to the tip of his dick at the reprimand.
"It's normal, you have been in here for a while and you can't really help yourself..." she wandered off. "You don't have a girlfriend right now either, I know that's hard." She was right, he hadn't been steady with a girl for over a year, which was why his parties with girls on the boat had intensified so much in recent times.
There was an awkward silence before his mom made a remark that made his ears flushed, "Is there anybody I can call to come over for you?"
How weird it felt to have your mom ask you if she could arrange a booty call for you. An adult playdate. "Hi, Samantha? It's Eddie's mom, you remember me from his birthdays ages ago? I was wondering if you still found my son attractive, because he broke his arms and needs a killer handjob. Think you can do it?" Is that what she was really offering?
But Ed couldn't think of a single girl he knew that would be willing to help him out right now. All of his friendly bridges had been burnt. Ed had a bad habit of not calling girls back, even if he was a gentleman when with them.
"No, I don't really have anybody I can think of," and he made a face that his mother must have taken for a pout, because very sternly after that, she said as if it was suggested,
"Honey, I'm sorry. I can't do it for you." And that was enough to make Ed on the defense.
"I WOULD NEVER," he blurts, but she puts up her hand and stops him.
"I know you well enough," she says gently, "I know how your mind works. You wanted to ask, because you're feeling desperate and you don't know what to do." Was she right? The thought hadn't consciously entered his mind, but then again... it was after Aunt Betty's light touch on the sole of his foot that triggered the pathetic and vigorous attempts at masturbating against the friction of his boxers. How many weeks more could he take of this?
Holy shit, he thought. She was right. He was going to ask her to help him out. Just like that ridiculous story on Reddit about the guy just like him who broke his arms and began a relationship of fucking his mom.
"I've been masturbating the last week sorta," he admitted quietly. She didn't make any judgment or comment but continued to listen. He could tell by her gaze so he continued. "I figured out how to sort of air hump the bed. It came out last night."
Her look became more concerned than it was before. "So you mean you've found a way to alleviate yourself, even without being touched? And now you can't because..." she let her eyes trail to his member and this time didn't look away. "You don't have anything to push against anymore?"
"Yeah."
She sighed and looked around the room, and then realized there was something she could do.
"Well..." she got, getting up and walking over to the computer desk where a soft clean towel lay. She picked it up and fluffed it, and then with a single swoop, turned and gently draped it across his body, obscuring his bare torso, legs, and most importantly his penis. As soon as she did this, the shockwave of the towel send a chill from the head of his dick to the base of his spine.
"If I leave now, you can finish up," she said, smiling and turning to go. And then out of nowhere he blurted out the last thing he ever thought he'd say to his mom."
"Tickle my feet."
What? Did he really just blurt that out? There's no way he said that. Yet it hung in the air as she stopped and looked back at him, a smile growing on her face with surprise. "What?" she said. and when he realized that she wasn't immediately turning to leave, he repeated it just as emphatically and this time a little desperately.
"Tickle my feet for me and I promise I'll be so much better off." And he realized that he meant it. All his horniness came from the unresolved sensation of his confinement, his bondage, his complete emasculation and the fact that his giant bare feet had been the centerpiece of his visual cortex for more than half a month. They remained propped up at the end of the bed and were the closest thing to her for this entire conversation. He became acutely aware of this only after she turned to walk away, that the presence of somebody down at his feet was turning him on more than it ever had in his life.
"Tickle your feet??" she asked, still smiling and almost chuckling. "You mean like you have an itch on them that you can't reach?" She didn't seem to understand. He wondered if he would have to explain himself or if she would just oblige no questions asked. He realized now that he'd have to be more open if he was gonna get this satisfaction.
"I-... uh... I.." he composed himself and found the words, "I get a really strong reaction from being tickled..." he paused and then had to add a single word for emphasis "...there." She looked confused still so he repeated the whole phrase with more coherence. "I get a big reaction when I'm tickled there."
She looked right at his soles. The electricity of the moment was so vivid to him he felt as though that simple gaze held a light tickle from the electrons bouncing off her eyeballs into his feet. "You get aroused when you have your feet tickled?"
"Yes." He had gone too far. He knew it. She already said that she wouldn't touch his penis, even though he didn't ask yet, and now he was going to face the rejection of having his feet touched. He just knew it. He just knew that the next thing out of her mouth was going to b-
"Is this a fetish?"
He was so embarrassed. He couldn't believe it. He was getting ready to apologize before she completed her thought:
"Because I always wondered who was responsible for that website in our search history." It was so unexpected that he ended up laughing, and so did she. She knew?? Or at the very least, she knew that someone in the house had looked up tickling content on the internet before? He had been so careful clearing the cache every time he looked or browsed. How could she have seen it?
"Oh my god," she said, having a dawning realizaiton, "this whole time, I thought it was one of your street rat cousins, looking up weird stuff on one of the holiday get-togethers. That was you?"
He was less embarrassed now than he would've been had his penis not been out and had she not just given him a towel to cum all over. But that was before when she thought she was leaving. At some point, Eddie now realized, his mother had reclosed the door.
"I have a tickling fetish," he said. "Basically I get turned on when girls tickle me." Said so plainly, it didn't even seem so bad. He continued, "sometimes girls will tie me up and we'll play games, like they'll interrogate me and find our where I'm ticklish as collateral. Or they'll"
"That's adorable!" his mom blurted. "I'm sorry I don't mean to interrupt but, are you serious?" Her eyes were glowing. "I used to play tickle games with my sister but it was never something that I imagined could feel like a turn-on."
"I don't know how to be tickled and not be turned on," Ed said.
And this was the realization that made it all come into play for Ed's mom, who understood now just how hard it was for her ticklish son to be this exposed and helpless and yet completely untouched and unable to touch himself. The conundrum was coming together.
"You want me to tickle your feet for you, baby?"
"YES." he said it more eagerly than he ever would have if he was with one of his dates; his mom laughed. "Eager!" she squealed. "Calm down mister!" His cheeks flushed again. She was teasing him in that domineering way that the girls he dated would. He felt his bulge rustle beneath and against the towel. It was thick enough that nobody could see.
"And if I agree to do this little tickling fetish thing for you, you'll be okay?" said his mother. Her voice was cautious but open to it. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was really going to happen.
"YES," he pleaded. "I know it's weird, but it will calm me down so much and I don't know why, but, it works." He had a feeling that she could tell how sincere he was.
A silence that felt like an eternity before the fateful two letters that changed Ed's perception of his tickling fetish forever.
"OK."
And with that, she sat down at the little footstool that rested near the end of the bed, the same one she sat at in previous weeks while taking care of him. Usually it was at the foot of the bed for keeping and it would be brought up closer to his bedside, but for the first time, it remained at the foot. And now, his mom's face appeared once again between his feet, only this time right between them.
And then a devilish smile as her hands started to rise.
"When did these..." she said placing all ten of her manicured long-nail fingertips on the soles of his feet, making him tense and squirm before she could even move them
"get so..." the pressure built as the fingertips found their perfect starting points of sensitivty, he began to squeal in anticipation
"BIG?" Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle, like a frenzy of ants all ten of her fingernails started to go ballistic down the bottom of his soles. Surging and dancing and somehow managing to hit spots that no girl in his history had ever grazed before.
"AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA" instantly the explosive laughter leaves his throat and he feels the throbbing against the towel begin. Three weeks of no touch, his entire body yearning to be explored, and all of it is concentrated down at the very bottom already-extremely-sensitive base of his self: his feet, which his mom seemed to know every hidden pathway and cranny of. She was too good. He had never realized. One moment her fingers would be jabbing the tender spots between his obscured toes before skittering down to that reflexive spot on his arch that would make his whole ankle flail. She would take advantage of how unclenched this made his toes, assaulting into them before repeating the loop again. So methodical and intense. The way his feet were propped up, there was no way to wiggle them away with strain. He simply could not get them away from a single exploring finger.
He laughed and laughed and laughed and finally he realized, the room was so full of laughs because she was laughing too. That made him feel better. They weren't doing anything weird; they were both just having fun.
In fact, he was having so much fun that, at about only three minutes into the ticklish assault on his feet, Ed realized that he was on the verge of exploding. In this moment, with horror, he realized that he had never explained the fact that being tickled in a refractory period was excruciating. Which means... he would have to tell her that he was about to cum, or risk being tickled post-orgasm for god knows how long.
"I'm almost there!" he managed to yell through the laughs. He didn't feel right saying "I'm gonna cum!" to her, and luckily she knew what he meant.
"Do you want me to stop?" she asked, not stopping to see if the answer was yes.
"AHAHAHA-NO-AHAHAH I-AHAHAHA JU-JU-AHAHA-HJUST", she stopped for a second to let him get the sentence out, "I just can't take it anymore after I've, uh..." She smiled and finished his sentence for him, the tickling resumed fiercely the moment she said it. "Cum??"
He did.
- - -
The towel lay crumpled in the corner. A new one had been draped freshly against him. His mom kept her eyes closed while changing it out so that she wouldn't have to see the cum or his post-ejaculated penis. Even if she had participated in this happening, that didn't mean she was going to witness every detail.
Ed lay panting and reeling, the bottoms of his feet still tingling from the sensation and the massive load he just blew evaporating microscopically on his wiped-down stomach. He really liked it when she wiped him down. She pressed on a spot just below his belly button while doing it and it caused a massive giggle outta him. She smirked but didn't say anything.
"I trust you'll be okay now, sweetie?" she said with earnest love in her voice. "I just want you to be okay. You only have two weeks left of recovery. You should be good now, right?"
Ed realized during the happening that it was likely going to be a one-time thing, but the disappointment must have shown in his voice anyway, "Oh, yeah..."
Mom started to depart, and Ed closed his eyes.
"Maybe next time I can see if those underarms are still as bad as your belly," his eyes opened and widened just in time to see her smiling between his bare feet as she shut the door.
END (to be continued?)
