first time

Princess looked like the shy type. Sweet voice, soft shoes, the kind that says please even when she don't have to. She sat quiet, feet bare, like none of it mattered. Said she could take it. Maybe even smiled. Then it started. One tickle. That’s all it took. Her toes jumped, her back arched, and...

Princess had that look, like an anime character come to life. Glasses thick enough to start a fire and a voice like sugar water. She didn’t belong in the kind of room where tickling was on the menu, but she showed up anyway. She kicked, she squirmed, but not like she wanted it to stop, more like...

Hey guys, Exactly what it says really - I’m a (very ticklish) 27 M (mostly lee) looking for a session. Into M/F, F/M, M/M, and everything in between. Come and make me regret posting! 🪶

Nurse Fernanda had seen things, done things, knew how to handle herself. But when her feet hit the air, bare and vulnerable, she realized she'd walked straight into trouble. First tickle hit like lightning on a clear night, sending shocks up her legs, jolting giggles out of her mouth quicker...

"Wait, stop, I need a break," she begged, voice cracking, but rules didn’t matter here. This was the big leagues, and breaks were a luxury Fernanda couldn't afford. All she could do was laugh herself silly, twisting and thrashing like a dame who’d lost her last marble. Yeah, she learned the hard...

Nurse Fernanda had seen things, done things, knew how to handle herself. But when her feet hit the air, bare and vulnerable, she realized she'd walked straight into trouble. First tickle hit like lightning on a clear night, sending shocks up her legs, jolting giggles out of her mouth quicker...

Jazmin, the gamer, treated everything like a competition. If it had rules, it could be beaten. That was the logic, and it had never failed her. Until now. She tried to hold back, like sheer willpower would be enough to stop the tickling from getting to her. But once the tickles found her feet...

Jazmin sat there, calm, composed, the quiet confidence of someone used to being in control. She was a gamer, used to strategy, to keeping a cool head. She thought this would be no different. Then came the first touch. A flicker of movement, a slight twitch in her lips, and before she even knew...

Valentina strutted through life like nothing could touch her. Sharp uniform, sharp tongue, sharper instincts. But instincts don’t mean much when you’re strapped down, bare feet exposed, and someone’s got a point to prove. Her soles, soft and smooth, were her weakness, every nerve lighting up...

Valentina was shaking before the first touch, the kind of scared laughter that only makes things worse. Her laugh exploded, loud, desperate, a sound she didn’t plan on letting out, not in public, not anywhere. She twisted, squirmed, her body trying to back out of a deal she’d already signed. But...

Nobody touched Daniela's feet, nobody. Maybe that’s why it was so bad. Maybe that’s why the second the first touch grazed her arch, she knew—she was done for. Her laugh shot out of her in frantic bursts, raw and unfiltered, the kind of laugh that lets you know the game’s already lost. And just...

It was Daniela's first time, and the tickling didn’t just get to her—it took her, turned her into something frantic, something breathless, something that didn’t belong to her anymore. She wouldn’t leave the same girl. That much was clear. The tickling had done more than reduce her to a giggling...

Martina thought her feet were her weak spot, and she wasn’t wrong, but knowing didn’t make it any easier. At just 21, her bare soles looked untouched, soft as silk, the kind of skin that practically begged for trouble. It wasn’t just laughter; it was survival, spilling out of her in bursts...

Martina's laugh wasn't just noise; it was survival, stripped down to its barest form. Her head snapped back, her body twisting as if sheer willpower could save her. But it wasn't enough. Time played tricks, stretching out like a bad story with no ending, each second pulling her deeper into the...

Her eyes went wide, like a deer caught in the headlights of a runaway train. She froze for a heartbeat, maybe two, like her mind was trying to process what her body already knew. Then it hit her; Keylia wasn’t ready for this. Not even close. Her laugh came out raw and unfiltered, the kind that...

Sara’s strapped down, looking like she wandered into the wrong side of town and didn’t know it till the door locked behind her. Her bare soles out in the open, and you can see it on her face, the gears turning, nerves firing. It’s the calm before the storm, the kind that makes you hold your...

Sara walked in thinking she could handle it, a little poke here, a feather there, and she’d be out the door. But then she saw the restraints and the tools lined up like they’d been waiting just for her. Her hands shook as she scribbled her name, signing away control of her ticklish body to a...

Alexia’s stretched out, her bare feet exposed for the first time, and all that goth attitude is slipping fast. The tickling digs in, and those laughs sneak out, breathy and nervous, the kind only a shy goth could make. She's caught between wanting to keep it together and just letting go. Every...

There’s Alexia, all black lace and dark lipstick, a shy goth who thought she knew her own limits. But here, she’s a delicacy, a treasure for the tickling underworld. The tickling starts slow, almost gentle, but then it finds the right spots, and her whole act crumbles. Her laugh spills out...

There she is, Skar, tied down, all bare soles and nerves, thinking maybe this won’t be so bad. But the room's quiet, too quiet, and then it isn’t. She laughs harder than she expected, then the words slip out on their own, “It tickles!” like it’s some dirty secret she never wanted to confess...