Just That Darn Ticklish
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Hello! Major lurker here. I've been mulling around and thinking about writing some stories. I've had plenty of ideas to tool around with and I haven't really put any of it into action. So I figured I'd write a few based on some fantasies I've had. This is the first. The formatting may be a little off because I'm doing this on mobile. Apologies if it takes a while to get to the point lol Anyways. Please read and let me know what you think!
Ginger Williams was a sweet woman. A senior year art teacher at the local school, she was in her early 50s. Still brimming with light and bubbliness on the day to day. Standing at five feet tall, blonde, blue eyed and petite. Yet still refined like good wine when it came to her looks. She was a religious woman. But not above being a bit more hands on times when it came to her students. Like any teacher of her kind, she had her fair share of admirers. Maybe she did it because she knew what it did to them. Perhaps she didn't. But every so often, she'd find herself flirting with male students. At any given time, you could walk into her classroom to find her manicured soles and toes propped on the desk. Wiggling and scrunching toes carelessly as she scrolled through her phone. Unaware of the attention she's garnering. On occasion she'd been known to playfully squeeze at the sides of her male students. Tickling them and making them feel like the little boys she knew they were. As previously stated, whether or not Mrs. Williams was aware of what she was doing or not, never seemed to cross her mind. Some do speculate heavily. Some students say she derives so much pleasure from it that it's just normal to her. But she did have one particular admirer who just needed to have his chance. His name was Mick. 18 and a senior he'd been in her class all year. But no matter how hard he tried, it never felt like he could keep up. Not because he was bad at art, per say. But his muse was so distracting that it made it impossible to get anything done. A student in his senior year with long brown hair and reddish brown beard to match. Blue eyes and a chipper attitude. It was a pleasure for Ginger to have him in her class. But unfortunately for Matt, it was a nightmare. Constantly having to try and look away from those feet. The pink or blue polish she'd wear on any given day would drive him insane. And in turn caused his grades to suffer. To the point of him almost failing. So. In a last ditch effort to help him from failing, she offered to have him help on extra projects in order to potentially save his grade. She didn't specify what. But Mick hearing this jumps at the opportunity. Millions of plans running through his mind. All schemes to get at the feet of his Art teacher... And the day comes. It's after school. Mick is heading to Mrs. Williams room. He'd had to clean himself up after a practice before heading over. Sore muscles not stopping him from the one dragging him by his pants. A black tank top with multicolor palm trees across the front, cargo shorts with beige house slippers and black socks. Long hair tied back. He was prepped. With all the tools he planned to use in his gym bag. Feathers, pipe cleaners, scrubs and even a few paint brushes. The plan was simple. Tell her you had an idea for a new art project. "All I have to do is tell her that I have a new art project" he thought to himself. "Just tell her all ya have to do is keep your feet on the desk while I... Paint them with feathers..." He began to panic slightly. "I am so stupid" He said to himself. Mick had thought to just dip and abandon the plan, but before he could make the decision, the door to Mrs. Williams swung the door open. "Helloooooo, Mick!" She exclaimed, happily wrapping her arms around him and thanking him for coming. Mick's poor heart leapt as he saw her. Barefoot and sporting blue, sparkling nail polish on her toes. Bright white capris and a spaghetti strap top, pink as ever. "Come in, sweetheart I'm just finished setting up". She waved him into an extra room within the art room. A cubby area where an art can be sat to dry. The smell of paint thick in the air Mick nervously stepped in. Taking survey, and immediately stopped in his tracks... At the very back of the room was a chair against the wall. A soft rope with cuffs at the end meant to keep someone's arm in place hung from the ceiling. In front of the chair sat a pedestal. And on top of the pedestal were a pair of wooden stocks. Fuzzy strings hanging over the tops. Frozen, he couldn't seem to comprehend what was going on. She couldn't possibly... No. It's insane to think they'd let a teacher keep one of these in their rooms. "Yoo-hoo?" Ginger waved her hand in front of Mick's face. Trying to get his clearly divided attention back. "Pretty shocking, huh?" she playfully asked him. "It's really surprising what a principal will let ya do if you just tickle him silly for a little bit". She smiled to herself and lightly giggled. "Deal was, they keep it a secret, and I can use it to help out anyone struggling in my class. And unruly staff, but that's besides the point". "And what's keeping them from telling?" Mick questioned. Still reeling from what he was seeing. "Well duh. The principal is really really ticklish and DOES not wanna go through that again". Mick tried speaking "Y-yeah I see... um, so listen. I had an idea for my project and-" "Upbupbup. Honey, you make it so obvious when I catch you looking at my feet from across the room. You're also not the first. I know what you thought you were gonna do. But that's not happening today". All this said with the sweetest smile. Despite that sweetness, Mickey tensed up at the mere mention of her noticing. "I, uh- No I'm just staring into space." "And I'm the Pope" Ginger joked. "Now this project is very simple. You sit. I work. Got it?" Mick nodded, almost on reflex. Immediately caving to the authority of this woman who looked like she could never hurt a fly and sitting in the chair. "Arms up". Hesitantly he lifted his arms to the cuffs. Sweat beading around his forehead. In the heat of the situation, a sudden jolt of electricity hit his sides as Mrs Williams pinched on them, "Come ooooooonn~" she cooed impatiently. Instinctively, he pulled his arms down to protect himself. Giggling incessantly while her tiny fingers wiggled at his ribs. And just as soon as it started, it stopped. "Hurry up, honey I'd really like to get this project started sooner than later". Mick caught his breath, still unsure if this was reality. A stirring in his stomach is already bubbling. One that was all too familiar. Something he'd that was the source of his current failings. But he couldn't let her notice. He focused on anything but the situation at hand. As Micks arms were firmly tucked into the cuffs, he tried thinking of what he'd eat for dinner. As his ankles were guided into the open stocks, he attempted to think of his favorite show. His favorite music while the only thing keeping his poor size 10s from Mrs. Williams devious fingers, his shoes and socks were removed. Despite his attempts, the cracks began to widen as he heard an audible gasp of approval come from Ginger. "Oh Mick! They look so soft sweetie, do you go to the same salon as I do?" This statement caused Mick to blush heavily. He'd never been complimented on his feet before. He'd never done anything special. Just kept them clean and well groomed. Ginger admired them slightly, gently pressing her thumbs into his arches. Giving him a nice foot rub while she talked to him. The sensation immediately melts away all of Mickey's tension. Giving away to the moment and resting his cheek on his raised shoulder. "Now Mickey..." she started "I want you to know that no matter what, this is because I care about you and your future. I'm not doing this to punish you, but to help you learn to endure. To enjoy life and the creativity that comes with it" She stopped the massage and began pushing back Mickey's Toes. One by one, threading the multi colored string in between. Once finished she left the room for a second, speaking as she did coming back into the room with a rolling tripod, fully charged camera ready to film on top. Mickey's eyes widened "H-Hold on! I don't want you filming this! This is illegal!" Holding up a hand, she attempted to soothe his fears. "Mickey, I'm not using this to spread to people or blackmail you, I promise... I'm using this as an incentive". Mickey's head tilted in confusion while she continued "I know about your little kink, mister man. So I know just the way to get you motivated. The idea is this... I tickle you for the full hour I have you. I film it. And if you can manage to get to a passing grade in my class before the end of the year, I'll let you have the footage. No gimmicks. No gotchas. Just a reward for your hard work. Deal?" He thought for a second. Considered everything. What if it leaked? What if someone found us out? This was supposed to be the other way around. All these thoughts racing through his head and the only thing he could think was... "Deal!". She smiled. Flicked on the camera and walked his way. "Then let's begin! Oh! What's this!" For a second, Mick wondered what she could mean. But then his heart sank.... the gym bag. Unable to do anything, he painstakingly watched as she opened the zipper. Revealing oils, brushes, feathers and all sorts of tools. "Ooooh, so you were gonna use these on ME, huh?" She grinned evily. "You are gonna get iiiiiiit". As she said this, she popped open a bottle of coconut oil. Dispersing it between hands before making contact with Mickey's soft soles. He tensed slightly. Even though this was just the start, he was still sore from earlier practices. His soles terribly sensitive from being sore. Ginger noticed, her smile now softening before she speaks. "You ready Hun?" She questioned Mick, as a courtesy she holds for all her projects. Mick nodded. And braced. And like that, she pounced. Scribbling her manicured nails up and down his large feet. Mickey did not break immediately however. The sensation, as unbearable as it was, wasn't enough to break him. Ginger just looked into his eyes, him looking back defiantly. She just shrugged and began to tease him. "Coochie cooo", she'd whisper. "Tickle tickle! Common Mickey, I know you like to laugh!" Mickey was almost close to losing it at this point. His stifled snickers, slowly developing into quiet giggles. "Ope! There he is! Almost there!" Though he was staying strong, the worst had yet to begin. He began thinking this would be a cake walk. He wasn't that ticklish... But without warning, Gingers nimble fingers found there way just beneath Mick's long toes. Like a bolt of lightening the sensation immediately sent the panic bells off in Mickey's brain. It started off sounding just like the giggles he'd already been letting out, but quickly became a loud deep belly laugh. He began to twist and contort in his seat. Trying to get away from the tickling but the tickling would not leave him alone. It could not. He was stuck there at the mercy of the woman who's soles had been on his mind since the day he entered her class. Mickey almost didn't notice when Gingers right hand left his right foot. However he became well aware once the brush she'd picked up made contact. He began howling like a mad man. Screaming, cursing begging for the tickling to stop. The sensation was overwhelming. He couldn't think straight, see straight or even talk straight. Any pleas of no or stop or help, drowned out by his own laughter. The nightmare continued on. Feathers finding their way in-between Micks toes. Making the already unbearable feeling of the strings all the worst. Ginger began doubling down on her teasing. Becoming almost a bully to the young man in the process. Mockingly asking him if something tickles right before she finds out herself. Calling him a ticklish little baby, a softie, anything she can to make him feel weak. To feel small.... And Mike liked it. It was too much. He couldn't help it, and even if he could, he couldn't care less. Despite this being torture, he was also in bliss. A tent had been pitched, visible even to Ginger. Who hardly acknowledged it. Simply looking and almost smuggly commenting that she was glad he was enjoying himself. This caused him to whine like a dog, almost upset she didn't properly acknowledge it. After some time she did move on. Circling Mickey like a jungle cat. His breather only lasting as long as it took for reach for his armpits. He didn't struggle with this. The burst of laughter was almost immediate. A large smile coming across Gingers face as she praised Mickey. "Good boy! Laugh it up for Mrs. Williams. You know this is for your own good". And he did. He couldn't stop. She wouldn't let him. And she didn't just work his armpits. She lifted his tank top over his head. Covering his eyes in the process. The material was hard to see through. And Mrs. Williams used it to her advantage. She spider crawled her fingers up and down his belly. Clawed at his ribs and sides, gently digging at his navel with a paint brush. But the worst came as she grabbed a brush from Mickey's bag. And without a moment's hesitation, she began to brush all over the poor boys nipples. Enveloping them in the soft bristle. Just barely allowing the tips to touch his hard nipples, causing Mickey to whine and moan for it. An early sign that she'd broken him. The "project" had gone on for quite some time at this point. Mickey was a babbling mess at this point. Unable to comprehend where he was. A beeper had went off. An hour was up. The sound almost startling Ginger, since she was so zoned in. Standing up, she walked over to the camera. Without a word, she mercifully shut off the recording. She looked over her work. Paint had since covered Mickey's soles. A bushel of highly detailed plumes on one foot and a semi scrubbed off painting of a clowns face on the other. Hints of the clowns smile still laughing along his twitching foot. Sweat glistening and dripping off his hair. Breaths hanging heavy with every exhale. And still pitching that tent. Ginger considered for a moment. Before exiting the room again and coming back with a chair. She closed the door end sat he seat right next to Mickey. "Sweetheart? I know you're tired. And you've been so good. So I'm going to give you an extra treat, just between us, m'kay?". Mickey's exhausted face looked at her for a moment before nodding. Not entirely understanding what she'd meant. But before asking she reached out and began to unbuckle the belt on his shorts. Mick's face turned bright red as she pulled down not only his pants, but his briefs as well. Grabbing his solid pole and allowing it to stand. Sitting back and folding her hands, she smiled at Mickey sweetly. "You absolutely deserve this Mickey. Know that". Before he could respond, she reached for the coconut oil. Squeezing some onto her hands, rubbing them together before beginning to lather Mickey's hard on with the stuff. Stroking up and down, almost making Mick's eyes roll back into his head. This is something he'd never expected. Something he may never experience again. And then it stopped. Yet again, like a puppy he whines. He'd felt the pressure building and just as he was about to explode, she stopped. He desperately looked over, pleasing with his eyes to continue. She simply hand waved him. Propping her legs up onto his thighs. Just so that her bare feet were on either side of his cock. She began rubbing her soles all over his member. The sensation was mind bending. The mix of emotions, the fears of getting caught, the wrongnees of these situation didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was the feeling he was reciecing. A slow stroke by the soles he'd ached for repeating over and over. Using her toes to grip even firmer on the shift or to rub on his tip. His moans almost filling the room as much as his laughter did at this point. The pressure built, and built and built until it exploded all over Mrs. Williams blue toes. Mickey tried mumbling some semblance of an apology. Ginger didn't mind. She'd enjoyed herself. That's all that mattered. Finally being released, the two had one final chat to discuss the terms of the agreement. As well as the importance of good school work in general. And with a gentle hug and good bye, Mickey went on to fulfill his end of the bargain. Determined to relive one of the most intense and insane moments of his life so far. And he did. Over and over again.
Ginger Williams was a sweet woman. A senior year art teacher at the local school, she was in her early 50s. Still brimming with light and bubbliness on the day to day. Standing at five feet tall, blonde, blue eyed and petite. Yet still refined like good wine when it came to her looks. She was a religious woman. But not above being a bit more hands on times when it came to her students. Like any teacher of her kind, she had her fair share of admirers. Maybe she did it because she knew what it did to them. Perhaps she didn't. But every so often, she'd find herself flirting with male students. At any given time, you could walk into her classroom to find her manicured soles and toes propped on the desk. Wiggling and scrunching toes carelessly as she scrolled through her phone. Unaware of the attention she's garnering. On occasion she'd been known to playfully squeeze at the sides of her male students. Tickling them and making them feel like the little boys she knew they were. As previously stated, whether or not Mrs. Williams was aware of what she was doing or not, never seemed to cross her mind. Some do speculate heavily. Some students say she derives so much pleasure from it that it's just normal to her. But she did have one particular admirer who just needed to have his chance. His name was Mick. 18 and a senior he'd been in her class all year. But no matter how hard he tried, it never felt like he could keep up. Not because he was bad at art, per say. But his muse was so distracting that it made it impossible to get anything done. A student in his senior year with long brown hair and reddish brown beard to match. Blue eyes and a chipper attitude. It was a pleasure for Ginger to have him in her class. But unfortunately for Matt, it was a nightmare. Constantly having to try and look away from those feet. The pink or blue polish she'd wear on any given day would drive him insane. And in turn caused his grades to suffer. To the point of him almost failing. So. In a last ditch effort to help him from failing, she offered to have him help on extra projects in order to potentially save his grade. She didn't specify what. But Mick hearing this jumps at the opportunity. Millions of plans running through his mind. All schemes to get at the feet of his Art teacher... And the day comes. It's after school. Mick is heading to Mrs. Williams room. He'd had to clean himself up after a practice before heading over. Sore muscles not stopping him from the one dragging him by his pants. A black tank top with multicolor palm trees across the front, cargo shorts with beige house slippers and black socks. Long hair tied back. He was prepped. With all the tools he planned to use in his gym bag. Feathers, pipe cleaners, scrubs and even a few paint brushes. The plan was simple. Tell her you had an idea for a new art project. "All I have to do is tell her that I have a new art project" he thought to himself. "Just tell her all ya have to do is keep your feet on the desk while I... Paint them with feathers..." He began to panic slightly. "I am so stupid" He said to himself. Mick had thought to just dip and abandon the plan, but before he could make the decision, the door to Mrs. Williams swung the door open. "Helloooooo, Mick!" She exclaimed, happily wrapping her arms around him and thanking him for coming. Mick's poor heart leapt as he saw her. Barefoot and sporting blue, sparkling nail polish on her toes. Bright white capris and a spaghetti strap top, pink as ever. "Come in, sweetheart I'm just finished setting up". She waved him into an extra room within the art room. A cubby area where an art can be sat to dry. The smell of paint thick in the air Mick nervously stepped in. Taking survey, and immediately stopped in his tracks... At the very back of the room was a chair against the wall. A soft rope with cuffs at the end meant to keep someone's arm in place hung from the ceiling. In front of the chair sat a pedestal. And on top of the pedestal were a pair of wooden stocks. Fuzzy strings hanging over the tops. Frozen, he couldn't seem to comprehend what was going on. She couldn't possibly... No. It's insane to think they'd let a teacher keep one of these in their rooms. "Yoo-hoo?" Ginger waved her hand in front of Mick's face. Trying to get his clearly divided attention back. "Pretty shocking, huh?" she playfully asked him. "It's really surprising what a principal will let ya do if you just tickle him silly for a little bit". She smiled to herself and lightly giggled. "Deal was, they keep it a secret, and I can use it to help out anyone struggling in my class. And unruly staff, but that's besides the point". "And what's keeping them from telling?" Mick questioned. Still reeling from what he was seeing. "Well duh. The principal is really really ticklish and DOES not wanna go through that again". Mick tried speaking "Y-yeah I see... um, so listen. I had an idea for my project and-" "Upbupbup. Honey, you make it so obvious when I catch you looking at my feet from across the room. You're also not the first. I know what you thought you were gonna do. But that's not happening today". All this said with the sweetest smile. Despite that sweetness, Mickey tensed up at the mere mention of her noticing. "I, uh- No I'm just staring into space." "And I'm the Pope" Ginger joked. "Now this project is very simple. You sit. I work. Got it?" Mick nodded, almost on reflex. Immediately caving to the authority of this woman who looked like she could never hurt a fly and sitting in the chair. "Arms up". Hesitantly he lifted his arms to the cuffs. Sweat beading around his forehead. In the heat of the situation, a sudden jolt of electricity hit his sides as Mrs Williams pinched on them, "Come ooooooonn~" she cooed impatiently. Instinctively, he pulled his arms down to protect himself. Giggling incessantly while her tiny fingers wiggled at his ribs. And just as soon as it started, it stopped. "Hurry up, honey I'd really like to get this project started sooner than later". Mick caught his breath, still unsure if this was reality. A stirring in his stomach is already bubbling. One that was all too familiar. Something he'd that was the source of his current failings. But he couldn't let her notice. He focused on anything but the situation at hand. As Micks arms were firmly tucked into the cuffs, he tried thinking of what he'd eat for dinner. As his ankles were guided into the open stocks, he attempted to think of his favorite show. His favorite music while the only thing keeping his poor size 10s from Mrs. Williams devious fingers, his shoes and socks were removed. Despite his attempts, the cracks began to widen as he heard an audible gasp of approval come from Ginger. "Oh Mick! They look so soft sweetie, do you go to the same salon as I do?" This statement caused Mick to blush heavily. He'd never been complimented on his feet before. He'd never done anything special. Just kept them clean and well groomed. Ginger admired them slightly, gently pressing her thumbs into his arches. Giving him a nice foot rub while she talked to him. The sensation immediately melts away all of Mickey's tension. Giving away to the moment and resting his cheek on his raised shoulder. "Now Mickey..." she started "I want you to know that no matter what, this is because I care about you and your future. I'm not doing this to punish you, but to help you learn to endure. To enjoy life and the creativity that comes with it" She stopped the massage and began pushing back Mickey's Toes. One by one, threading the multi colored string in between. Once finished she left the room for a second, speaking as she did coming back into the room with a rolling tripod, fully charged camera ready to film on top. Mickey's eyes widened "H-Hold on! I don't want you filming this! This is illegal!" Holding up a hand, she attempted to soothe his fears. "Mickey, I'm not using this to spread to people or blackmail you, I promise... I'm using this as an incentive". Mickey's head tilted in confusion while she continued "I know about your little kink, mister man. So I know just the way to get you motivated. The idea is this... I tickle you for the full hour I have you. I film it. And if you can manage to get to a passing grade in my class before the end of the year, I'll let you have the footage. No gimmicks. No gotchas. Just a reward for your hard work. Deal?" He thought for a second. Considered everything. What if it leaked? What if someone found us out? This was supposed to be the other way around. All these thoughts racing through his head and the only thing he could think was... "Deal!". She smiled. Flicked on the camera and walked his way. "Then let's begin! Oh! What's this!" For a second, Mick wondered what she could mean. But then his heart sank.... the gym bag. Unable to do anything, he painstakingly watched as she opened the zipper. Revealing oils, brushes, feathers and all sorts of tools. "Ooooh, so you were gonna use these on ME, huh?" She grinned evily. "You are gonna get iiiiiiit". As she said this, she popped open a bottle of coconut oil. Dispersing it between hands before making contact with Mickey's soft soles. He tensed slightly. Even though this was just the start, he was still sore from earlier practices. His soles terribly sensitive from being sore. Ginger noticed, her smile now softening before she speaks. "You ready Hun?" She questioned Mick, as a courtesy she holds for all her projects. Mick nodded. And braced. And like that, she pounced. Scribbling her manicured nails up and down his large feet. Mickey did not break immediately however. The sensation, as unbearable as it was, wasn't enough to break him. Ginger just looked into his eyes, him looking back defiantly. She just shrugged and began to tease him. "Coochie cooo", she'd whisper. "Tickle tickle! Common Mickey, I know you like to laugh!" Mickey was almost close to losing it at this point. His stifled snickers, slowly developing into quiet giggles. "Ope! There he is! Almost there!" Though he was staying strong, the worst had yet to begin. He began thinking this would be a cake walk. He wasn't that ticklish... But without warning, Gingers nimble fingers found there way just beneath Mick's long toes. Like a bolt of lightening the sensation immediately sent the panic bells off in Mickey's brain. It started off sounding just like the giggles he'd already been letting out, but quickly became a loud deep belly laugh. He began to twist and contort in his seat. Trying to get away from the tickling but the tickling would not leave him alone. It could not. He was stuck there at the mercy of the woman who's soles had been on his mind since the day he entered her class. Mickey almost didn't notice when Gingers right hand left his right foot. However he became well aware once the brush she'd picked up made contact. He began howling like a mad man. Screaming, cursing begging for the tickling to stop. The sensation was overwhelming. He couldn't think straight, see straight or even talk straight. Any pleas of no or stop or help, drowned out by his own laughter. The nightmare continued on. Feathers finding their way in-between Micks toes. Making the already unbearable feeling of the strings all the worst. Ginger began doubling down on her teasing. Becoming almost a bully to the young man in the process. Mockingly asking him if something tickles right before she finds out herself. Calling him a ticklish little baby, a softie, anything she can to make him feel weak. To feel small.... And Mike liked it. It was too much. He couldn't help it, and even if he could, he couldn't care less. Despite this being torture, he was also in bliss. A tent had been pitched, visible even to Ginger. Who hardly acknowledged it. Simply looking and almost smuggly commenting that she was glad he was enjoying himself. This caused him to whine like a dog, almost upset she didn't properly acknowledge it. After some time she did move on. Circling Mickey like a jungle cat. His breather only lasting as long as it took for reach for his armpits. He didn't struggle with this. The burst of laughter was almost immediate. A large smile coming across Gingers face as she praised Mickey. "Good boy! Laugh it up for Mrs. Williams. You know this is for your own good". And he did. He couldn't stop. She wouldn't let him. And she didn't just work his armpits. She lifted his tank top over his head. Covering his eyes in the process. The material was hard to see through. And Mrs. Williams used it to her advantage. She spider crawled her fingers up and down his belly. Clawed at his ribs and sides, gently digging at his navel with a paint brush. But the worst came as she grabbed a brush from Mickey's bag. And without a moment's hesitation, she began to brush all over the poor boys nipples. Enveloping them in the soft bristle. Just barely allowing the tips to touch his hard nipples, causing Mickey to whine and moan for it. An early sign that she'd broken him. The "project" had gone on for quite some time at this point. Mickey was a babbling mess at this point. Unable to comprehend where he was. A beeper had went off. An hour was up. The sound almost startling Ginger, since she was so zoned in. Standing up, she walked over to the camera. Without a word, she mercifully shut off the recording. She looked over her work. Paint had since covered Mickey's soles. A bushel of highly detailed plumes on one foot and a semi scrubbed off painting of a clowns face on the other. Hints of the clowns smile still laughing along his twitching foot. Sweat glistening and dripping off his hair. Breaths hanging heavy with every exhale. And still pitching that tent. Ginger considered for a moment. Before exiting the room again and coming back with a chair. She closed the door end sat he seat right next to Mickey. "Sweetheart? I know you're tired. And you've been so good. So I'm going to give you an extra treat, just between us, m'kay?". Mickey's exhausted face looked at her for a moment before nodding. Not entirely understanding what she'd meant. But before asking she reached out and began to unbuckle the belt on his shorts. Mick's face turned bright red as she pulled down not only his pants, but his briefs as well. Grabbing his solid pole and allowing it to stand. Sitting back and folding her hands, she smiled at Mickey sweetly. "You absolutely deserve this Mickey. Know that". Before he could respond, she reached for the coconut oil. Squeezing some onto her hands, rubbing them together before beginning to lather Mickey's hard on with the stuff. Stroking up and down, almost making Mick's eyes roll back into his head. This is something he'd never expected. Something he may never experience again. And then it stopped. Yet again, like a puppy he whines. He'd felt the pressure building and just as he was about to explode, she stopped. He desperately looked over, pleasing with his eyes to continue. She simply hand waved him. Propping her legs up onto his thighs. Just so that her bare feet were on either side of his cock. She began rubbing her soles all over his member. The sensation was mind bending. The mix of emotions, the fears of getting caught, the wrongnees of these situation didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was the feeling he was reciecing. A slow stroke by the soles he'd ached for repeating over and over. Using her toes to grip even firmer on the shift or to rub on his tip. His moans almost filling the room as much as his laughter did at this point. The pressure built, and built and built until it exploded all over Mrs. Williams blue toes. Mickey tried mumbling some semblance of an apology. Ginger didn't mind. She'd enjoyed herself. That's all that mattered. Finally being released, the two had one final chat to discuss the terms of the agreement. As well as the importance of good school work in general. And with a gentle hug and good bye, Mickey went on to fulfill his end of the bargain. Determined to relive one of the most intense and insane moments of his life so far. And he did. Over and over again.
I envy him. 
