The late afternoon sun dipped low over the horizon as Emma and her husband, Daniel, pulled into the driveway of the sleek, modern Airbnb nestled in a quiet suburban neighborhood. The business trip had been a point of contention between them for weeks—three days away with her three male coworkers, all charming in their own right, had set Daniel’s nerves on edge. He didn’t trust them, didn’t like the way they looked at her during office happy hours, their eyes lingering a little too long on her supermodel frame. Emma, at 5’6 with cascading blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, was a vision—curves that could stop traffic and a confidence that made her the center of any room. Daniel had insisted on tagging along, and though Emma rolled her eyes at his protectiveness, she didn’t fight him on it.
The Airbnb was stunning: floor-to-ceiling windows, a sprawling deck out back, and—Emma’s eyes lit up when she spotted it—a bubbling hot tub tucked against the edge of the property. They were the first to arrive, the other guys still en route from the airport. Daniel dropped their bags in the master bedroom and rubbed his hands together, glancing at his phone. “I’m starving. I’ll run out and grab us some dinner—pizza sound good?”
Emma nodded absently, already drifting toward the glass doors that led to the deck. “Yeah, sure. I’m just gonna check out that hot tub.” Her voice had that playful lilt that always made Daniel’s chest tighten, a mix of adoration and unease. He hesitated, then grabbed his keys. “Be back in twenty. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he teased, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. With that, he was out the door, the rumble of his car fading down the street.
Emma wasted no time. She slipped into the bedroom, peeling off her travel-worn clothes and shimmying into her skimpy black bikini—a barely-there number with thin strings that tied at her hips and a top that left little to the imagination. She caught her reflection in the mirror and smirked; she knew she looked good. The hot tub called to her, and she padded barefoot across the deck, the cool evening air kissing her skin as she sank into the steaming water. The jets hummed against her back, and she tipped her head back, letting out a contented sigh. For a moment, it was just her, the heat, and the quiet.
Unbeknownst to her, three sets of eyes had locked onto her from the kitchen window. Her coworkers—Jake, Ryan, and Chris—had just pulled up, their rental car crunching gravel as they parked. They’d been joking about the trip the whole drive, but the sight of Emma in that bikini stopped them cold. Jake, the tallest with a devilish grin, nudged Ryan. “Holy shit, look at her.” Ryan, lean and wiry with a mop of dark hair, licked his lips. “Always knew she was hiding something under those blazers.” Chris, the quiet one with a calculating stare, tilted his head. “She’s alone out there. Where’s the husband?”
“Dunno,” Jake said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I’ve been dying to get my hands on her. You know she’s gotta be ticklish as hell—look at those sides, those thighs. Bet she’d lose it.” The idea sparked something dark and playful between them. They’d teased Emma at the office before—little pokes to her ribs during meetings, a quick scribble of fingers along her side when she wasn’t expecting it. She’d always squealed, swatting them away with a laugh, but they’d never pushed it further. Until now.
“Let’s mess with her,” Ryan said, his eyes glinting. “Tell her we’ve got a team-building game. Something to break the ice. Then we pin her down and tickle her ‘til she can’t breathe.” Chris nodded slowly, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. “She won’t see it coming.”
They dropped their bags and slipped out the back door, moving like predators stalking prey. Emma didn’t hear them over the hum of the jets, her eyes half-closed as she soaked. Jake called out first, his voice casual but laced with something mischievous. “Hey, Emma! Didn’t know you were starting the party without us!”
Her head snapped up, a flush creeping up her neck—not from the heat, but from the sudden awareness of their gazes. “Oh, hey, guys! You’re early.” She sat up straighter, water glistening on her skin, the bikini clinging to her curves. The three of them fanned out around the hot tub, their grins too wide, too knowing.
“Thought we’d kick things off with a little team-building,” Ryan said, stepping closer. “You up for it?”
Emma arched a brow, sensing something off but too relaxed to care. “What kind of team-building?”
Before she could react, Jake lunged, grabbing her wrists and hauling her out of the tub with a splash. She yelped, her wet feet slipping on the deck as Ryan and Chris closed in, each seizing an ankle. “What the hell—guys, stop!” she laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it now. They dragged her toward the grass, her bikini-clad body twisting as she tried to wriggle free. “Let go, you jerks!”
“Oh, no, Emma,” Jake purred, pinning her arms above her head as they forced her onto her back. “We’ve been waiting for this. You’re too ticklish for your own good, and we’re gonna prove it.” Ryan straddled her hips, his fingers hovering over her exposed stomach, while Chris knelt by her feet, his hands poised above her soles. The air crackled with tension, her laughter already bubbling up in anticipation.
“Don’t you dare—!” she started, but the words dissolved into a shriek as Ryan’s fingers plunged into her sides, digging into the soft flesh just above her hips. Her body bucked, her head thrashing as peals of laughter erupted from her. “Nooo—stop—hahaha—oh my God!” Jake’s hands skittered along her ribs, tracing each bone with ruthless precision, while Chris raked his nails up her arches, sending her into hysterics. Her thighs quivered as Ryan’s thumbs pressed into her upper inner thighs, exploiting every sensitive inch.
“Look at her squirm!” Ryan taunted, his voice dripping with glee. “What’s the matter, Emma? Too ticklish to handle us?” Her stomach fluttered under his relentless assault, his fingers circling her belly button before dipping in, making her scream. “Not there—not there—please!” she gasped, tears streaming down her face as she laughed uncontrollably.
They didn’t stop. For minutes that felt like hours, they tickled her to insanity—sides, thighs, ribs, stomach, every spot they could reach. Her pleas turned to incoherent giggles, her body trembling as she neared the edge of endurance. Finally, with one last flurry of fingers along her inner thighs, she went limp, her laughter fading into a soft wheeze as she passed out, overwhelmed.
The three men exchanged looks, panting from the effort. “She’s out,” Chris said, almost reverently. Without a word, they scooped her up—her bikini still dripping—and carried her inside to the living room, laying her on the plush rug. Jake’s eyes gleamed as he untied the strings at her hips, peeling the bikini bottom away. Ryan tugged the top free, leaving her bare, her supermodel body sprawled out before them. She stirred faintly, still dazed, as they resumed their assault.
This time, it was different—darker, more intimate. Jake’s fingers danced over her nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks until they hardened, drawing a moan from her lips. Ryan slid lower, his hands spreading her thighs as his fingertips grazed her clit, circling with agonizing slowness. Chris kept her pinned, his nails scraping along her ribs and stomach, while Jake’s taunts grew filthier. “Bet you love this, huh, Emma? All helpless and ticklish, just for us.”
Her eyes fluttered open, a mix of shock and something else—something primal—flickering in them as she squirmed. “Guys—stop—oh God—” she whimpered, but her body betrayed her, arching into their touch as Ryan’s fingers worked her clit faster, adding ticklish strokes to her inner thighs. Jake pinched her nipples, tickling the undersides of her breasts, while Chris drilled into her belly button, making her scream and laugh and moan all at once. The sensations blurred—tickling, teasing, fucking—until she shattered, cumming hard with a cry that echoed through the room. They didn’t let up, driving her through wave after wave, her body shaking as she came again and again.
Outside, Daniel fumbled with his phone, cursing under his breath. He’d forgotten the damn door code, and Emma wasn’t answering his texts. The pizza boxes grew cold in his arms as he trudged to the front door, peering through the narrow window. His blood froze. There she was—naked, writhing on the floor, surrounded by her coworkers. Jake’s hands were on her breasts, Ryan’s between her legs, Chris pinning her down as she laughed and moaned, her body convulsing in ecstasy. He saw her cum—once, twice, three times—her cries muffled by the glass, her thighs slick with her own release.
He pounded on the door, shouting her name, but the sound barely reached them. Inside, Emma’s world was a haze of ticklish torment and pleasure, her husband’s voice a distant echo she couldn’t quite grasp.
The Airbnb was stunning: floor-to-ceiling windows, a sprawling deck out back, and—Emma’s eyes lit up when she spotted it—a bubbling hot tub tucked against the edge of the property. They were the first to arrive, the other guys still en route from the airport. Daniel dropped their bags in the master bedroom and rubbed his hands together, glancing at his phone. “I’m starving. I’ll run out and grab us some dinner—pizza sound good?”
Emma nodded absently, already drifting toward the glass doors that led to the deck. “Yeah, sure. I’m just gonna check out that hot tub.” Her voice had that playful lilt that always made Daniel’s chest tighten, a mix of adoration and unease. He hesitated, then grabbed his keys. “Be back in twenty. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he teased, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. With that, he was out the door, the rumble of his car fading down the street.
Emma wasted no time. She slipped into the bedroom, peeling off her travel-worn clothes and shimmying into her skimpy black bikini—a barely-there number with thin strings that tied at her hips and a top that left little to the imagination. She caught her reflection in the mirror and smirked; she knew she looked good. The hot tub called to her, and she padded barefoot across the deck, the cool evening air kissing her skin as she sank into the steaming water. The jets hummed against her back, and she tipped her head back, letting out a contented sigh. For a moment, it was just her, the heat, and the quiet.
Unbeknownst to her, three sets of eyes had locked onto her from the kitchen window. Her coworkers—Jake, Ryan, and Chris—had just pulled up, their rental car crunching gravel as they parked. They’d been joking about the trip the whole drive, but the sight of Emma in that bikini stopped them cold. Jake, the tallest with a devilish grin, nudged Ryan. “Holy shit, look at her.” Ryan, lean and wiry with a mop of dark hair, licked his lips. “Always knew she was hiding something under those blazers.” Chris, the quiet one with a calculating stare, tilted his head. “She’s alone out there. Where’s the husband?”
“Dunno,” Jake said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But I’ve been dying to get my hands on her. You know she’s gotta be ticklish as hell—look at those sides, those thighs. Bet she’d lose it.” The idea sparked something dark and playful between them. They’d teased Emma at the office before—little pokes to her ribs during meetings, a quick scribble of fingers along her side when she wasn’t expecting it. She’d always squealed, swatting them away with a laugh, but they’d never pushed it further. Until now.
“Let’s mess with her,” Ryan said, his eyes glinting. “Tell her we’ve got a team-building game. Something to break the ice. Then we pin her down and tickle her ‘til she can’t breathe.” Chris nodded slowly, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. “She won’t see it coming.”
They dropped their bags and slipped out the back door, moving like predators stalking prey. Emma didn’t hear them over the hum of the jets, her eyes half-closed as she soaked. Jake called out first, his voice casual but laced with something mischievous. “Hey, Emma! Didn’t know you were starting the party without us!”
Her head snapped up, a flush creeping up her neck—not from the heat, but from the sudden awareness of their gazes. “Oh, hey, guys! You’re early.” She sat up straighter, water glistening on her skin, the bikini clinging to her curves. The three of them fanned out around the hot tub, their grins too wide, too knowing.
“Thought we’d kick things off with a little team-building,” Ryan said, stepping closer. “You up for it?”
Emma arched a brow, sensing something off but too relaxed to care. “What kind of team-building?”
Before she could react, Jake lunged, grabbing her wrists and hauling her out of the tub with a splash. She yelped, her wet feet slipping on the deck as Ryan and Chris closed in, each seizing an ankle. “What the hell—guys, stop!” she laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it now. They dragged her toward the grass, her bikini-clad body twisting as she tried to wriggle free. “Let go, you jerks!”
“Oh, no, Emma,” Jake purred, pinning her arms above her head as they forced her onto her back. “We’ve been waiting for this. You’re too ticklish for your own good, and we’re gonna prove it.” Ryan straddled her hips, his fingers hovering over her exposed stomach, while Chris knelt by her feet, his hands poised above her soles. The air crackled with tension, her laughter already bubbling up in anticipation.
“Don’t you dare—!” she started, but the words dissolved into a shriek as Ryan’s fingers plunged into her sides, digging into the soft flesh just above her hips. Her body bucked, her head thrashing as peals of laughter erupted from her. “Nooo—stop—hahaha—oh my God!” Jake’s hands skittered along her ribs, tracing each bone with ruthless precision, while Chris raked his nails up her arches, sending her into hysterics. Her thighs quivered as Ryan’s thumbs pressed into her upper inner thighs, exploiting every sensitive inch.
“Look at her squirm!” Ryan taunted, his voice dripping with glee. “What’s the matter, Emma? Too ticklish to handle us?” Her stomach fluttered under his relentless assault, his fingers circling her belly button before dipping in, making her scream. “Not there—not there—please!” she gasped, tears streaming down her face as she laughed uncontrollably.
They didn’t stop. For minutes that felt like hours, they tickled her to insanity—sides, thighs, ribs, stomach, every spot they could reach. Her pleas turned to incoherent giggles, her body trembling as she neared the edge of endurance. Finally, with one last flurry of fingers along her inner thighs, she went limp, her laughter fading into a soft wheeze as she passed out, overwhelmed.
The three men exchanged looks, panting from the effort. “She’s out,” Chris said, almost reverently. Without a word, they scooped her up—her bikini still dripping—and carried her inside to the living room, laying her on the plush rug. Jake’s eyes gleamed as he untied the strings at her hips, peeling the bikini bottom away. Ryan tugged the top free, leaving her bare, her supermodel body sprawled out before them. She stirred faintly, still dazed, as they resumed their assault.
This time, it was different—darker, more intimate. Jake’s fingers danced over her nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks until they hardened, drawing a moan from her lips. Ryan slid lower, his hands spreading her thighs as his fingertips grazed her clit, circling with agonizing slowness. Chris kept her pinned, his nails scraping along her ribs and stomach, while Jake’s taunts grew filthier. “Bet you love this, huh, Emma? All helpless and ticklish, just for us.”
Her eyes fluttered open, a mix of shock and something else—something primal—flickering in them as she squirmed. “Guys—stop—oh God—” she whimpered, but her body betrayed her, arching into their touch as Ryan’s fingers worked her clit faster, adding ticklish strokes to her inner thighs. Jake pinched her nipples, tickling the undersides of her breasts, while Chris drilled into her belly button, making her scream and laugh and moan all at once. The sensations blurred—tickling, teasing, fucking—until she shattered, cumming hard with a cry that echoed through the room. They didn’t let up, driving her through wave after wave, her body shaking as she came again and again.
Outside, Daniel fumbled with his phone, cursing under his breath. He’d forgotten the damn door code, and Emma wasn’t answering his texts. The pizza boxes grew cold in his arms as he trudged to the front door, peering through the narrow window. His blood froze. There she was—naked, writhing on the floor, surrounded by her coworkers. Jake’s hands were on her breasts, Ryan’s between her legs, Chris pinning her down as she laughed and moaned, her body convulsing in ecstasy. He saw her cum—once, twice, three times—her cries muffled by the glass, her thighs slick with her own release.
He pounded on the door, shouting her name, but the sound barely reached them. Inside, Emma’s world was a haze of ticklish torment and pleasure, her husband’s voice a distant echo she couldn’t quite grasp.
