Trethezeldafan
1st Level Red Feather
- Joined
- May 28, 2010
- Messages
- 1,228
- Points
- 63
The football field stretched out in a sea of green under the fading light of the late afternoon sun, its edges kissed by the first hints of dusk. Carly, a high school senior with a bookworm’s soul, sat alone near the 40-yard line, her back against the cool grass. A dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights rested in her hands, its pages whispering as she turned them. She wore a loose white T-shirt with a faint coffee stain near the collar, denim jean shorts that hugged her thighs, and scuffed sneakers with thin white ankle socks peeking out. Her auburn hair was swept into a haphazard bun, a few strands clinging to her neck in the humid air. The stillness of the field wrapped around her like a cocoon, broken only by the occasional chirp of a cricket.
The crunch of cleats on turf snapped her out of her reverie, but before she could lift her eyes from the page, two figures loomed over her. Joe and Jack, the football-playing brothers, fresh from practice and radiating a restless energy, closed in with predatory grins. Joe, the broader of the two, had a square jaw and dark eyes that glinted with trouble. His red practice jersey clung to his chest, paired with black shorts that showed off thick, muscled legs. Jack, wiry and sharp-featured, sported a navy tank top and a smirk that promised chaos, his blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Without a word, Joe dropped down, straddling Carly’s lap with a thud that pinned her hips to the ground.
“Caught you off guard, huh, nerd?” Joe said, his voice a low rumble as his hands shot to her sides. His fingers dug in, tickling her ribs with ruthless precision, and Carly’s book slipped from her grasp, landing spine-up in the grass. She squealed, “Nohohohoho—Joe, stop!” but he only grinned wider, his hands occasionally yanking her T-shirt upward. The fabric bunched, exposing her stomach—smooth and surprisingly toned, a subtle ripple of muscle beneath pale skin. “Holy shit, look at this!” Joe crowed, abandoning her sides to attack the newly revealed target, his fingers skittering over her abs as she bucked beneath him.
Jack, meanwhile, dropped to his knees and seized her legs, his hands clamping around her ankles like steel traps. “Stay still, book girl,” he muttered, pinning her sneakers flat against the turf. Carly’s protests grew frantic as Joe’s tickling sent her into fits of laughter—“Hahaha—stop—hahaha—nooo!”—her voice high and breathless. After a moment, Jack’s eyes flicked to her feet, a wicked gleam sparking in them. Ignoring her kicks, he pried off her sneakers one by one, tossing them aside with a careless thud. “Jack, don’t you dare!” Carly screamed, but her socks followed, peeled away to reveal two soft soles, pale and delicate, each well manicured toe tipped with perfectly placed blue polish.
“Fuck me, these are cute,” Jack said, his tone dripping with unwanted fascination as he locked both her legs under his arm. His fingers danced across her soles, teasing the arches and scraping lightly beneath her toes. Carly erupted, her laughter spilling out in wild, desperate bursts—“Hahaha—please—hahaha—stop it!” Her feet fought back, squirming and flexing in his grip, toes curling tight then uncurling as the skin wrinkled with each frantic twist. Jack chuckled, relentless. “Look at ‘em squirm—shit, these little feet are putting up a fight, huh? I love how they’re ticklish as fuck.”
Above her, Joe kept at her upper body, his hands darting from her ribs to her stomach and back again. “Hahaha—Joe—nooo—hahaha—I can’t!” Carly begged, thrashing helplessly, her laughter a jagged chorus of “Heeheehee—stop—hahaha—please!” Tears pricked her eyes, her face flushed crimson as Joe taunted, “Sing for us, Carly—louder!” Jack’s teasing grew bolder, his fingers tracing her soles with deliberate slowness. “Goddamn, these toes keep curling up like they’re shy—too bad I’m not stopping.”
For fifteen minutes, the brothers tormented her in waves—tickling, pausing, then starting again. Carly’s pleas grew hoarse, her body slick with sweat, her T-shirt twisted and clinging to her skin. Her soles glistened faintly, the blue polish catching the last rays of sunlight as her toes flexed and curled in exhausted defeat. Finally, Joe rolled off her, dusting his hands on his shorts, while Jack released her legs, letting them flop to the grass with one last teasing swipe across her feet that drew a weak “Hahaha—no more!”
Joe crouched beside her, his expression hardening. “You don’t breathe a word of this, understand? Not to anyone.” Jack stood, wiping his palms on his tank top, his voice low and menacing. “Yeah, keep quiet, or we’ll be back, and we won’t be so nice next time.” Carly nodded faintly, her chest heaving as she lay sprawled in the grass, her book and scattered shoes abandoned around her. The brothers turned and strode off, their silhouettes shrinking against the darkening field, leaving her breathless and alone once more.
The crunch of cleats on turf snapped her out of her reverie, but before she could lift her eyes from the page, two figures loomed over her. Joe and Jack, the football-playing brothers, fresh from practice and radiating a restless energy, closed in with predatory grins. Joe, the broader of the two, had a square jaw and dark eyes that glinted with trouble. His red practice jersey clung to his chest, paired with black shorts that showed off thick, muscled legs. Jack, wiry and sharp-featured, sported a navy tank top and a smirk that promised chaos, his blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Without a word, Joe dropped down, straddling Carly’s lap with a thud that pinned her hips to the ground.
“Caught you off guard, huh, nerd?” Joe said, his voice a low rumble as his hands shot to her sides. His fingers dug in, tickling her ribs with ruthless precision, and Carly’s book slipped from her grasp, landing spine-up in the grass. She squealed, “Nohohohoho—Joe, stop!” but he only grinned wider, his hands occasionally yanking her T-shirt upward. The fabric bunched, exposing her stomach—smooth and surprisingly toned, a subtle ripple of muscle beneath pale skin. “Holy shit, look at this!” Joe crowed, abandoning her sides to attack the newly revealed target, his fingers skittering over her abs as she bucked beneath him.
Jack, meanwhile, dropped to his knees and seized her legs, his hands clamping around her ankles like steel traps. “Stay still, book girl,” he muttered, pinning her sneakers flat against the turf. Carly’s protests grew frantic as Joe’s tickling sent her into fits of laughter—“Hahaha—stop—hahaha—nooo!”—her voice high and breathless. After a moment, Jack’s eyes flicked to her feet, a wicked gleam sparking in them. Ignoring her kicks, he pried off her sneakers one by one, tossing them aside with a careless thud. “Jack, don’t you dare!” Carly screamed, but her socks followed, peeled away to reveal two soft soles, pale and delicate, each well manicured toe tipped with perfectly placed blue polish.
“Fuck me, these are cute,” Jack said, his tone dripping with unwanted fascination as he locked both her legs under his arm. His fingers danced across her soles, teasing the arches and scraping lightly beneath her toes. Carly erupted, her laughter spilling out in wild, desperate bursts—“Hahaha—please—hahaha—stop it!” Her feet fought back, squirming and flexing in his grip, toes curling tight then uncurling as the skin wrinkled with each frantic twist. Jack chuckled, relentless. “Look at ‘em squirm—shit, these little feet are putting up a fight, huh? I love how they’re ticklish as fuck.”
Above her, Joe kept at her upper body, his hands darting from her ribs to her stomach and back again. “Hahaha—Joe—nooo—hahaha—I can’t!” Carly begged, thrashing helplessly, her laughter a jagged chorus of “Heeheehee—stop—hahaha—please!” Tears pricked her eyes, her face flushed crimson as Joe taunted, “Sing for us, Carly—louder!” Jack’s teasing grew bolder, his fingers tracing her soles with deliberate slowness. “Goddamn, these toes keep curling up like they’re shy—too bad I’m not stopping.”
For fifteen minutes, the brothers tormented her in waves—tickling, pausing, then starting again. Carly’s pleas grew hoarse, her body slick with sweat, her T-shirt twisted and clinging to her skin. Her soles glistened faintly, the blue polish catching the last rays of sunlight as her toes flexed and curled in exhausted defeat. Finally, Joe rolled off her, dusting his hands on his shorts, while Jack released her legs, letting them flop to the grass with one last teasing swipe across her feet that drew a weak “Hahaha—no more!”
Joe crouched beside her, his expression hardening. “You don’t breathe a word of this, understand? Not to anyone.” Jack stood, wiping his palms on his tank top, his voice low and menacing. “Yeah, keep quiet, or we’ll be back, and we won’t be so nice next time.” Carly nodded faintly, her chest heaving as she lay sprawled in the grass, her book and scattered shoes abandoned around her. The brothers turned and strode off, their silhouettes shrinking against the darkening field, leaving her breathless and alone once more.
