shytickler
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Jun 7, 2003
- Messages
- 144
- Points
- 18
Three Weeks Earler….
At the Christmas party hosted by married couple Christine and Reince for Reince’s co-workers, the couple mingled happily amongst the guests. Earlier that evening, Christine had decided to wear the sweater that was maybe just a half size too small. “I’ve earned it”, she thought, as she had spent the last four months at the gym and had dropped 20 pounds. It was Christmas, everyone was in good spirits, and she wanted to show off a bit.
Their house was large and tastefully appointed, and the caterer had really come through. Christine helped out in the kitchen, bringing trays of food around the house, feeling her sweater pulling up a bit on the sides as she lifted the tray above her head a bit to avoid bumping into the guests. She could feel a few wandering eyes on her from the married husbands, and the disapproving looks of their wives.
As she passed by one of her husband’s more obnoxious co-workers, Allan, he leaned in to whisper a joke in her ear. A dirty, filthy joke, that nevertheless made her burst into helpless giggles. She quickly regained her composure, but the blood drained from her face, and she looked as if she had seen a ghost. She couldn’t believe that boor had made her laugh so...easily. And the other guests had seen her delight, her helpless laughter. It was utterly humiliating for her, someone who prided herself on her stinginess with her laughs, for a very private reason. That reason being, laughing made her excited like nothing else in the world did. She reveled in a delicious giggle, or an indulgent belly laugh.
She planned to walk into one of the main salons and announce to the guests that the main course was ready. As she walked through the doorway, she placed her hands up on the doorframe, letting her sweater pull up and expose a strip of her tummy. As she opened her mouth to let the guests know about the mouth watering meal awaiting them in the dining room, Allan secretly reached out from somewhere just outside of her peripheral vision and gave her bellybutton a thorough tickle. Her body instantly doubled over, and she let loose a deep, guttural, belly laugh.
“I guess she’s ticklish, folks!” Allan quipped. The guests all laughed in unison, but Christine blushed a deep red as she straightened her sweater.
“D-dinner is ready everybody!” she managed to blurt out, and then hurried off to the bathroom. She locked the door and just stood there at the sink, breathing deeply. “I can’t believe they saw me laugh like that,” she kept thinking over and over to herself. And he made all the guests laugh too. She had to admit to herself that his move was masterful. He had the whole room in the palm of his hand, and she was the object of the joke. A deep, dark part of her begrudgingly admired his social mastery in pulling it off against her, one of the queens of her social circle. She ran some cold water from the sink and splashed her face once, then again. She took some deep breaths.
Someone knocked on the door:
“Christine, is everything alright?” It was her friend Susan.
“Y-yes Susan, I’m ok, I’ll be out in a second!” she replied in a voice that she hoped would convince Susan that she really was ok.
”You sure?” inquired Susan, leaning against the door slightly. “Allan really had you laughing there, didn’t he”. She could hear the sadistic smile in Susan’s voice.
Christine opened the bathroom door. “I’m fine”, she said. “Let’s eat!”
As she sat at the table eating and making small talk, she made a promise to herself. Never, ever again was that man, Allan, going to make her laugh. Ever. She steeled herself whenever he spoke up to make a witty comment, not even cracking a smile. She sensed Allan could tell that she was deliberately not going to let him make her laugh the rest of the evening. He did try a few times, and almost got her once, with an unexpected quip that caught her off guard, like a finger to the ribs, but her will was like iron, and she was able to quell the giggle before it escaped her throat. But could Allan sense how close he had come to cracking her just then? She sensed that his antennae were finally tuned to her responses, even though she tried desperately to hide them. Allan was just the kind of man she despised, but also found overpoweringly hilarious, which made her hate him all the more.
As the evening finally ended, the guests languidly filtered out through the foyer. The front door opened and closed as the guests departed two by two, the chill of the December air filtering in a bit to the foyer. As Allan and his wife Sonia made their way to the door, Christine disappeared into one of the side rooms, letting Reince alone see them off.
She watched from the dark side room with the door mostly closed, but cracked open a little, so she would know for sure when he had gone. But Allan’s antennae for her presence was magical, as if he had a GPS inside her mind. As Reince opened the door for Allan and Sonia, Allan turned to look directly at the slightly cracked open door behind which Christine hid in the darkness. He grinned, wiggled one finger in her direction, as if he were tickling her, and then disappeared into the darkness of the night. Christine involuntarily giggled and covered her tummy with her hand, then quickly covered her mouth with her other hand in absolute horror.
Had he seen her secretly watching him leave? Did he hear her giggle? She had promised herself that under no circumstances would that man ever make her laugh again, and yet, just a few hours later, he did it again, and so..effortlessly.
That night, as Reince and Christine collapsed into bed, exhausted, she felt Reince’s arm around her, contented. He was obviously happy with how the night went, how splendid all the food and music and catering was. His co-workers were well fed and happy, and even his boss had commented on how elegant their home was. Reince drifted off easily to sleep.
Christine lay motionless in his arms, unable to quiet her thoughts. No man besides Reince had ever exerted such … control over her. It disquieted her deeply. She was always drawn to men of great power, and she could feel a dark part of her yearning, reaching for the mastery of Allan. But no, she was very happily married to Reince, and that was not a path she was going to go down.
Her sleep was not easy.
…the Current Day
Three weeks had passed, and it was their date night. Although, tonight that just meant a “staying in” date night. Both Christine and Reince had robust libidos, and were both into tickling. Christine found that nothing satisfied her lust for laughter quite like being tied and tickled. Reince, while not into it naturally, was happy enough to satisfy his wife’s needs.
The scene with Allan had mostly faded from her thoughts, as the holidays passed into the dreary days of January. They hadn’t had time for a date night the last three Fridays, and her body was humming for a man’s touch.
She spent the evening showering, shaving, lotioning, doing her hair and make up, making herself the perfect wife for Reince: pretty, soft, and smooth, just as he liked her. She could hear him in the dark master bedroom, adjusting the leather straps on the bed to get them to just the right length: tight enough to stretch her body enough to be helpless, but not too much to be uncomfortable.
She shivered as she thought about the cold leather that would soon envelop her wrists and ankles, the pleasant stretch in her spine and shoulders from the bondage, and ultimately, the feel of Reince’s fingertips as they explored her body, searching for all the ways that he knew to make her squeal.
With the last puff of perfume, she grabbed the bathroom door handle, opened it, and entered the dark bedroom, naked. She walked silently across the carpeted floor, head down, submissive. She reached the bed and slipped onto it, stretching her arms and legs out to their fullest extent. She felt the wonderful touch of a man’s hands as he tugged her wrists into the leather, folded the straps around her small wrists, and then her slim ankles.
She released a deep sigh as she felt her spine stretch with the pleasant tug of the restraints. She sank into the softness of their bed, letting it envelop her and enhance her immobilization.
What she heard next confused her. It was the downstairs front door opening and closing. That wasn’t possible. No one else had a key to their house.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the man who tied her up…wasn’t Reince. It was…Allan.
“WHAT are you DOING?!” she yelled.
”That was Reince leaving” Allan stated matter of factly. “He told me about how you two had sort of reached a plateau in your fantasy life. That you both wanted to push the edge even further, but were afraid to. I convinced him to try a non-consensual wife swap, and he readily agreed. He told me…how deeply you love to be”, and here Allan paused for effect: “tickled”. He paused, his eyes fixed on hers, watching her respond to the “T word”. Christine sensed that, even in the darkness, he could see the thousand goose bumps ripple across her naked flesh.
Allan went on: “And he told me…how you had fantasies about being tickled by another man. Someone… not your husband.”
Christine blushed furiously and snapped her head away from him. “How could he have told Allan?” she thought. “That..that boor. That absolute boor. Couldn’t Reince have told someone, anyone, else?”
”I want you out of here!” Christine snapped coldly. “You are not going to make me laugh, not tonight, not ever,” she said in her most definitive sounding voice, but she knew that she wasn’t convincing Allan, or herself.
Allan’s eyebrow raised. “Really?” he mused out loud. She felt his finger slowly slide down her bicep and then lightly glide over her underarm.
She felt an electric jolt of her muscles firing all throughout her entire body, as she reflexively tried to jerk away from his touch. A smile forced itself across her face, and then…
”HahaAHAH…ALLAN STOP IT” she yelled, truly yelled.
”Why? Did that…tickle you?” he asked teasingly. When he got to the word “tickle”, he wiggled both of his index fingers in each of her bare, stretched underarms.
Christine’s spine arched as she was rocketed into a peal of involuntary laughter.
“Hahahahahahahaha Allan STOOOhohohooooppp”.
He stopped.
Christine lay there, panting frantically, pulling at the straps with every bit of strength her newly formed muscles from the gym could produce.
”Allan, I mean it. I fucking mean it. Untie me and get the hell OUT OF HEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAAH” Her angry command dissolved into helpless laughter as Allan’s index fingers lightly played with her nipple tips.
He paused again, removing his fingers from her, letting her realize the powerlessness of her position. They both sat there in silence. By his inaction, he let her know that he could strike at any moment of his choosing. By her silence, she let him know that she was slowly accepting the inevitability of the situation.
“A-Allan…” she whispered.
He leaned in. “Yes?” he whispered back.
”T….tickle me..” she whispered, her head lolling to the side in utter defeat.
His hands made her sing. It was her worst agony, and her highest ecstasy. This man’s fingers were precision weapons of hilarity, moving with her squirms, placing themselves in just the right spots to achieve the maximum effect. She found that no matter which way she writhed, a finger was there to greet her most exposed body part with ruthless efficiency.
He made her laugh so hard, and cry so copiously, that she truly thought that she might be sick, but he always knew just when to ease up, to pull away, to allow her a few seconds to catch her breath.
As time passed, her giggles and laughs inevitably subtly included a few moans and grunts. She threw in occasional hip thrusts to signal to Allan that she was becoming ready for him. Her nipples were impossibly swollen and sensitive, as was her clit. She did not remember even being this aroused before. Reince was a good man, and he tickled her well, but Allan was…almost a part of her nervous system. The man was inside her head, in ways that she didn’t believe were possible.
He parted her thighs expertly and entered her, while at the same time, his fingers worked their devilish magic in her ribs, making her arch and howl at the ceiling, her arching body in the perfect position to accept his manhood inside of her.
The feelings of ticklishness and pleasure were like two dancers inside of her, at times one led, at times the other. Her laughs melted into her moans as easily as her moans crescendoed into absolute hysterical laughter. This was the place she always wanted to be, where she could not tell the difference between ticklishness and pleasure. The wild thrill of the confusion of not being able to even know what she was feeling. All she knew was that she was feeling. She was feeling, and feeling, and feeling. Laughter and pleasure. Pleasure and laughter.
And then, she came. She came so hard into Allan, it was as if she was having a grand meal seizure, throwing her hips up into him like a wild animal consumed with its raw lust. If her hands weren’t tied up, she would have torn the skin off his back with her long nails. But her wrists and ankles were nicely tied, pulling her limbs down as her torso arched up, heightening her feeling of powerlessness, as she came, over and over and over, until…blackness.
Christine woke to an empty room. It was morning, and her arms and legs were untied. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes, getting her bearings. Her body still hummed with the aftershocks of her multiple orgasms.
“Reince?!” she called out.
”Yes dear?” he yelled back from the kitchen.
”W-where’s Allan?”
She heard Reince’s footsteps walking up the staircase to the bedroom. He gently pushed open the door. “Not happy to see me, dear?” he teased.
She smirked at him. “I…I don’t know..” she couldn’t believe the words that she heard come out of her mouth.
Reince looked at her, shocked. “What?”
”I…I don’t know. I just…the way he made me feel…”
”But Christine, it was just a one night wife swap, you know, to spice things up..” his voice trailed off sadly.
She looked at him with guilt and sadness. “I..I’m sorry honey. I’m drawn to him. I c..can’t resist him…”
”Christine?”
Christine rose slowly. She put on her robe, and began to pack her things.
The end.
DOUBLE CROSSED
Three Weeks Earler….
At the Christmas party hosted by married couple Christine and Reince for Reince’s co-workers, the couple mingled happily amongst the guests. Earlier that evening, Christine had decided to wear the sweater that was maybe just a half size too small. “I’ve earned it”, she thought, as she had spent the last four months at the gym and had dropped 20 pounds. It was Christmas, everyone was in good spirits, and she wanted to show off a bit.
Their house was large and tastefully appointed, and the caterer had really come through. Christine helped out in the kitchen, bringing trays of food around the house, feeling her sweater pulling up a bit on the sides as she lifted the tray above her head a bit to avoid bumping into the guests. She could feel a few wandering eyes on her from the married husbands, and the disapproving looks of their wives.
As she passed by one of her husband’s more obnoxious co-workers, Allan, he leaned in to whisper a joke in her ear. A dirty, filthy joke, that nevertheless made her burst into helpless giggles. She quickly regained her composure, but the blood drained from her face, and she looked as if she had seen a ghost. She couldn’t believe that boor had made her laugh so...easily. And the other guests had seen her delight, her helpless laughter. It was utterly humiliating for her, someone who prided herself on her stinginess with her laughs, for a very private reason. That reason being, laughing made her excited like nothing else in the world did. She reveled in a delicious giggle, or an indulgent belly laugh.
She planned to walk into one of the main salons and announce to the guests that the main course was ready. As she walked through the doorway, she placed her hands up on the doorframe, letting her sweater pull up and expose a strip of her tummy. As she opened her mouth to let the guests know about the mouth watering meal awaiting them in the dining room, Allan secretly reached out from somewhere just outside of her peripheral vision and gave her bellybutton a thorough tickle. Her body instantly doubled over, and she let loose a deep, guttural, belly laugh.
“I guess she’s ticklish, folks!” Allan quipped. The guests all laughed in unison, but Christine blushed a deep red as she straightened her sweater.
“D-dinner is ready everybody!” she managed to blurt out, and then hurried off to the bathroom. She locked the door and just stood there at the sink, breathing deeply. “I can’t believe they saw me laugh like that,” she kept thinking over and over to herself. And he made all the guests laugh too. She had to admit to herself that his move was masterful. He had the whole room in the palm of his hand, and she was the object of the joke. A deep, dark part of her begrudgingly admired his social mastery in pulling it off against her, one of the queens of her social circle. She ran some cold water from the sink and splashed her face once, then again. She took some deep breaths.
Someone knocked on the door:
“Christine, is everything alright?” It was her friend Susan.
“Y-yes Susan, I’m ok, I’ll be out in a second!” she replied in a voice that she hoped would convince Susan that she really was ok.
”You sure?” inquired Susan, leaning against the door slightly. “Allan really had you laughing there, didn’t he”. She could hear the sadistic smile in Susan’s voice.
Christine opened the bathroom door. “I’m fine”, she said. “Let’s eat!”
As she sat at the table eating and making small talk, she made a promise to herself. Never, ever again was that man, Allan, going to make her laugh. Ever. She steeled herself whenever he spoke up to make a witty comment, not even cracking a smile. She sensed Allan could tell that she was deliberately not going to let him make her laugh the rest of the evening. He did try a few times, and almost got her once, with an unexpected quip that caught her off guard, like a finger to the ribs, but her will was like iron, and she was able to quell the giggle before it escaped her throat. But could Allan sense how close he had come to cracking her just then? She sensed that his antennae were finally tuned to her responses, even though she tried desperately to hide them. Allan was just the kind of man she despised, but also found overpoweringly hilarious, which made her hate him all the more.
As the evening finally ended, the guests languidly filtered out through the foyer. The front door opened and closed as the guests departed two by two, the chill of the December air filtering in a bit to the foyer. As Allan and his wife Sonia made their way to the door, Christine disappeared into one of the side rooms, letting Reince alone see them off.
She watched from the dark side room with the door mostly closed, but cracked open a little, so she would know for sure when he had gone. But Allan’s antennae for her presence was magical, as if he had a GPS inside her mind. As Reince opened the door for Allan and Sonia, Allan turned to look directly at the slightly cracked open door behind which Christine hid in the darkness. He grinned, wiggled one finger in her direction, as if he were tickling her, and then disappeared into the darkness of the night. Christine involuntarily giggled and covered her tummy with her hand, then quickly covered her mouth with her other hand in absolute horror.
Had he seen her secretly watching him leave? Did he hear her giggle? She had promised herself that under no circumstances would that man ever make her laugh again, and yet, just a few hours later, he did it again, and so..effortlessly.
That night, as Reince and Christine collapsed into bed, exhausted, she felt Reince’s arm around her, contented. He was obviously happy with how the night went, how splendid all the food and music and catering was. His co-workers were well fed and happy, and even his boss had commented on how elegant their home was. Reince drifted off easily to sleep.
Christine lay motionless in his arms, unable to quiet her thoughts. No man besides Reince had ever exerted such … control over her. It disquieted her deeply. She was always drawn to men of great power, and she could feel a dark part of her yearning, reaching for the mastery of Allan. But no, she was very happily married to Reince, and that was not a path she was going to go down.
Her sleep was not easy.
…the Current Day
Three weeks had passed, and it was their date night. Although, tonight that just meant a “staying in” date night. Both Christine and Reince had robust libidos, and were both into tickling. Christine found that nothing satisfied her lust for laughter quite like being tied and tickled. Reince, while not into it naturally, was happy enough to satisfy his wife’s needs.
The scene with Allan had mostly faded from her thoughts, as the holidays passed into the dreary days of January. They hadn’t had time for a date night the last three Fridays, and her body was humming for a man’s touch.
She spent the evening showering, shaving, lotioning, doing her hair and make up, making herself the perfect wife for Reince: pretty, soft, and smooth, just as he liked her. She could hear him in the dark master bedroom, adjusting the leather straps on the bed to get them to just the right length: tight enough to stretch her body enough to be helpless, but not too much to be uncomfortable.
She shivered as she thought about the cold leather that would soon envelop her wrists and ankles, the pleasant stretch in her spine and shoulders from the bondage, and ultimately, the feel of Reince’s fingertips as they explored her body, searching for all the ways that he knew to make her squeal.
With the last puff of perfume, she grabbed the bathroom door handle, opened it, and entered the dark bedroom, naked. She walked silently across the carpeted floor, head down, submissive. She reached the bed and slipped onto it, stretching her arms and legs out to their fullest extent. She felt the wonderful touch of a man’s hands as he tugged her wrists into the leather, folded the straps around her small wrists, and then her slim ankles.
She released a deep sigh as she felt her spine stretch with the pleasant tug of the restraints. She sank into the softness of their bed, letting it envelop her and enhance her immobilization.
What she heard next confused her. It was the downstairs front door opening and closing. That wasn’t possible. No one else had a key to their house.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the man who tied her up…wasn’t Reince. It was…Allan.
“WHAT are you DOING?!” she yelled.
”That was Reince leaving” Allan stated matter of factly. “He told me about how you two had sort of reached a plateau in your fantasy life. That you both wanted to push the edge even further, but were afraid to. I convinced him to try a non-consensual wife swap, and he readily agreed. He told me…how deeply you love to be”, and here Allan paused for effect: “tickled”. He paused, his eyes fixed on hers, watching her respond to the “T word”. Christine sensed that, even in the darkness, he could see the thousand goose bumps ripple across her naked flesh.
Allan went on: “And he told me…how you had fantasies about being tickled by another man. Someone… not your husband.”
Christine blushed furiously and snapped her head away from him. “How could he have told Allan?” she thought. “That..that boor. That absolute boor. Couldn’t Reince have told someone, anyone, else?”
”I want you out of here!” Christine snapped coldly. “You are not going to make me laugh, not tonight, not ever,” she said in her most definitive sounding voice, but she knew that she wasn’t convincing Allan, or herself.
Allan’s eyebrow raised. “Really?” he mused out loud. She felt his finger slowly slide down her bicep and then lightly glide over her underarm.
She felt an electric jolt of her muscles firing all throughout her entire body, as she reflexively tried to jerk away from his touch. A smile forced itself across her face, and then…
”HahaAHAH…ALLAN STOP IT” she yelled, truly yelled.
”Why? Did that…tickle you?” he asked teasingly. When he got to the word “tickle”, he wiggled both of his index fingers in each of her bare, stretched underarms.
Christine’s spine arched as she was rocketed into a peal of involuntary laughter.
“Hahahahahahahaha Allan STOOOhohohooooppp”.
He stopped.
Christine lay there, panting frantically, pulling at the straps with every bit of strength her newly formed muscles from the gym could produce.
”Allan, I mean it. I fucking mean it. Untie me and get the hell OUT OF HEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAAH” Her angry command dissolved into helpless laughter as Allan’s index fingers lightly played with her nipple tips.
He paused again, removing his fingers from her, letting her realize the powerlessness of her position. They both sat there in silence. By his inaction, he let her know that he could strike at any moment of his choosing. By her silence, she let him know that she was slowly accepting the inevitability of the situation.
“A-Allan…” she whispered.
He leaned in. “Yes?” he whispered back.
”T….tickle me..” she whispered, her head lolling to the side in utter defeat.
His hands made her sing. It was her worst agony, and her highest ecstasy. This man’s fingers were precision weapons of hilarity, moving with her squirms, placing themselves in just the right spots to achieve the maximum effect. She found that no matter which way she writhed, a finger was there to greet her most exposed body part with ruthless efficiency.
He made her laugh so hard, and cry so copiously, that she truly thought that she might be sick, but he always knew just when to ease up, to pull away, to allow her a few seconds to catch her breath.
As time passed, her giggles and laughs inevitably subtly included a few moans and grunts. She threw in occasional hip thrusts to signal to Allan that she was becoming ready for him. Her nipples were impossibly swollen and sensitive, as was her clit. She did not remember even being this aroused before. Reince was a good man, and he tickled her well, but Allan was…almost a part of her nervous system. The man was inside her head, in ways that she didn’t believe were possible.
He parted her thighs expertly and entered her, while at the same time, his fingers worked their devilish magic in her ribs, making her arch and howl at the ceiling, her arching body in the perfect position to accept his manhood inside of her.
The feelings of ticklishness and pleasure were like two dancers inside of her, at times one led, at times the other. Her laughs melted into her moans as easily as her moans crescendoed into absolute hysterical laughter. This was the place she always wanted to be, where she could not tell the difference between ticklishness and pleasure. The wild thrill of the confusion of not being able to even know what she was feeling. All she knew was that she was feeling. She was feeling, and feeling, and feeling. Laughter and pleasure. Pleasure and laughter.
And then, she came. She came so hard into Allan, it was as if she was having a grand meal seizure, throwing her hips up into him like a wild animal consumed with its raw lust. If her hands weren’t tied up, she would have torn the skin off his back with her long nails. But her wrists and ankles were nicely tied, pulling her limbs down as her torso arched up, heightening her feeling of powerlessness, as she came, over and over and over, until…blackness.
Christine woke to an empty room. It was morning, and her arms and legs were untied. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes, getting her bearings. Her body still hummed with the aftershocks of her multiple orgasms.
“Reince?!” she called out.
”Yes dear?” he yelled back from the kitchen.
”W-where’s Allan?”
She heard Reince’s footsteps walking up the staircase to the bedroom. He gently pushed open the door. “Not happy to see me, dear?” he teased.
She smirked at him. “I…I don’t know..” she couldn’t believe the words that she heard come out of her mouth.
Reince looked at her, shocked. “What?”
”I…I don’t know. I just…the way he made me feel…”
”But Christine, it was just a one night wife swap, you know, to spice things up..” his voice trailed off sadly.
She looked at him with guilt and sadness. “I..I’m sorry honey. I’m drawn to him. I c..can’t resist him…”
”Christine?”
Christine rose slowly. She put on her robe, and began to pack her things.
The end.
DOUBLE CROSSED
Three Weeks Earler….
At the Christmas party hosted by married couple Christine and Reince for Reince’s co-workers, the couple mingled happily amongst the guests. Earlier that evening, Christine had decided to wear the sweater that was maybe just a half size too small. “I’ve earned it”, she thought, as she had spent the last four months at the gym and had dropped 20 pounds. It was Christmas, everyone was in good spirits, and she wanted to show off a bit.
Their house was large and tastefully appointed, and the caterer had really come through. Christine helped out in the kitchen, bringing trays of food around the house, feeling her sweater pulling up a bit on the sides as she lifted the tray above her head a bit to avoid bumping into the guests. She could feel a few wandering eyes on her from the married husbands, and the disapproving looks of their wives.
As she passed by one of her husband’s more obnoxious co-workers, Allan, he leaned in to whisper a joke in her ear. A dirty, filthy joke, that nevertheless made her burst into helpless giggles. She quickly regained her composure, but the blood drained from her face, and she looked as if she had seen a ghost. She couldn’t believe that boor had made her laugh so...easily. And the other guests had seen her delight, her helpless laughter. It was utterly humiliating for her, someone who prided herself on her stinginess with her laughs, for a very private reason. That reason being, laughing made her excited like nothing else in the world did. She reveled in a delicious giggle, or an indulgent belly laugh.
She planned to walk into one of the main salons and announce to the guests that the main course was ready. As she walked through the doorway, she placed her hands up on the doorframe, letting her sweater pull up and expose a strip of her tummy. As she opened her mouth to let the guests know about the mouth watering meal awaiting them in the dining room, Allan secretly reached out from somewhere just outside of her peripheral vision and gave her bellybutton a thorough tickle. Her body instantly doubled over, and she let loose a deep, guttural, belly laugh.
“I guess she’s ticklish, folks!” Allan quipped. The guests all laughed in unison, but Christine blushed a deep red as she straightened her sweater.
“D-dinner is ready everybody!” she managed to blurt out, and then hurried off to the bathroom. She locked the door and just stood there at the sink, breathing deeply. “I can’t believe they saw me laugh like that,” she kept thinking over and over to herself. And he made all the guests laugh too. She had to admit to herself that his move was masterful. He had the whole room in the palm of his hand, and she was the object of the joke. A deep, dark part of her begrudgingly admired his social mastery in pulling it off against her, one of the queens of her social circle. She ran some cold water from the sink and splashed her face once, then again. She took some deep breaths.
Someone knocked on the door:
“Christine, is everything alright?” It was her friend Susan.
“Y-yes Susan, I’m ok, I’ll be out in a second!” she replied in a voice that she hoped would convince Susan that she really was ok.
”You sure?” inquired Susan, leaning against the door slightly. “Allan really had you laughing there, didn’t he”. She could hear the sadistic smile in Susan’s voice.
Christine opened the bathroom door. “I’m fine”, she said. “Let’s eat!”
As she sat at the table eating and making small talk, she made a promise to herself. Never, ever again was that man, Allan, going to make her laugh. Ever. She steeled herself whenever he spoke up to make a witty comment, not even cracking a smile. She sensed Allan could tell that she was deliberately not going to let him make her laugh the rest of the evening. He did try a few times, and almost got her once, with an unexpected quip that caught her off guard, like a finger to the ribs, but her will was like iron, and she was able to quell the giggle before it escaped her throat. But could Allan sense how close he had come to cracking her just then? She sensed that his antennae were finally tuned to her responses, even though she tried desperately to hide them. Allan was just the kind of man she despised, but also found overpoweringly hilarious, which made her hate him all the more.
As the evening finally ended, the guests languidly filtered out through the foyer. The front door opened and closed as the guests departed two by two, the chill of the December air filtering in a bit to the foyer. As Allan and his wife Sonia made their way to the door, Christine disappeared into one of the side rooms, letting Reince alone see them off.
She watched from the dark side room with the door mostly closed, but cracked open a little, so she would know for sure when he had gone. But Allan’s antennae for her presence was magical, as if he had a GPS inside her mind. As Reince opened the door for Allan and Sonia, Allan turned to look directly at the slightly cracked open door behind which Christine hid in the darkness. He grinned, wiggled one finger in her direction, as if he were tickling her, and then disappeared into the darkness of the night. Christine involuntarily giggled and covered her tummy with her hand, then quickly covered her mouth with her other hand in absolute horror.
Had he seen her secretly watching him leave? Did he hear her giggle? She had promised herself that under no circumstances would that man ever make her laugh again, and yet, just a few hours later, he did it again, and so..effortlessly.
That night, as Reince and Christine collapsed into bed, exhausted, she felt Reince’s arm around her, contented. He was obviously happy with how the night went, how splendid all the food and music and catering was. His co-workers were well fed and happy, and even his boss had commented on how elegant their home was. Reince drifted off easily to sleep.
Christine lay motionless in his arms, unable to quiet her thoughts. No man besides Reince had ever exerted such … control over her. It disquieted her deeply. She was always drawn to men of great power, and she could feel a dark part of her yearning, reaching for the mastery of Allan. But no, she was very happily married to Reince, and that was not a path she was going to go down.
Her sleep was not easy.
…the Current Day
Three weeks had passed, and it was their date night. Although, tonight that just meant a “staying in” date night. Both Christine and Reince had robust libidos, and were both into tickling. Christine found that nothing satisfied her lust for laughter quite like being tied and tickled. Reince, while not into it naturally, was happy enough to satisfy his wife’s needs.
The scene with Allan had mostly faded from her thoughts, as the holidays passed into the dreary days of January. They hadn’t had time for a date night the last three Fridays, and her body was humming for a man’s touch.
She spent the evening showering, shaving, lotioning, doing her hair and make up, making herself the perfect wife for Reince: pretty, soft, and smooth, just as he liked her. She could hear him in the dark master bedroom, adjusting the leather straps on the bed to get them to just the right length: tight enough to stretch her body enough to be helpless, but not too much to be uncomfortable.
She shivered as she thought about the cold leather that would soon envelop her wrists and ankles, the pleasant stretch in her spine and shoulders from the bondage, and ultimately, the feel of Reince’s fingertips as they explored her body, searching for all the ways that he knew to make her squeal.
With the last puff of perfume, she grabbed the bathroom door handle, opened it, and entered the dark bedroom, naked. She walked silently across the carpeted floor, head down, submissive. She reached the bed and slipped onto it, stretching her arms and legs out to their fullest extent. She felt the wonderful touch of a man’s hands as he tugged her wrists into the leather, folded the straps around her small wrists, and then her slim ankles.
She released a deep sigh as she felt her spine stretch with the pleasant tug of the restraints. She sank into the softness of their bed, letting it envelop her and enhance her immobilization.
What she heard next confused her. It was the downstairs front door opening and closing. That wasn’t possible. No one else had a key to their house.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the man who tied her up…wasn’t Reince. It was…Allan.
“WHAT are you DOING?!” she yelled.
”That was Reince leaving” Allan stated matter of factly. “He told me about how you two had sort of reached a plateau in your fantasy life. That you both wanted to push the edge even further, but were afraid to. I convinced him to try a non-consensual wife swap, and he readily agreed. He told me…how deeply you love to be”, and here Allan paused for effect: “tickled”. He paused, his eyes fixed on hers, watching her respond to the “T word”. Christine sensed that, even in the darkness, he could see the thousand goose bumps ripple across her naked flesh.
Allan went on: “And he told me…how you had fantasies about being tickled by another man. Someone… not your husband.”
Christine blushed furiously and snapped her head away from him. “How could he have told Allan?” she thought. “That..that boor. That absolute boor. Couldn’t Reince have told someone, anyone, else?”
”I want you out of here!” Christine snapped coldly. “You are not going to make me laugh, not tonight, not ever,” she said in her most definitive sounding voice, but she knew that she wasn’t convincing Allan, or herself.
Allan’s eyebrow raised. “Really?” he mused out loud. She felt his finger slowly slide down her bicep and then lightly glide over her underarm.
She felt an electric jolt of her muscles firing all throughout her entire body, as she reflexively tried to jerk away from his touch. A smile forced itself across her face, and then…
”HahaAHAH…ALLAN STOP IT” she yelled, truly yelled.
”Why? Did that…tickle you?” he asked teasingly. When he got to the word “tickle”, he wiggled both of his index fingers in each of her bare, stretched underarms.
Christine’s spine arched as she was rocketed into a peal of involuntary laughter.
“Hahahahahahahaha Allan STOOOhohohooooppp”.
He stopped.
Christine lay there, panting frantically, pulling at the straps with every bit of strength her newly formed muscles from the gym could produce.
”Allan, I mean it. I fucking mean it. Untie me and get the hell OUT OF HEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAAH” Her angry command dissolved into helpless laughter as Allan’s index fingers lightly played with her nipple tips.
He paused again, removing his fingers from her, letting her realize the powerlessness of her position. They both sat there in silence. By his inaction, he let her know that he could strike at any moment of his choosing. By her silence, she let him know that she was slowly accepting the inevitability of the situation.
“A-Allan…” she whispered.
He leaned in. “Yes?” he whispered back.
”T….tickle me..” she whispered, her head lolling to the side in utter defeat.
His hands made her sing. It was her worst agony, and her highest ecstasy. This man’s fingers were precision weapons of hilarity, moving with her squirms, placing themselves in just the right spots to achieve the maximum effect. She found that no matter which way she writhed, a finger was there to greet her most exposed body part with ruthless efficiency.
He made her laugh so hard, and cry so copiously, that she truly thought that she might be sick, but he always knew just when to ease up, to pull away, to allow her a few seconds to catch her breath.
As time passed, her giggles and laughs inevitably subtly included a few moans and grunts. She threw in occasional hip thrusts to signal to Allan that she was becoming ready for him. Her nipples were impossibly swollen and sensitive, as was her clit. She did not remember even being this aroused before. Reince was a good man, and he tickled her well, but Allan was…almost a part of her nervous system. The man was inside her head, in ways that she didn’t believe were possible.
He parted her thighs expertly and entered her, while at the same time, his fingers worked their devilish magic in her ribs, making her arch and howl at the ceiling, her arching body in the perfect position to accept his manhood inside of her.
The feelings of ticklishness and pleasure were like two dancers inside of her, at times one led, at times the other. Her laughs melted into her moans as easily as her moans crescendoed into absolute hysterical laughter. This was the place she always wanted to be, where she could not tell the difference between ticklishness and pleasure. The wild thrill of the confusion of not being able to even know what she was feeling. All she knew was that she was feeling. She was feeling, and feeling, and feeling. Laughter and pleasure. Pleasure and laughter.
And then, she came. She came so hard into Allan, it was as if she was having a grand meal seizure, throwing her hips up into him like a wild animal consumed with its raw lust. If her hands weren’t tied up, she would have torn the skin off his back with her long nails. But her wrists and ankles were nicely tied, pulling her limbs down as her torso arched up, heightening her feeling of powerlessness, as she came, over and over and over, until…blackness.
Christine woke to an empty room. It was morning, and her arms and legs were untied. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes, getting her bearings. Her body still hummed with the aftershocks of her multiple orgasms.
“Reince?!” she called out.
”Yes dear?” he yelled back from the kitchen.
”W-where’s Allan?”
She heard Reince’s footsteps walking up the staircase to the bedroom. He gently pushed open the door. “Not happy to see me, dear?” he teased.
She smirked at him. “I…I don’t know..” she couldn’t believe the words that she heard come out of her mouth.
Reince looked at her, shocked. “What?”
”I…I don’t know. I just…the way he made me feel…”
”But Christine, it was just a one night wife swap, you know, to spice things up..” his voice trailed off sadly.
She looked at him with guilt and sadness. “I..I’m sorry honey. I’m drawn to him. I c..can’t resist him…”
”Christine?”
Christine rose slowly. She put on her robe, and began to pack her things.
The end.
At the Christmas party hosted by married couple Christine and Reince for Reince’s co-workers, the couple mingled happily amongst the guests. Earlier that evening, Christine had decided to wear the sweater that was maybe just a half size too small. “I’ve earned it”, she thought, as she had spent the last four months at the gym and had dropped 20 pounds. It was Christmas, everyone was in good spirits, and she wanted to show off a bit.
Their house was large and tastefully appointed, and the caterer had really come through. Christine helped out in the kitchen, bringing trays of food around the house, feeling her sweater pulling up a bit on the sides as she lifted the tray above her head a bit to avoid bumping into the guests. She could feel a few wandering eyes on her from the married husbands, and the disapproving looks of their wives.
As she passed by one of her husband’s more obnoxious co-workers, Allan, he leaned in to whisper a joke in her ear. A dirty, filthy joke, that nevertheless made her burst into helpless giggles. She quickly regained her composure, but the blood drained from her face, and she looked as if she had seen a ghost. She couldn’t believe that boor had made her laugh so...easily. And the other guests had seen her delight, her helpless laughter. It was utterly humiliating for her, someone who prided herself on her stinginess with her laughs, for a very private reason. That reason being, laughing made her excited like nothing else in the world did. She reveled in a delicious giggle, or an indulgent belly laugh.
She planned to walk into one of the main salons and announce to the guests that the main course was ready. As she walked through the doorway, she placed her hands up on the doorframe, letting her sweater pull up and expose a strip of her tummy. As she opened her mouth to let the guests know about the mouth watering meal awaiting them in the dining room, Allan secretly reached out from somewhere just outside of her peripheral vision and gave her bellybutton a thorough tickle. Her body instantly doubled over, and she let loose a deep, guttural, belly laugh.
“I guess she’s ticklish, folks!” Allan quipped. The guests all laughed in unison, but Christine blushed a deep red as she straightened her sweater.
“D-dinner is ready everybody!” she managed to blurt out, and then hurried off to the bathroom. She locked the door and just stood there at the sink, breathing deeply. “I can’t believe they saw me laugh like that,” she kept thinking over and over to herself. And he made all the guests laugh too. She had to admit to herself that his move was masterful. He had the whole room in the palm of his hand, and she was the object of the joke. A deep, dark part of her begrudgingly admired his social mastery in pulling it off against her, one of the queens of her social circle. She ran some cold water from the sink and splashed her face once, then again. She took some deep breaths.
Someone knocked on the door:
“Christine, is everything alright?” It was her friend Susan.
“Y-yes Susan, I’m ok, I’ll be out in a second!” she replied in a voice that she hoped would convince Susan that she really was ok.
”You sure?” inquired Susan, leaning against the door slightly. “Allan really had you laughing there, didn’t he”. She could hear the sadistic smile in Susan’s voice.
Christine opened the bathroom door. “I’m fine”, she said. “Let’s eat!”
As she sat at the table eating and making small talk, she made a promise to herself. Never, ever again was that man, Allan, going to make her laugh. Ever. She steeled herself whenever he spoke up to make a witty comment, not even cracking a smile. She sensed Allan could tell that she was deliberately not going to let him make her laugh the rest of the evening. He did try a few times, and almost got her once, with an unexpected quip that caught her off guard, like a finger to the ribs, but her will was like iron, and she was able to quell the giggle before it escaped her throat. But could Allan sense how close he had come to cracking her just then? She sensed that his antennae were finally tuned to her responses, even though she tried desperately to hide them. Allan was just the kind of man she despised, but also found overpoweringly hilarious, which made her hate him all the more.
As the evening finally ended, the guests languidly filtered out through the foyer. The front door opened and closed as the guests departed two by two, the chill of the December air filtering in a bit to the foyer. As Allan and his wife Sonia made their way to the door, Christine disappeared into one of the side rooms, letting Reince alone see them off.
She watched from the dark side room with the door mostly closed, but cracked open a little, so she would know for sure when he had gone. But Allan’s antennae for her presence was magical, as if he had a GPS inside her mind. As Reince opened the door for Allan and Sonia, Allan turned to look directly at the slightly cracked open door behind which Christine hid in the darkness. He grinned, wiggled one finger in her direction, as if he were tickling her, and then disappeared into the darkness of the night. Christine involuntarily giggled and covered her tummy with her hand, then quickly covered her mouth with her other hand in absolute horror.
Had he seen her secretly watching him leave? Did he hear her giggle? She had promised herself that under no circumstances would that man ever make her laugh again, and yet, just a few hours later, he did it again, and so..effortlessly.
That night, as Reince and Christine collapsed into bed, exhausted, she felt Reince’s arm around her, contented. He was obviously happy with how the night went, how splendid all the food and music and catering was. His co-workers were well fed and happy, and even his boss had commented on how elegant their home was. Reince drifted off easily to sleep.
Christine lay motionless in his arms, unable to quiet her thoughts. No man besides Reince had ever exerted such … control over her. It disquieted her deeply. She was always drawn to men of great power, and she could feel a dark part of her yearning, reaching for the mastery of Allan. But no, she was very happily married to Reince, and that was not a path she was going to go down.
Her sleep was not easy.
…the Current Day
Three weeks had passed, and it was their date night. Although, tonight that just meant a “staying in” date night. Both Christine and Reince had robust libidos, and were both into tickling. Christine found that nothing satisfied her lust for laughter quite like being tied and tickled. Reince, while not into it naturally, was happy enough to satisfy his wife’s needs.
The scene with Allan had mostly faded from her thoughts, as the holidays passed into the dreary days of January. They hadn’t had time for a date night the last three Fridays, and her body was humming for a man’s touch.
She spent the evening showering, shaving, lotioning, doing her hair and make up, making herself the perfect wife for Reince: pretty, soft, and smooth, just as he liked her. She could hear him in the dark master bedroom, adjusting the leather straps on the bed to get them to just the right length: tight enough to stretch her body enough to be helpless, but not too much to be uncomfortable.
She shivered as she thought about the cold leather that would soon envelop her wrists and ankles, the pleasant stretch in her spine and shoulders from the bondage, and ultimately, the feel of Reince’s fingertips as they explored her body, searching for all the ways that he knew to make her squeal.
With the last puff of perfume, she grabbed the bathroom door handle, opened it, and entered the dark bedroom, naked. She walked silently across the carpeted floor, head down, submissive. She reached the bed and slipped onto it, stretching her arms and legs out to their fullest extent. She felt the wonderful touch of a man’s hands as he tugged her wrists into the leather, folded the straps around her small wrists, and then her slim ankles.
She released a deep sigh as she felt her spine stretch with the pleasant tug of the restraints. She sank into the softness of their bed, letting it envelop her and enhance her immobilization.
What she heard next confused her. It was the downstairs front door opening and closing. That wasn’t possible. No one else had a key to their house.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the man who tied her up…wasn’t Reince. It was…Allan.
“WHAT are you DOING?!” she yelled.
”That was Reince leaving” Allan stated matter of factly. “He told me about how you two had sort of reached a plateau in your fantasy life. That you both wanted to push the edge even further, but were afraid to. I convinced him to try a non-consensual wife swap, and he readily agreed. He told me…how deeply you love to be”, and here Allan paused for effect: “tickled”. He paused, his eyes fixed on hers, watching her respond to the “T word”. Christine sensed that, even in the darkness, he could see the thousand goose bumps ripple across her naked flesh.
Allan went on: “And he told me…how you had fantasies about being tickled by another man. Someone… not your husband.”
Christine blushed furiously and snapped her head away from him. “How could he have told Allan?” she thought. “That..that boor. That absolute boor. Couldn’t Reince have told someone, anyone, else?”
”I want you out of here!” Christine snapped coldly. “You are not going to make me laugh, not tonight, not ever,” she said in her most definitive sounding voice, but she knew that she wasn’t convincing Allan, or herself.
Allan’s eyebrow raised. “Really?” he mused out loud. She felt his finger slowly slide down her bicep and then lightly glide over her underarm.
She felt an electric jolt of her muscles firing all throughout her entire body, as she reflexively tried to jerk away from his touch. A smile forced itself across her face, and then…
”HahaAHAH…ALLAN STOP IT” she yelled, truly yelled.
”Why? Did that…tickle you?” he asked teasingly. When he got to the word “tickle”, he wiggled both of his index fingers in each of her bare, stretched underarms.
Christine’s spine arched as she was rocketed into a peal of involuntary laughter.
“Hahahahahahahaha Allan STOOOhohohooooppp”.
He stopped.
Christine lay there, panting frantically, pulling at the straps with every bit of strength her newly formed muscles from the gym could produce.
”Allan, I mean it. I fucking mean it. Untie me and get the hell OUT OF HEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAAH” Her angry command dissolved into helpless laughter as Allan’s index fingers lightly played with her nipple tips.
He paused again, removing his fingers from her, letting her realize the powerlessness of her position. They both sat there in silence. By his inaction, he let her know that he could strike at any moment of his choosing. By her silence, she let him know that she was slowly accepting the inevitability of the situation.
“A-Allan…” she whispered.
He leaned in. “Yes?” he whispered back.
”T….tickle me..” she whispered, her head lolling to the side in utter defeat.
His hands made her sing. It was her worst agony, and her highest ecstasy. This man’s fingers were precision weapons of hilarity, moving with her squirms, placing themselves in just the right spots to achieve the maximum effect. She found that no matter which way she writhed, a finger was there to greet her most exposed body part with ruthless efficiency.
He made her laugh so hard, and cry so copiously, that she truly thought that she might be sick, but he always knew just when to ease up, to pull away, to allow her a few seconds to catch her breath.
As time passed, her giggles and laughs inevitably subtly included a few moans and grunts. She threw in occasional hip thrusts to signal to Allan that she was becoming ready for him. Her nipples were impossibly swollen and sensitive, as was her clit. She did not remember even being this aroused before. Reince was a good man, and he tickled her well, but Allan was…almost a part of her nervous system. The man was inside her head, in ways that she didn’t believe were possible.
He parted her thighs expertly and entered her, while at the same time, his fingers worked their devilish magic in her ribs, making her arch and howl at the ceiling, her arching body in the perfect position to accept his manhood inside of her.
The feelings of ticklishness and pleasure were like two dancers inside of her, at times one led, at times the other. Her laughs melted into her moans as easily as her moans crescendoed into absolute hysterical laughter. This was the place she always wanted to be, where she could not tell the difference between ticklishness and pleasure. The wild thrill of the confusion of not being able to even know what she was feeling. All she knew was that she was feeling. She was feeling, and feeling, and feeling. Laughter and pleasure. Pleasure and laughter.
And then, she came. She came so hard into Allan, it was as if she was having a grand meal seizure, throwing her hips up into him like a wild animal consumed with its raw lust. If her hands weren’t tied up, she would have torn the skin off his back with her long nails. But her wrists and ankles were nicely tied, pulling her limbs down as her torso arched up, heightening her feeling of powerlessness, as she came, over and over and over, until…blackness.
Christine woke to an empty room. It was morning, and her arms and legs were untied. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes, getting her bearings. Her body still hummed with the aftershocks of her multiple orgasms.
“Reince?!” she called out.
”Yes dear?” he yelled back from the kitchen.
”W-where’s Allan?”
She heard Reince’s footsteps walking up the staircase to the bedroom. He gently pushed open the door. “Not happy to see me, dear?” he teased.
She smirked at him. “I…I don’t know..” she couldn’t believe the words that she heard come out of her mouth.
Reince looked at her, shocked. “What?”
”I…I don’t know. I just…the way he made me feel…”
”But Christine, it was just a one night wife swap, you know, to spice things up..” his voice trailed off sadly.
She looked at him with guilt and sadness. “I..I’m sorry honey. I’m drawn to him. I c..can’t resist him…”
”Christine?”
Christine rose slowly. She put on her robe, and began to pack her things.
The end.
DOUBLE CROSSED
Three Weeks Earler….
At the Christmas party hosted by married couple Christine and Reince for Reince’s co-workers, the couple mingled happily amongst the guests. Earlier that evening, Christine had decided to wear the sweater that was maybe just a half size too small. “I’ve earned it”, she thought, as she had spent the last four months at the gym and had dropped 20 pounds. It was Christmas, everyone was in good spirits, and she wanted to show off a bit.
Their house was large and tastefully appointed, and the caterer had really come through. Christine helped out in the kitchen, bringing trays of food around the house, feeling her sweater pulling up a bit on the sides as she lifted the tray above her head a bit to avoid bumping into the guests. She could feel a few wandering eyes on her from the married husbands, and the disapproving looks of their wives.
As she passed by one of her husband’s more obnoxious co-workers, Allan, he leaned in to whisper a joke in her ear. A dirty, filthy joke, that nevertheless made her burst into helpless giggles. She quickly regained her composure, but the blood drained from her face, and she looked as if she had seen a ghost. She couldn’t believe that boor had made her laugh so...easily. And the other guests had seen her delight, her helpless laughter. It was utterly humiliating for her, someone who prided herself on her stinginess with her laughs, for a very private reason. That reason being, laughing made her excited like nothing else in the world did. She reveled in a delicious giggle, or an indulgent belly laugh.
She planned to walk into one of the main salons and announce to the guests that the main course was ready. As she walked through the doorway, she placed her hands up on the doorframe, letting her sweater pull up and expose a strip of her tummy. As she opened her mouth to let the guests know about the mouth watering meal awaiting them in the dining room, Allan secretly reached out from somewhere just outside of her peripheral vision and gave her bellybutton a thorough tickle. Her body instantly doubled over, and she let loose a deep, guttural, belly laugh.
“I guess she’s ticklish, folks!” Allan quipped. The guests all laughed in unison, but Christine blushed a deep red as she straightened her sweater.
“D-dinner is ready everybody!” she managed to blurt out, and then hurried off to the bathroom. She locked the door and just stood there at the sink, breathing deeply. “I can’t believe they saw me laugh like that,” she kept thinking over and over to herself. And he made all the guests laugh too. She had to admit to herself that his move was masterful. He had the whole room in the palm of his hand, and she was the object of the joke. A deep, dark part of her begrudgingly admired his social mastery in pulling it off against her, one of the queens of her social circle. She ran some cold water from the sink and splashed her face once, then again. She took some deep breaths.
Someone knocked on the door:
“Christine, is everything alright?” It was her friend Susan.
“Y-yes Susan, I’m ok, I’ll be out in a second!” she replied in a voice that she hoped would convince Susan that she really was ok.
”You sure?” inquired Susan, leaning against the door slightly. “Allan really had you laughing there, didn’t he”. She could hear the sadistic smile in Susan’s voice.
Christine opened the bathroom door. “I’m fine”, she said. “Let’s eat!”
As she sat at the table eating and making small talk, she made a promise to herself. Never, ever again was that man, Allan, going to make her laugh. Ever. She steeled herself whenever he spoke up to make a witty comment, not even cracking a smile. She sensed Allan could tell that she was deliberately not going to let him make her laugh the rest of the evening. He did try a few times, and almost got her once, with an unexpected quip that caught her off guard, like a finger to the ribs, but her will was like iron, and she was able to quell the giggle before it escaped her throat. But could Allan sense how close he had come to cracking her just then? She sensed that his antennae were finally tuned to her responses, even though she tried desperately to hide them. Allan was just the kind of man she despised, but also found overpoweringly hilarious, which made her hate him all the more.
As the evening finally ended, the guests languidly filtered out through the foyer. The front door opened and closed as the guests departed two by two, the chill of the December air filtering in a bit to the foyer. As Allan and his wife Sonia made their way to the door, Christine disappeared into one of the side rooms, letting Reince alone see them off.
She watched from the dark side room with the door mostly closed, but cracked open a little, so she would know for sure when he had gone. But Allan’s antennae for her presence was magical, as if he had a GPS inside her mind. As Reince opened the door for Allan and Sonia, Allan turned to look directly at the slightly cracked open door behind which Christine hid in the darkness. He grinned, wiggled one finger in her direction, as if he were tickling her, and then disappeared into the darkness of the night. Christine involuntarily giggled and covered her tummy with her hand, then quickly covered her mouth with her other hand in absolute horror.
Had he seen her secretly watching him leave? Did he hear her giggle? She had promised herself that under no circumstances would that man ever make her laugh again, and yet, just a few hours later, he did it again, and so..effortlessly.
That night, as Reince and Christine collapsed into bed, exhausted, she felt Reince’s arm around her, contented. He was obviously happy with how the night went, how splendid all the food and music and catering was. His co-workers were well fed and happy, and even his boss had commented on how elegant their home was. Reince drifted off easily to sleep.
Christine lay motionless in his arms, unable to quiet her thoughts. No man besides Reince had ever exerted such … control over her. It disquieted her deeply. She was always drawn to men of great power, and she could feel a dark part of her yearning, reaching for the mastery of Allan. But no, she was very happily married to Reince, and that was not a path she was going to go down.
Her sleep was not easy.
…the Current Day
Three weeks had passed, and it was their date night. Although, tonight that just meant a “staying in” date night. Both Christine and Reince had robust libidos, and were both into tickling. Christine found that nothing satisfied her lust for laughter quite like being tied and tickled. Reince, while not into it naturally, was happy enough to satisfy his wife’s needs.
The scene with Allan had mostly faded from her thoughts, as the holidays passed into the dreary days of January. They hadn’t had time for a date night the last three Fridays, and her body was humming for a man’s touch.
She spent the evening showering, shaving, lotioning, doing her hair and make up, making herself the perfect wife for Reince: pretty, soft, and smooth, just as he liked her. She could hear him in the dark master bedroom, adjusting the leather straps on the bed to get them to just the right length: tight enough to stretch her body enough to be helpless, but not too much to be uncomfortable.
She shivered as she thought about the cold leather that would soon envelop her wrists and ankles, the pleasant stretch in her spine and shoulders from the bondage, and ultimately, the feel of Reince’s fingertips as they explored her body, searching for all the ways that he knew to make her squeal.
With the last puff of perfume, she grabbed the bathroom door handle, opened it, and entered the dark bedroom, naked. She walked silently across the carpeted floor, head down, submissive. She reached the bed and slipped onto it, stretching her arms and legs out to their fullest extent. She felt the wonderful touch of a man’s hands as he tugged her wrists into the leather, folded the straps around her small wrists, and then her slim ankles.
She released a deep sigh as she felt her spine stretch with the pleasant tug of the restraints. She sank into the softness of their bed, letting it envelop her and enhance her immobilization.
What she heard next confused her. It was the downstairs front door opening and closing. That wasn’t possible. No one else had a key to their house.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the man who tied her up…wasn’t Reince. It was…Allan.
“WHAT are you DOING?!” she yelled.
”That was Reince leaving” Allan stated matter of factly. “He told me about how you two had sort of reached a plateau in your fantasy life. That you both wanted to push the edge even further, but were afraid to. I convinced him to try a non-consensual wife swap, and he readily agreed. He told me…how deeply you love to be”, and here Allan paused for effect: “tickled”. He paused, his eyes fixed on hers, watching her respond to the “T word”. Christine sensed that, even in the darkness, he could see the thousand goose bumps ripple across her naked flesh.
Allan went on: “And he told me…how you had fantasies about being tickled by another man. Someone… not your husband.”
Christine blushed furiously and snapped her head away from him. “How could he have told Allan?” she thought. “That..that boor. That absolute boor. Couldn’t Reince have told someone, anyone, else?”
”I want you out of here!” Christine snapped coldly. “You are not going to make me laugh, not tonight, not ever,” she said in her most definitive sounding voice, but she knew that she wasn’t convincing Allan, or herself.
Allan’s eyebrow raised. “Really?” he mused out loud. She felt his finger slowly slide down her bicep and then lightly glide over her underarm.
She felt an electric jolt of her muscles firing all throughout her entire body, as she reflexively tried to jerk away from his touch. A smile forced itself across her face, and then…
”HahaAHAH…ALLAN STOP IT” she yelled, truly yelled.
”Why? Did that…tickle you?” he asked teasingly. When he got to the word “tickle”, he wiggled both of his index fingers in each of her bare, stretched underarms.
Christine’s spine arched as she was rocketed into a peal of involuntary laughter.
“Hahahahahahahaha Allan STOOOhohohooooppp”.
He stopped.
Christine lay there, panting frantically, pulling at the straps with every bit of strength her newly formed muscles from the gym could produce.
”Allan, I mean it. I fucking mean it. Untie me and get the hell OUT OF HEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAAH” Her angry command dissolved into helpless laughter as Allan’s index fingers lightly played with her nipple tips.
He paused again, removing his fingers from her, letting her realize the powerlessness of her position. They both sat there in silence. By his inaction, he let her know that he could strike at any moment of his choosing. By her silence, she let him know that she was slowly accepting the inevitability of the situation.
“A-Allan…” she whispered.
He leaned in. “Yes?” he whispered back.
”T….tickle me..” she whispered, her head lolling to the side in utter defeat.
His hands made her sing. It was her worst agony, and her highest ecstasy. This man’s fingers were precision weapons of hilarity, moving with her squirms, placing themselves in just the right spots to achieve the maximum effect. She found that no matter which way she writhed, a finger was there to greet her most exposed body part with ruthless efficiency.
He made her laugh so hard, and cry so copiously, that she truly thought that she might be sick, but he always knew just when to ease up, to pull away, to allow her a few seconds to catch her breath.
As time passed, her giggles and laughs inevitably subtly included a few moans and grunts. She threw in occasional hip thrusts to signal to Allan that she was becoming ready for him. Her nipples were impossibly swollen and sensitive, as was her clit. She did not remember even being this aroused before. Reince was a good man, and he tickled her well, but Allan was…almost a part of her nervous system. The man was inside her head, in ways that she didn’t believe were possible.
He parted her thighs expertly and entered her, while at the same time, his fingers worked their devilish magic in her ribs, making her arch and howl at the ceiling, her arching body in the perfect position to accept his manhood inside of her.
The feelings of ticklishness and pleasure were like two dancers inside of her, at times one led, at times the other. Her laughs melted into her moans as easily as her moans crescendoed into absolute hysterical laughter. This was the place she always wanted to be, where she could not tell the difference between ticklishness and pleasure. The wild thrill of the confusion of not being able to even know what she was feeling. All she knew was that she was feeling. She was feeling, and feeling, and feeling. Laughter and pleasure. Pleasure and laughter.
And then, she came. She came so hard into Allan, it was as if she was having a grand meal seizure, throwing her hips up into him like a wild animal consumed with its raw lust. If her hands weren’t tied up, she would have torn the skin off his back with her long nails. But her wrists and ankles were nicely tied, pulling her limbs down as her torso arched up, heightening her feeling of powerlessness, as she came, over and over and over, until…blackness.
Christine woke to an empty room. It was morning, and her arms and legs were untied. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes, getting her bearings. Her body still hummed with the aftershocks of her multiple orgasms.
“Reince?!” she called out.
”Yes dear?” he yelled back from the kitchen.
”W-where’s Allan?”
She heard Reince’s footsteps walking up the staircase to the bedroom. He gently pushed open the door. “Not happy to see me, dear?” he teased.
She smirked at him. “I…I don’t know..” she couldn’t believe the words that she heard come out of her mouth.
Reince looked at her, shocked. “What?”
”I…I don’t know. I just…the way he made me feel…”
”But Christine, it was just a one night wife swap, you know, to spice things up..” his voice trailed off sadly.
She looked at him with guilt and sadness. “I..I’m sorry honey. I’m drawn to him. I c..can’t resist him…”
”Christine?”
Christine rose slowly. She put on her robe, and began to pack her things.
The end.
DOUBLE CROSSED
Three Weeks Earler….
At the Christmas party hosted by married couple Christine and Reince for Reince’s co-workers, the couple mingled happily amongst the guests. Earlier that evening, Christine had decided to wear the sweater that was maybe just a half size too small. “I’ve earned it”, she thought, as she had spent the last four months at the gym and had dropped 20 pounds. It was Christmas, everyone was in good spirits, and she wanted to show off a bit.
Their house was large and tastefully appointed, and the caterer had really come through. Christine helped out in the kitchen, bringing trays of food around the house, feeling her sweater pulling up a bit on the sides as she lifted the tray above her head a bit to avoid bumping into the guests. She could feel a few wandering eyes on her from the married husbands, and the disapproving looks of their wives.
As she passed by one of her husband’s more obnoxious co-workers, Allan, he leaned in to whisper a joke in her ear. A dirty, filthy joke, that nevertheless made her burst into helpless giggles. She quickly regained her composure, but the blood drained from her face, and she looked as if she had seen a ghost. She couldn’t believe that boor had made her laugh so...easily. And the other guests had seen her delight, her helpless laughter. It was utterly humiliating for her, someone who prided herself on her stinginess with her laughs, for a very private reason. That reason being, laughing made her excited like nothing else in the world did. She reveled in a delicious giggle, or an indulgent belly laugh.
She planned to walk into one of the main salons and announce to the guests that the main course was ready. As she walked through the doorway, she placed her hands up on the doorframe, letting her sweater pull up and expose a strip of her tummy. As she opened her mouth to let the guests know about the mouth watering meal awaiting them in the dining room, Allan secretly reached out from somewhere just outside of her peripheral vision and gave her bellybutton a thorough tickle. Her body instantly doubled over, and she let loose a deep, guttural, belly laugh.
“I guess she’s ticklish, folks!” Allan quipped. The guests all laughed in unison, but Christine blushed a deep red as she straightened her sweater.
“D-dinner is ready everybody!” she managed to blurt out, and then hurried off to the bathroom. She locked the door and just stood there at the sink, breathing deeply. “I can’t believe they saw me laugh like that,” she kept thinking over and over to herself. And he made all the guests laugh too. She had to admit to herself that his move was masterful. He had the whole room in the palm of his hand, and she was the object of the joke. A deep, dark part of her begrudgingly admired his social mastery in pulling it off against her, one of the queens of her social circle. She ran some cold water from the sink and splashed her face once, then again. She took some deep breaths.
Someone knocked on the door:
“Christine, is everything alright?” It was her friend Susan.
“Y-yes Susan, I’m ok, I’ll be out in a second!” she replied in a voice that she hoped would convince Susan that she really was ok.
”You sure?” inquired Susan, leaning against the door slightly. “Allan really had you laughing there, didn’t he”. She could hear the sadistic smile in Susan’s voice.
Christine opened the bathroom door. “I’m fine”, she said. “Let’s eat!”
As she sat at the table eating and making small talk, she made a promise to herself. Never, ever again was that man, Allan, going to make her laugh. Ever. She steeled herself whenever he spoke up to make a witty comment, not even cracking a smile. She sensed Allan could tell that she was deliberately not going to let him make her laugh the rest of the evening. He did try a few times, and almost got her once, with an unexpected quip that caught her off guard, like a finger to the ribs, but her will was like iron, and she was able to quell the giggle before it escaped her throat. But could Allan sense how close he had come to cracking her just then? She sensed that his antennae were finally tuned to her responses, even though she tried desperately to hide them. Allan was just the kind of man she despised, but also found overpoweringly hilarious, which made her hate him all the more.
As the evening finally ended, the guests languidly filtered out through the foyer. The front door opened and closed as the guests departed two by two, the chill of the December air filtering in a bit to the foyer. As Allan and his wife Sonia made their way to the door, Christine disappeared into one of the side rooms, letting Reince alone see them off.
She watched from the dark side room with the door mostly closed, but cracked open a little, so she would know for sure when he had gone. But Allan’s antennae for her presence was magical, as if he had a GPS inside her mind. As Reince opened the door for Allan and Sonia, Allan turned to look directly at the slightly cracked open door behind which Christine hid in the darkness. He grinned, wiggled one finger in her direction, as if he were tickling her, and then disappeared into the darkness of the night. Christine involuntarily giggled and covered her tummy with her hand, then quickly covered her mouth with her other hand in absolute horror.
Had he seen her secretly watching him leave? Did he hear her giggle? She had promised herself that under no circumstances would that man ever make her laugh again, and yet, just a few hours later, he did it again, and so..effortlessly.
That night, as Reince and Christine collapsed into bed, exhausted, she felt Reince’s arm around her, contented. He was obviously happy with how the night went, how splendid all the food and music and catering was. His co-workers were well fed and happy, and even his boss had commented on how elegant their home was. Reince drifted off easily to sleep.
Christine lay motionless in his arms, unable to quiet her thoughts. No man besides Reince had ever exerted such … control over her. It disquieted her deeply. She was always drawn to men of great power, and she could feel a dark part of her yearning, reaching for the mastery of Allan. But no, she was very happily married to Reince, and that was not a path she was going to go down.
Her sleep was not easy.
…the Current Day
Three weeks had passed, and it was their date night. Although, tonight that just meant a “staying in” date night. Both Christine and Reince had robust libidos, and were both into tickling. Christine found that nothing satisfied her lust for laughter quite like being tied and tickled. Reince, while not into it naturally, was happy enough to satisfy his wife’s needs.
The scene with Allan had mostly faded from her thoughts, as the holidays passed into the dreary days of January. They hadn’t had time for a date night the last three Fridays, and her body was humming for a man’s touch.
She spent the evening showering, shaving, lotioning, doing her hair and make up, making herself the perfect wife for Reince: pretty, soft, and smooth, just as he liked her. She could hear him in the dark master bedroom, adjusting the leather straps on the bed to get them to just the right length: tight enough to stretch her body enough to be helpless, but not too much to be uncomfortable.
She shivered as she thought about the cold leather that would soon envelop her wrists and ankles, the pleasant stretch in her spine and shoulders from the bondage, and ultimately, the feel of Reince’s fingertips as they explored her body, searching for all the ways that he knew to make her squeal.
With the last puff of perfume, she grabbed the bathroom door handle, opened it, and entered the dark bedroom, naked. She walked silently across the carpeted floor, head down, submissive. She reached the bed and slipped onto it, stretching her arms and legs out to their fullest extent. She felt the wonderful touch of a man’s hands as he tugged her wrists into the leather, folded the straps around her small wrists, and then her slim ankles.
She released a deep sigh as she felt her spine stretch with the pleasant tug of the restraints. She sank into the softness of their bed, letting it envelop her and enhance her immobilization.
What she heard next confused her. It was the downstairs front door opening and closing. That wasn’t possible. No one else had a key to their house.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that the man who tied her up…wasn’t Reince. It was…Allan.
“WHAT are you DOING?!” she yelled.
”That was Reince leaving” Allan stated matter of factly. “He told me about how you two had sort of reached a plateau in your fantasy life. That you both wanted to push the edge even further, but were afraid to. I convinced him to try a non-consensual wife swap, and he readily agreed. He told me…how deeply you love to be”, and here Allan paused for effect: “tickled”. He paused, his eyes fixed on hers, watching her respond to the “T word”. Christine sensed that, even in the darkness, he could see the thousand goose bumps ripple across her naked flesh.
Allan went on: “And he told me…how you had fantasies about being tickled by another man. Someone… not your husband.”
Christine blushed furiously and snapped her head away from him. “How could he have told Allan?” she thought. “That..that boor. That absolute boor. Couldn’t Reince have told someone, anyone, else?”
”I want you out of here!” Christine snapped coldly. “You are not going to make me laugh, not tonight, not ever,” she said in her most definitive sounding voice, but she knew that she wasn’t convincing Allan, or herself.
Allan’s eyebrow raised. “Really?” he mused out loud. She felt his finger slowly slide down her bicep and then lightly glide over her underarm.
She felt an electric jolt of her muscles firing all throughout her entire body, as she reflexively tried to jerk away from his touch. A smile forced itself across her face, and then…
”HahaAHAH…ALLAN STOP IT” she yelled, truly yelled.
”Why? Did that…tickle you?” he asked teasingly. When he got to the word “tickle”, he wiggled both of his index fingers in each of her bare, stretched underarms.
Christine’s spine arched as she was rocketed into a peal of involuntary laughter.
“Hahahahahahahaha Allan STOOOhohohooooppp”.
He stopped.
Christine lay there, panting frantically, pulling at the straps with every bit of strength her newly formed muscles from the gym could produce.
”Allan, I mean it. I fucking mean it. Untie me and get the hell OUT OF HEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAAAH” Her angry command dissolved into helpless laughter as Allan’s index fingers lightly played with her nipple tips.
He paused again, removing his fingers from her, letting her realize the powerlessness of her position. They both sat there in silence. By his inaction, he let her know that he could strike at any moment of his choosing. By her silence, she let him know that she was slowly accepting the inevitability of the situation.
“A-Allan…” she whispered.
He leaned in. “Yes?” he whispered back.
”T….tickle me..” she whispered, her head lolling to the side in utter defeat.
His hands made her sing. It was her worst agony, and her highest ecstasy. This man’s fingers were precision weapons of hilarity, moving with her squirms, placing themselves in just the right spots to achieve the maximum effect. She found that no matter which way she writhed, a finger was there to greet her most exposed body part with ruthless efficiency.
He made her laugh so hard, and cry so copiously, that she truly thought that she might be sick, but he always knew just when to ease up, to pull away, to allow her a few seconds to catch her breath.
As time passed, her giggles and laughs inevitably subtly included a few moans and grunts. She threw in occasional hip thrusts to signal to Allan that she was becoming ready for him. Her nipples were impossibly swollen and sensitive, as was her clit. She did not remember even being this aroused before. Reince was a good man, and he tickled her well, but Allan was…almost a part of her nervous system. The man was inside her head, in ways that she didn’t believe were possible.
He parted her thighs expertly and entered her, while at the same time, his fingers worked their devilish magic in her ribs, making her arch and howl at the ceiling, her arching body in the perfect position to accept his manhood inside of her.
The feelings of ticklishness and pleasure were like two dancers inside of her, at times one led, at times the other. Her laughs melted into her moans as easily as her moans crescendoed into absolute hysterical laughter. This was the place she always wanted to be, where she could not tell the difference between ticklishness and pleasure. The wild thrill of the confusion of not being able to even know what she was feeling. All she knew was that she was feeling. She was feeling, and feeling, and feeling. Laughter and pleasure. Pleasure and laughter.
And then, she came. She came so hard into Allan, it was as if she was having a grand meal seizure, throwing her hips up into him like a wild animal consumed with its raw lust. If her hands weren’t tied up, she would have torn the skin off his back with her long nails. But her wrists and ankles were nicely tied, pulling her limbs down as her torso arched up, heightening her feeling of powerlessness, as she came, over and over and over, until…blackness.
Christine woke to an empty room. It was morning, and her arms and legs were untied. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes, getting her bearings. Her body still hummed with the aftershocks of her multiple orgasms.
“Reince?!” she called out.
”Yes dear?” he yelled back from the kitchen.
”W-where’s Allan?”
She heard Reince’s footsteps walking up the staircase to the bedroom. He gently pushed open the door. “Not happy to see me, dear?” he teased.
She smirked at him. “I…I don’t know..” she couldn’t believe the words that she heard come out of her mouth.
Reince looked at her, shocked. “What?”
”I…I don’t know. I just…the way he made me feel…”
”But Christine, it was just a one night wife swap, you know, to spice things up..” his voice trailed off sadly.
She looked at him with guilt and sadness. “I..I’m sorry honey. I’m drawn to him. I c..can’t resist him…”
”Christine?”
Christine rose slowly. She put on her robe, and began to pack her things.
The end.
