I'm new at this. Let me know what you think.
I’ve been reading stories on tickling for years now, but never once have I thought of writing one, let alone submitting it for others to read. But after all these years of reading the stories, I felt I wanted to tell about what happened to me a couple years ago. This is a completely true story, and I’ve made an effort not to exaggerate or embellish it at all. I have tried to tell it as accurately as possible, mostly because I have wanted to tell someone this story for years but never felt comfortable enough to share it with anyone. Perhaps now I have finally found a suitable forum.
The story starts back in my childhood. As long as I can remember I was always extremely ticklish. We’re not talking about in a playful way like most children, we’re talking extremely unbearably ticklish everywhere on my body. Even as a small child I understood that different people are more or less ticklish than others, but I also understood (although not in such words) that there was a psychological aspect to tickling. I knew that I could be touched in some places under normal circumstances without any difficulty, but if I even thought that someone was trying to tickle me the touch was unbearable. Of course, there were some places I could never be touched under any circumstances, and I tried to keep those secret. Tickling is particularly tortuous as a child because it is so hard to defend yourself, especially against an adult.
As a small child my parents and relatives didn’t tickle me that much, just occasionally and playfully, but they quickly discovered that I did not like it and stopped. Then, between the ages of eight and ten I discovered what tickle torture truly meant. I had a cousin who was about eight years older than I was who developed a perverse inclination to tickle me whenever she got the chance. In retrospect I think it must have turned her on to have such power over me, because she only did it when no one else was around. Oh, it wasn’t like in some of the stories I’ve read. She didn’t tie me up, or tickle me for five hours, or even pin me down, but she was an expert tickler, and she relied only on her skill and my reflexes to torment me.
I remember one episode when I was nine or ten years old, and it was typical of many. We were at my cousin’s house, in the backyard, swimming in her built in pool. It was a relatively cool day but hot enough to swim. My parents, aunt, and uncle were there, as well as a friend of my cousin’s, who was about her age. After swimming a while I got out of the pool, put a large beach towel on the grass, and laid down on an isolated stretch of lawn to dry off. After a while my parents, aunt, and uncle went into the house to play cards, as they often did. I didn’t think my cousin would try anything with her friend there, but I was wrong.
My cousin’s friend put her towel next to mine and laid down, and my cousin next to her. Then my cousin (by the way, her name is Marge) got up and stood over me. She said to her friend “want to see something really funny?”
“Sure,” her friend responded.
“See my little cousin Billy here?” she asked, “he’s really, really ticklish. What do you think, Billy, want to show my friend how ticklish you are?” With that she started slowly moving toward moving toward me, wearing that sadistic grin she always got before tickling me, and wriggling her fingers threateningly. She had very long fingernails and they flashed menacingly in the sunlight.
I was horrified that she would do this to me in front of a complete stranger, and immediately turned bright red with embarrassment. I tried to start moving away but she straddled my waist, and was much older and heavier than I was.
“Watch this,” she said, “he’s so ticklish that I can make him laugh without even touching him!”
She started wiggling her fingers over me, pretending to tickle me. She would grab towards my sides, then my neck, then my armpits, not actually touching me but missing the skin by less than an inch. The anticipation alone was enough to make my body go limp and to start a frantic combination of giggling and begging. It was humiliating to be so weak and out of control, and I hated begging, but under the circumstances I had no choice…I would do anything to stop from being tickled.
“NO! STOP! My parents…hee hee hee will be out any second!…Haa haa haa I’ll throw up if you tickle meee heee hee!” Of course, she knew this was a bluff because I’d said it many times before and never threw up when she tickled me. “I’ll do anything you want..heh.heh..heh,” I said, twisting and turning frantically to escape fingers that weren’t even touching me. Any hope I had of her friend coming to my rescue was crushed when she said, “Boy, he is ticklish! What happens when you actually touch him?”
THIS HAPPENS!” Marge said, and she launched an all-out tickle attack.
Like I said before, she didn’t even have to hold me down, her hands were as fast as lightening. First she would attack my sides, causing me to grab for her hands. Then, with my hands down at my sides, she’d immediately switch to my neck. Then when I would reflexively grab at my neck, she would attack both knees. Even as she was tickling me I knew that if I moved my hands she would just attack somewhere else, but I couldn’t help myself. She knew all my most ticklish spots and how to exploit them. Within seconds I was laughing, snorting, and gasping so hard that I couldn’t even begin to beg for mercy.
“NOOOOOO!!!!! HAAA HAAA HAAAAA….HEEE HEEE HEEE, PLEEEEEEEEEEESE, NOOOOOOOOOOOO HAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAA” was about the most I could get out. I was thrashing around on the lawn like a wild animal. I’d flip onto my stomach and she’d reach around to attack my sides, I’d flip back onto my back and she’d attack my stomach and knees. And while she was tickling me she was humiliating and tormenting me further by what she was saying.
“Is little Billy ticklish? Oh I think he is! What about here on your sides? Oh, you’re REALLY ticklish there. And your knees too! You hate it when I tickle your knees, don’t you? Come on, laugh for me and my friend. What’s a matter? Does little Billy want me to stop? All you have to do is say so and I’ll stop. What’s that? I hear you saying something but it does sound like ‘stop.’ How about if I just tickle your feet a little? Oh, you don’t seem to like that at all.” She’d go on and on and on like that. After about twenty minutes I was completely drained and helpless, reaching the point where I couldn’t even try to fight back, twist, or turn. I’d just lie there laughing hysterically. When the torture finally stopped, it took me five full minutes to stop laughing and face my tormentor.
“You’re just a ticklish little boy,” Marge said, and she and her friend laughed and went into the house.
I hated being tickled like that. I hated feeling weak and helpless, I hated feeling embarrassed, humiliated, and out of control (especially in front of someone I didn’t know), and above all I hated the unbearable, unstoppable tickling sensations. During childhood my cousin was the only one who ever tickled me like that, and I dreaded going to her house because of it. Most of my other friends and relatives who tried to tickle me quickly discovered that I hated it and got very angry very quickly, and then they would give up.
I started puberty quite young, and by 12 years old I had started to notice the opposite sex. By thirteen teenage flirting had started. Several of my friends and I chipped in together and bought a set of free weights, storing them in one of our garages. We would work out regularly. I was growing fast and already one of the tallest guys in my class, and by the time I was fifteen I was broad-shouldered and quite muscular. I wouldn’t say that I was great looking, but I was in pretty good shape and I think some of the girls started to notice me. Of course, by the age of fifteen I already had the 24-hour per day constant erection that all teenage boys develop sooner or later.
That summer I started dating my first girlfriend. What incredible memories those were! She was a year older than I was, and absolutely gorgeous. Her name was Debbie, and she had beautiful long blond hair and blue eyes. She was tall (but still a little shorter than I was) and had long shapely legs. Her breasts were perfect; medium sized and unbelievably firm. She could go without a bra and her breasts would still stand at attention. She was smart, but quiet and modest, which I found appealing. There’s something about a woman who could pass for a supermodel but doesn’t seem to realize how attractive she is that’s appealing
I also quickly discovered some other things about Debbie. First of all, she was one of the most ticklish people on Earth. I also discovered that as much as I hated being tickled, I absolutely loved being a tickler. Having all that power, being able to control the sensations someone else felt, to have complete dominance over them, making them beg for mercy, was a complete turn on. Debbie didn’t mind a little playful tickling, but as the relationship progressed I tortured her more and more.
And of course, as all people who love tickling discover, the experience is far more intense the more helpless the victim is. Not only does this prevent them from escaping, but also it increases their sense of vulnerability, making them feel more ticklish. I took the opportunity to tickle Debbie every chance I got.
I remember one time we were alone in her house and she was trying to fix an easy chair. The chair was heavy and the fabric was coming off underneath, so she was trying to slide underneath to staple it back to the frame. This required two hands, so she laid on her back, lifted both hands over her head, and slid along the carpet so that her head and arms were underneath the chair, and the rest of her delicious body was sticking out. The legs of the chair were narrow enough that her arms were almost squeezed against her head. As she started to staple the material to the chair, I saw an opportunity I definitely could not pass up. I walked over and sat across her hips. I didn’t put all my weight on her, but enough pressure so that there was no way she could slide out from under the chair.
There she was, lying on her back, trapped, with her hands high up over her head and no way to protect all those ticklish spots. I immediately got hard in anticipation of what was ahead.
“You know, it’s a funny thing,” I said, “I can’t remember where you’re more ticklish, your stomach, your sides, or under your arms.” Of course, I knew full well that she couldn’t stand to be tickled in any of these spots.
“DON’T YOU DARE TICKLE ME!!!” she said forcefully, “I swear you’ll be in BIG trouble if you do!”
I couldn’t for the life of me imagine any trouble big enough to deter me from tickling her like crazy.
“Let’s see, why don’t we try the armpits first,” I said, as I slowly unbuttoned her blouse. I opened her blouse, exposing her body from her neck to her belly button.
“Oh yes, they look quite ticklish,” I said, wiggling my fingers just a fraction of an inch from her underarms, “I’m sure glad I’m not trapped and in a helpless position. Especially considering how ticklish you are. I mean there’s absolutely no way you can get away, and you know how much I love to tickle you!”
She had been trying to control herself, but now she started giggling and begging at the same time. “No, please don’t tickle me, you know I can’t stand it…hee hee hee…I’ll do anything you want…hee hee heh heh heh…ha ha ha…Please, I’m begging, please.”
Then I started stroking both armpits, ever so lightly, just barely grazing the skin.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!” she howled, unable to tolerate even this delicate stroking. Next I used just my two index fingers, gently poking both sides of her body, starting from just above the hipbones and slowly tickling my way up to the armpits and back. She squealed, giggled, and begged, and I relished the power I had over her. Then I switched to a full, all-out attack, jumping frantically from place to place on her body so she could never predict where the next spot to be tickled would be. She could barely move. I would attack her armpits for a few seconds, then her ribs, digging my fingers in cruelly, then her stomach and sides, then her armpits again, over and over for fifteen minutes. She was bright red, dripping with sweat, and gasping for air when I stopped to let her catch her breath. On the other hand, I was incredibly turned on.
“You’d better stop right now!!!” she said, “I’m really pissed off!”
“Okay, I’ll stop,” I said, but I’ll just have to tickle one more place.”
“NO! No more tickling! I mean it!” she said, but her determination was quickly fading. She was in no position to make demands.
I turned around to face her legs, and scooted down a little bit toward her feet so I was sitting on her upper thighs. Now her legs were completely trapped and she couldn’t move them an inch.
“No! What are you doing? What are you going to do to me?”
“I just want to see if your legs are ticklish,” I said, knowing full well that her legs were one of her most ticklish spots.
“NO NOT THERE!!!!” she screamed as I attacked.
I grabbed just above each kneecap and kneaded mercilessly for 3 or 4 full minutes. Debbie bucked and writhed and laughed hysterically, but really couldn’t move at all or do anything to stop me. I then moved up to her thighs and then back to her knees, over and over until I thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, then I did it some more.
When I finally stopped she could barely breathe. I toyed with the idea of moving on to her feet, but I knew she was furious with me already and didn’t want to press my luck.
“You get off of me and let me go right now!” she cried.
“I’m sorry,” I said “you know how much I love to tickle you. I’ll make it up to you right now, I promise.”
“No,” she replied, “you let me up right now!”
But we knew each other very well, and I knew how to get her to forgive me. I turned around and started kissing her body all over until she was purring with pleasure. She had on one of those bras that open in the front (a great invention, by the way). I undid it and started nuzzling her breasts, kissing and licking them gently all over, and then sucking on the nipples. I then kissed and nibbled her inner thighs, working my way up her legs. By the second orgasm she had essentially forgiven me.
I tickled Debbie many, many times throughout our two year relationship, but rarely as mercilessly as on that day. I did try to pin her down whenever possible, which always made her beg for mercy (which of course I loved).
I had a few other relationships here and there, and they always involved tickling. A few women stopped seeing me because of it, most put up with it, one liked it a little, but none got into it and really enjoyed it the way I did.
Naturally, they all tried to get even with me by tickling me back, and they all quickly discovered that I was very, very ticklish. They also discovered that I would not allow myself to be tickled. I was always much stronger and bigger than my girlfriends, and I would grab their hands, or flip them off of me, or pull my foot away, or anything I needed to do to prevent being tickled. Then I would attack them and make them regret that they had ever tried to tickle me. Few got in more than a little tweak her or there.
Then a couple years ago I met Sharon. A lot of things changed then. First of all, we fell madly, passionately in love. We were inseparable, and quickly moved in together. We got along as if we had been best friends for twenty years. And, perhaps best of all, our sex life was unbelievable.
Sharon was very attractive, and one of those women whose demeanor and smile alone turns men’s heads. She had beautiful long brown hair, and the longest most unbelievable legs you ever saw. Her breasts were firm, and very sensitive. She worked out regularly, and had a flat abdomen. She was extremely ticklish almost everywhere, and had this beautiful, full, deep laugh that made anyone who heard it smile.
Sharon enjoyed sex, and we had an active love life. She didn’t share my enjoyment of tickling, but she was very much into bondage, so we made a deal. I was allowed to tickle her sometimes, but only when she was in the mood. Additionally, we had a special word (lobster) that she could say if things were out of control, and I would stop. In return, I would allow her to tie me up when I was in the mood, as long as she promised not to tickle me (lobster applied for me too).
After we had been together for about eight months (and I had figured out every ticklish spot on her body) we were watching TV alone one night, talking. It was very late and we were both in our underwear. Earlier in the evening Sharon’s best friend Jessica had been over to visit. Sharon and Jessica were very close, and had been fiends since the first grade. I enjoyed her visits; she was a fun person to talk to, and very sincere and down-to-earth. She was also a knockout. I didn’t have the feelings for her that I had for Sharon, but it was hard not to stare at her when she was over. Unlike Sharon, who was modest about her looks, Jessica would wear skin-tight shorts and halter tops, showing off her near perfect body.
Anyway, as we were watching TV Sharon started flipping channels, and we came across one of the cable pay stations. Two beautiful woman were almost naked and locked in a carnal embrace on the TV. I immediately got hard. Sharon looked at me and smiled, then looked down at the obvious bulge in my underwear.
“Kind of like watching two woman, don’t you?” she asked teasingly..
My whole body turned red with embarrassment. “Well, eh, it’s okay” I stammered lamely.
“Look who’s blushing!” she teased. “Don’t be embarrassed, a lot of men like to watch two women.”
We were always honest with each other, so I confessed and told her that few things got me more turned on than watching two women (few things other than tickling that is).
“Well, don’t get any ideas,” she said, “That’s something I’m definitely not into.”
“Really?” I said, “Maybe I can convince you.”
With that I grabbed her bare feet. She knew immediately what I had in mind, and turned over onto her stomach on the couch as she giggled and tried to escape. Once on her stomach I managed to trap both her feet between my legs and “scissor” them closed tightly enough so she couldn’t get away. Now she was trapped on her stomach with no way to protect her very beautiful feet, and both my hands were free.
“I bet if I tickle your feet until you give in you’ll change your mind in about two minutes,” I said
No,” she giggled, “not my feet! Please!
“Here come the tickling fingers! Itchy-gitchy-goo! Tickle, tickle, tickle!”
I started running my fingers very gently over both her soles, which caused a combination of giggling and frantic squirming to try to escape.
“STOOOOOP! Please noooo moooore. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA… You probably want to watch me with Jessica HA HA HA HEEE HEE HA HA…I see the way you look at her!”
With that I attacked full force, tickling everywhere. I lingered on the tops of her feet, her soles, and the undersides of her toes, the latter of which produced inarticulate cries for mercy and frantic twisting and turning. After about ten minutes of torture (I was sure I would never last a fraction of that under similar circumstances) Sharon cried out “Lobster!” and I stopped. Once she caught her breath she said, “Please stop, I can’t take anymore!”
“Will you give in?”
“I won’t be with a woman if that’s what you mean,” she said, “but if you stop tickling me I’ll give you a really, really good blow job.”
I knew she had had enough, and it sounded like a good deal to me, so I let her go. We made love the rest of the night.
The next week we planned to spend the entire weekend alone. Sharon was in a particularly playful mood, and asked me to tie her up. I told her I’d only tie her up if I could tickle her, and she said, “okay, but only a little.”
Sharon eagerly stripped off her clothes and got on the bed. We never varied how she was tied; being laid out spread eagle was always her favorite position. I tied her wrists far apart to the headboard of our king-size bed. I then grabbed her feet and stretched her body out. Her feet almost reached the footboard, and I tied them securely. Now she was stretched out on the bed, spread eagle, only able to wiggle slightly. She wasn’t into S/M or anything like that, she just liked to be teased to orgasm while helpless. I was happy to oblige.
I spent about half an hour nibbling, kissing, caressing, and stroking her until she was so excited she was writhing on the bed. Then I reminded her of her promise to let me tickle her. She’d never given me permission to tickle her before when she was tied up, but sometimes when she was in the mood a little tickling just got her that much more turned on
I went to my dresser drawer and got out a long, stiff Indian headdress feather I had stashed away for just such an occasion. I lightly placed it in her right armpit, and then slowly dragged it over her entire body. The feather ran from her armpit, down her side, and over her hip, down her leg to her foot, up her inner thigh and down the other leg to the other foot, then back up her side to her other armpit, then down and over her stomach to around her navel, then all over again. There was no place that feather didn’t go. I used it very lightly, causing her to giggle and squirm, but not really causing any severe distress. It actually seemed to arouse her further.
“Hee hee hee hee hee…that tickles!” she said.
I put the feather down. “You’re just a ticklish little girl, aren’t you?” I said, “especially around that belly button. I wonder if this tickles?”
I knelt between her widespread legs and leaned forward, lightly kissing her navel. I then firmly pressed my mouth against her abdomen and blew raspberries on her stomach. She jerked in her bounds as if struck be lightening.
“NOOOOOOOO! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA …IT TICKLES TOO MUCH!!!” she screamed.
I stopped for a moment. “Really? This tickles? That’s surprising,” I said as I attacked again. I buzzed all over her abdomen, from just under her ribs to just above her pubic bone, and especially up and down her sides. She was laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath. Then I stopped to let her catch her breath. I was incredibly aroused, but wanted to let the moment last as long as possible.
“No more, please,” she begged, “You know I can’t stand it! Please I’ll do anything!”
I ignored her pleas for mercy. I bet you’re even more ticklish when I use my fingers,” I said, knowing full well that she was, “Like this…tickle, tickle, tickle.”
I was merciless. I tickled her armpits, stomach sides, thighs, feet, knees, moving from one area to another, lingering until I thought there was a chance she was starting to become desensitized, then attacking the next area.
“NO…HA HA HEEE HEEE HEE HA HA HA… STOOOPPP HA HA HA HA LOB.. HEE HA HEH HA HA HA STER!” She cried after about 10 minutes.
“What? Are you trying to say something?” I asked, and I continued my fiendish tickling. When I finally stopped she was completely exhausted. I untied her and we made love. We both fell asleep immediately afterward.
In the morning I thought for sure I would be in big trouble. I had done a terrible thing; broken a trust. I felt ashamed, like I was a tickle-addict and couldn’t help myself. Imagine my surprise when Sharon forgave me as soon as I apologized. “Don’t let it ever happen again,” she said, but she didn’t even really seem mad. I should have known something was up then.
About three weeks later we both had the weekend off. As usually, Sharon was horny (she loved sex on Sunday afternoons) and she wanted to tie me up. I didn’t think anything of it (she had tied me up many times and I kind of enjoyed it). Soon I was staked out helpless and spread eagle, my arms high over my head, my legs far apart, just as she had been a few weeks before. She started in just the way I did, nuzzling and kissing and stroking my body. It felt heavenly, and took me about ten seconds before becoming incredibly hard and ready for action. She took her time seducing and arousing me, knowing I go crazy when she teases me. Then she suddenly stopped and left the room. When she returned a few minutes later she had changed into a huge, loose, not-particularly-sexy flannel robe.
“What’s with the robe? I asked.
“You’ll see later,” she said.
Then she straddled my waist. “Do you know what today is?” she asked. I shook my head no.
“It’s revenge day. Today’s the day I get back at you for all the times you’ve tickled me, but especially for a few weeks ago. NOOOO, you couldn’t be content with following the rules. You had to push things to the next level. Well, now you’ll see what it feels like to be on the receiving end of your tickling tortures!”
A deep sense of panic and fear overwhelmed me. “You wouldn’t tickle me would you?” I asked, ”You know how ticklish I am. You know I can’t stand it! Please don’t do this, I’ll do anything!!”
“You know, you act like it’s such torture for you to be tickled but it’s nothing for me! All the times I could hardly breathe and begged you to stop, you think that was a picnic? I think you need to experience what you do to me all the time.”
“And we’ll start,” she continued, “With the same feather you used on me.”
She went over to the dresser and got the feather. She ran in lightly over my body exactly the same way I used it on her.
It was far worse than I anticipated. I never had been tied up and tickled, and I was overwhelmed by the sensation. I couldn’t move an inch, and was helpless to escape from the sensations, which quickly overloaded my brain. Sharon made things worse for me by verbally tormenting me the way I often did to her.
“Is widdle Billy ticklish? I think he is! Itchy-gitchy-goo…tickle, tickle, tickle!”
Just the feather alone was enough to drive me out of control. The sensations were just too much! After torturing my body for ten minutes over my loud protests, she said, “I bet I know the most ticklish spot of all!” and she moved the feather to my scrotum. With my legs spread so far apart I was completely unprotected and screamed in agony.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!”
But she just laughed and continued for five full minutes. Finally, she stopped and let me catch my breath.
“Please, no more!” I begged. “I’m so sorry I tickled you all those times. I didn’t know what torture it was! I won’t do it again, I promise!”
“Right,” she said, “First of all, you haven’t learned you lesson yet. Second of all, by tomorrow you’ll be back to tickling me again. I know that will never stop because you like it too much. I just want to make sure you know what you’re putting me through. Besides, you deserve to be punished for ignoring me when I said ‘lobster’ like we agreed.”
There was nothing I could say in response to that. I knew she was right.
“Now,” she said, “It’s time for phase two.”
Phase one was unbearable. My mouth went dry with the thought of what phase two might mean.
Sharon stepped out of the room again for a minute, and I heard a soft sound, which almost sounded like talking. Next thing I know Sharon walked back in the room, and she had Jessica with her. Jessica wasn’t dressed in her usual attire, but in a huge oversized robe like Sharon.
I blushed again. I had never felt so vulnerable and exposed in my life. And I was filled with fear too, because I had no idea exactly what they had in store for me. I knew I was in trouble though, because they both had evil grins, and the fact that they were dressed alike suggested that they had planned all this ahead of time.
“Oh how cute,” Jessica said,” He’s blushing! Doesn’t he want to be our prisoner?”
“He’s probably a little nervous,” Sharon said, “he’s probably worried you’ll discover that he’s very, very, very ticklish.”
“Really,” Jessica said, “I remember lots of times he tickled my feet. He wouldn’t stop even when I begged sometimes. This is all very interesting.”
Sharon left the room and returned after a few moments with two folding chairs. She set one up in front of each foot. She sat in one, Jessica in the other.
“I think we should have a contest to see who is the more skilled tickler,” Sharon said to Jessica, ”You tickle that foot, and I’ll tickle this one. Then we’ll let Billy decide who’s better.”
“No, please don’t!” I said.
Then they started. Sharon took the feather and started sawing it in and out between each of my toes. Jessica had very long fingernails, and she started raking them up and down my soles, from the base of my toes, all the way to the heel, and back again.
Words cannot describe the sensations I felt. I struggled frantically to escape, but with no luck at all. I simply had to escape, the tickling was the most excruciating and unbearable thing I had ever experienced. I would have begged for mercy, or done anything to escape the torment of my captors, but I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even begin to talk. Between torturing me with “tickle, tickle, tickle, and itchy-gitchy-goo” they would talk to each other about how much fun they were having and how they were never going to stop. Eventually I was laughing so hard that no sound was coming out. My mouth was wide open in a huge grin, my eyes squeezed closed, but my diaphragm was so tired there was no sound.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they stopped. As soon as I caught my breath I started begging and groveling again, but they completely ignored me. Now Sharon decided to put on a little show for her friend. The time I confided in her that the helplessness I felt when being tickled was humiliating was going to come back to haunt me.
“Want to see what really drives him insane?” she asked Jessica.
“Worse than the feet? Sure!”
“Watch this!” she said as she knelt between my spread legs. She used her fingernails to attack the area between my knees and my navel.
Now, this was particularly wicked. Sharon knew full well that this was by far the most ticklish part of my entire body. I was virtually never tickled there, partially because I would fight like a maniac to avoid it, but mostly because I had to be naked to make it fully assessable.
“NOOOOOOOO!!!!! NOT THERE!!!!! PLEEEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSEEE!!” I screamed as she attacked. She scrabbled her fingers rapidly up and down my thighs, over the pubic bones, between my legs on my inner thighs, and over my lower stomach and sides. When she got up to my sides she would tweak them between her fingers. When she got down to my knees she would squeeze them mercilessly. I cried inarticulately for mercy and writhed in my bonds. I was beyond hysterical laughing, almost having convolutions of laughter. I would laugh and laugh and laugh, and finally gasp for breath to fill my lungs to laugh more.
“What would happen if I tickled him while you were doing that?” Jessica asked.
“I don’t know, why don’t you find out?”
Sharon didn’t stop her torment at all, but Jessica straddled my chest and attacked my armpits and ribs. She used her nails vigorously under my arms, and dug into my ribs just hard enough to produce the maximum tickling effect without pain. I was completely out of control, and they didn’t stop for at least twenty minutes.
Finally, they did stopped and let me catch me breath. As soon as I could talk I started begging for mercy, but they continued to ignore my pleas.
“Do you think he’s had enough?” Jessica said.
“I guess so,” Sharon said reluctantly, “I guess it’s time for phase three”
I immediately panicked. Phase three? What were they planning now?
Sharon saw my look of fear and said, “Don’t worry,” she said, “We’re through tickling you, I promise.”
I was immediately relieved. Sharon untied both my feet so my legs were free, but left my arms tied. Then she left the room for a minute.
Jessica was still straddling my chest. I was very surprised when she leaned forward and started kissing my neck, ears, and face. She laid her body on top of mine and put her lips right next to my ear, whispering, “I can’t believe how turned on I am right now. You know, I dress the way I do when I come over here because I see the way you look at me. I like to turn you on. I’ve always thought you were sexy.” Then she gave me a long, deep, tongue-filled kiss on the lips.
I was immediately rock-hard. I couldn’t believe my ears. I was in love with Sharon, and nothing would change that, but I had no idea Jessica had any interest in me.
Then Jessica stood up on the bed, towering over me, one foot on each side of my chest. “You spend more time looking at my chest that my face,” she said, “Is this what you want to see?” With that she opened and then dropped that huge bulky robe revealing a spectacular body. She was topless and only wearing a pair of silk panties. Her breasts were firm and magnificent.
Sharon came back into the room and I got nervous for a minute, but she didn’t seem at all surprised about what she was seeing. She removed her robe, and was completely naked underneath. Soon, both women were kissing, stroking, and nibbling my body all over. After ten or fifteen minutes I could barely stand it. I had never been so aroused and hard in my life. Of course, there was one part of my body they carefully avoided touching. Now I knew what they had meant by ‘phase three.’ They were going to torment me further by teasing me. Within minutes, Jessica’s underwear came off.
Suddenly they both stopped and got off the bed. They left my hands tied but moved my untied legs all the way over to one side of the bed. Sharon then propped up my head with a pillow. I wondered what they had in store for me.
Jessica lay on her stomach next to me and Sharon climbed on top of her and started messaging her back. After a while the message included her ass and legs, and Jessica was moaning with pleasure. Then Jessica turned over, and Sharon started messaging her breasts. I couldn't believe my eyes! Not only was this the most erotic sight I had ever witnessed, but I got the distinct impression this wasn't the first time it happened.
“Hey! What about me?” I asked.
But they continued to ignore me. Before long Jessica was stroking Sharon, as they became hotter and hotter. Finally, they ended up one on top of the other, in a “sixty-nine” position, performing simultaneous oral sex. I just had to watch helplessly, hopelessly turned on, as they both had orgasm after orgasm. It was incredible to see.
After a brief rest they turned their attention back to me. While Jessica went back to the kissing, nibbling, and stroking, Sharon took the feather and ran it all over my penis, ever so lightly, with just enough pressure to cause ecstasy but nowhere near enough to cause release. Eventually, I could stand no more.
“Please, I can’t take anymore! Please finish me off, I’ll do anything!”
“Okay,” Sharon said and she straddled me, the tip of my manhood just touching her labia. I tried to push up and enter her, but she would just pull away and laugh.
She did this again and again, until finally Jessica said, “Come on, Sharon, it’s been hours, he’s had enough now.”
“Okay,” Sharon said reluctantly. She dropped down and I plunged deep inside her. Suddenly she was bouncing up and down on me like a wild woman. Within ten seconds she had another orgasm, and when her vaginal muscles suddenly contracted and gripped me I exploded. I had the longest most intense orgasm of my life, and when it was over I was panting and gasping for air.
Sharon climbed off of me and she and Jessica untied me. They were both flushed with excitement and they caressed me until I recovered from my experience.
I didn’t know what to say. Then Jessica broke the silence.
“Maybe next time you two can tie me up and tickle and tease me. I think I’d like that.”
I’ve been reading stories on tickling for years now, but never once have I thought of writing one, let alone submitting it for others to read. But after all these years of reading the stories, I felt I wanted to tell about what happened to me a couple years ago. This is a completely true story, and I’ve made an effort not to exaggerate or embellish it at all. I have tried to tell it as accurately as possible, mostly because I have wanted to tell someone this story for years but never felt comfortable enough to share it with anyone. Perhaps now I have finally found a suitable forum.
The story starts back in my childhood. As long as I can remember I was always extremely ticklish. We’re not talking about in a playful way like most children, we’re talking extremely unbearably ticklish everywhere on my body. Even as a small child I understood that different people are more or less ticklish than others, but I also understood (although not in such words) that there was a psychological aspect to tickling. I knew that I could be touched in some places under normal circumstances without any difficulty, but if I even thought that someone was trying to tickle me the touch was unbearable. Of course, there were some places I could never be touched under any circumstances, and I tried to keep those secret. Tickling is particularly tortuous as a child because it is so hard to defend yourself, especially against an adult.
As a small child my parents and relatives didn’t tickle me that much, just occasionally and playfully, but they quickly discovered that I did not like it and stopped. Then, between the ages of eight and ten I discovered what tickle torture truly meant. I had a cousin who was about eight years older than I was who developed a perverse inclination to tickle me whenever she got the chance. In retrospect I think it must have turned her on to have such power over me, because she only did it when no one else was around. Oh, it wasn’t like in some of the stories I’ve read. She didn’t tie me up, or tickle me for five hours, or even pin me down, but she was an expert tickler, and she relied only on her skill and my reflexes to torment me.
I remember one episode when I was nine or ten years old, and it was typical of many. We were at my cousin’s house, in the backyard, swimming in her built in pool. It was a relatively cool day but hot enough to swim. My parents, aunt, and uncle were there, as well as a friend of my cousin’s, who was about her age. After swimming a while I got out of the pool, put a large beach towel on the grass, and laid down on an isolated stretch of lawn to dry off. After a while my parents, aunt, and uncle went into the house to play cards, as they often did. I didn’t think my cousin would try anything with her friend there, but I was wrong.
My cousin’s friend put her towel next to mine and laid down, and my cousin next to her. Then my cousin (by the way, her name is Marge) got up and stood over me. She said to her friend “want to see something really funny?”
“Sure,” her friend responded.
“See my little cousin Billy here?” she asked, “he’s really, really ticklish. What do you think, Billy, want to show my friend how ticklish you are?” With that she started slowly moving toward moving toward me, wearing that sadistic grin she always got before tickling me, and wriggling her fingers threateningly. She had very long fingernails and they flashed menacingly in the sunlight.
I was horrified that she would do this to me in front of a complete stranger, and immediately turned bright red with embarrassment. I tried to start moving away but she straddled my waist, and was much older and heavier than I was.
“Watch this,” she said, “he’s so ticklish that I can make him laugh without even touching him!”
She started wiggling her fingers over me, pretending to tickle me. She would grab towards my sides, then my neck, then my armpits, not actually touching me but missing the skin by less than an inch. The anticipation alone was enough to make my body go limp and to start a frantic combination of giggling and begging. It was humiliating to be so weak and out of control, and I hated begging, but under the circumstances I had no choice…I would do anything to stop from being tickled.
“NO! STOP! My parents…hee hee hee will be out any second!…Haa haa haa I’ll throw up if you tickle meee heee hee!” Of course, she knew this was a bluff because I’d said it many times before and never threw up when she tickled me. “I’ll do anything you want..heh.heh..heh,” I said, twisting and turning frantically to escape fingers that weren’t even touching me. Any hope I had of her friend coming to my rescue was crushed when she said, “Boy, he is ticklish! What happens when you actually touch him?”
THIS HAPPENS!” Marge said, and she launched an all-out tickle attack.
Like I said before, she didn’t even have to hold me down, her hands were as fast as lightening. First she would attack my sides, causing me to grab for her hands. Then, with my hands down at my sides, she’d immediately switch to my neck. Then when I would reflexively grab at my neck, she would attack both knees. Even as she was tickling me I knew that if I moved my hands she would just attack somewhere else, but I couldn’t help myself. She knew all my most ticklish spots and how to exploit them. Within seconds I was laughing, snorting, and gasping so hard that I couldn’t even begin to beg for mercy.
“NOOOOOO!!!!! HAAA HAAA HAAAAA….HEEE HEEE HEEE, PLEEEEEEEEEEESE, NOOOOOOOOOOOO HAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAA” was about the most I could get out. I was thrashing around on the lawn like a wild animal. I’d flip onto my stomach and she’d reach around to attack my sides, I’d flip back onto my back and she’d attack my stomach and knees. And while she was tickling me she was humiliating and tormenting me further by what she was saying.
“Is little Billy ticklish? Oh I think he is! What about here on your sides? Oh, you’re REALLY ticklish there. And your knees too! You hate it when I tickle your knees, don’t you? Come on, laugh for me and my friend. What’s a matter? Does little Billy want me to stop? All you have to do is say so and I’ll stop. What’s that? I hear you saying something but it does sound like ‘stop.’ How about if I just tickle your feet a little? Oh, you don’t seem to like that at all.” She’d go on and on and on like that. After about twenty minutes I was completely drained and helpless, reaching the point where I couldn’t even try to fight back, twist, or turn. I’d just lie there laughing hysterically. When the torture finally stopped, it took me five full minutes to stop laughing and face my tormentor.
“You’re just a ticklish little boy,” Marge said, and she and her friend laughed and went into the house.
I hated being tickled like that. I hated feeling weak and helpless, I hated feeling embarrassed, humiliated, and out of control (especially in front of someone I didn’t know), and above all I hated the unbearable, unstoppable tickling sensations. During childhood my cousin was the only one who ever tickled me like that, and I dreaded going to her house because of it. Most of my other friends and relatives who tried to tickle me quickly discovered that I hated it and got very angry very quickly, and then they would give up.
I started puberty quite young, and by 12 years old I had started to notice the opposite sex. By thirteen teenage flirting had started. Several of my friends and I chipped in together and bought a set of free weights, storing them in one of our garages. We would work out regularly. I was growing fast and already one of the tallest guys in my class, and by the time I was fifteen I was broad-shouldered and quite muscular. I wouldn’t say that I was great looking, but I was in pretty good shape and I think some of the girls started to notice me. Of course, by the age of fifteen I already had the 24-hour per day constant erection that all teenage boys develop sooner or later.
That summer I started dating my first girlfriend. What incredible memories those were! She was a year older than I was, and absolutely gorgeous. Her name was Debbie, and she had beautiful long blond hair and blue eyes. She was tall (but still a little shorter than I was) and had long shapely legs. Her breasts were perfect; medium sized and unbelievably firm. She could go without a bra and her breasts would still stand at attention. She was smart, but quiet and modest, which I found appealing. There’s something about a woman who could pass for a supermodel but doesn’t seem to realize how attractive she is that’s appealing
I also quickly discovered some other things about Debbie. First of all, she was one of the most ticklish people on Earth. I also discovered that as much as I hated being tickled, I absolutely loved being a tickler. Having all that power, being able to control the sensations someone else felt, to have complete dominance over them, making them beg for mercy, was a complete turn on. Debbie didn’t mind a little playful tickling, but as the relationship progressed I tortured her more and more.
And of course, as all people who love tickling discover, the experience is far more intense the more helpless the victim is. Not only does this prevent them from escaping, but also it increases their sense of vulnerability, making them feel more ticklish. I took the opportunity to tickle Debbie every chance I got.
I remember one time we were alone in her house and she was trying to fix an easy chair. The chair was heavy and the fabric was coming off underneath, so she was trying to slide underneath to staple it back to the frame. This required two hands, so she laid on her back, lifted both hands over her head, and slid along the carpet so that her head and arms were underneath the chair, and the rest of her delicious body was sticking out. The legs of the chair were narrow enough that her arms were almost squeezed against her head. As she started to staple the material to the chair, I saw an opportunity I definitely could not pass up. I walked over and sat across her hips. I didn’t put all my weight on her, but enough pressure so that there was no way she could slide out from under the chair.
There she was, lying on her back, trapped, with her hands high up over her head and no way to protect all those ticklish spots. I immediately got hard in anticipation of what was ahead.
“You know, it’s a funny thing,” I said, “I can’t remember where you’re more ticklish, your stomach, your sides, or under your arms.” Of course, I knew full well that she couldn’t stand to be tickled in any of these spots.
“DON’T YOU DARE TICKLE ME!!!” she said forcefully, “I swear you’ll be in BIG trouble if you do!”
I couldn’t for the life of me imagine any trouble big enough to deter me from tickling her like crazy.
“Let’s see, why don’t we try the armpits first,” I said, as I slowly unbuttoned her blouse. I opened her blouse, exposing her body from her neck to her belly button.
“Oh yes, they look quite ticklish,” I said, wiggling my fingers just a fraction of an inch from her underarms, “I’m sure glad I’m not trapped and in a helpless position. Especially considering how ticklish you are. I mean there’s absolutely no way you can get away, and you know how much I love to tickle you!”
She had been trying to control herself, but now she started giggling and begging at the same time. “No, please don’t tickle me, you know I can’t stand it…hee hee hee…I’ll do anything you want…hee hee heh heh heh…ha ha ha…Please, I’m begging, please.”
Then I started stroking both armpits, ever so lightly, just barely grazing the skin.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!” she howled, unable to tolerate even this delicate stroking. Next I used just my two index fingers, gently poking both sides of her body, starting from just above the hipbones and slowly tickling my way up to the armpits and back. She squealed, giggled, and begged, and I relished the power I had over her. Then I switched to a full, all-out attack, jumping frantically from place to place on her body so she could never predict where the next spot to be tickled would be. She could barely move. I would attack her armpits for a few seconds, then her ribs, digging my fingers in cruelly, then her stomach and sides, then her armpits again, over and over for fifteen minutes. She was bright red, dripping with sweat, and gasping for air when I stopped to let her catch her breath. On the other hand, I was incredibly turned on.
“You’d better stop right now!!!” she said, “I’m really pissed off!”
“Okay, I’ll stop,” I said, but I’ll just have to tickle one more place.”
“NO! No more tickling! I mean it!” she said, but her determination was quickly fading. She was in no position to make demands.
I turned around to face her legs, and scooted down a little bit toward her feet so I was sitting on her upper thighs. Now her legs were completely trapped and she couldn’t move them an inch.
“No! What are you doing? What are you going to do to me?”
“I just want to see if your legs are ticklish,” I said, knowing full well that her legs were one of her most ticklish spots.
“NO NOT THERE!!!!” she screamed as I attacked.
I grabbed just above each kneecap and kneaded mercilessly for 3 or 4 full minutes. Debbie bucked and writhed and laughed hysterically, but really couldn’t move at all or do anything to stop me. I then moved up to her thighs and then back to her knees, over and over until I thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, then I did it some more.
When I finally stopped she could barely breathe. I toyed with the idea of moving on to her feet, but I knew she was furious with me already and didn’t want to press my luck.
“You get off of me and let me go right now!” she cried.
“I’m sorry,” I said “you know how much I love to tickle you. I’ll make it up to you right now, I promise.”
“No,” she replied, “you let me up right now!”
But we knew each other very well, and I knew how to get her to forgive me. I turned around and started kissing her body all over until she was purring with pleasure. She had on one of those bras that open in the front (a great invention, by the way). I undid it and started nuzzling her breasts, kissing and licking them gently all over, and then sucking on the nipples. I then kissed and nibbled her inner thighs, working my way up her legs. By the second orgasm she had essentially forgiven me.
I tickled Debbie many, many times throughout our two year relationship, but rarely as mercilessly as on that day. I did try to pin her down whenever possible, which always made her beg for mercy (which of course I loved).
I had a few other relationships here and there, and they always involved tickling. A few women stopped seeing me because of it, most put up with it, one liked it a little, but none got into it and really enjoyed it the way I did.
Naturally, they all tried to get even with me by tickling me back, and they all quickly discovered that I was very, very ticklish. They also discovered that I would not allow myself to be tickled. I was always much stronger and bigger than my girlfriends, and I would grab their hands, or flip them off of me, or pull my foot away, or anything I needed to do to prevent being tickled. Then I would attack them and make them regret that they had ever tried to tickle me. Few got in more than a little tweak her or there.
Then a couple years ago I met Sharon. A lot of things changed then. First of all, we fell madly, passionately in love. We were inseparable, and quickly moved in together. We got along as if we had been best friends for twenty years. And, perhaps best of all, our sex life was unbelievable.
Sharon was very attractive, and one of those women whose demeanor and smile alone turns men’s heads. She had beautiful long brown hair, and the longest most unbelievable legs you ever saw. Her breasts were firm, and very sensitive. She worked out regularly, and had a flat abdomen. She was extremely ticklish almost everywhere, and had this beautiful, full, deep laugh that made anyone who heard it smile.
Sharon enjoyed sex, and we had an active love life. She didn’t share my enjoyment of tickling, but she was very much into bondage, so we made a deal. I was allowed to tickle her sometimes, but only when she was in the mood. Additionally, we had a special word (lobster) that she could say if things were out of control, and I would stop. In return, I would allow her to tie me up when I was in the mood, as long as she promised not to tickle me (lobster applied for me too).
After we had been together for about eight months (and I had figured out every ticklish spot on her body) we were watching TV alone one night, talking. It was very late and we were both in our underwear. Earlier in the evening Sharon’s best friend Jessica had been over to visit. Sharon and Jessica were very close, and had been fiends since the first grade. I enjoyed her visits; she was a fun person to talk to, and very sincere and down-to-earth. She was also a knockout. I didn’t have the feelings for her that I had for Sharon, but it was hard not to stare at her when she was over. Unlike Sharon, who was modest about her looks, Jessica would wear skin-tight shorts and halter tops, showing off her near perfect body.
Anyway, as we were watching TV Sharon started flipping channels, and we came across one of the cable pay stations. Two beautiful woman were almost naked and locked in a carnal embrace on the TV. I immediately got hard. Sharon looked at me and smiled, then looked down at the obvious bulge in my underwear.
“Kind of like watching two woman, don’t you?” she asked teasingly..
My whole body turned red with embarrassment. “Well, eh, it’s okay” I stammered lamely.
“Look who’s blushing!” she teased. “Don’t be embarrassed, a lot of men like to watch two women.”
We were always honest with each other, so I confessed and told her that few things got me more turned on than watching two women (few things other than tickling that is).
“Well, don’t get any ideas,” she said, “That’s something I’m definitely not into.”
“Really?” I said, “Maybe I can convince you.”
With that I grabbed her bare feet. She knew immediately what I had in mind, and turned over onto her stomach on the couch as she giggled and tried to escape. Once on her stomach I managed to trap both her feet between my legs and “scissor” them closed tightly enough so she couldn’t get away. Now she was trapped on her stomach with no way to protect her very beautiful feet, and both my hands were free.
“I bet if I tickle your feet until you give in you’ll change your mind in about two minutes,” I said
No,” she giggled, “not my feet! Please!
“Here come the tickling fingers! Itchy-gitchy-goo! Tickle, tickle, tickle!”
I started running my fingers very gently over both her soles, which caused a combination of giggling and frantic squirming to try to escape.
“STOOOOOP! Please noooo moooore. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA… You probably want to watch me with Jessica HA HA HA HEEE HEE HA HA…I see the way you look at her!”
With that I attacked full force, tickling everywhere. I lingered on the tops of her feet, her soles, and the undersides of her toes, the latter of which produced inarticulate cries for mercy and frantic twisting and turning. After about ten minutes of torture (I was sure I would never last a fraction of that under similar circumstances) Sharon cried out “Lobster!” and I stopped. Once she caught her breath she said, “Please stop, I can’t take anymore!”
“Will you give in?”
“I won’t be with a woman if that’s what you mean,” she said, “but if you stop tickling me I’ll give you a really, really good blow job.”
I knew she had had enough, and it sounded like a good deal to me, so I let her go. We made love the rest of the night.
The next week we planned to spend the entire weekend alone. Sharon was in a particularly playful mood, and asked me to tie her up. I told her I’d only tie her up if I could tickle her, and she said, “okay, but only a little.”
Sharon eagerly stripped off her clothes and got on the bed. We never varied how she was tied; being laid out spread eagle was always her favorite position. I tied her wrists far apart to the headboard of our king-size bed. I then grabbed her feet and stretched her body out. Her feet almost reached the footboard, and I tied them securely. Now she was stretched out on the bed, spread eagle, only able to wiggle slightly. She wasn’t into S/M or anything like that, she just liked to be teased to orgasm while helpless. I was happy to oblige.
I spent about half an hour nibbling, kissing, caressing, and stroking her until she was so excited she was writhing on the bed. Then I reminded her of her promise to let me tickle her. She’d never given me permission to tickle her before when she was tied up, but sometimes when she was in the mood a little tickling just got her that much more turned on
I went to my dresser drawer and got out a long, stiff Indian headdress feather I had stashed away for just such an occasion. I lightly placed it in her right armpit, and then slowly dragged it over her entire body. The feather ran from her armpit, down her side, and over her hip, down her leg to her foot, up her inner thigh and down the other leg to the other foot, then back up her side to her other armpit, then down and over her stomach to around her navel, then all over again. There was no place that feather didn’t go. I used it very lightly, causing her to giggle and squirm, but not really causing any severe distress. It actually seemed to arouse her further.
“Hee hee hee hee hee…that tickles!” she said.
I put the feather down. “You’re just a ticklish little girl, aren’t you?” I said, “especially around that belly button. I wonder if this tickles?”
I knelt between her widespread legs and leaned forward, lightly kissing her navel. I then firmly pressed my mouth against her abdomen and blew raspberries on her stomach. She jerked in her bounds as if struck be lightening.
“NOOOOOOOO! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA …IT TICKLES TOO MUCH!!!” she screamed.
I stopped for a moment. “Really? This tickles? That’s surprising,” I said as I attacked again. I buzzed all over her abdomen, from just under her ribs to just above her pubic bone, and especially up and down her sides. She was laughing so hard she could barely catch her breath. Then I stopped to let her catch her breath. I was incredibly aroused, but wanted to let the moment last as long as possible.
“No more, please,” she begged, “You know I can’t stand it! Please I’ll do anything!”
I ignored her pleas for mercy. I bet you’re even more ticklish when I use my fingers,” I said, knowing full well that she was, “Like this…tickle, tickle, tickle.”
I was merciless. I tickled her armpits, stomach sides, thighs, feet, knees, moving from one area to another, lingering until I thought there was a chance she was starting to become desensitized, then attacking the next area.
“NO…HA HA HEEE HEEE HEE HA HA HA… STOOOPPP HA HA HA HA LOB.. HEE HA HEH HA HA HA STER!” She cried after about 10 minutes.
“What? Are you trying to say something?” I asked, and I continued my fiendish tickling. When I finally stopped she was completely exhausted. I untied her and we made love. We both fell asleep immediately afterward.
In the morning I thought for sure I would be in big trouble. I had done a terrible thing; broken a trust. I felt ashamed, like I was a tickle-addict and couldn’t help myself. Imagine my surprise when Sharon forgave me as soon as I apologized. “Don’t let it ever happen again,” she said, but she didn’t even really seem mad. I should have known something was up then.
About three weeks later we both had the weekend off. As usually, Sharon was horny (she loved sex on Sunday afternoons) and she wanted to tie me up. I didn’t think anything of it (she had tied me up many times and I kind of enjoyed it). Soon I was staked out helpless and spread eagle, my arms high over my head, my legs far apart, just as she had been a few weeks before. She started in just the way I did, nuzzling and kissing and stroking my body. It felt heavenly, and took me about ten seconds before becoming incredibly hard and ready for action. She took her time seducing and arousing me, knowing I go crazy when she teases me. Then she suddenly stopped and left the room. When she returned a few minutes later she had changed into a huge, loose, not-particularly-sexy flannel robe.
“What’s with the robe? I asked.
“You’ll see later,” she said.
Then she straddled my waist. “Do you know what today is?” she asked. I shook my head no.
“It’s revenge day. Today’s the day I get back at you for all the times you’ve tickled me, but especially for a few weeks ago. NOOOO, you couldn’t be content with following the rules. You had to push things to the next level. Well, now you’ll see what it feels like to be on the receiving end of your tickling tortures!”
A deep sense of panic and fear overwhelmed me. “You wouldn’t tickle me would you?” I asked, ”You know how ticklish I am. You know I can’t stand it! Please don’t do this, I’ll do anything!!”
“You know, you act like it’s such torture for you to be tickled but it’s nothing for me! All the times I could hardly breathe and begged you to stop, you think that was a picnic? I think you need to experience what you do to me all the time.”
“And we’ll start,” she continued, “With the same feather you used on me.”
She went over to the dresser and got the feather. She ran in lightly over my body exactly the same way I used it on her.
It was far worse than I anticipated. I never had been tied up and tickled, and I was overwhelmed by the sensation. I couldn’t move an inch, and was helpless to escape from the sensations, which quickly overloaded my brain. Sharon made things worse for me by verbally tormenting me the way I often did to her.
“Is widdle Billy ticklish? I think he is! Itchy-gitchy-goo…tickle, tickle, tickle!”
Just the feather alone was enough to drive me out of control. The sensations were just too much! After torturing my body for ten minutes over my loud protests, she said, “I bet I know the most ticklish spot of all!” and she moved the feather to my scrotum. With my legs spread so far apart I was completely unprotected and screamed in agony.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!”
But she just laughed and continued for five full minutes. Finally, she stopped and let me catch my breath.
“Please, no more!” I begged. “I’m so sorry I tickled you all those times. I didn’t know what torture it was! I won’t do it again, I promise!”
“Right,” she said, “First of all, you haven’t learned you lesson yet. Second of all, by tomorrow you’ll be back to tickling me again. I know that will never stop because you like it too much. I just want to make sure you know what you’re putting me through. Besides, you deserve to be punished for ignoring me when I said ‘lobster’ like we agreed.”
There was nothing I could say in response to that. I knew she was right.
“Now,” she said, “It’s time for phase two.”
Phase one was unbearable. My mouth went dry with the thought of what phase two might mean.
Sharon stepped out of the room again for a minute, and I heard a soft sound, which almost sounded like talking. Next thing I know Sharon walked back in the room, and she had Jessica with her. Jessica wasn’t dressed in her usual attire, but in a huge oversized robe like Sharon.
I blushed again. I had never felt so vulnerable and exposed in my life. And I was filled with fear too, because I had no idea exactly what they had in store for me. I knew I was in trouble though, because they both had evil grins, and the fact that they were dressed alike suggested that they had planned all this ahead of time.
“Oh how cute,” Jessica said,” He’s blushing! Doesn’t he want to be our prisoner?”
“He’s probably a little nervous,” Sharon said, “he’s probably worried you’ll discover that he’s very, very, very ticklish.”
“Really,” Jessica said, “I remember lots of times he tickled my feet. He wouldn’t stop even when I begged sometimes. This is all very interesting.”
Sharon left the room and returned after a few moments with two folding chairs. She set one up in front of each foot. She sat in one, Jessica in the other.
“I think we should have a contest to see who is the more skilled tickler,” Sharon said to Jessica, ”You tickle that foot, and I’ll tickle this one. Then we’ll let Billy decide who’s better.”
“No, please don’t!” I said.
Then they started. Sharon took the feather and started sawing it in and out between each of my toes. Jessica had very long fingernails, and she started raking them up and down my soles, from the base of my toes, all the way to the heel, and back again.
Words cannot describe the sensations I felt. I struggled frantically to escape, but with no luck at all. I simply had to escape, the tickling was the most excruciating and unbearable thing I had ever experienced. I would have begged for mercy, or done anything to escape the torment of my captors, but I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even begin to talk. Between torturing me with “tickle, tickle, tickle, and itchy-gitchy-goo” they would talk to each other about how much fun they were having and how they were never going to stop. Eventually I was laughing so hard that no sound was coming out. My mouth was wide open in a huge grin, my eyes squeezed closed, but my diaphragm was so tired there was no sound.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they stopped. As soon as I caught my breath I started begging and groveling again, but they completely ignored me. Now Sharon decided to put on a little show for her friend. The time I confided in her that the helplessness I felt when being tickled was humiliating was going to come back to haunt me.
“Want to see what really drives him insane?” she asked Jessica.
“Worse than the feet? Sure!”
“Watch this!” she said as she knelt between my spread legs. She used her fingernails to attack the area between my knees and my navel.
Now, this was particularly wicked. Sharon knew full well that this was by far the most ticklish part of my entire body. I was virtually never tickled there, partially because I would fight like a maniac to avoid it, but mostly because I had to be naked to make it fully assessable.
“NOOOOOOOO!!!!! NOT THERE!!!!! PLEEEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSEEE!!” I screamed as she attacked. She scrabbled her fingers rapidly up and down my thighs, over the pubic bones, between my legs on my inner thighs, and over my lower stomach and sides. When she got up to my sides she would tweak them between her fingers. When she got down to my knees she would squeeze them mercilessly. I cried inarticulately for mercy and writhed in my bonds. I was beyond hysterical laughing, almost having convolutions of laughter. I would laugh and laugh and laugh, and finally gasp for breath to fill my lungs to laugh more.
“What would happen if I tickled him while you were doing that?” Jessica asked.
“I don’t know, why don’t you find out?”
Sharon didn’t stop her torment at all, but Jessica straddled my chest and attacked my armpits and ribs. She used her nails vigorously under my arms, and dug into my ribs just hard enough to produce the maximum tickling effect without pain. I was completely out of control, and they didn’t stop for at least twenty minutes.
Finally, they did stopped and let me catch me breath. As soon as I could talk I started begging for mercy, but they continued to ignore my pleas.
“Do you think he’s had enough?” Jessica said.
“I guess so,” Sharon said reluctantly, “I guess it’s time for phase three”
I immediately panicked. Phase three? What were they planning now?
Sharon saw my look of fear and said, “Don’t worry,” she said, “We’re through tickling you, I promise.”
I was immediately relieved. Sharon untied both my feet so my legs were free, but left my arms tied. Then she left the room for a minute.
Jessica was still straddling my chest. I was very surprised when she leaned forward and started kissing my neck, ears, and face. She laid her body on top of mine and put her lips right next to my ear, whispering, “I can’t believe how turned on I am right now. You know, I dress the way I do when I come over here because I see the way you look at me. I like to turn you on. I’ve always thought you were sexy.” Then she gave me a long, deep, tongue-filled kiss on the lips.
I was immediately rock-hard. I couldn’t believe my ears. I was in love with Sharon, and nothing would change that, but I had no idea Jessica had any interest in me.
Then Jessica stood up on the bed, towering over me, one foot on each side of my chest. “You spend more time looking at my chest that my face,” she said, “Is this what you want to see?” With that she opened and then dropped that huge bulky robe revealing a spectacular body. She was topless and only wearing a pair of silk panties. Her breasts were firm and magnificent.
Sharon came back into the room and I got nervous for a minute, but she didn’t seem at all surprised about what she was seeing. She removed her robe, and was completely naked underneath. Soon, both women were kissing, stroking, and nibbling my body all over. After ten or fifteen minutes I could barely stand it. I had never been so aroused and hard in my life. Of course, there was one part of my body they carefully avoided touching. Now I knew what they had meant by ‘phase three.’ They were going to torment me further by teasing me. Within minutes, Jessica’s underwear came off.
Suddenly they both stopped and got off the bed. They left my hands tied but moved my untied legs all the way over to one side of the bed. Sharon then propped up my head with a pillow. I wondered what they had in store for me.
Jessica lay on her stomach next to me and Sharon climbed on top of her and started messaging her back. After a while the message included her ass and legs, and Jessica was moaning with pleasure. Then Jessica turned over, and Sharon started messaging her breasts. I couldn't believe my eyes! Not only was this the most erotic sight I had ever witnessed, but I got the distinct impression this wasn't the first time it happened.
“Hey! What about me?” I asked.
But they continued to ignore me. Before long Jessica was stroking Sharon, as they became hotter and hotter. Finally, they ended up one on top of the other, in a “sixty-nine” position, performing simultaneous oral sex. I just had to watch helplessly, hopelessly turned on, as they both had orgasm after orgasm. It was incredible to see.
After a brief rest they turned their attention back to me. While Jessica went back to the kissing, nibbling, and stroking, Sharon took the feather and ran it all over my penis, ever so lightly, with just enough pressure to cause ecstasy but nowhere near enough to cause release. Eventually, I could stand no more.
“Please, I can’t take anymore! Please finish me off, I’ll do anything!”
“Okay,” Sharon said and she straddled me, the tip of my manhood just touching her labia. I tried to push up and enter her, but she would just pull away and laugh.
She did this again and again, until finally Jessica said, “Come on, Sharon, it’s been hours, he’s had enough now.”
“Okay,” Sharon said reluctantly. She dropped down and I plunged deep inside her. Suddenly she was bouncing up and down on me like a wild woman. Within ten seconds she had another orgasm, and when her vaginal muscles suddenly contracted and gripped me I exploded. I had the longest most intense orgasm of my life, and when it was over I was panting and gasping for air.
Sharon climbed off of me and she and Jessica untied me. They were both flushed with excitement and they caressed me until I recovered from my experience.
I didn’t know what to say. Then Jessica broke the silence.
“Maybe next time you two can tie me up and tickle and tease me. I think I’d like that.”
