john getty
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Feb 23, 2008
- Messages
- 1,445
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First off, I'm a ler, not a lee. Being tickled myself does not turn me on, it makes me frantic. I thought this might amuse you:
About two years ago, I met a girl in the local pub and we hit it off. She was very nice and had that tomboy look. Her name was Julie, but she called herself Julie-Bob. I later found out that she was bisexual and "bob" was short for "bit of both". Shortly after my twentieth bitrthday she called me up and told me that her birthday was coming up, and there was nothing she would like more than for me to come and stay with her for a while. So, I wrote down the address, bought a crate of Carling and got a taxi down to her house. First and foremost on my mind was that at some point she would let me tickle her. She met me on the doorstep and was immediatley very physical with. She gave me a passionate kiss, and then we went inside.
At around midnight we were drunk, and she asked me to rub her feet. I duely obliged. It was wonderful. She asked me if I'd ever had a foot massage, I told her I didn't and she offered to give me one. I told her "no thank you" and started rubbing her other foot. This led to sex, we pounded away for a while, and all I had on my mind was her feet. We finished, then she asked me to look for her weed on the table. I got up, completely naked but as I was still searching for it, she said "ooh that needs a sucking."
"What?" I asked. Then I looked down at what she was refering to, my erect cock.
"Ok, fair enough." I don't like blow-jobs. Putting the most delicate of delicates into a mouth full of teeth, I don't know, you're just asking for trouble. But I did it anyway. Now, if you ask any man where he is most ticklish he will give the standard reply, feet, armpits, sides, tummy, whatever. That's because men don't think about their cocks as often as women think we do. Julie-Bob had a stud in her tongue, she grabbed the base of my erect penis and licked away at my bell-end, I could feel the tiny ball stud rubbing against every crevice. I howled with laughter, but she wouldn't let go. Finally when she realized she wasn't going to get any cum out of me she let me go. "You're right ticklish, you, aren't you."
End of DAY 1.
After showering in the morning, I put on my PJs and my white cotton socks, I went into the living room where Julie-Bob was sat on the sofa, she seemed down about something.
"What's wrong?"
"Nowt." She replied.
I climbed behind her on the sofa and put my legs either side of her. I gave her a cuddle and started rubbing her shoulders. Before I realized, she hooked my legs in her arms with her mighty biceps and trapped me, I tried to struggle but she was too strong, like a vice.
"What . . ."
Before I could finish she started to gently tickle the soles of my feet with her long red nails.
I started howling with laughter, and that just encouraged her.
"I love your laugh, you've got a right cute laugh."
"FUUHUUUHUUCKK OFFFFF!!"
I could hardly put a single thought together, but I began to realize that she was enjoying this. Was it possible I'd met another ticklephile in the same town?
I was well and truly out of breath, I thought she was giving me a break when in fact she was just changing position.
She turned to face me and pulled me by the legs so I was now lying weakly on the carpeted floor. She mounted me, kneeling with one leg either side of my pelvis, I tried to get my hands up but the sun shining through the window hurt my eyes, her hands easily dodged around my guard. They crept up my pyjama top and gently stroked against my ribs. I was crying now, and I could hardly breath.
"There, have that, you cute little bastard."
I have no idea how long this went on for.
I blacked out several times, I can only remember my own breathless squeal, and the feeling of complete exhaustion as I tried to defend myself.
Two days after that I went back to my own flat to fetch another bag of clothes, when I arrived she sent me a text message. "I'm just not ready for a relationship." Women baffle me.
John Getty.
About two years ago, I met a girl in the local pub and we hit it off. She was very nice and had that tomboy look. Her name was Julie, but she called herself Julie-Bob. I later found out that she was bisexual and "bob" was short for "bit of both". Shortly after my twentieth bitrthday she called me up and told me that her birthday was coming up, and there was nothing she would like more than for me to come and stay with her for a while. So, I wrote down the address, bought a crate of Carling and got a taxi down to her house. First and foremost on my mind was that at some point she would let me tickle her. She met me on the doorstep and was immediatley very physical with. She gave me a passionate kiss, and then we went inside.
At around midnight we were drunk, and she asked me to rub her feet. I duely obliged. It was wonderful. She asked me if I'd ever had a foot massage, I told her I didn't and she offered to give me one. I told her "no thank you" and started rubbing her other foot. This led to sex, we pounded away for a while, and all I had on my mind was her feet. We finished, then she asked me to look for her weed on the table. I got up, completely naked but as I was still searching for it, she said "ooh that needs a sucking."
"What?" I asked. Then I looked down at what she was refering to, my erect cock.
"Ok, fair enough." I don't like blow-jobs. Putting the most delicate of delicates into a mouth full of teeth, I don't know, you're just asking for trouble. But I did it anyway. Now, if you ask any man where he is most ticklish he will give the standard reply, feet, armpits, sides, tummy, whatever. That's because men don't think about their cocks as often as women think we do. Julie-Bob had a stud in her tongue, she grabbed the base of my erect penis and licked away at my bell-end, I could feel the tiny ball stud rubbing against every crevice. I howled with laughter, but she wouldn't let go. Finally when she realized she wasn't going to get any cum out of me she let me go. "You're right ticklish, you, aren't you."
End of DAY 1.
After showering in the morning, I put on my PJs and my white cotton socks, I went into the living room where Julie-Bob was sat on the sofa, she seemed down about something.
"What's wrong?"
"Nowt." She replied.
I climbed behind her on the sofa and put my legs either side of her. I gave her a cuddle and started rubbing her shoulders. Before I realized, she hooked my legs in her arms with her mighty biceps and trapped me, I tried to struggle but she was too strong, like a vice.
"What . . ."
Before I could finish she started to gently tickle the soles of my feet with her long red nails.
I started howling with laughter, and that just encouraged her.
"I love your laugh, you've got a right cute laugh."
"FUUHUUUHUUCKK OFFFFF!!"
I could hardly put a single thought together, but I began to realize that she was enjoying this. Was it possible I'd met another ticklephile in the same town?
I was well and truly out of breath, I thought she was giving me a break when in fact she was just changing position.
She turned to face me and pulled me by the legs so I was now lying weakly on the carpeted floor. She mounted me, kneeling with one leg either side of my pelvis, I tried to get my hands up but the sun shining through the window hurt my eyes, her hands easily dodged around my guard. They crept up my pyjama top and gently stroked against my ribs. I was crying now, and I could hardly breath.
"There, have that, you cute little bastard."
I have no idea how long this went on for.
I blacked out several times, I can only remember my own breathless squeal, and the feeling of complete exhaustion as I tried to defend myself.
Two days after that I went back to my own flat to fetch another bag of clothes, when I arrived she sent me a text message. "I'm just not ready for a relationship." Women baffle me.
John Getty.
