Little story, little joi...just for...YOU
"My Secret Little Torment (For You)"
Hahaha—oh my God…! Ahahahaha!
That's how it all started. Yes, with that stupid, damn feather between my toes. I was sitting there, comfortable on the couch, my colorful leggings still on, but my bare soles, wide open towards the camera… for you. You know me: I'm all muscle, I know. My size 10 feet look like they're ready to break concrete… but under that tough shell, oh… I'm a living torture.
And you know it.
I had that long, soft feather… and as soon as I ran it under my toes, I lost control. "AHAHAH—nooo damn, that's too much!" I screamed, but of course no one could hear me. Only you, who would have enjoyed it like crazy watching me wriggle around on my own like an idiot, doubled over with laughter.
I ran the feather over my heel, slowly… and then my arch, that precise spot where just touching myself makes me burst out laughing. The giggles rose in my throat and turned into screams. I literally doubled over, barely holding in my pee. “Aaaahhhahahaha! Oh my god…!”
Then I decided to make everything worse. I took baby oil, the scented one, and smeared it all over my feet. The soles of my feet glistened in the light, smooth as silk. “I’m doing this for you, okay…” I said to the camera, biting my lip.
Then the nails were the real punishment. Much worse than the feather. My fingers moved fast, grazing the pads under my toes, the hollow of my arch, every single weak spot. I writhed on the couch, clenching my fists, “Ahhh—I… can’t… ahahahaha!!!” but I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I knew you were watching.
And as I laughed, with tears in my eyes, I thought of you. How much better it would have been if you were there, holding that feather. Or, worse yet… my fingers. Your gaze, your smile as I wriggle, helpless under your hands.
Next time… I want to see you there. Really. Because I know you’re dying to tickle me. And despite the screams and laughter, I can’t wait.
“I’ll show you what happens if you touch me here… ahhh—HAHAHAHA—nooo—not there, come on!!”
"My Secret Little Torment (For You)"
Hahaha—oh my God…! Ahahahaha!
That's how it all started. Yes, with that stupid, damn feather between my toes. I was sitting there, comfortable on the couch, my colorful leggings still on, but my bare soles, wide open towards the camera… for you. You know me: I'm all muscle, I know. My size 10 feet look like they're ready to break concrete… but under that tough shell, oh… I'm a living torture.
And you know it.
I had that long, soft feather… and as soon as I ran it under my toes, I lost control. "AHAHAH—nooo damn, that's too much!" I screamed, but of course no one could hear me. Only you, who would have enjoyed it like crazy watching me wriggle around on my own like an idiot, doubled over with laughter.
I ran the feather over my heel, slowly… and then my arch, that precise spot where just touching myself makes me burst out laughing. The giggles rose in my throat and turned into screams. I literally doubled over, barely holding in my pee. “Aaaahhhahahaha! Oh my god…!”
Then I decided to make everything worse. I took baby oil, the scented one, and smeared it all over my feet. The soles of my feet glistened in the light, smooth as silk. “I’m doing this for you, okay…” I said to the camera, biting my lip.
Then the nails were the real punishment. Much worse than the feather. My fingers moved fast, grazing the pads under my toes, the hollow of my arch, every single weak spot. I writhed on the couch, clenching my fists, “Ahhh—I… can’t… ahahahaha!!!” but I didn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I knew you were watching.
And as I laughed, with tears in my eyes, I thought of you. How much better it would have been if you were there, holding that feather. Or, worse yet… my fingers. Your gaze, your smile as I wriggle, helpless under your hands.
Next time… I want to see you there. Really. Because I know you’re dying to tickle me. And despite the screams and laughter, I can’t wait.
“I’ll show you what happens if you touch me here… ahhh—HAHAHAHA—nooo—not there, come on!!”
