Preface
It has been a long time since the Kittletown Saga continued. This forth, and last, book will be the "tell all". Please understand that my intention in writing this series was to create the first piece of Tickling Literature, something that went beyond the usual short story route in which I had been very comfortable. So if the story jumps around, bear with me. I am weaving a yarn for all of you.
Any comments on the story should be made on a separate thread with its own title.
Since this is a spanking new piece, I think it's also fair to inform some that the act of posting on the Internet, dated as it is, constitutes this work to be "E-Published". Therefore, the characters and the story are properties of myself. Although I welcome anyone to create their own scenarios and stories based on this series, it must be made with prior agreement between us.
Now, sit back and kick up (or off) your heels and enjoy.
Max
************************************************
KITTLETOWN FOUR
By Max Speer
Copyright © 1999 and 2001 by Max Speer. All Rights Reserved
Introduction
Kathy walked cautiously down the street. She had never before felt any danger in her neighborhood, but things were changing. People were doing funny things; looking at her in funny ways. She couldn't explain it. People touched her in funny ways; they tickled. It was weird to her. She hadn't been tickled since she was a little girl.
Her girlfriend Tammy warned her about dressing the way she did, but she couldn't help it. It was warm outside and she wanted to feel comfortable. The only thing clean was her halter top and cut-off shorts.
She looked around as she walked down the street, holding her hands over her bare belly; her long, thin legs, freshly shaved, ended with her small, delicate feet tucked into her sandals. She had painted her toenails pink that morning.
She was quite pretty for her 16 years, with very long 'dirty' blond hair down to her firm buttocks. Her blue eyes shone like blue water from her face, rounded and tender in all its Irish-American beauty.
Suddenly, she felt eyes looking at her, and quiet snickers; then, footsteps.
Kathy quickened her stride.
Why didn't I listen to Tammy this morning?
"Hello, young lady."
It was a voice, but the voice of an older man.
"I'm sorry to bother you but I seemed to have lost my way. Could you tell me how to get to Rennard Street?"
Kathy slowed and turned slightly to look at the man. He was a small, sad-looking man in his 80s with white hair and bushy eyebrows.
"Young lady?"
Kathy stopped. She felt embarrassed for being so frightened.
"I'm sorry," she said, smiling. Her smile was infectious and the old man caught it. With a small sweep of her head, she flipped her long, straight, hair out of her eyes. "Rennard?"
"Yes, I can't seem to find it."
"It's down the street about two blocks."
Kathy indicated with her right hand, pointing as she extended her arm out to the side.
Suddenly, everything seemed to change. In a span of time that lasted all of 2 seconds a strange event took place.
The old man, shorter than the young beauty watched as if in slow motion, as Kathy extended her bare arm. His eyes were fixed on her armpit, and felt the rush of sensation when the smooth, hairless hollow was revealed. An erection began to grow in him and he couldn't help but smile, as he stared, transfixed.
Kathy felt it too at that single second her arm was out. She saw the man, not looking at the direction she was pointing, but to an area under her arm.
A breeze blew slightly and swirled over the skin under her arm. A tingle caused a small noise to emerge from her throat.
God, that wind tickled me!
The old man reached up his wrinkled fingers, moving quicker than he had in years, and tickled Kathy's sensitive armpit.
"Ha ha ha, tickle tickle tickle," he said like some brownie from the fairy tales.
Formula had been working in the brain of Kathy as well. She felt the sensation like a lightening bolt; like raw nerve endings. The tickling sensation caused her to scream for a split second before she pulled her arm down. She felt the swirling and tickling continuing even though her arm was down, as if the old man left a nest of tickling ants to crawl in the warm, soft, ticklish spot.
Kathy laughed and twisted away. The old man was too frail to chase her as she began to run.
Her laughter had aroused a small group of young boys who were playing nearby. They couldn't have been more than 11 or 12, but they chased Kathy as she ran through the playground, watching her thin body with all the exposed skin moving in front of them.
She wasn't even aware of who was chasing her. She tucked her left hand under her right armpit and ran, trying to rub the tickling sensations away, but even her own hand under there seemed to tickle.
Suddenly, the horizon she was running towards flipped up and she found herself with a patch of grass in her mouth.
Oh my God, I fell!
But she didn't have time to evaluate her situation. The 5 boys were on her now. They climbed on her back and began tickling her ribs causing her to panic, though all she could do was laugh. She flailed her arms behind her, trying to throw off the giggling boys, but she was too weak from laughing. Their short, thin fingers crawled all over the teenager’s body, finding patches of bare skin to tickle. The tickling was torture and she screamed and laughed, tasting the sweet grass as she rolled.
A few boys grabbed her fighting hands and pulled her arms out over her head. They held her tightly as the boys on her back slipped their fingers into her ticklish armpits. Kathy screamed and squealed, bucking like a wild bronco in a losing attempt to thwart the tickling attack.
"Pleeeeese stop itttttt!!!!" she pleaded through her laughter, but the boys were only fed by her pleas for release.
Some boys ripped at her sandals until they, too, were off and they scratched the soft, pink soles causing Kathy to scream repeatedly between giggles. She tried to kick her legs but the boys were sitting on her providing sufficient weight for Kathy who was growing weaker and weaker as she laughed hysterically.
Her laughter, feeding their frenzy, her pleas edging them on; ecstasy was at hand. They felt their fingers on her soft, smooth armpits and heard that girlish laughter, felt the soft rustle of her hair against their face. They felt her soft ribs and ticklish soles. Nothing could get them to stop. They were driven.
It has been a long time since the Kittletown Saga continued. This forth, and last, book will be the "tell all". Please understand that my intention in writing this series was to create the first piece of Tickling Literature, something that went beyond the usual short story route in which I had been very comfortable. So if the story jumps around, bear with me. I am weaving a yarn for all of you.
Any comments on the story should be made on a separate thread with its own title.
Since this is a spanking new piece, I think it's also fair to inform some that the act of posting on the Internet, dated as it is, constitutes this work to be "E-Published". Therefore, the characters and the story are properties of myself. Although I welcome anyone to create their own scenarios and stories based on this series, it must be made with prior agreement between us.
Now, sit back and kick up (or off) your heels and enjoy.
Max
************************************************
KITTLETOWN FOUR
By Max Speer
Copyright © 1999 and 2001 by Max Speer. All Rights Reserved
Introduction
Kathy walked cautiously down the street. She had never before felt any danger in her neighborhood, but things were changing. People were doing funny things; looking at her in funny ways. She couldn't explain it. People touched her in funny ways; they tickled. It was weird to her. She hadn't been tickled since she was a little girl.
Her girlfriend Tammy warned her about dressing the way she did, but she couldn't help it. It was warm outside and she wanted to feel comfortable. The only thing clean was her halter top and cut-off shorts.
She looked around as she walked down the street, holding her hands over her bare belly; her long, thin legs, freshly shaved, ended with her small, delicate feet tucked into her sandals. She had painted her toenails pink that morning.
She was quite pretty for her 16 years, with very long 'dirty' blond hair down to her firm buttocks. Her blue eyes shone like blue water from her face, rounded and tender in all its Irish-American beauty.
Suddenly, she felt eyes looking at her, and quiet snickers; then, footsteps.
Kathy quickened her stride.
Why didn't I listen to Tammy this morning?
"Hello, young lady."
It was a voice, but the voice of an older man.
"I'm sorry to bother you but I seemed to have lost my way. Could you tell me how to get to Rennard Street?"
Kathy slowed and turned slightly to look at the man. He was a small, sad-looking man in his 80s with white hair and bushy eyebrows.
"Young lady?"
Kathy stopped. She felt embarrassed for being so frightened.
"I'm sorry," she said, smiling. Her smile was infectious and the old man caught it. With a small sweep of her head, she flipped her long, straight, hair out of her eyes. "Rennard?"
"Yes, I can't seem to find it."
"It's down the street about two blocks."
Kathy indicated with her right hand, pointing as she extended her arm out to the side.
Suddenly, everything seemed to change. In a span of time that lasted all of 2 seconds a strange event took place.
The old man, shorter than the young beauty watched as if in slow motion, as Kathy extended her bare arm. His eyes were fixed on her armpit, and felt the rush of sensation when the smooth, hairless hollow was revealed. An erection began to grow in him and he couldn't help but smile, as he stared, transfixed.
Kathy felt it too at that single second her arm was out. She saw the man, not looking at the direction she was pointing, but to an area under her arm.
A breeze blew slightly and swirled over the skin under her arm. A tingle caused a small noise to emerge from her throat.
God, that wind tickled me!
The old man reached up his wrinkled fingers, moving quicker than he had in years, and tickled Kathy's sensitive armpit.
"Ha ha ha, tickle tickle tickle," he said like some brownie from the fairy tales.
Formula had been working in the brain of Kathy as well. She felt the sensation like a lightening bolt; like raw nerve endings. The tickling sensation caused her to scream for a split second before she pulled her arm down. She felt the swirling and tickling continuing even though her arm was down, as if the old man left a nest of tickling ants to crawl in the warm, soft, ticklish spot.
Kathy laughed and twisted away. The old man was too frail to chase her as she began to run.
Her laughter had aroused a small group of young boys who were playing nearby. They couldn't have been more than 11 or 12, but they chased Kathy as she ran through the playground, watching her thin body with all the exposed skin moving in front of them.
She wasn't even aware of who was chasing her. She tucked her left hand under her right armpit and ran, trying to rub the tickling sensations away, but even her own hand under there seemed to tickle.
Suddenly, the horizon she was running towards flipped up and she found herself with a patch of grass in her mouth.
Oh my God, I fell!
But she didn't have time to evaluate her situation. The 5 boys were on her now. They climbed on her back and began tickling her ribs causing her to panic, though all she could do was laugh. She flailed her arms behind her, trying to throw off the giggling boys, but she was too weak from laughing. Their short, thin fingers crawled all over the teenager’s body, finding patches of bare skin to tickle. The tickling was torture and she screamed and laughed, tasting the sweet grass as she rolled.
A few boys grabbed her fighting hands and pulled her arms out over her head. They held her tightly as the boys on her back slipped their fingers into her ticklish armpits. Kathy screamed and squealed, bucking like a wild bronco in a losing attempt to thwart the tickling attack.
"Pleeeeese stop itttttt!!!!" she pleaded through her laughter, but the boys were only fed by her pleas for release.
Some boys ripped at her sandals until they, too, were off and they scratched the soft, pink soles causing Kathy to scream repeatedly between giggles. She tried to kick her legs but the boys were sitting on her providing sufficient weight for Kathy who was growing weaker and weaker as she laughed hysterically.
Her laughter, feeding their frenzy, her pleas edging them on; ecstasy was at hand. They felt their fingers on her soft, smooth armpits and heard that girlish laughter, felt the soft rustle of her hair against their face. They felt her soft ribs and ticklish soles. Nothing could get them to stop. They were driven.
