Captain Satan
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Mar 24, 2011
- Messages
- 195
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I've been sleeping with an older woman for a few weeks now. The age difference isn't anything insane, I'm 26 and she's 37, but it's definitely the first time I've been in this kind of situation. And by situation, I mean I'm pretty sure I'm her dirty little secret.
Her name is Niamh. She's 5'5, she's got short red hair, an hourglass body, one failed marriage under her belt, and me wrapped around her finger(s).
Our relationship (more like system) goes a little bit like this: we don't hang out at the same clubs or bars, we only have a handful of friends in common (none of which are privy to any of this), and when she texts me late on Friday night you'd better believe I'm bouncing up the hill to her apartment with my trousers around my ankles.
Sorry to sound so crude.
Niamh is not like any of the other women I've been with. She's built up the kind of sexual liberalism that only comes with being totally independent of everyone and everything. It seems as if, instead of letting the world shame her into a relationship, she has instead dedicated herself to pleasure-seeking. If there is a God, I thank it for that.
And it's her total dedication to sexual gratification that lead me to tell her about my fetish.
One Week Ago
It was about 1pm on Friday when I got the text message, which was highly unusual for her. 1am is usual for her.
"are u going to Coppers tonite?" (Coppers = local nightclub for horny people with popped collars)
"yep"
"do u wanna come up here first? wont be home tonite"
Of course I wanna go up there first. Don't be silly.
I arrived at her place at six o'clock. I picked up four cans of beer for myself and bottle of Lidl's finest sauvignon blanc for her. She answered the door in a white hoodie, black leggings, and pair of ankle socks. The most casual I'd ever seen her.
We sat on her couch in front of the television and electric fire, drinking and actually talking to each other in a way that didn't feel like the filler talk before sex. That was, until she slid her feet up onto my lap and began ("absent-mindedly) pressing down on my crotch with her toes. I quickly gave into temptation and wriggled a finger under her sole. She turned to me with a grin on her face, her eyebrows raised almost mockingly. I put my can down and began to tickle from her ankle to her toes, but she only offered up a mock laugh. Then it happened.
"You having fun down there?"
"Yes" I admitted, I ceased my tickling and began to rub her feet instead. I turned away, a little bit embarrassed.
This scenario turned into a conversation regarding kinks. First she questioned me on whether or not I had a foot fetish, which I didn't give a definitive answer. Then she moved on to other fetishes, and she seemed to become more lively as the conversation traversed through ropes and chains and spanking. She kept asking me what "gets me off", all the while digging her toes into my ribs and trying to slide them under my arms. That's why I told her, because I thought she already somehow knew.
"Wait, so being tickled or doing the tickling?" she asked, a look of amused surprise on her face.
"I like both, actually."
We had a brief chat about it, all the while I could see the wheels turning in her head. She didn't just seem amused by the idea anymore, she seemed excited by it. And seeing her excited by this was nearly enough to melt me on the couch. After a few more cans and the rest of her wine, we went upstairs to her room.
I tried to kiss her, but she just pushed me onto the bed.
"No, no, zees ees not for pleasure, zees ees interrogation" she said in a mock German accent.
She ordered me to take off my clothes, so I stripped in front of her while she merely slid out of her hoodie and bra, leaving her in nothing but black leggings and white ankle socks. I went to take off my underwear, but she stopped me and insisted that "that will be for later". That was fine by me. When I went to take off my socks, she stopped me again and said "no, no, we must have mystery, yess?". I have to admit the German accent was kind of funny.
I knew she had handcuffs in her drawer, but I had no idea how many different kinds. So when she pulled out a pair of wrist straps, I almost lost my head then and there. She strapped my wrists to the bed and immediately straddled me. Her stern look turned to a playful grin once again.
She began by lightly dragging her black fingernails from my neck to my pubic area. Up and down, up and down, never breaking her rhythm or eye-contact. I wriggled about a little bit, but maintained my composure as much as I could. She played with my nipples and licked my bellybutton, egging me on to laugh with a "c'moon" or a "let's hear it".
When she spidered her fingers from my sides to my armpits, I simply couldn't take it anymore, and she met my laughter with a truly evil grin.
"Yeaaah, that's the stuff" she mocked, flicking her fingers under my arms, sometimes making a detour to my stomach and neck. Her tits bounced as she tortured me, making this whole situation even more sexually straining.
She looked as if she was really enjoying herself up there, from what I could see through the water in my eyes. I have never been tickled like this before. This was completely new to me. This was the kind of session I'd been longing for, and I never thought it'd be from someone outside of the fetish. She knew I was loving this and that made her love it. I knew she could feel my erection rubbing against her leggings.
Then I made the god-awful mistake of banging my toe against the steel foot of her bed. I let out a pained "ouch" and she stopped torturing me.
"Awww, honey, did you bang your foot?" her voice had been this constantly mocking thing since we'd moved upstairs, "let me see it".
She laid herself across my legs and my whole body shuddered when she slid her slender fingers under the ankle of my sock, up towards the sole of my foot, fingers constantly wriggling. She'd turned her head back towards me every now and again, just to see my reaction.
I laughed and struggled, but she just slid her body further down my leg to prevent movement. When she finally ripped off my socks at the same time, she began spidering her fingers from my heel to my toes, the same way I had tried to tickle her earlier, and she cackled evilly as did so.
"Did you bang your toe?" she laughed, two handfuls of nails digging into my feet unbearably, "lemme kiss it better". She ceased her assault and bent her head over to kiss the toes on my right foot. That felt strange.
She then slid back up my body and resumed her tickling of my stomach and underarms. She really was delighting in all of it, and knowing that I couldn't stop her was the biggest thrill of all.
After a few minutes of solid laughter and begging, she leaned back, sighed, and unbound my wrists. What happened next is up to your imagination.
I've really only been truly exploring my tickle fetish for the last two years or so, and I count myself unspeakably lucky for finding someone (who doesn't have the fetish) to not only indulge me, but totally enjoy herself while doing it.
It's a completely doomed relationship, but it's getting more and more fun by the minute.
Her name is Niamh. She's 5'5, she's got short red hair, an hourglass body, one failed marriage under her belt, and me wrapped around her finger(s).
Our relationship (more like system) goes a little bit like this: we don't hang out at the same clubs or bars, we only have a handful of friends in common (none of which are privy to any of this), and when she texts me late on Friday night you'd better believe I'm bouncing up the hill to her apartment with my trousers around my ankles.
Sorry to sound so crude.
Niamh is not like any of the other women I've been with. She's built up the kind of sexual liberalism that only comes with being totally independent of everyone and everything. It seems as if, instead of letting the world shame her into a relationship, she has instead dedicated herself to pleasure-seeking. If there is a God, I thank it for that.
And it's her total dedication to sexual gratification that lead me to tell her about my fetish.
One Week Ago
It was about 1pm on Friday when I got the text message, which was highly unusual for her. 1am is usual for her.
"are u going to Coppers tonite?" (Coppers = local nightclub for horny people with popped collars)
"yep"
"do u wanna come up here first? wont be home tonite"
Of course I wanna go up there first. Don't be silly.
I arrived at her place at six o'clock. I picked up four cans of beer for myself and bottle of Lidl's finest sauvignon blanc for her. She answered the door in a white hoodie, black leggings, and pair of ankle socks. The most casual I'd ever seen her.
We sat on her couch in front of the television and electric fire, drinking and actually talking to each other in a way that didn't feel like the filler talk before sex. That was, until she slid her feet up onto my lap and began ("absent-mindedly) pressing down on my crotch with her toes. I quickly gave into temptation and wriggled a finger under her sole. She turned to me with a grin on her face, her eyebrows raised almost mockingly. I put my can down and began to tickle from her ankle to her toes, but she only offered up a mock laugh. Then it happened.
"You having fun down there?"
"Yes" I admitted, I ceased my tickling and began to rub her feet instead. I turned away, a little bit embarrassed.
This scenario turned into a conversation regarding kinks. First she questioned me on whether or not I had a foot fetish, which I didn't give a definitive answer. Then she moved on to other fetishes, and she seemed to become more lively as the conversation traversed through ropes and chains and spanking. She kept asking me what "gets me off", all the while digging her toes into my ribs and trying to slide them under my arms. That's why I told her, because I thought she already somehow knew.
"Wait, so being tickled or doing the tickling?" she asked, a look of amused surprise on her face.
"I like both, actually."
We had a brief chat about it, all the while I could see the wheels turning in her head. She didn't just seem amused by the idea anymore, she seemed excited by it. And seeing her excited by this was nearly enough to melt me on the couch. After a few more cans and the rest of her wine, we went upstairs to her room.
I tried to kiss her, but she just pushed me onto the bed.
"No, no, zees ees not for pleasure, zees ees interrogation" she said in a mock German accent.
She ordered me to take off my clothes, so I stripped in front of her while she merely slid out of her hoodie and bra, leaving her in nothing but black leggings and white ankle socks. I went to take off my underwear, but she stopped me and insisted that "that will be for later". That was fine by me. When I went to take off my socks, she stopped me again and said "no, no, we must have mystery, yess?". I have to admit the German accent was kind of funny.
I knew she had handcuffs in her drawer, but I had no idea how many different kinds. So when she pulled out a pair of wrist straps, I almost lost my head then and there. She strapped my wrists to the bed and immediately straddled me. Her stern look turned to a playful grin once again.
She began by lightly dragging her black fingernails from my neck to my pubic area. Up and down, up and down, never breaking her rhythm or eye-contact. I wriggled about a little bit, but maintained my composure as much as I could. She played with my nipples and licked my bellybutton, egging me on to laugh with a "c'moon" or a "let's hear it".
When she spidered her fingers from my sides to my armpits, I simply couldn't take it anymore, and she met my laughter with a truly evil grin.
"Yeaaah, that's the stuff" she mocked, flicking her fingers under my arms, sometimes making a detour to my stomach and neck. Her tits bounced as she tortured me, making this whole situation even more sexually straining.
She looked as if she was really enjoying herself up there, from what I could see through the water in my eyes. I have never been tickled like this before. This was completely new to me. This was the kind of session I'd been longing for, and I never thought it'd be from someone outside of the fetish. She knew I was loving this and that made her love it. I knew she could feel my erection rubbing against her leggings.
Then I made the god-awful mistake of banging my toe against the steel foot of her bed. I let out a pained "ouch" and she stopped torturing me.
"Awww, honey, did you bang your foot?" her voice had been this constantly mocking thing since we'd moved upstairs, "let me see it".
She laid herself across my legs and my whole body shuddered when she slid her slender fingers under the ankle of my sock, up towards the sole of my foot, fingers constantly wriggling. She'd turned her head back towards me every now and again, just to see my reaction.
I laughed and struggled, but she just slid her body further down my leg to prevent movement. When she finally ripped off my socks at the same time, she began spidering her fingers from my heel to my toes, the same way I had tried to tickle her earlier, and she cackled evilly as did so.
"Did you bang your toe?" she laughed, two handfuls of nails digging into my feet unbearably, "lemme kiss it better". She ceased her assault and bent her head over to kiss the toes on my right foot. That felt strange.
She then slid back up my body and resumed her tickling of my stomach and underarms. She really was delighting in all of it, and knowing that I couldn't stop her was the biggest thrill of all.
After a few minutes of solid laughter and begging, she leaned back, sighed, and unbound my wrists. What happened next is up to your imagination.
I've really only been truly exploring my tickle fetish for the last two years or so, and I count myself unspeakably lucky for finding someone (who doesn't have the fetish) to not only indulge me, but totally enjoy herself while doing it.
It's a completely doomed relationship, but it's getting more and more fun by the minute.