siamese dream
TMF Master
- Joined
- Jun 27, 2002
- Messages
- 879
- Points
- 0
You really think you're done here? That you can just leave and forget me? No, you aren't gonna forget. The things I told you are too good to just shut away, and too vivid to keep stifled, they're gonna spill out the crevices in those corners of your mind you try to keep so tidy and sealed up. They're gonna leak into your thoughts from now on. You know what you wanted. That's what you need. You knew what you'd get with me. What you need, that's what you're gonna get. You know I want it, need it too, and that's the hottest thought of all.
My eyes are taking in the sight of you. I'm smirking and looking... You're such a huffing bluff, so full of hot air. You think you've got it all handled, all figured out. You think you know so much; you're so certain of your power. I don't seem like very much. I'm so full of searching for approval, for the right thing to say or do. I am not always this way though. I only show myself and what I have in me to a few, a very few. And I know when I'm impressive. I know when you can't hide the desire for my touch, my voice, my words, I delight at the longing I inspire in you. It's just that I get so high on my true abilities, when I know you can't deny them, can't diminish me, no matter how you struggle. I am thrilling, I am thrilled watching you be thrilled with me.
My hands move towards your helpless outstretched torso. You watch them, tense and anticipate. I smile and draw out the moment, teasing, deciding where exactly my fingertips will first make contact. I flutter them to lightly rest a small tracing traipse away from the real target. They're at the insides of your elbows, hovering and barely touching. Then I move, one hand at each arm, one slow unbearable line with my fingertips, up your biceps, to the center. To your exposed underarms, helplessly ticklish and vulnerable, waiting for the attack at the end of the line. Your teeth gritted, arms pulling down hard, you're grinning and trembling already. There's no stopping the reaction when I reach the center. My fingertips burrow, flutter, vibrate, crawl over your ticklish armpits and you are already at my mercy, hysterically laughing and squirming. Do you know I've barely even begun? You already belong to me.
My body is astride yours. My thighs at either side of your waist, seated over you. I'm warm and my legs are locked against your waist. I can feel how much you desire my touch already; your hardness presses into me. I grin and giggle with you as my hands spider up and down your ribs and belly. Each squirming thrust shifts me and grinds me against you.
I love how ticklish you are, and I tell you so. I say "tickle tickle", knowing it drives you mad to hear. I feel so pleased and affectionate over you in this moment, my ticklish helpless dear. I lean in close to you, making soft ticklish kisses along your collar bones, neck and ears. My hands drift lower as my kisses climb higher. I embrace you tightly around the middle. My little fingers wriggle their way beneath you, under your weight, as I press your body to mine hotly.
The sweetness erupts into chaos. My fingertips jolt you from underneath, each jump away only brings you crashing back into them. Each leap in desperate struggle I ride atop, legs locked against you. Your bucking only sends a thrilling jolt through us both, through your hardness and my warmth. I cackle with unrestrained delight at your ticklish predicament. I giggle and coo, teasing you with words, how helpless you are, how you won't ever get away. I playfully growl and mock like I'm lunging to bite your belly. Your gasp and cringing squeak of surprise in response sets me off laughing heartily. I do bite you then...gentle nibbles on your tummy and hips, that set you to giggling uncontrollably. My hands find your thighs, my fingertips press and wriggle and pulse at the spots where your upper thigh meets your groin; and at the same time, my nibbling at your waist turns to pressure with my chin. Forcefully nuzzling, I shake my head back and fourth as my chin digs in. My fingers never relent at your sensitive thighs. I hear you fall apart in hysteria, begging and howling. I drink in your torment, my face and both hands pressed to you and caressing you, just a few scarce inches away from where you squirm and thrust helplessly, throbbing and needing my touch.
Not yet though, I tease and tell you, nooo you don't get the satisfaction of being touched there yet. I have crawled my fingers, teased my lips and wormed my body slowly down yours, but I haven't gone low enough yet. I tell you that I haven't even touched those feet yet, I can't just leave this splendid torture unfinished, without finding how ticklish you are on the soles of those feet! And I know, though you groan and whimper in protest, that they are not only very ticklish, but that your excitement rises further still, as I move still lower down your body. I know your soles being tickled, turns you to jelly, turns you on like mad. I rise and move to crouch by your helpless feet. You can see me lurking a breath away, and you're already moaning and keening in agony.
I run my fingertips up each sole, and drag my fingernails down each. You gasp and giggle, your feet wriggling and shaking, but there's no getting away from my tiptoeing fingers exploring the scrunched soles of your feet. I tickle rapidly at the heels, balls of each foot, and back, relishing your vulnerability, every frantic squawk of laughter and sigh of pleasure I draw out of you. I hold your toes back with one hand, tickling with my nails just beneath. You are a hopeless mess of giggling and half-uttered pleas for mercy. I do the same to the other foot, and grin wickedly at the desperation in your response. I ask if you have ever felt this sensation - it's really something else, if you haven't - and firmly holding your toes still, my mouth closes around your middle toe, sucking, and drawing my tounge over the flush rounded end. I adore your overwhelmed moans as the feeling shudders through you. I quickly switch and plunge my mouth over the second toe of your other foot, before you can prepare yourself. Your moaning goes higher and louder immediately. I carefully, softly, scribble my nails up and down the sole of the same foot while still sucking your toe. You tremble all over, your other foot kicking, but the one in the grasp of my hot mouth and beneath my wriggling fingers only shivers a bit, still and obedient to the pleasures I give you. Not wanting to shatter the moment by moving away or kicking at me, even though the tickling has your body sending screaming alerts at the captured foot to escape, escape by any means! You laugh and whisper please, please, holding your struggle response back for me, your hands ball into fists as you endure.
Where would I go on my gentle exploration of your body, after such a delicious journey down to your furthest reaches? Back up again of course! I laugh in joyful victory over you, pouncing upon you, my hands attacking every spot in reach they can cover, rapidly and randomly. You fall from subdued trembling whispers to racous, yelping laughter and thrash fighting against my ticklish attacks with all you have. My legs locked at your hips again, the fight is useless, you can't shake me, you'll never make me stop tickling you senseless. Weaker squirming and peals of gasping, helpless laughter that shudders your whole body, tells me you're firmly in my grasp, you've surrendered to my sadistic whims entirely. I ask you who you belong to, and you scream out: I, you belong to me. Whose cute ticklish boy are you? Mine, you are mine.
And I smile into your eyes. I know what you need. And you're gonna get it. You groan in agreement as my legs close around you and my warmth grows unbearably hot, surrounds you, takes your hardness inside. I want this, I need this. This is what you wanted too, what you needed too - isn't it, ticklish boy? You rock against me urgently, and moan my name, and "yes". Yes, again and again, yes. Alright, my cute sexy ticklish toy. I'll give it to you. You'll never forget it. You won't ever stop needing more.
My eyes are taking in the sight of you. I'm smirking and looking... You're such a huffing bluff, so full of hot air. You think you've got it all handled, all figured out. You think you know so much; you're so certain of your power. I don't seem like very much. I'm so full of searching for approval, for the right thing to say or do. I am not always this way though. I only show myself and what I have in me to a few, a very few. And I know when I'm impressive. I know when you can't hide the desire for my touch, my voice, my words, I delight at the longing I inspire in you. It's just that I get so high on my true abilities, when I know you can't deny them, can't diminish me, no matter how you struggle. I am thrilling, I am thrilled watching you be thrilled with me.
My hands move towards your helpless outstretched torso. You watch them, tense and anticipate. I smile and draw out the moment, teasing, deciding where exactly my fingertips will first make contact. I flutter them to lightly rest a small tracing traipse away from the real target. They're at the insides of your elbows, hovering and barely touching. Then I move, one hand at each arm, one slow unbearable line with my fingertips, up your biceps, to the center. To your exposed underarms, helplessly ticklish and vulnerable, waiting for the attack at the end of the line. Your teeth gritted, arms pulling down hard, you're grinning and trembling already. There's no stopping the reaction when I reach the center. My fingertips burrow, flutter, vibrate, crawl over your ticklish armpits and you are already at my mercy, hysterically laughing and squirming. Do you know I've barely even begun? You already belong to me.
My body is astride yours. My thighs at either side of your waist, seated over you. I'm warm and my legs are locked against your waist. I can feel how much you desire my touch already; your hardness presses into me. I grin and giggle with you as my hands spider up and down your ribs and belly. Each squirming thrust shifts me and grinds me against you.
I love how ticklish you are, and I tell you so. I say "tickle tickle", knowing it drives you mad to hear. I feel so pleased and affectionate over you in this moment, my ticklish helpless dear. I lean in close to you, making soft ticklish kisses along your collar bones, neck and ears. My hands drift lower as my kisses climb higher. I embrace you tightly around the middle. My little fingers wriggle their way beneath you, under your weight, as I press your body to mine hotly.
The sweetness erupts into chaos. My fingertips jolt you from underneath, each jump away only brings you crashing back into them. Each leap in desperate struggle I ride atop, legs locked against you. Your bucking only sends a thrilling jolt through us both, through your hardness and my warmth. I cackle with unrestrained delight at your ticklish predicament. I giggle and coo, teasing you with words, how helpless you are, how you won't ever get away. I playfully growl and mock like I'm lunging to bite your belly. Your gasp and cringing squeak of surprise in response sets me off laughing heartily. I do bite you then...gentle nibbles on your tummy and hips, that set you to giggling uncontrollably. My hands find your thighs, my fingertips press and wriggle and pulse at the spots where your upper thigh meets your groin; and at the same time, my nibbling at your waist turns to pressure with my chin. Forcefully nuzzling, I shake my head back and fourth as my chin digs in. My fingers never relent at your sensitive thighs. I hear you fall apart in hysteria, begging and howling. I drink in your torment, my face and both hands pressed to you and caressing you, just a few scarce inches away from where you squirm and thrust helplessly, throbbing and needing my touch.
Not yet though, I tease and tell you, nooo you don't get the satisfaction of being touched there yet. I have crawled my fingers, teased my lips and wormed my body slowly down yours, but I haven't gone low enough yet. I tell you that I haven't even touched those feet yet, I can't just leave this splendid torture unfinished, without finding how ticklish you are on the soles of those feet! And I know, though you groan and whimper in protest, that they are not only very ticklish, but that your excitement rises further still, as I move still lower down your body. I know your soles being tickled, turns you to jelly, turns you on like mad. I rise and move to crouch by your helpless feet. You can see me lurking a breath away, and you're already moaning and keening in agony.
I run my fingertips up each sole, and drag my fingernails down each. You gasp and giggle, your feet wriggling and shaking, but there's no getting away from my tiptoeing fingers exploring the scrunched soles of your feet. I tickle rapidly at the heels, balls of each foot, and back, relishing your vulnerability, every frantic squawk of laughter and sigh of pleasure I draw out of you. I hold your toes back with one hand, tickling with my nails just beneath. You are a hopeless mess of giggling and half-uttered pleas for mercy. I do the same to the other foot, and grin wickedly at the desperation in your response. I ask if you have ever felt this sensation - it's really something else, if you haven't - and firmly holding your toes still, my mouth closes around your middle toe, sucking, and drawing my tounge over the flush rounded end. I adore your overwhelmed moans as the feeling shudders through you. I quickly switch and plunge my mouth over the second toe of your other foot, before you can prepare yourself. Your moaning goes higher and louder immediately. I carefully, softly, scribble my nails up and down the sole of the same foot while still sucking your toe. You tremble all over, your other foot kicking, but the one in the grasp of my hot mouth and beneath my wriggling fingers only shivers a bit, still and obedient to the pleasures I give you. Not wanting to shatter the moment by moving away or kicking at me, even though the tickling has your body sending screaming alerts at the captured foot to escape, escape by any means! You laugh and whisper please, please, holding your struggle response back for me, your hands ball into fists as you endure.
Where would I go on my gentle exploration of your body, after such a delicious journey down to your furthest reaches? Back up again of course! I laugh in joyful victory over you, pouncing upon you, my hands attacking every spot in reach they can cover, rapidly and randomly. You fall from subdued trembling whispers to racous, yelping laughter and thrash fighting against my ticklish attacks with all you have. My legs locked at your hips again, the fight is useless, you can't shake me, you'll never make me stop tickling you senseless. Weaker squirming and peals of gasping, helpless laughter that shudders your whole body, tells me you're firmly in my grasp, you've surrendered to my sadistic whims entirely. I ask you who you belong to, and you scream out: I, you belong to me. Whose cute ticklish boy are you? Mine, you are mine.
And I smile into your eyes. I know what you need. And you're gonna get it. You groan in agreement as my legs close around you and my warmth grows unbearably hot, surrounds you, takes your hardness inside. I want this, I need this. This is what you wanted too, what you needed too - isn't it, ticklish boy? You rock against me urgently, and moan my name, and "yes". Yes, again and again, yes. Alright, my cute sexy ticklish toy. I'll give it to you. You'll never forget it. You won't ever stop needing more.