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Tickled

By: darkdaylady



"Tell me a story," Aaron said.

We were cuddled together in the hammock out back watching the sunset. I was snuggled against his chest, my head positioned just right to hear his heartbeat. One of his hands had slipped under my T-shirt to rest in the small of my back. The other stroked my hair. 

"Snow White?" I suggested. "Hansel and Gretel? You know, in the original, the witch eats the kids."

We were just settling into being a couple, just getting to the point where we didn't feel the need to be polite all the time, where I was willing to let him see me without makeup.

Where he'd felt comfortable enough, earlier in the day, to ask me to masturbate while he watched and I'd felt comfortable enough to do it.

Well, I'd been comfortable enough before and during; after, I got a little weirded out, mostly by how excited I'd been, not by anything he'd done.

"Tell me the story of what you were thinking earlier when you touched yourself for me," he said, lifting my chin up gently so that I had to look at him.

"I was fantasizing about an incredibly sexy man watching me play with myself," I said. "It was seriously hot."

Then I kissed him, hoping to distract him or change the subject.

"Then tell me what you think about when I'm not there watching," he said.

The scene I always imagined popped into my head: Me, naked and squirming, standing with my wrists bound over my head. A nameless, faceless man sitting nearby, watching me wriggle while he teased my clit with a remote control vibrator. I could hear myself begging to be allowed to come, hear the vibrator click on and off as he tormented me.

Ooh, boy. I wasn't that comfortable with him.

"It's getting chilly," I said. "Let's go inside."

He smiled a little and got up, following me into the house.

We were in the kitchen when he slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me back against him. "You're going to tell me, you know," he murmured against my ear, sending little shivers of sensation down my spine. "You're going to tell me every delicious detail, and then we're going to act it out."

I shook my head, more in embarrassment than defiance, and he turned me to face him. "Every detail," he repeated, and kissed me hard. Then he carried me to the bedroom and made love to me, pleasuring me with his hands and mouth until I was too exhausted to come again.

He asked again the next morning.

"It's not just one fantasy," I lied, feeling my face grow hot. I'm a terrible liar, and for some reason, Aaron made me even worse at it. The longer we were together, the harder it was for me to hide anything from him. 

"Are you afraid I'll be jealous of whoever's in it?" He seemed amused by my reluctance.

"It's not about a person. It's a situation..." I stopped, too flustered to speak. "I don't want to talk about this. Can we change the subject, please?"

He kissed me and apologized. "C'mon," he said. "Let me take you out for pancakes."

He seemed to forget about it. At least, I thought so until a few days later.

I went to Aaron's to pick him up for dinner. "I'm back here," he called and I wandered back to his studio. He's an architect and designer, and though he's got every CAD program known to man, he likes sketching and painting the renderings of his projects himself. "It makes them more real," he'd said once.

He had just finished one of the little paintings when I arrived. "Let me see," I demanded. I'm hopeless at art; can't draw a straight line with a ruler. But I'm fascinated by people who can, so I'm always pushing my way into people's studios.

"We're having dinner tonight, aren't we?" he asked. "Sorry; I lost track of time. Let me get a shower, and we can go."

He headed toward the master bathroom. "I wouldn't mind some company," he said, looking over his shoulder and waggling his eyebrows.

Ten minutes later, we stood under the hot water, our bodies wound around each other. At some point while we were kissing, I slipped and stumbled backwards a little, pulling him with me until I was kind of pinned between him and the tiled shower wall. He grinned down at me. "You could have just asked," He said, and before I could say anything, he was lifting me and guiding my legs around his waist. He brought the head of his cock just to the entrance of my suddenly drenched pussy. "Yes?" he murmured against my mouth.

"Hell, yes," I answered, and muffled his laughter with a hungry kiss.

He was buried inside me in a single, hard thrust, lifting me higher until both feet were off the ground, He kept me pinned against the wall, impaled on his cock, and just held me there, not moving, while he devoured my mouth. Soon I was moving restlessly under him, whimpering into his kisses, needing so badly to feel him pounding into me.

He remained stubbornly still.

"Aaron, please," I finally managed.

"Please what?" he lifted me a little higher, leaning in a little so that he was even farther inside me. He pinched my ass cheek, making me yelp. "Say it."

"Goddamn you," I groaned, barely able to get the words out. "Aaron!"

"Say it," he said again sternly and pinched my other ass cheek, "or I swear, I'll leave you like this all night."

He shifted a little, easing in deeper, and I whimpered. "Oh, God." He kissed me again, licking my lips apart and sliding his tongue slowly into my mouth as he kept me pinned and helpless on his perfect cock. He fucked my mouth with his tongue, quick, then slow, shallow then deep, hot and wet and maddening, teasing me until I couldn't keep silent one more second.

"Fuck me," I said desperately. "Right now, Aaron."

He didn't move, except to kiss me again. "What's the magic word?" 

"You bastard!" I was almost panting. "Please fuck me. God, please fuck me."

And he did, hard and fast, hammering into me until I came, screaming, and then he was coming too, shouting my name as he poured into me.

The water was almost cold when we managed to separate. I barely had the strength to towel myself dry and didn't argue when he swung me up gently in his arms and carried me to bed.

"I really didn't feel like dinner anyway," I murmured as he slipped into bed beside me and pulled the covers up around us.

"Yeah, and I'm going to remind you of that when you're whining about being hungry at midnight," he said, pulling me against his chest. "C'mere."

And I was snuggled against him again, listening to his heartbeat while he stroked my hair. Some nights, I actually fell asleep like that, which was odd, since I'd always slept on my side before I met him. A yawn escaped before I could stifle it. "God," I said, "excuse me."

His lips brushed my temple. "Close your eyes," he said softly. "And I promise I won't make fun of you for falling asleep first."

I was alone when I woke up. I knew immediately that something was wrong, though it took me a minute to figure out he'd bound my wrists with a silk tie, then tied them to headboard.

"What?" I tried to sit up, which was, of course, impossible. "Aaron!"

I'd been tied up during sex before, always in fun. It had never frightened me because I'd never had a partner I could see myself fully submitting to. A partner I'd do anything for.

Until Aaron.

I'd known the second we met that he could own me completely, if he wanted. And as much as I loved him, I was fighting hard to make sure he never figured that out. It terrified me.

Especially now that he had me tied to the bed.

He reappeared a minute later, carrying several feathers.

The feathers made me almost as nervous as the gleam in Aaron's eyes.

He set the feather on the nightstand, then slipped into bed next to me. "Hey, gorgeous," he said softly.

"What is this?" I demanded. "Untie me!"

He draped himself over me, his mouth just inches from mine, and just looked at me, smiling.

"What do you want?" My voice sounded shaky, even to me.

He kissed me deeply, winding one hand in my hair to tilt my head back so that I could take his tongue more deeply. I was breathless and shaking a little when he finally pulled away.

"Tell me a story," he said.

"What?" I had no idea what he was talking about. He began dropping little kisses all over my face and throat and shoulders. "Aaron, what are you doing?"

His tongue traced the hollow of my throat, making me shiver. "Tell me your fantasy," he said. "The story you tell yourself when you reach those pretty hands down beneath the covers and touch that perfect little clit."

He nipped the spot where my neck and shoulder met and I sighed. Then he began nuzzling my shoulder until he reached my upstretched arm. He nuzzled my underarm, then tickled it softly. I squealed in surprise and tried to jerk away.

"I thought you were ticklish," he said, a little triumphant. "Is that your fantasy? Being tickled by a lover?"

"My fantasies are none of your business," I retorted, and he tickled my armpit again. "Stop it!"

He just laughed. "Oh, I'm just getting started, baby." I jumped as he began lightly tickling both armpits. "Tell me a story."

"Once upon a time, a woman got pissed off at her boyfriend and killed him because he tied her up. The end." I tried to sound angry, but he was stroking my ribcage while kissing the cleft between my breasts, and anger wasn't topmost in my mind. 

"I'd like something with a little more character development and a little less plot," he said. He began stroking the undersides of my breasts with his knuckles, taking away my ability to speak. When he took one nipple in his mouth, I almost lost my ability to breathe.

I could only moan and whimper as he kissed and caressed me. At some point, I realized the stroking had turned to the softest tickling, his touch barely noticeable except for the electricity it sent shooting through me.

"Stop that!"

He pulled away enough to grin down at me and pick up a long white feather that I can only describe as a plume from the nightstand.

He moved a little so that he lay across me, pinning my legs under his body. He looked me up and down slowly and his scrutiny made me swallow nervously. I was suddenly, painfully aware of how much I wanted to feel that feather flick across my breasts, my nipples, my thighs.

He touched the tip of it to my lips first, just laying it across my mouth for a second or two before letting the tip drift down my throat.

I felt my face grow hot and the sudden twinkle in Aaron's eyes made me blush even harder to realize he knew exactly how much I wanted this.

I barely felt the first stroke as he slid the feather down between my breasts to my belly button. The return trip made me shudder, and then he began tracing one breast with the tip, drawing slow circles inward until he reached my achingly hard nipple. He flicked the feather across the little bud, then began drawing those circles again on my tingling skin.

By the time he began teasing my other breast, I was squirming under him, unable to keep still. He spent a long time running the feather over my breasts, continuing the wonderful torment until I was shivering uncontrollably under him.

He allowed me a little relief, guiding the feather back down toward my waist, tracing my ribcage and the curve of my hip, then flicking across my belly to circle in on my navel. The touch was maddening, too firm to ignore, too light to satisfy. Shivers of sensation ran wild along all my nerve endings and the sound of my ragged breathing was an embarrassing sign of just how turned-on I was.

"Would you like me to tease your thighs now, or would you rather I gave those pretty breasts a little more love?" he asked.

"Wh-what?"

Lips twitching, he repeated the question.

The choices made me dizzy, but I was determined not to give in. "Untie me right now, you sonofabitch!"

"Breasts it is," he said, and leaned forward to kiss me hard. There was nothing tentative in his kiss as his tongue thrust roughly into my mouth, snaking halfway down my throat. One hand slid up to cover a breast, gently kneading and squeezing my tingling flesh while the other hand sought out a nipple, rolling and tweaking it until I whimpered for mercy.

Then he started tickling my breasts again. Slow strokes, then fast, moving the thing in random patterns so that I could never predict where the next breath-stealing stroke would land. I squirmed and shook and moaned shamelessly as he teased me. I was astonished at my reaction; I liked having my breasts kissed and touched, but I'd never suspected I was so sensitive there.

"Aaron, please stop," I begged. The constant sensation was overwhelming, becoming more painful than pleasurable.

He relented, guiding the feather down to tickle my belly until I squirmed and giggled.

"Tell me," he said, but I shook my head, too stubborn – and much too embarrassed – to tell him what he wanted. He shook his head with mock regret. "Thighs it is."

A second later, he slipped down between my legs, forcing my knees up and my legs apart. He kept me pinned with one shoulder and the weight of his body, and I squealed as he drew the feather slowly down one thigh, then the other. Then he began moving it in those slow circles and I was lost, moaning with pleasure as he stroked my skin tenderly.

I imagined his mouth moving over me in the same way and whimpered, breathless at the idea. A second later, I was almost panting as the feather flicked across my mound, then traced my pussy lips. He guided the tip inward, tracing my wet inner folds in slow, light strokes. The thought of the soft tip flickering across my clit made me groan and shudder with anticipation, but I was going to have wait.

Aaron knelt up to slip one arm under my hips and before I knew what was happening, he had flipped me over onto my stomach. A second later, I was up on my knees, supported by his arm under my hips. He stroked the feather over my thighs again, then up the backs of my legs to my ass. He traced lazy circles over each ass cheek, and I felt myself squirming, then trying to hold myself still. "Oh, no you don't," he teased softly, and tickled me faster until I couldn't stay still, my bare bottom wiggling helplessly under the feather.

I was mortified, but it didn't last long as he planted a soft kiss on each ass cheek, then guided the feather quickly up to the small of my back. I heard myself exclaim his name as he ran the feather up my spine to my shoulder blades, then back down again. He made the trip several more times, a wonderful reminder of how exquisitely sensitive that part of my body is. I moaned, arching my back to encourage him to continue, and he indulged me for several minutes until I was breathless.

He gave me a minute to catch my breath, then gently turned my head so that I could see him lay the white plume down on the night stand and pick up a shorter, bright pink feather. It wasn't fluffy or curved like the plume. It was more compact.

It was also more rigid, I discovered a second later, hearing myself squeal as Aaron ran it down my back in a single quick stroke. The sensation was much firmer, much more intense than the plume's whispered touch.

He traced it along crack of my ass, then outlined the puckered opening of my anus with it, making me whimper and moan. He traced the line from my ass down to my pussy, pushing my hips up higher with a gentle nudge of his hand, spreading my legs wider. Then he turned so that he lay under me, stretched out between my splayed legs.

A second later, he was stroking the feather slowly along my pussy lips, making my hips buck, then he flicked it across my clit, making me suddenly, achingly aware of just how neglected the little nubbin had been until that second.

Another flick, and then he was running the tip of the feather back and forth over my swelling clit in short, rapid strokes. After several seconds, he zeroed in on that magic spot just near the tip, swirling little circles that had me mewing like a kitten as he brought me closer and closer to coming.

"Tell me what I want to know," he demanded again, making the little circles tighter and tighter. My hips were moving in little circles of their own, restless and rhythmic. The heat kept building, but I realized that the feather's touch was too delicate to bring me to climax; it could only tease me until I was insensible.

And that's exactly what Aaron did, tickling my clit until I was sobbing, begging him to let me come.

"Tell me a story," he said again, and I was shaking my head, almost hysterical at the irony. He was teasing me the point of insanity to make me tell him my fantasy about being teased to the point of insanity.

Finally, I agreed, unable to bear the tension one more minute. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Aaron grabbed my hips and pulled my pussy down to his mouth, letting his tongue take over for that damn pink feather. He'd barely touched me when I screamed, almost howling with relief as he finally let me come, then kept licking and sucking until I came twice more.

I was almost in tears when he laid me down on the mattress and stretched out next to me. He kept my wrists bound as he kissed and stroked me until I was calm enough to talk.

"Tell me," he said very softly, and the tenderness in his eyes made it impossible for me to refuse him anything.

I felt myself blushing and found I couldn't look at him, but I couldn't close my eyes, either. It seemed dishonest. So I focused on the little notch at the base of his throat and tried to spit it out.

"I'm standing in a dark room and I'm naked," I began, barely whispering. "My hands are tied over my head and fastened to something in the ceiling. There's a vibrator inside me, and a man is using a remote control to turn it off and on...."

My voice trailed off. I was mortified to even say the words out loud, but Aaron tilted my chin up and planted the softest kiss on my mouth.

"He's turning it off and on, teasing you," he said, his voice pitched low, encouraging me to continue. 

"He's teasing me," I managed to continue, and my voice seems a little steadier. "Torturing me, really. He keeps bringing me close, then stopping, and it's driving me crazy...All I can think about is how badly I need to come. He's laughing at me, telling me that if I want to come, I have to do what I'm told. I have to put on a show for him."

I shook my head, too embarrassed to go on.

"He likes looking at you, watching you move," Aaron murmured in my ear. His breath, warm on my overheated skin, sent shivers through me. "He likes knowing you can't hide from him. He can see all of you, every bit of the beautiful body you usually keep hidden from him."

Aaron always teased me about my modesty; I couldn't stand being uncovered for too long if we weren't actually making love. I was always covering myself, with a sheet or a towel or one of his shirts, and he was always completely comfortable with being naked.

I was uncovered now, in more ways than one, while I whispered my dirty little secret to him. And while I was too shy to look at Aaron, I realized he was having no difficulty at all studying me. But his quiet scrutiny was so loving that I almost basked in it.

"He tells me to dance for him, to run in place, to turn around and wiggle my hips for him," I whispered, barely able to get the words out. "It's humiliating, but I need to come so badly that I do whatever he says, and the longer he teases me, the more I realize that it's not just the vibrator that has me turned on. It's being told to...display myself. And not having any control. All I can do is respond to his demands."

"You're not very good at giving up control," Aaron said, and I realized that he'd slipped his hand between my legs and was gently rubbing my clit. He kissed me warmly. "You pretty much stink at it, in fact. But at some point, we all need to let someone else take charge once in a while. Like tonight, baby. You let me take control, let me play with you and tease you. You wouldn't have done that a month ago."


Tickled on the E-Line



WARNING! IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL OF A SEXUAL NATURE. If you are under 18 years of age or easily offended by such material, then click your browser's back button now. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website. You must obtain the author's permission prior to posting.

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(Story Content: M/f, Tickling)



As Catrina slipped on her light green, sleeveless sweater, she couldn't help smiling at her reflection in the mirror. It was her favorite top, made of light wool with wide holes that made her arms look cute and sexy - perfect for hot summer days, but without showing off too much of herself. She put on her white capris next, and her tennis shoes, then checked her watch. It was already 10:30, so she needed to get moving. She quickly brushed through her long blonde hair, then pulled it back into a ponytail. As she did this, her eyes darted to each raised arm for a last-minute inspection. She had just shaved them in the shower, making her deep curves look as smooth as silk. With a final nod, she grabbed her shoulder bag and rushed out the door.

Catrina Anderson was looking forward to getting away from downtown Denver where she lived and worked. The location certainly had some advantages for her with its restaurants, shops and dance clubs. But this was an election year, and that week Denver was hosting the National Convention. From early in the morning to late at night, the streets around her loft apartment were packed with delegates, media people, tourists, and agitators. Street traffic around Denver was also a hassle, and it didn't take long for her to grow tired of whole mess. 

So she needed a break, and decided to take the light rail train south of town to her favorite mall and do some shopping. With her bag gripped tightly around one shoulder, she made her way through the crowded streets to Union Station. It was already hot that day and forecasted to reach 95 degrees, but at least the covered platform offered some shade from the sun. Catrina purchased her ticket and waited by the tracks. 

The Denver RTD Light Rail was a passenger train, powered by overhead electrical wires. It had a lighter frame and smaller body than most other trains, thus its name "light" rail. Because of their size and tighter turning radius, the trains had the ability to operate along crowded city streets and in urban corridors with frequent stops, where quick acceleration and deceleration were necessary.

There were several rail lines that traveled along the central corridor adjacent to Interstate 25. The train Catrina wanted was the E-Line, which traveled the entire length, about 25 miles, from Union Station south to the Park Meadows Mall with no transfers. The trains along that line ran every 15 minutes, but not surprisingly, all of them were packed tight with people wearing campagn buttons, funny hats, and carrying bags full of souvenirs. It would be standing room only, probably all the way to the mall.  

When her train arrived, Catrina squeezed through the crowd until she found a spot to stand and hold onto one of the straps that hung from a bar above. The packed atmosphere made her feel a little self-conscious in her sleeveless top, so as she reached up high to grab the strap, she snuck another quick peek under her arm to check for stubble, then smiled inwardly when she saw it was ok. 

While the train moved down the track, its cars rocking gently from side to side, she felt a tinge of arousal as she stood there with one naked arm raised. She never considered that part of her body in anyway sexual, yet displaying it so openly it to dozens of strangers, some a mere foot or two away, somehow betrayed a certain imaginative eroticism that she could enjoy privately to pass the time.

This feeling didn't last very long though. The E-Line was a popular route, so with each stop, more and more warm bodies crammed into their car, and no one seemed to be stepping off either. It was like being packed in a tin full of sardines. Even worse, the temperature felt at least 10 degrees hotter, and there was a foul smell of human sweat in the air. Catrina really had to push her consciousness and keep her mind busy on something else just to fight off the claustrophobia. 

Then, about halfway to her stop, a strange thing occurred. She was suddenly jolted back to reality with a tickling sensation under her raised arm. Her first impulse was to let go of the strap and bring it down to protect herself, but then the feeling went away just as abruptly as it came. 

Did somebody just tickle her?

She casually glanced around the car. Standing immediately to her right, a woman struggled to keep her balance while reading her book with one hand; on the left, a young couple was engaged in their own conversation, and in front, a portly man stood with his back to her. He was wearing a straw skimmer hat that said 'Vote for Change' on the headband. Nor he or anyone else seemed to take any notice in what just happened.

She tried to shrug off the strange feeling, but before she could engineer her other hand to casually rub away the itchy remnants of the first tickle, she felt another one right in the same spot! This time, she giggled and threw her arm down quickly, almost taking the 'book woman's' head off in the process. 

"Sorry," she quickly apologized.

At first the woman gave her an irritated look, then said, "That's OK, hon," before going back to her book.

Catrina had always been extremely ticklish, especially under her arms, so much that some of her boyfriend couldn't resist thrusting his fingers under there and tickling the living daylights out of her just to hear that cute laugh. For some reason, he always seemed to get very hot and bothered when he saw her squirm and giggle like a little girl. She looked around again at the other passengers. Her reaction had drawn some curious glances, but she still couldn't tell who it was that had tickled her. 

The train approached a sharp curve on the tracks, causing everyone standing to sway to one side and, reluctantly, Catrina stretched her arm up again for the strap. 

"Maybe it was just my hair tickling me," she thought, though it was unlikely, since her long golden hair was tied back neatly into ponytail. 

Less than a minute later, it happened again, only this time, it was that unmistakable feeling of several fingers brushing slowly against her open armpit. She burst into a rash of giggles and threw her arm down again. Most of the passengers standing nearby, including the book reader, tried to ignore the reaction. Only an elderly woman looked up from her seat nearby and stared at her. Catrina stared back and blushed.

"I-I think someone just tickled me," she tried to offer an explanation. 

The old woman merely smiled politely without a word. She was wearing a hearing aid and probably didn't understand a word she said. Some of the other passengers did, however. A few smirked and looked away as if Catrina's comment were some kind of a joke. The fat man with the straw hat merely glanced over one shoulder while keeping his back to her.

The train kept rocking along the winding track, and Catrina debated as to whether she should move. At the next stop, she tried to do just that, but the passengers around her stayed where they were while even more people loaded into the car, so she was stuck, helplessly in the same spot.

She decided to use her other arm this time and reached with that hand to hold the strap. She was a little nervous and feeling very ticklish at the moment. She was also a little turned by what was happening to her, though she refused to admit it even in her deepest thoughts. 

"If someone WAS tickling me, then maybe my comment scared him off," she tried to console herself.

A few minutes later, she was tickled under that arm too! This time she burst out into laughter so loud that everyone in the car heard it. She turned bright red as she put her other hand under her arm to wipe away the sensations. Now Catrina was frightened. She couldn't figure out who it was. She looked around again. The people behind her seemed just as shocked as everyone else; either that, or someone was putting on a pretty good act. Regardless, Catrina was too embarrassed to confront any of them, so she opted for silence. 

She then tried to stay up on her own as the train rocked but it seemed impossible. All it would take was one sharp turn to send her crashing into the other passengers, and that would be truly embarrassing, so slowly, she raised her arm up to the bar. For several long excruciating minutes, nothing happened. Just the anticipation of it seemed worse than the tickling itself. Beads of perspiration popped on her forehead. She quickly wiped her brow with her free hand, then another quick glance over her armpit and she could see she was sweating under there too, and quite noticeably. 

The train approached a section of track that both climbed and turned along a steep onramp to the interstate highway that ran along side of it. Now even one arm proved insufficient to keep her balance. Reluctantly, Catrina lifted the other and took hold of two straps as the train rocked savagely upward, and then down the winding track. 

Before long, amid the rocking, she began to feel that teasing touch again, this time, on the back of her neck. Catrina turned her head quickly, drawing more curious stares from the people behind her,

"All right, knock it off," she finally told them. Her voice was shaken.

"Pardon me?" one man asked. Both if his hands were holding something to keep himself steady, as were everyone else's.

She turned around again without another word, her face burning. Just what in HELL was going on here? Did someone really touch her or was she losing her mind?

Catrina decided to bring both arms down. She didn't care if she fell on her face, she wanted to be able to defend herself if anyone touched her again. But when she tried to release the straps . . . nothing happened. She couldn't move her hands! In fact, she couldn't will her body to do anything! It was an odd feeling, to say the least, as if the physical part of her were under some spell, leaving her hopelessly paralyzed. 

She was about to say something, when suddenly, the tickling started again, only now the invisible fingers were wiggling up UNDER her sweater top and touching her bare back. She burst out laughing again. Everyone turned and stared, even the fat man wearing the straw hat couldn't resist looking back to see what was happening. She heard the deaf, old woman in the seat mutter to herself as to how "rude" young people could be, "laughing at the elderly like that."

Whatever anger Catrina had left in her was now snuffed out completely. She was genuinely terrified. She bit down on her lower lip and squeezed her eyes shut, unable to do anything else. Her phantom attacker was making a bold move this time, a deliberate tickling of her upper body, and right against her flesh - her back, shoulders, stomach, around her bra -- she was excruciatingly ticklish all over, so it really didn't matter where they touched, it was enough to bring her into hysterics! 

She laughed even louder and squirmed, then she felt something that made her gasp and hold her breath. It must have been a man and he must have been standing directly behind her because she felt the presence of a large erection against crease in her butt, pushing intrusively against her capris and panties. He was tickling her and rubbing up against her at the same time! 

The people around her moved away as much as they could. Some tried their best to ignore what was happening, some stared in disbelief, uncertain as to what they should do. 

Catrina didn't know what to do either. She couldn't move, she couldn't even speak through all the laughter. The fingers where now out of her sleeveless top and tickling a torturous path around and around the elastic armholes, occasionally stretching the material back to get to more skin. She cackled helplessly and could still do nothing but grip the straps high above even tighter as the feather-light touches settled right into those deep, smooth hollows under her arms.

That was her worst spot, and her attacker seemed to know this for he was tickling without restraint now, fingernails tormenting her vulnerable pits relentlessly with gentle, yet madly ticklish strokes. He was pressed up hard against her now from behind, and the rocking of the train only seemed to add to this man's sexual excitement as his erection grew harder and harder against her swaying body. 

Through all her laughing and squirming, Catrina heard the moaning in her ear and felt the warm breath of a man overcome with arousal. She still hadn't seen her attacker though. Either he really WAS invisible or he had a clever way of hiding his fingers from her view. 

And why wasn't anyone on the train stopping him? 

They just stared and whispered amongst themselves as if there was something wrong with her. A man offered the woman with the book a portion of his seat so she wouldn't have to stand next to the crazy woman giggling hysterically.

The tickler didn't seem to care at all what the other passengers thought, and strangely, a part of her didn't seem to care either. All those times when her boyfriend tickled her, Catrina could hardly stand it, because it was like torture for someone as ticklish as she was. Now a complete stranger was doing this to her, a phantom with unseen hands that seemed to know exactly where to touch her, and how, rendering her completely helpless to fight them off. 

She kept her eyes shut and squeezed the straps above her with a death grip. She began to feel the tickler's body rubbing up and down on her as his fingers roamed and fluttered over her body. She realized that he was getting off on the sounds of her tortured laughter and the ravaging of her smooth flesh. There was a faint moan from behind, followed by the little jerks and bumps of his male organ right up against her buttocks. 

Then finally Catrina had enough. She managed to drum up all the strength and will she had left and screamed, 

"S-Stop tickling me!" 

The tickling stopped. Then magically, Catrina regained the use of her arms again and they dropped with such force that the bag around her shoulder slipped off and landed with a heavy thud at her feet.

She was out of breath by then from laughing so hard, and not surprisingly, her outbursts had drawn everyone's full and undivided attention, even a few people in the next car were trying to peer through the window to see what all the commotion was about. Then the train came to its next stop. The doors opened. 

"H-he was tickling me," Catrina finally cried out to anyone that would listen and pointed behind her. "That man . . . didn't you see it?" 

All eyes moved past her, and when Catrina finally spun around to face her attacker, there was no one there. A large group of passengers were exiting the train at the back. He must have disappeared into that crowd.

"I didn't see anyone," the woman with the book looked at Catrina as if she were crazy. Everyone else nodded their heads in agreement, some just stared blankly.

"But . . . but he WAS there."

"Easy, miss," the fat man tried to consol her. "This heat must be getting to you. Why don't you sit down here and relax?"

"It ain't the heat," some teenager blurted in. "The girl's trippin' on drugs. Just look at her eyes . . ." 

"People like you shouldn't be allowed to ride this train," the deaf old woman screeched from her seat.

There were other comments, but Catrina didn't want to hear them. She picked up her bag and found an empty seat, her face still flushed red with embarrassment. She WAS attacked, but why didn't anyone want to admit it? Were they too ashamed because they didn't help? It didn't seem possible though. Not on a train full of over 50 people.

Maybe the fat man was right. Maybe it WAS the heat. 

Most of the passengers turned back to their own business after Catrina sat down, but she could still hear rumblings and quiet laughter among some of the others. She looked silently out the window, and tried to ignore them. With a short jerk, the train began to move again. There were only a few more stops left on the E-Line before reaching her destination. She didn't care where the next one was though. She was going get off and soon as she could and wait for another, then try to forget the whole incident.

Suddenly, through the window, she saw a strange-looking man on the platform emerge from the crowd. He seemed to come out of nowhere, then looked right up at her . . . and smiled. Catrina felt her heart almost skip a beat. He was thin, very pale, almost sickly in appearance, yet his eyes were dark and powerful, and he had a wide, toothy grin. Then she noticed a little dark spot on the front of his jeans. 

The other people on the platform didn't seem to give him much notice. A man carrying a briefcase passed right in front of him . . . no . . . he passed THROUGH him! Catrina blinked her eyes several times in disbelief. She really WAS going crazy!

The ghostly figure seemed amused by her reaction and laughed, then he raised one hand and wriggled his long fingers, as if to mimic the act of tickling someone. The train moved slowly along the platform until he was out of sight, but she still heard the faint sound of his voice shouting after her, 

"I'll get you GOOD next time!" 

Catrina shuddered. 

--------------------------

Author's Note: Catrina Anderson never took much interest in reading the daily newspapers. If she had, she might have recalled a tragic story printed on the back pages of the Rocky Mountain News, just a few days prior to her own experience described above. The Rocky reported that a local man, Thomas Boyd, had been struck and killed by a light rail train, apparently, as he stepped off a platform to cross the tracks. It wasn't the first time a grisly accident like this occurred along the RTD Light Rail, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but there was an interesting side note to this particular story. 

Mr. Boyd, The Rocky learned, had a police record. It was nothing serious, but certainly worth mentioning. Three separate criminal complaints were filed against him, and all from women described as "young and attractive." Each victim claimed Mr. Boyd had sexually assaulted her in public. To be more specific, he tickled her. One of the incidents occurred in a crowded elevator, and the other two women, Catrina would have been interested to know, were attacked while riding the E-Line.

End



Tickled Pink



'I see you're in the paper again, Ms Brune.'

From behind the concierge's desk Davy Markham held up a copy of the local community newspaper with a front page photograph of Josephine Brune ceremoniously planting a tree in front of the new West City Early Childhood Education Centre. 'I've got a couple of spare copies here if you'd like them.'

Ms Brune smiled a wry smile. 'Thank you, Davy, but they delivered about a hundred copies to the Council office.'

Davy's enthusiasm was visibly dampened. 'Oh. So I guess you won't need another one then.'

'No. But thank you for the kind thought.' Ms Brune had a reputation for being a bit severe, but she was always courteous.

'That's OK,' Davy said.

'I don't suppose there was ...' Josephine Brune hesitated, 'a parcel at all? For me? Courier?'

Davy shook his head. 'No, not today, Ms Brune. Were you expecting something?'

Ms Brune frowned ever so slightly. 'Umm ... perhaps tomorrow,' she said. ' I'm not sure how long it usually takes.'

As Josephine Brune – former MP, current chair of the council's Development Board, and board member of three of the country's top ten corporations – waited for the lift that would take her to her seventh floor apartment, Davy nevertheless had one more look through the packages and parcels awaiting collection by the residents of Greenwood Towers. 'No. Definitely nothing here,' he said, eventually.

'Oh well, as I say, perhaps tomorrow. Goodnight, Davy.'

An hour or so earlier, however, there had been a parcel for Jack Braine in Apartment 2D. Jack had arrived home from a frustrating day in the English Department at the university. Thursdays were always a bit manic, but this one had been especially so. A lecture at nine, another at eleven. Then the weekly departmental meeting that had gone on and on. And just as Jack was about to leave for the day, he had fallen into a long and somewhat pointless debate with one of the new IT support people.

'Parcel for you, Jack,' Davy had called out as Jack walked in the front door and strode towards the lift. 'Bit early for Christmas. Your birthday perhaps?'

Jack had been half expecting a book that he had bought from Amazon. But this parcel didn't seem like a book from Amazon. Or at least it wasn't in the normal Amazon packaging. It was just a plain brown box with a hand-written address label. Also, it didn't feel heavy enough to be a book.

'No, you still have a few months to save for my birthday, Davy.'

Just as Jack entered his apartment his phone rang and so he placed the anonymous parcel on the small hall table and there it remained for the next hour or so while he took the phone call, initiated a couple of calls of his own, and then set about preparing some supper.

Different people open parcels in different ways. Some people attack the top; some attack an end; and some just do whatever it takes to separate the wrapping from the contents. Jack Braine preferred a more considered approach. He looked for the weakest point: the point at which the carefully-considered intervention of a sharp knife would have the greatest effect for the least effort.

Turning the parcel upside down, he found just what he was looking for: two of the four cardboard flaps that formed the base of the box met beneath a single strip of packaging tape. Jack ran the tip of a well-honed Sabatier utility knife along the join. Two seconds; job done.

The first thing that Jack saw when he carefully lifted the cardboard flaps was bubble wrap. Lots of bubble wrap. A veritable cloud of bubble wrap. And somewhere deep inside the cloud, something purple.

He lifted the purple-centred cloud from the box and, with another judicious nick from the utility knife, sliced through the small piece of tape that was keeping the layers of bubble wrap from unravelling. 

According to the label attached to the purple phallic-shaped object at the centre of the cloud, the larger of the two objects in the box was a Rabbit Habit vibrator – 'the favourite choice of the quality-conscious'. The smaller object was a shrink-wrapped three-pack of AA batteries.

Some sort of joke? In a few months' time, Jack was scheduled to deliver a paper on the rise and rise of erotic literature for women. Maybe one of his colleagues was having a little joke at Jack's expense.

After contemplating the Rabbit Habit for a few moments, Jack looked once more into the empty brown cardboard box to discover that it was not, in fact, quite empty. There was some sort of folded, printed piece of paper. And, on retrieving and unfolding the piece of paper, he discovered that it was a printed invoice/packing slip addressed to J Brune, Apartment 7D, etc. He looked again at the hand-written label on the outside of the box and nodded. Yes, it had been an easy enough mistake to make. The hand-written 7 did look a bit like a 2. And Brune did look a bit like Braine.

Jack smiled to himself at the thought of prim and proper strait-laced Josephine Brune, sprawled in a chair or on the edge of a bed, her knickers down around her ankles and the skirt of her designer business suit pulled up around her waist while she simultaneously serviced both her vagina and her clitoris with the two-headed buzzing purple monster.

And then, having enjoyed the thought, he set about recreating the bubble wrap-cloud and putting it back into the box. That done, it was just a matter of placing a new piece of packaging tape precisely over the piece that had earlier been so neatly slit, and the package was returned to its pristine state.

'There,' he said to himself. 'No one will ever be any the wiser.'

Early the following morning, while Davy was standing out on the pavement, remonstrating with a van driver who had parked in the No Stopping area, Jack surreptitiously slipped the repacked package into the wire bin behind the concierge's desk and briskly strode off in the direction of the university – but not without bidding Davy a cheery 'Good morning' as he went by.

It was shortly after 5pm when Jack returned. Davy was at the door, cloth in hand, industriously cleaning smudged fingerprints off the glass. 'What's the point of having a handle, eh?' Davy said. 'No one bothers to use it.'

Jack smiled. 'Oh well ... gives you something to do, Davy.'

'Oh, I've got plenty to do, don't you worry about that.'

Jack walked into the lobby and pressed the lift call button. Fifteen seconds later, the lift arrived and the doors opened. Jack stepped in and was just about to press the button for the second floor when he heard Josephine Brune's voice. He stuck his hand out to stop the doors from closing. 'Perfect timing, Josephine,' he said.

'Thank you, Jack.' 

Ms Brune was just about to join Jack in the lift when Davy called out.

'Oh, Ms Brune ... the parcel you were expecting ... it must have arrived this morning.' And Davy raced to the desk and reached over to grab the parcel and hand it to a slightly uneasy-looking Josephine Brune.

'Umm ... thank you,' she said. 'Yes.'

Jack waited for the doors to close and then pressed the buttons for the second and seventh floors. 'Your birthday?' Jack enquired, glancing at the parcel.

'Umm ... no. It's probably just something that I ordered. For the kitchen,' Josephine added. 'You know ... a gadget. I have a bit of a weakness for kitchen gadgets.' And she laughed. Nervously.

The lift stopped at the second floor and Jack stepped out. 'Well ... enjoy your new gadget,' he said.

'Thank you. Have a nice evening.'

'I shall do my very best,' Jack assured her.

The following day – Friday – Jack Braine and Josephine Brune again arrived home at more or less the same time. And for the second time in as many days they shared the lift.

'How was your new gadget?' Jack enquired mischievously. 'Did it perform as you hoped it would?'

For a moment or two, Josephine seemed not to know what Jack was talking about. But then ... 'Oh! Yes,' she said. 'I mean no. No, I didn't get a chance to ... umm. No.'

'Oh well, the weekend's coming up,' Jack said.

As Jack stepped out on the second floor, one of the books he was carrying under his arm – 'Tickling Pink: Tales of Self Pleasure' – fell to the floor. Jack stooped down to pick it up – but not before Josephine had a chance to quickly read the title. 'I'm working on a paper on erotica for women,' Jack explained with a cheeky grin.

'I see. Then have a nice evening,' Josephine said with an almost straight face.

The next time that Jack saw Josephine Brune was the following Monday. She was being interviewed on the 6:30 TV news. Jack was only half paying attention and so he didn't quite catch the interviewer's question. But he did catch Josephine's answer. 'Well, part of the solution,' she said, 'is a good deal more discipline.'

The interview was filmed in what appeared to be some dark-but-opulent wood-panelled room, and Josephine was wearing a rather severe high-collared jacket of some sort. Jack thought that she looked like a particularly stern Victorian governess. A good deal more discipline indeed, he thought. But then he thought of her astride her new purple 'kitchen gadget'.

An hour or so later, just as Jack was drawing the cork from a bottle of wine, there was a knock on the door. Jack put the wine down on the kitchen counter and went to the door. Even before he opened it, he knew that it was likely to be his neighbour, Richard. Richard had a sixth sense when it came to freshly-opened bottles of wine. But it wasn't Richard. It was Josephine Brune.

'Oh. Hello,' Jack said. 'Come in.'

'No. I won't stay,' Josephine said. 'I just came down to give you this.' And she handed Jack a book-shaped parcel wrapped in brown paper. 'I think Davy needs glasses. He doesn't seem to be able to tell the difference between a 7 and a 2.'

Jack smiled and studied the hand-written address. 'Well, I guess the 2 does look a little like a 7. Not a lot like a 7, but a little.' He turned the parcel over and glanced quickly at the sender's address. 'Oh, good. This'll be the Betty Dodson book I've been waiting for.'

Josephine frowned slightly. 'Betty Dodson? What's her speciality? Cookbooks or crime? I can't imagine you as a romance reader.'

'Sex,' Jack said, deviating from his normal modus operandi and tearing the wrapping off the parcel. 'Betty Dodson was one of the first women to really talk openly about masturbation.' He held up the book for Josephine to see.

'Sex for One,' Josephine said. 'Goodness me. That's ... umm ... very ... umm ... to the point.'

'Her original book,' Jack said.

The normally-cool-and-calm Josephine seemed more than a little flustered. 'For your ... umm ... project, I assume?'

'Sort of,' Jack said. 'A bit of background reading.' Jack flicked through a few pages. 'Ah, yes, look! Dodson started out as a visual artist and she's quite well known for her vulva drawings. What do you think?' Jack turned the book, open at a page displaying a rather good and detailed pencil drawing of a vulva, towards the flustered Ms Brune. (Jack was suddenly enjoying himself.)

'Oh, goodness me,' Josephine said, quickly covering her eyes. (Although Jack noted that she still managed to peep between her fingers.)

'By the way, I've finished reading Tickling Pink if you'd like to borrow it. It's quite interesting. Although I must say that some of the writing is truly atrocious. Look, are you sure you won't join me in a glass of wine?'

'Oh no, I really must ....'

'It won a gold at the recent international wine awards.'

'Well ... no ... I shouldn't ....

'Just a small one?'

Josephine looked at her watch. 'Oh well, perhaps just a taste.'

Jack was pretty sure that Josephine had already had 'just a taste' before she had arrived at his door. But he smiled, guided her inside, and closed the door behind her before she had a chance to change her mind. 'Have a seat. And I'll just find some glasses.'

'Gosh. It's nice and warm in here, isn't it?'

'Yes,' Jack said. 'It was a bit chilly when I got home. I turned the heating up. I'll turn in down again.'

'No, no. Not on my account. But I might just take my jacket off.'

'Please do,' Jack said. 'Jacket. Skirt. Just make yourself comfortable.'

Josephine smiled – nervously – but removed her jacket anyway.

Jack took a couple of large long-stemmed wine glasses from the cupboard in the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of wine from the kitchen counter, and found a small space for the wine and the glasses on the otherwise-book-covered coffee table.

'I saw you on TV,' Jack said.

'Yes. A bit of a budget blow out. I'm afraid that the management team has not been quite as responsible as it might have been. And the media just loves anything to do with public money.'

Jack nodded. 'Oh. So that's what it was about. I just caught the bit where you were saying that the solution was more discipline.' Jack smiled.

'Well, it is,' Josephine replied in a rather matter of fact way.

Jack poured a couple of generous sloshes of wine. 'I had visions of you putting some of the miscreants across your knee.' 

'It's probably what some of them need,' Josephine said.

Again Jack smiled. 'Well, cheers,' he said, raising his glass in a toast.

'Yes. To your very good health.' Josephine took a sip of the award-winning wine. 'Goodness. This is good, isn't it? Yes. I can see why it was awarded a gold medal.'

The aforementioned Tickling Pink was lying on the table immediately in front of where Josephine was sitting. She tapped it with the well-manicured forefinger of her left hand. 'When you say that some of the writing is truly atrocious ....'

'Oh, just bad writing,' Jack said. 'Mind you, I understand that Fifty Shades of Grey is unlikely to win any prizes for its prose, but that hasn't held it back, has it? Take it. Read it. See what you think. I'd be interested in a woman's opinion. It is, after all, aimed primarily at women. And maybe I'm just being a stuffy academic.'

Josephine said nothing for a moment or two, preferring instead to take another sip of her wine.

'This new book,' Josephine said cautiously, 'the Betty Dodson ... you say it's about ....' She hesitated.

'Masturbation,' Jack said, helpfully.

'Umm ... yes. A rather limited market I would have thought.'

'Oh, I don't know,' Jack said, with a wry smile. 'From what I've been discovering since I started this project, I think there are any number of women out there who are interested in ... shall we say "improving their technique".'

Jack wasn't sure whether it was the temperature of the room, or the wine, or the topic of conversation, but the normally cool and calm Ms Brune was definitely starting to look a little flushed. He put another splash of wine into her glass anyway.

Josephine smiled. 'You'll have me tiddly,' she said.

'Never,' Jack replied in mock horror. 'Whatever would the gentlemen of press say?'

Josephine giggled lightly. 'Well, fortunately, I don't think they'd believe it,' she said. 'And, anyway, my main would-be tormentor is a woman: that Mary Williams. I'd love to put her across my knee.' And then she suddenly realised what she had said. 'Well, you know what I mean.' And she giggled again.

Jack just smiled.

As the level in the wine bottle went down, Josephine became gigglier and gigglier and the conversation became more and more risqué. 

'Erotica for Women. Is that the title of your paper, your ... umm ... study?' 

'Well, I haven't exactly decided on a title yet,' Jack said. 'But that's the thrust of it, yes.'

Josephine frowned. 'So how do you decide what is erotica and what is ... well, you know ...?'

'No.'

'Well ... porn,' she said, dropping her voice.

Jack laughed. 'Oh, I think you just know. Erotica is erotica and porn is porn. I suspect that text-based works are almost always erotica – sometimes not very good erotica, but erotica nevertheless. But with visual works, it is perhaps not quite so easy to draw the line. I mean, I think most people would class a piece of low-production video of two people disinterestedly fucking, lots of close-ups of an oversized penis disappearing into a gaping vagina, as porn. But, that said, within the porn genre there are definitely some works that are leaning towards erotica. What do you think? Where do you draw the line?'

'Well ... I suppose ...' Josephine said. And then she suddenly blushed and giggled. 'You know, I can't believe that we're having this conversation. It must be the wine. It's making me feel a little bit naughty.'

'In that case ... a little more wine, I think,' Jack said. 'Don't worry. I can always spank you if you get out of control.'

Josephine's eyes lit up. 'Ooh! Then perhaps I should just get out of control.' And she held out her glass for Jack to replenish it.

'So ... you enjoy a good spanking, do you?' 

Josephine tipped back her head and looked down her nose at Jack in mock indignation. 'And what kind of a question is that to ask a lady?' 

'I just wondered,' Jack said, casually.

Josephine smiled. 'Well, you may have to just keep wondering.'

Jack reached out and took Josephine's wine glass and placed it on the table. 'Or ...' he said, 'I could just put you across my knee.'

Josephine giggled. 'You wouldn't dare.'

'Oh, but I would,' Jack said.

Josephine stood up. 'Go on then,' she said. And, before she knew what was happening, that was exactly what Jack had done. 'OK, OK. Only joking,' Josephine said, as she struggled to get up. But Jack was too strong for her.

'I think this skirt will have to go,' he said. Fortunately, the zip fastener was right under his hand.

Again, Josephine protested. But, again, it was no use. And soon Jack had unzipped the skirt and he was working it down over Josephine's shapely hips.

'No! Stop it!' Josephine shouted (in between girlish giggles of delight).

'Nice knickers,' Jack said, caressing Josephine's silky clad buttocks. 'But I think they will have to go too.'

Josephine continued to protest and squirm and giggle. But it only postponed the inevitable.

'See what happens to girls who get out of control,' Jack said. And he gave her a sharp smack.

'Ouch! That's not fair. I haven't been bad. Not really,' she protested.

'That's not what I've heard,' Jack said – and he smacked her again.

'Ouch! It's your fault,' Josephine said. 'You shouldn't have given me so much wine.'

Smack!

'Ouch! And don't blame me. You were the one who started taking about dirty books. Not me,' she said.

'Purely a professional interest,' Jack said.

Smack!

By the time Jack had given the prone Josephine six or seven sharp smacks, her buttocks were beginning to get quite red. 'That's a nice pink bottom you have,' he said. 'Nice and warm, too. So, what do we think now? Do we think that you might enjoy a bit of a spanking?'

Josephine giggled. 'Perhaps.'

'It does seem so,' Jack said. 'Why don't we explore some possibilities? Shall we do that?'

'I get the feeling that you're going to anyway,' Josephine said. Mixed in with the giggles, her voice had now taken on an almost purring quality.

Jack slipped his hand between Josephine's upper thighs – the same upper thighs that Josephine spread – just slightly – to make Jack's task easier. And then, with the tips of his fingers, he teasingly brushed her damp, fur-covered pudendum. 'Mmm. What have we here?' he said.

Josephine squirmed on Jack's lap and thrust her hips towards his hand. 'Oh, yes,' she murmured. 

Slowly, softly, deliberately, Jack caressed the outer lips of Josephine's vulva. 'Mmm. There seems to be a hidden valley between these puffy pulchritudinous peaks. I think further exploration is called for.' And he slipped his index finger into Josephine's slippery groove.

'Oh, yes,' she said again.

'And what's this? Do I detect a secret tunnel?' Jack's finger toyed briefly with the slippery entrance to Josephine's vagina before plunging all the way in. 'Very nice,' he said. 'But I think a job for two.' And he deftly introduced a second finger.




Tickled Pink



But it was not Josephine's secret tunnel that was the true object of Jack's search. No, the true object of his search was a little further along the hidden valley. 'Ah ha! Or perhaps voila!' he said, as his finger found Josephine's already firm clitoris. 'Pink just ready for the tickling.' And, for the next ten minutes or so, that is exactly what he did, while Josephine, still prone, but now with her legs opening and closing and flying about, giggled and squeaked and squealed with delight until, eventually, her whole body shuddered and she clamped her thighs about Jack's busy fingers and breathlessly beseeched him to stop.

For a few minutes, they just stayed where they were: Josephine catching her breath; Jack contemplating the beautifully sculpted (somewhat reddened) buttocks of his strait-laced upstairs neighbour. And then Jack helped the knickerless Josephine back to her feet and handed her her wine glass. 

'There's only a little bit left,' he said. 'And it would be a pity to waste it.' 



Tickled Pink



Author's note: this story follows characters first introduced in "Crafting the Perfect Story," this is designed to be read alone or for added enjoyment, in conjunctions with their first story.

*****

Who hasn't seen those too good to be true adds before? "Increase your penis size by 5x in just 5 weeks." "Hot singles in your area want to have sex with you—now!" "3 simple tricks for female ejaculation." Or James' personal favorite, "This one line will make any girl want to drop her panties." 

"Yeah right, maybe if that line was 'I'm a billionaire,'" he scoffed to himself. James actually didn't have too much trouble with the ladies and had been happily married to his wonderful high school sweet heart for a couple of years now.

But, being an author meant "writer's block," it comes with the territory, and often James found himself aimlessly surfing the net to give his brain a break and his subconscious a chance to come up with something. However, this afternoon, James' attention was caught by an ad he'd never seen before:

"Hypnotism: click here and in five minutes or less we'll prove to you our kit works."

"I've got five to spare; this oughta be good, but I'm timing them," he thought to himself. "Okay, it is 1:25pm, here goes nothing." Click!

The only thing that popped up on his screen was the following message: "Thank you for your business! As per your request, we've charged your MasterCard. In two to three business days your kit should arrive."

"Huh," asked James, as if snapping out of a daze, "what just happened?" That was when he noticed the clock on the bottom right of his screen read 1:30. "No way. I just clicked a second ago." Was it a virus that advanced his computer's clock five minutes? But, checking the wall clock confirmed the time; James had to conclude five minutes really had passed. 

"Wait, charged my card?!" exclaimed James as he logged into his online banking and discovered an order of $100 had just been placed to an Imports Limited. "Was I just hypnotized into buying their product?" It was actually the only reasonable conclusion he could come up with. "If this is for real, that is a pretty solid business model," reluctantly admitted James. 

"Well, I'll keep an eye on this and see how it plays out and make sure I wasn't scammed." He'd hate to have to explain to Andrea (his wife) he was bamboozled out of a hundred bucks by a flashing online ad. 

For the next three days, James diligently checked his account to make sure there were no fraudulent charges being made and to his relief there weren't. Now the question became "would they actually send anything, and what would it be?" 

"Yesterday was a disappointment, but maybe today," hoped James as he grabbed his keys out of the dish and headed for the garage. "Honey, I'm headed for the post office," he shouted as he closed the door.

Andrea eagerly put down her lesson planning for 10th grade Honors English. It was her chance: James was off to the post office again; in fact, he'd been pretty excited about getting the mail the last couple of days. She raced up stairs to his "writing room" and powered up his computer. It was time for her secret voyeuristic fetish. 

Since it was his personal computer, he never bothered to clear the history, probably assuming Andrea would use the main one if she needed a computer. She loved seeing what he looked at up here in his room—by himself. This week's sites included: a science fiction convention, Casting Couch Amateurs, stereo gear, teen's pleasuring themselves, music CDs, and first time anal girls.

"Yeah right," chuckled Andrea to herself considering the idea of some girl stuffing a porn sized dick up her ass for the first time and not finding herself balled up crying. "...ridiculous, oh well, he can have his fantasies. Ah, now here's something..." She was pleased to find something out of the ordinary; it'd been months since discovering anything interesting. "Imports Limited? I wonder what they sell." 

Then everything made sense, "He must've gotten me a gift and wants to intercept it in the mail so he can surprise me—awe!" As she smiled to herself, pleased he still did cute stuff like this from time to time; curiosity got the best of her and she just had to know what she was getting, so she clicked on the link.

"Thank you for your business! As per your request, we've charged your Visa. In 2-3 business days your kit should arrive."

Before she even had time to consider what happened, Andrea heard the garage door and didn't want to explain being caught sticking her nose where it didn't belong. So, she quickly logged out, shut down, and snuck out right as James was coming inside the house. 

Disappointment was an understatement, "Where is this 'kit' they were talking about?" James wondered to himself. All they sent was a little manila envelope. Opening it didn't yield much else; there was a single sheet of paper and a small sealed letter with the warning: Important! Read Directions Before Opening. 

He couldn't believe his eyes as the literature tried to explain their hypnotism system was created using Aztec inscriptions, Egyptian scrolls, portions of the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and aspects of Buddhist meditation all brought together and carefully combined. It explained that inside of the envelop was a folded piece of paper containing the correct ratios and arrangements and the reader of it would be under his control for roughly an hour or two and then not remember a thing of what transpired. There were no lasting effects and no risk of permanent damage. 

"Yep, I've been ripped off," confessed James. "But then how did they get me to buy this 'kit' in the first place?" Finally, concluding it was worth a shot before recycling it, James went in search of Andrea.

"Could it be tickets to one of my favorite bands, or maybe plane tickets to somewhere exotic, or maybe reservations for one of those languid winding train rides we've always talked about taking?" were the possibilities racing through Andrea's mind when she saw her husband approaching her in the kitchen with a letter in his hand. "What do you have there, James?" she gleefully asked.

Flying by the seat of his pants, James suggested, "Well, why don't you open it and find out?" 

As she unfolded the piece of paper and began reading, James prepped himself for ridicule; however, Andrea's face just went blank and she didn't say or do anything.

"Oh, come on, you can at least laugh at its preposterousness," suggested James.

A mechanical "Ha, ha, ha..." was all she mustered before returning to a catatonic state. 

Furling his brow, James suggested, "Pick your nose." 

As strange as it sounds, it was the first command that came to his mind, and before he could pick (no pun intended) some better way to test his theory, Andrea's finger shot up and was digging for buried treasure. "Stop it," quickly brought her hand back down. "No way, that silly piece of paper actually worked," he said aloud.

He was woefully underprepared for this opportunity. He hadn't given any thought to what he'd have her do under hypnotism since he assumed it wouldn't work. How far could he take this became his consideration. 

"Twist your nipples," was James's next test. By God, if she didn't reach up with both hands and give each a good spin. "Harder." She reached up again and gave them a more vigorous turn. "Harder!" This time not only did she grab hold extra tight, but used her arms in conjunction with fingers and wrists to really give them a good tweaking, causing an involuntary "Oww!" He knew he was going to be running extemporaneously from here on out, but he was sure whatever he came up with would be great!

"Turn around and bend over the countertop," was James's next command assuming, if anything, it kept her unnerving and guilt inducing blank stare away and would set them up for any number of adventures he'd soon think of. Wanting to triple check the depth of her trance, James gave her ass a few echoing slaps which did nothing more than push her temporarily forward eliciting an audible "oomph." 

"Drop your drawers...slowly," said James as he stepped back to enjoy the full show. Gently she hooked her thumbs into her low-rise cotton Soffe gym shorts and gradually pulled them down and over her protruding butt revealing a bright yellow smiley face backed by pink, grinning nearly as wide as he was. 

He loved the fact her smaller frame still fit into juniors' section underwear. They had the brightest colors and best designs, a lot more fun than women's and a lot less serious and more playful than the really "sexy" underwear adults were supposed to wear. 

"Your panties, drop 'em, quick!" impatiently added James. Hardly before he finished his sentence, they'd joined the heap at her feet. Normally people step out of their removed clothes, but she perfectly stood there, her shorts and undies piled around her ankles. 

Her beautiful perky little butt was sticking out, still a little red around the cheeks from the spanking. Parting her crack, he traced his finger softly between, meandering over her puckered hole, then between her pussy lips before finding her clit. With that concluding stimulation, she let out a reflexive "ah..." 

"Turn around and rest against the counter." As she spun around, James delighted in seeing her only in a midriff exposing baby-t, her pubic area shaved bare leading his eyes down to the beginning of her slit. "Teasingly take off your shirt," said James as he caught a dining chair behind him and spun it around to sit in, desiring to not miss a moment of this unfolding show. 

Folding the bottom hem of her shirt over her hands, Andrea began to bring it up exposing the rest of her flat tummy, but divulging only the bottom portion of her matching pink and yellow smiley faced adorned bra. "Show me your tits!" suddenly directed James as he sat chomping at the bit. Rapidly pulling her t-shirt the rest of the way off, Andrea stood before him nearly naked, save only for her bra preserving her last bit of privacy. 

"Finish stripping," said James leaning back, ready to relish this final move. Reaching behind and unclasping her bra, then swiping the straps off her shoulder, Andrea let it slip before catching it, keeping her bare nipples concealed as she swayed her hips back and forth. The impulsively rising form in his pants begged James to increase the pace of this performance, but his higher reasoning concluded, "Patience is a virtue." 

Eventually she let it drop leaving herself completely naked in front of his assessing gaze. The nipples on her small perky breasts were still erect from her vigorous twisting causing them to be puffy around the edges and pointy in the center, just the way he loved 'em.

Undoubtedly he wanted to take her right then and there with the effect her striptease had on him, but he knew sex included a messy finale which would be difficult to clean up and conceal; failure to remove all of the evidence of his unsanctioned advances would surely clue Andrea into thinking something had transpired without her permission or knowledge. That scenario was unacceptable; James was sure she'd already beat him senseless if she knew he'd taken advantage of her and done what he'd done so far.

But that didn't stop/prevent him from becoming even hornier, and since she wouldn't notice or remember anything, he dropped his pants and boxers freeing his cock from its restrictive restraints causing him to sigh in relief. Show Girls wouldn't have allowed this behavior, but Andrea sure wasn't going to object. "Can I have a lap dance, please?" asked James, still instinctively stashing his hands under his lap, so they wouldn't wander anywhere they shouldn't. 

Before she could straddle him, she had to spread her gait, giving James a glorious shot of her shaved slit and pink pussy. Once seated on his lap, she interlocked her hands behind his neck and leaned in, letting her soft tiny bosom rub across his face. Inhaling her scent, he parted his lips allowing the wet inner portion to occasionally sneak over a nipple. 

Throwing her head backwards and arching her back she mock rode his cock, moaning in the process. Wrapping her legs around his back, she pinned his arms to his side before lowering her torso over his thighs and sliding her hands down his shins before catching her weight with her hands on the floor. 

She was then able to raise her pelvis and place her pussy in front of his face while swirling her hips. James had always been frustrated by the lack of light in strip clubs; he understood why, but he felt he was missing half the sights in shadows because of it. The skylight in the dining room afforded Andrea no such obfuscation, allowing James to notice how her show was causing her to involuntarily dampen. 

Getting up and turning around, Andrea bent over the counter top and used both hands to reach behind and spread her cheeks. James was able to see both her puffy lips, slightly spreading to give him a peek inside, and her tightly shut crinkled hole. His eyes were pining for her rear as she walked backwards and sat on his lap. 

Resting her hands on his bare thighs and wrapping her feet around the front two legs of his chair, Andrea caught his cock between her cheeks and pressed back until it was pinned between her flat butt and his chest. Slowly she rose and fell—fucking him with her crack. Forgetting the rules, James brought his hands up to her hips and began directing her empty thrusts; getting up and spinning, Andrea landed a moderate slap across his face before waving her finger back and forth signaling he'd performed a "no-no."

Desiring to be an active participant, James found being in the kitchen afforded him little to work with; however, he thought of a fun task for the basting brush sitting in the drying rack. Grabbing it, he directed her to "Use your hand to expose your clit." She reached down and did as he asked, using her pointer and middle finger to part her folds and leave her clit open to the elements. 

As he brushed the soft dry bristles over it, her tickled pink began to reflexively secrete fluids prepping her for the penetration that usually followed such touches. Left then right, up then down, was finally followed buy him brushing it like a snare drum. Her rapid short breaths and wobbly knees were a telltale sign she was getting close. 

"Finger fuck yourself," was his next command. Delving two fingers inside she moaned thrusting them in and out causing her to become even more inundated with juices. "Use three fingers now," continued James. With a little difficulty, Andrea managed to resume her steady pace. "Now four," impulsively updated James. Struggling with his recent revision, Andrea rearranged her fingers until the tips were aligned in a square, but noticeably spreading in diameter back to her first knuckles; without a choice, she carried on. 

Despite how much he would've loved to have seen her struggle trying, James decided to not have her futilely try stuffing her whole hand inside. While he was pondering what was next, James had Andrea seductively raise her glistening fingers and suck each one clean no different than if they were covered in Hot Cheeto crumbs.

Glancing at the clock, James noticed he'd already burnt half his time and concluded he had a little less than an hour before it was time to quit and cover his tracks. "But what to do now?" 

James hated zucchini right up there with cucumbers and cauliflower, so when he saw it sitting in their fruit basket mocking him with its phallic shape and comical girth, inspiration stuck. While he was washing it off, James directed Andrea to, "rub yourself and get yourself good and wet." She had no problem accomplishing her goal. 

"Place this in your vagina," directed James as he handed her the still wet wedge. Admitting to himself that even his own member couldn't match the size of this overripe squash, James wondered how she'd fair. Persistence finally caused her pussy to give way as it arduously swallowed it up as she inched it further in. A photo would have been worth a thousand words and a thousand jerk offs as she stood there with a food item stuffed so tightly inside of herself it couldn't slip out. 

"Fuck yourself with it," was James' next idea, and with each diligent thrust Andrea let out an "oh, oh, oh." Even if she wasn't cognizant of it, James could tell her body was beginning to really enjoy this depravity as the poor zucchini was being coated in her love juices, to the point she struggled maneuvering it without it slipping from her grip. Glancing at the clock, James knew he had time for one more move, and he nearly dismissed his first thought as too kinky. But his better judgment took hold and told him to go for it and get his $100 out of money's worth out of this 'kit.' 

James was impressed by the length of the zucchini that was coated in her glistening juices, so he wondered how she'd soon fair. "Bend back over the counter, reach behind, and stick it in your ass," said James wondering just what she'd do when she encountered a task she couldn't complete. 

She sure tried, it was not for lack of effort, but she failed to shove it up there, it was simply a matter of size. Frustrated she couldn't complete her directive, Andrea did the only thing her body could think of: ask for "help." Nearly busting a nut at hearing his wife ask for help sticking a zucchini up her ass, James looked both ways to make sure no one was going to catch him in the act, relieved to find they were alone, he did his best to "help her." Luckily for both of them, she'd done an excellent job of coating the squash with her lubricant, allowing him, with adequate force to actually cause it to slip past her sphincter and begin up her ass. 

She winced then whimpered as her ass stretched to the max then bore down and tried to expel the foreign object lodged up there. "Ahh!" was all she said as it finally made its way up her bowels. Feeling like he should be feeling guilty for all he'd just done to his loving loyal wife, James momentarily thought of retracting his actions (and maybe the squash); however, since he'd gone this far, he thought "what's the harm in finishing?" "Clamp down with your ass and hold it inside of you," was what he said while letting go of the produce to find it held tightly.

Taking his seat again, James directed Andrea to get on all fours and "come over here." On all fours she began to saunter over to him, swaying her narrow hips in the process. It looked like she was prairie dogging a giant green turd. As she brought her face between his legs, she looked up at him, expectantly, with those bright green eyes, her shoulder length red hair swaying forward exposing her pale neck and freckled shoulders. "Give me a blow job...and be sure to swallow," requested James, "Oh, and when I climax you do too." 

Resting on her knees and sitting up, she spread her legs enough to allow her hand in between them lowering her butt in the process 'til the end of the zucchini touched the floor. Any amount that had slid out was now pushed back in and each movement her body made, up then down, let the zucchini nearly escape before reentering. James couldn't tell if this was an intentional arrangement she'd made or simply the way their bodies were situated. Andrea did always enjoy something stuffed inside whenever she was rubbing her clit. He didn't know what would crack first under pressure—that poor squash or her tiny 'lil ass. 

Each slide of her pressed lips over his cock stretched her asses' pressed ring over the veggie dildo, eliciting an uncomfortably rhythmic "argh," reminding James just how far he'd gone. With one hand furiously swirling over her engorged clit and her empty pussy leaking lube down her legs, Andrea was left with only one to balance herself as her legs wiggled and weakened. Andrea instinctively knew if she lost balance when her rapidly building orgasm hit, his cock would hit the back of her throat. To save herself before it was too late, Andrea sucked with such force she nearly pulled James' cum straight out of his balls. 




Tickled Pink



James lost control and doused her mouth with his seed. Once he groaned and she felt his first splash hit the back of her throat and fall back on her tongue, her hypnotized body realizing she'd held up her end of the bargain and allowed itself to slip over the edge and let wave after wave of repressed 'gasm wash over her straining body. The cum filling her mouth muffled her moans and stifled her screams of pleasure. 

Once they were both drained, James noticed the violating vegetable now on the ground. Her own orgasm had caused her to contract with such ferocity that she'd literally squished the upper half of the squash allowing it to then slip free. "God, imagine if that had been my cock up there," wondered James both in awe and fear. 

After wiping his spilled mess off her chin and chest and her own juices off her inner thigh, James told her to get dressed and come into the home theater room. He piled some of her grading and lesson planning on the end table, along with a mostly empty bottle of wine and inserted one of her favorite movies into their Blu-Ray player and flipped on the TV before leaving the room. He hoped she'd wake naturally and create some sort of acceptable story to explain her situation. 

...

Andrea awoke to find herself on the couch, in front of the TV, watching the Bourne Identity, one of her favorite movies. Noticing the bottle and pile of papers, she figured, "I must've gotten a little too buzzed while blowing off some steam and then fallen asleep, but I don't even remember opening this bottle or starting this film. Gosh, I must be exhausted." 

She also decided she must've been sitting funny because of how sore her ass was. It wasn't so uncommon for her to fall asleep half way through a movie, but it was strange to not remember even starting it. The really funny taste the wine had left in her mouth was also strange. "I've been working too hard on that sophomores' honors class," she concluded to herself.

The next day Andrea asked "Hey James, what happened to that zucchini; I was going to make some bread?" still feeling like she'd crapped out a brick the night before.

"Oh, it went bad," hesitantly answered James.

"Really?" questioned Andrea since she'd only bought it a couple of days ago—in its prime.

"Yeah, it was all slimy and squishy and it smelled funny," said James, barely able to stifle his laugh.

Dismissing the perplexing produce peculiarity, Andrea began thumbing through the mail she'd casually picked up earlier that day. "Imports Limited," she mumbled to herself holding up a manila envelope, temporarily wondering why that sounded so familiar. Her memories of its importance felt a little foggy, but finally it came back to her. "Oh yeah, that weird website, James never did get me anything from it," she grumbled to herself. "So, what did they send me?" she asked herself before gingerly (her ass still hurt for whatever reason) sneaking upstairs to open it in private. 

"I wonder what the sick and perverted things James'd have me do if he had one of these kits?" pondered Andrea. But, she didn't really have to worry because there'd be no way James would risk $100 on such an unsure deal.

After reading the envelopes' ludicrous contents, she just had to get James' opinion on this obvious scam. "Hey, Honey, could you read this for me and tell me what you think?" Assuming it was another one of her assignments she wanted him to proof, he gladly took it and checked it over. When he didn't respond, Andrea, asked, "Well, what do you think of it?"

"What do you want me to think about it?" he answered with a monotone voice and vacant stare.

"Huh...?" Andrea thought for a split second before considering it was possibly a legitimate product and had actually worked.

Andrea looked back at James. It crossed her mind that maybe James was playing a mean trick on her, so she decided to test it out. "James, go upstairs and put on the bra and panties you got me for Christmas." If James was joking, there was no way he would follow through with this thought Andrea.

Immediately, James turned around and walked upstairs. Andrea tracked his footsteps overhead as he went down the hallway, entered their room, walked through their master bathroom and into their walk-in closet. It was silent for a minute, and then Andrea heard the footsteps coming back across the floor. "There is no way he is doing this," Andrea said aloud with disbelief. She walked over and stood at the bottom of the stairs to see James when he rounded the corner to come down. 

As soon as his body came into view Andrea burst out laughing. James had indeed found her sexy sheer bra and panty set he had gotten for her last Christmas. The 34B black and pink sheer underwire bra was stretched tightly around James's chest, and there were hollow peaks where her boobs would normally barely fill it out. The black sheer underwear left nothing to the imagination. James's whole package was barely held in by the small piece of fabric, and the little pink bow was nestled in among his tuft of pubic hair above his penis.

As James continued to come down the stairs, Andrea made a mad dash for her phone. With a fleeting thought as to how mean she was being, she snatched up her phone and pointed it at James. "James, Honey, you look beautiful," Andrea said in a sweetly sarcastic voice.

"Thanks," James said in that same monotone voice from before.

"Ok. Now I want you to turn around, look back at me, and strike a pose like you're slapping your ass." Andrea opened up Instagram and stood ready. Without hesitation, James turned around so his back was to her, looked back at the camera, and pretended to slap his ass. "Um...one more thing. With your other hand, suck on a finger, but...like...seductively." Andrea couldn't believe it. This was gold. James struck his pose and Andrea snapped the shot. She applied the "Inkwell" setting and instantly she had a black and white piece of blackmail framed in white.

"Alright," Andrea thought, "he's really hypnotized. There's no way he would've gone this far without cracking a smile if he wasn't." Looking back at her poor husband, Andrea decided to get the real show started. She said aloud, "Take off the bra and underwear and crawl over to me on your hands and knees."

After struggling with the clasp, James ditched the bra and underwear and crawled over to Andrea on all fours. Once he arrived, he looked up at her expectantly. Andrea had always been on the shy side when it came to asking for favors. She always let James decide when to go down on her, and she never kept him there longer than he wanted. 

But now, with James under her control, Andrea decided to be all she could normally not be. She undid the button on her jeans and shimmied herself out of them. They were skinny jeans, so the shimmy was far from graceful, but then, she didn't have to perform for anyone.

"James," Andrea said forcefully. He looked up at her. "Pull my underwear off with your teeth, and eat me out until I tell you to stop." James immediately latched onto the top of her paisley print hipsters and pulled them down her legs, leaving her snatch exposed. Once they were around her ankles, she stepped out of them and pushed them to the side with her foot. This time, James latched onto her clit. "Whoa!" exclaimed Andrea. 

Normally James wasn't that aggressive. She knew if she was going to last any length of time she needed to sit down. "Stop," she commanded James. In the reprieve, she walked over to the arm of the couch and nestled her butt down. "Much better," she thought to herself. "James," she spoke again, "finish what you started."

James clamped on to her hood with vigor, moving it out of the way with his tongue to expose her clit. He flicked his tongue over her mound rapidly causing it to extend further away from the hood and lips. With broad strokes of the tongue, James lapped at the juices starting to trickle down from Andrea's canal. He began to alternate sucking her clit and licking her entrance. Above, Andrea began to really get heated. James had never been this enthusiastic before. 

She threw her head back and let out a groan. "Oh, fuck that feels good!" She put her right arm on the back of the couch to steady herself, and wrapped her left arm around the back of James's head. She forced him even further into her. Lucky for him, she loved the shaved look so there was nothing to get in the way of James' manipulations.

With his head mashed into Andrea's pussy, James had nowhere to go but in. He straightened his tongue and plunged it up her, working it in and out quickly. Andrea continued to moan. She could hear him sucking and swallowing all that was flowing out of her, and she began to feel the familiar tightening. 

"James! Rub my clit in circles while you continue to suck me!" She barely got the words out before she flung her head back and groaned. The tightening was growing more intense and she could feel the orgasm building steadily. "Faster!" she shouted at James. 

He doubled his efforts and vigorously spun her clit while tongue-fucking her pussy. Andrea's orgasm erupted deep within her. She ground James's head into her to apply pressure and the rolling orgasm kept going. Wave after wave poured out of her and James had no alternative but to keep eating what she was giving.

Finally, Andrea could stand the shockwaves no longer and released James's head. "Ok James. Stop." Immediately, he pulled back his head. His chin and lips were glistening with her juices and his hair was a ruffled mess. He sat back on his heels and stared at Andrea. Looking at the clock, Andrea remembered the paper said she would have one to two hours before he would awaken. This orgasm had taken 10 minutes. "Mmm...plenty of time," thought Andrea.

"James, come with me to the shower. I need to get cleaned up and you're going to help." James stood up and trotted after Andrea like an obedient puppy to the bathroom. Once the shower was going Andrea undressed what she had left on and hopped in. 

The hot, pelting water felt fantastic on her bare skin. She stood under the water for a minute, getting her hair wet, and calming down after her orgasm. After a minute she called out, "Hey Babe, I need help soaping." Twenty seconds later the curtain was pulled back and in stepped James, naked and hypnotized.

Handing her loofa to James, she instructed him to soap her body; then she turned around so her back was to him. She heard him squeeze the grapefruit body wash onto the loofa and then felt the first swirl on her back. Slowly James worked the soap up and down her back. He then ran the loofa over her left shoulder and down her chest. She felt him take a step closer and his penis rested between the cheeks of her ass. 

He continued to soap her chest from behind and circled her left breast. He ran the loofa over her nipple and the abrasion caused her to shiver and her nipple began to lengthen. He switched the sponge to his right hand and mirrored his actions. Now both nipples were erect and Andrea sighed with contentment. 

She leaned her body back against James and tilted her head to the right. "James, kiss my neck." James immediately laid soft kisses up and down her neck. With the combination of gentle soaping and kissing, Andrea could feel herself getting wet again. She wondered what her next move should be, knowing it was now or never to get James to do what she could never ask. 

Slowly, she centered her neck and peeled James' hands off her breasts. "James, my ass needs washing." She bent forward at the waist and rested her hands on the edge of the back of the tub. She felt the loofa glide over her small, round cheeks, first the right, then the left. Once they had been thoroughly scrubbed, she felt James part her cheeks and slide the sponge up and down her crack. 

After a few strokes, she righted herself and turned around. "Wash my pussy," she commanded to James. Immediately her pussy was getting the same gentle soaping. Andrea sighed contentedly as the shower was so sensual and slow, and James was so gentle with his washing. She leaned forward and kissed his lips. Then, in his left ear she whispered, "Only because you're hypnotized." 

Andrea moved James out of the way, so she was once again in the spray of the water. She rinsed off every last bit of soap, and then turned back around to James. "Honey," she said sweetly, "fuck me, and fuck me hard." Andrea loved it when James got slightly aggressive in bed, and she loved the sound of the headboard smacking against the wall. Andrea moved in front so she was out of the line of water, bent over, and spread her legs. Immediately, she felt James's penis resting against her clit. She let her head go limp and leaned even further, placing her hands back on the edge of the tub. Then, in one thrust, she felt James ram his cock into her. 

"Ugh," she moaned, getting exactly what she wanted. "Faster! Harder!" she added. James began ramming his cock in and out of her and she had to use her muscles to not get thrown into the shower wall. With each thrust she felt James bottom out against her pussy. Once again, she felt the tightening deep in her begin. But, as she was being pounded, Andrea thought of her end game. 

"James!" she shouted between thrusts. "Don't cum in me! I want you to cum all over my ass crack!" Through the sound of the water and the thrusts, she hoped her command had been heard. After three more thrusts, all of a sudden she felt empty. She slackened her arms just as she felt James's warm seed spill over her ass. Spurt after spurt, she felt the cream coating her crack. Once it stopped she told James to turn off the water. Andrea was tired of shouting over the water, and she wanted to feel every sensation of what she was about to ask of James.

"James," she said sweetly, then realized he was going to have to do what she asked anyway and changed her tone, "lick your spunk off my ass and swallow every drop." She couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she had wanted to know what this felt like for a long time. She liked when James put his finger against her hole while fingering her, and since she was clean from the shower she didn't feel too bad about it. As for the swallowing his own cum, she did it for his edification. Unfortunately, the fact he wouldn't remember must have conveniently slipped her mind. 

Suddenly, she felt James's nose resting on her crack and the hot breath of him panting from the fucking. Without any hesitation sounds or "Are you sure babe?" she felt the first lap of his tongue. The slight pressure as his tongue ran over her hole made her shiver. "Keep it up babe," she commanded him. 

Soon there was more lapping and with each swipe she heard a swallow. She wondered briefly what James's would be thinking if he wasn't hypnotized, but then the pressure was felt once more and she groaned. She at once felt dirty and empowered. "Lick it clean slave," she heard herself say and immediately felt dominant over her blank minded husband.

Too soon the licking stopped and the last swallow was heard. She realized she didn't want it to stop. "Tongue fuck me," she commanded. She was done saying his name or asking as if he had a choice. Without a word, she felt the slight pressure of a tongue at her back entrance. Slowly it made its way further into her and she felt herself expanding ever so slightly. 

"This isn't bad," she thought to herself. Then, the insertion stopped and the tongue retreated. But, just as quickly, it darted back in. The wet tongue glided smoothly into her and she expanded a little bit more. With each thrust James's tongue was sliding a little further in. Soon she realized the tongue had reached its limit. It moved around in circles and the sensation of hot breath, wet tongue, and slight stretching made her sigh. 

Andrea let out another audible breath which James seemed to interpret as a sign to continue. He swirled and swirled and swirled, moving the tongue back and forth and in and out. He then took his tongue all the way out and licked the length of Andrea's crack. Then he dove back in. Andrea felt herself getting worked up and she couldn't believe she was feeling yet another tightening. 

"Rub my clit and keep up the sucking," she told James over her shoulder. She was starting to get slightly cold in the dripping shower, but she didn't want it to stop. However, she remembered she was on a time limit and knew her time was winding to an end. With a sad tone, she turned back around and told James to stop his ministrations. 

She thought for a second about the last thing she wanted to do while her husband was hypnotized, and she realized she'd always wanted to dominate him. Since she'd started, her courage had been rising, and she knew she wanted this last push.

"James, you're mine. Get out of the shower, go to the bedroom and lean over the side of the bed face down." James walked out and she heard his footsteps retreating to the bedroom. She took her time straightening up and sighed with contentment. She then toweled off slowly and put on her favorite scented lotion. She was feeling empowered and strong. Andrea walked with purpose to her bedroom steeling her resolve to dominate James before her time was up. 

Andrea entered the room and saw James's bare butt sticking out and his face in the covers. With confidence she strode over, ran her hand softly up and down James's back, and then landed a sharp spank to his ass. James lurched forward in bed and let out a surprised, "yip." Without hesitation she landed one, two, three more slaps in quick succession. Then she ran her hand over the hot red marks that were coming to the surface on his ass. 

She stared at the back of James's head and smiled slyly, then wound up and landed three more alternating smacks. Andrea was enjoying this. She grabbed James's hair roughly from behind and yanked his head up. Near his ear, she whispered, "You've been a bad boy James. You didn't make me cum fast enough in the shower. Tell me you're sorry and ask for my forgiveness."

"I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?" James asked in a straight tone.

"Not with that tone, I won't. Beg me. And my name is Mistress," Andrea shot back in a strong voice, while yanking harder on his hair.

"I'm sorry Mistress," James pleaded, "Can you forgive me for not making you cum fast enough in the shower?"

"I suppose," Andrea replied and letting go of his hair, flung him back face down. She stood back up and laid two more smacks on James's now scarlet behind. He lurched forward and groaned in discomfort. She swung him around suddenly and crawled up to his face. She lowered her pussy down on James' mouth, burying his nose in her heated aroma. He opened and sucked as Andrea ground harder in circles. She felt the wetness begin to flow as the adrenaline of power surged through her. Grinding harder, she could feel James begin to struggle and squirm for air. 

She lifted her face off him for a few seconds, looked down, and said, "Not good enough. Make me cum." Then she sat back on him. James picked up his sucking and twirling and licking and Andrea flung her head back in ecstasy. Her orgasm was building fast and she circled her hips on James's face. His tongue moved up and down and darted in and out of her and Andrea felt herself getting tighter and tighter. Suddenly she felt the rush. 

Her orgasm exploded through her as she squeezed James's head between her thighs. A warm feeling coursed through her and Andrea shuddered with pleasure as cum squirted from her and onto James. To keep the waves coming she thrust her pussy back and forth. She could hear James lapping at her juices, and when the pulsing died down, she sat back on shaky legs. 

James gasped for air and she saw his face was glistening with cum and her juices had been spread up and into his hair. She smiled with contentment, rose up, grabbed her husband's hardened dick and sank fully down on him. She sat there for a minute feeling his fullness. James moaned and instinctively bucked his hips. 




Tickled Pink



"Tisk, tisk, tisk," Andrea cooed and slapped James lightly across the face. She rose up off his shaft slowly and when the tip was just brushing her lips, sat back down fully. Again, James bucked up to try and get a rhythm. "Tisk, tisk, tisk," Andrea cooed again, and slapped him a little harder. "Don't move," she whispered. Slowly, and sensually she began to ride his shaft at her own pace. Slowly she would rise and forcefully she would fall. She circled her hips and rode him faster. Feeling another wave approaching, she quickly glanced at the clock and realized this was it. She knew what she wanted.

She climbed off of James and laid down on her back with her head on her pillow. "Fuck me like you mean it," she directed at James. As he got up and crawled over to her, she closed her eyes. With one quick thrust James was inside her. He pulled out quickly and rammed back in. Her head hit the headboard, but she didn't care. She loved the hard fuck. She loved the quick jabs, the hips pounding, feeling the sweat dripping off her husband's head and onto her stomach. She loved staring at him, watching his eyes squeeze shut with focus and his lips tighten as he fucked her. 

"Harder!" she yelled. The headboard smacked the wall over and over and the thuds echoed through the room. "Yes! Yes!" Andrea screamed. James pounded his dick into her faster. He grabbed one leg and straightened it up on his shoulder. Andrea was grunting with each thrust and finally, in one last push, felt her last orgasm roll out of her. She screamed from the pleasure and James continued to pound, trying to reach his own completion. 

Andrea wanted to stop him before he came, but she was too caught up and suddenly James thrust one more time and held his dick in her. She felt the warmth coat her walls and knew James had reached his second climax. They stayed in that position until Andrea lowered her leg down slowly, allowing her hips to adjust back to position. Andrea looked up at James panting as his sweat mixed with her drying juices and she smiled with sheer satisfaction. She rolled over and looked at the clock. 

Seeing how close she was to the two hours, she quickly rolled out of bed and stood on shaky legs. "Crap!" she screamed to herself and ran out of the room naked, leaving James staring blankly at the wall. She ran into his writing room and looked around frantically, feeling cum drip down her leg. "Crap, Crap, Crap!" she screamed again. There was no way James could know what just transpired, nor come out of his stupor and see her standing naked in his room with sweat and cum making a puddle on the carpet. 

Scanning the room again, she formed her plan and set to work getting the room so James wouldn't have the slightest clue. Then she ran out of the room and into the shower. She was in and out in two minutes, stopping briefly to smile at the memory of what went on there, threw on some yoga pants and a tank top and went back into the bedroom where James was still kneeling on the bed. 

After having him walk back up to his writing room and leaving a smoldering half smoked bowl next to him, she put on his favorite trippy music and was about to leave him to concoct some story explaining how he got there, when she noticed there was still a little time left on the clock. 

Andrea did have to know one thing, and she needed him to answer honestly. "Have you ever hypnotized...me?" she asked. Without a choice and without shame, remorse, or regret, James had to answer, "Yes." She wasn't shocked until she had him detail everything he made her do. After hearing the true fate of that poor squash and her once tight ass, she swore aloud, "One day the tables will be turned, and I'll get even, and you'll regret ever laying eyes on that fruit basket!"



Tickled Pink and Tortured Well



Okay, so I decided, in a drunken state, that it would be interesting if I painted my boss hot pink. I mean, he had passed out at my house, and I felt like it would be funny. Everyone from the party had gone to sleep, and there he was, completely, irresistibly vulnerable.

I work in an industry of celebrities, drugs and alcohol, so we weren't known for holding simple office Christmas parties after hours. While I personally wasn't known for using drugs, I certainly was not one to hold back on the alcohol. My eyes dashed towards a tin of paint that sat next to my half dressed boss, painting him over just felt like the thing to do. No joke.

Perhaps this wouldn't have even occurred if I had placed that tin of paint in the other room. My mother always told me to put things in their correct places, but have you ever tried to renovate an apartment on your own? At the end of a days work, you can barely take off your own shoes, let alone lug around big tins of paint!

Anyway, that's why I was walking through the office halls with a napkin covering my face. Although I admit it was difficult not to notice my bright red locks, I still didn't want him to see me. You see, when my boss woke up the next morning, he didn't seem to agree with the view that being painted pink was funny. Granted, it probably didn't help that people began to take photos of him after they woke up. Boy, I'd gotten myself into a tangle.

Of course, when I woke up I denied that it was me. But I could almost swear my boss noticed the paint on my hands before I had the sense to cover them with sleeves. Now I just had to make it to my office before he spotted me. That was as far as I had gotten with the avoidance plan, anyway. Noting it's pretty hard to completely avoid your boss in a small office as it is.

Yes! I reached my office and sneaked myself in. Breathing out felt sooo good at this point. I shook my hair out of its bun and felt the waves of red hair bounce about my shoulders. I guess shaking it out like that made me feel sexy or something. And, while it's not exactly protocol to feel sexy at work, I just preferred it that way.

I scanned my office quickly. Checking with my own eyes that everything was still in place. And it was. One desk by the back wall, One pot-plant in the corner, One chair against the wall, One chair behind the desk - well you get the picture.

"Shit!" I noticed the time and quickly locked my door. Rushing over to my desk I sat and started to prepare for the day. I just so happened to be half an hour behind all my work. Thank you, traffic! The last thing I wanted was to be called into my boss's office.

I reached down to unbuckle my heels. Two red beauties I'd purchased from an amazing op-shop. They fit perfectly, made my legs look long and most importantly, they cost next to nothing! I chucked the shoes aside and pulled out a mirror from my purse to powder my nose.

Moments later, and I admit this was a little slack, I was snoozing away. It was the dress I was wearing. Silky olive green, like a nightie, and oh-so-comfortable. I started having a dream, which was equally relaxing; where someone was caressing the soles of my feet. He was massaging them gently, at the same time humming a sweet tune as I started to slide across the room. I flew gently to the floor and my feet were placed onto a thrown.

That's when I woke up.

"Jennifer," My boss smiled down at me. He looked like he had come back from a holiday in those clothes. His White shirt and tight jeans were not business-like at all, really. I blinked a few times before it occurred to me that I was lying on the floor - my feet were tied together and propped onto my chair.

"Mr. Bolts?" I blinked again and tried to push myself up from the floor. My arms felt weak from my nap, and I was a little light-headed, but soon I pulled myself together. I realized then that my dress had half ridden up my thigh, and my boss was staring at me like a little perve! "What are you looking at?"

"A very naughty employee," he leaned back against my table and crossed his arms against his chest, "or should I say, a very naughty artist."

My eyes widened at this point. He knew it was me. Oopse. What the fuck was I meant to do now? Just sit here all pretty? I moved to stand up and then slide back down. The pervert had cuffed my feet to the chair!

"Look, there's been a mistake." I smiled at him and batted my lashes in an attempt to talk my way out of this, "I didn't paint you pink."

"Oh?" He pushed himself off of my desk and walked over to the cabinet in the corner of my office, "But you are well versed with the events that took place?"

"Well," I spoke as I tried to pull the cuffs off, "I mean, I was there in the morning."

"You'll need the key to get those off," he chimed in as he opened the cabinet and pulled something out. "Do you believe in statistics?"

I didn't speak at first. I just watched as my boss returned with three paint brushes in his hands. He came over and made himself comfortable on the other side of my chair, sitting in a crossed-leg position, and smirking at me.

"Statistics?" I gulped.

"Yes statistics," he repeated seriously. Mr. Bolts was a fairly serious man as far as I could tell, so this was something I was quite used to. Every time there was a meeting, and he used that same expression, I knew to just agree with him. His eyes, warm and brown, warned me that to disagree would be fatal.

"Of course I believe in statistics." I smiled, hoping then that my lip-gloss hadn't gone on a trip down my chin while I had slept. I reached up and touched my chin to check, and was glad to find that my make-up had stayed put.

I felt self conscious laying here in such an awkward position, in front of my boss no less! It doesn't often cross my mind, especially when Mr. Bolts is often very busy with his work, but I find him attractive. It was something about his welcoming lips, or his deep voice, that made me feel a flutter of light arousal from his presence.

"Interesting," his hand came up and clasped my foot gently. Luckily he had not touched my toes; I would have giggled uncontrollably if he had. "You see, Jennifer, I've conducted a survey."

"Does this survey state that tying employees to their chairs helps them work harder?" I joked. He looked at me again with those serious eyes and I shut up. I noticed an evil grin fall upon his lips, only for a mere second, but it was enough to cause a rush of nervous panic to creep up through my chest.

"According to the survey 72% of this company's employees either saw, or heard about, a lady named Jennifer painting the boss pink at a party." I opened my eyes wide out of shock. What the fuck?!?! He actually did a survey on that?

"Well, you know, Jennifer from downstairs could have easily done it."

"Jennifer from downstairs?" He frowned for a moment, "Do you mean Joanna?" Damn, if he hadn't have known her name, I could have gotten out of this with that one.

"Look," he gave me a sympathetic look, "I'm new to this company. I've never been a boss before, so I'm stumbling onto new grounds here, but if someone paints me pink, don't you think it's fair that I get an apology?"

"Great, then you'll let me go and pester whoever it was that actually painted you." I wished I could swallow those words away moments later. The word 'pester' was too harsh, I knew this. A smile curled soon after these words, upon the lips of my boss; I was in trouble.

He picked up a paint brush and moved it closer to my foot. Slowly he tickled the area between my toes, carefully pointing the soft bristles between them and back out again. I pulled at my legs, and felt the cuffs strain against my ankles. I reached out to push him away but I was not flexible enough. Ohhh, crap.

"What are you doing?" I started to laugh, feeling a tingly tension build in my lower stomach. I continued trying to reach and stop him from tickling away, but he was relentless. And his expression was of complete amusement. He did not care that I was being humiliated. He did not care that I was out of control. In fact, he grinned at me mischievously and then yawned mockingly at me.

"Jennifer, Jennifer..." He tilted his head to the side with fake sympathy, "did you know that you ex-boyfriend who works on the 3rd floor likes to boast in great detail about his lays?" I fell back on the floor and became crazy with giggles. I clutched firmly to the sides of my dress, hoping to release some tension through my fists. A thin film of sweat began to form on my forehead at my helplessness.

"No... I... didn't," was all I could muster in response. While my eyes filled with tears and my face was scrunched up in giggles, I managed to glance at my boss who had begun to laugh a little himself. He found it absolutely hilarious how powerless I had become at the touch of a brush stroke.

"Told me everything I wanted to know about you, in return for the promise of a small raise in his income. It was an interesting conversation, I must admit." He continued on, and then reached out to touch my toes with his fingertips. He wriggled my toes as if I were a child, heightening all the sensations in my poor feet. He used his other hand to rub tenderly the souls, which were now equally as sensitive to the touch.

Then he stopped. Oh thank the heavens he stopped. I felt my head come back from the clouds. My mind returned from all the chaos of laughter and the crazy tingling feeling dancing around my skin.

"You know what's worse?" He began to speak again. I felt around me and could sense he was nearing me. He had left my little toes alone and was closing in on me. I had to escape somehow.

"Mr. Bolts, please..." I whispered with my eyes shut. I was exhausted and simply wanted to rest. But would he let me go?

"Call me Nicolas," He corrected me, "what's worse is how your push-over ex told me exactly how and where his pretty little ex was ticklish all over. What did he say? Oh right, he said, 'she became so weak and submissive, I almost left her then and there'."

My eyes opened with shock. He had said that? Barry was going to leave me because of how submissive I had become? I though he left me because our lives were going in different directions? I thought it was because he wanted what was best for me?

I realized at that moment that a new kind of pain entered my eyes. Not the pain of being tickled, but the pain of rejection. It hurt. Bad. Especially knowing that I had loved Barry. I had loved him completely, and I had no idea he thought that way of me.

"Jennifer?" My boss Nicolas reached out and caressed my cheek. I gazed up at him and found a tender expression had fallen across his face. Did he care that I was in pain? He swung a leg over me and kneeled over my lower stomach. He placed each of his hands on either of my ribs and said, "Actually it might please you to know that I had to fire Barry in the end. I couldn't have someone working for me who could be bribed so easily, you see." He winked.

I frowned for a moment, wondering what the purpose of all this was. Wasn't he trying to seek his revenge on me? I felt his fingers clamp around my ribs and wriggle a little. I bit my lip in an attempt not to smile. My own hands rushed down to stop him but he easily fought me off.

"Wait-wait-wait," I pleaded, "what do you want me to do? Admit I painted you pink? Apologize?" He looked down at me, his soft hair curling sweetly around his ears, and his eyes looking oh-so-yummy. I almost wanted to kiss him, but that was absurd.

"Well, that was the plan," he nodded.

"Okay, it was me. I'm sorry." I put up both my hands in defeat. Nicolas smiled with amusement and stopped the torturous tickling. I felt this rush of relief; I could breathe once again!

"I said that was my plan," Crap; he wriggled his fingers evilly about my ribs again, "now I'm just having fun because I can." He lent in closer to my ear and whispered, "Would you quit right now if I asked very, very politely to finger you?" I gulped. He moved away from my ear slowly, taking with him the heat of his breath and the sweet smell of his aftershave. Fooling around with the boss? Bad idea?

Nicolas reached behind himself and pulled gently at my underwear. He slid them up around my ankles and left them there. I noticed how slowly, how carefully he did this. He left my skin to feel in need of more contact; in desperate need.

His hand gently traced a line back from my ankle to my inner thigh where he drew little circles with his index finger. He moved to slip his finger unexpectedly across the slit of my pussy. I jolted when he touched my clit. I reached up and clawed his chest, a habit I had formed over the years with previous partners.

"Mmmm," I heard a groan escape his lips, "I'd be careful if I were you Jennifer, I might go back to tickling you." He slid his finger inside me and felt around for my G spot. I, quite unfortunately, began to breath much more heavily than I would have liked to. I was terribly turned on.

"And you wouldn't want me to stop this and start tickling you, would you?" I felt my pussy tighten at the suggestion. I blushed, knowing that I could not hide my desires so easily, when my pussy gripped his finger every time I felt turned on. He laughed at me.

"Nicolas, please don't tell anyone." I whispered, "don't tell anyone that..."

"That you fancy being tied down and tickled by your boss?" He started to thrust his finger in and out of my opening. I was so tight, the friction was intensely hot, and all I could feel was a sweet tingling about the lips of my wet pussy. "Shall I send out an email? Telling everyone to tickle you when you walk by?"

I ran hands through my hair and bit my lip. He was sooo good at touching me there. Sooo gooood. Nicolas quickly pulled a key out of his pocket with his other hand and turned to uncuff my ankles. He glanced back at me with a grin, which caught me off guard. What was he planning?

He lifted my feet off the chair and pulled me up onto my feet so fast I was lost to know what was happening. Then He pushed me up against the wall, holding me still, as I regained my sense of balance. Kissing my neck gently, tenderly, his lips were warm against my skin. I could do nothing but moan in response to the way he was handling me.

"Or maybe I should just take you home for myself?" He picked me up and swung me over his shoulder, "I could just take you home and keep you there. So I can tickle you whenever I feel like it?" He popped me down onto my desk and pulled my dress up over my stomach.

"I've always wanted someone to tickle into submission each night," he pushed my legs open and moved in close to my pussy. "Someone I could tickle torture, and humiliate with their own weaknesses." I could feel him open the lips of my vagina, exposing my clit to his will.

"I might even take a liking to tickling a certain very sensitive spot between your legs, Jennifer," He rubbed the tip of his finger against my clit, causing me to gasp in surprise. "Have you got a ticklish clit Jennifer?" He raised both his eyebrows at me flirtatiously.

"I uhm, maybe..." I stammered, unsure what the right thing to say would be. That's when I felt his tongue slide over my clit, so tender, so dangerous.

"Tell me how ticklish your clit is, Jennifer," he ordered. I pushed my hips up closer to his mouth so that he would lick me more, and faster; so he knew I liked it, "Tell me how much you desperately want to be tickled."

"But Nicolas," I gasped, "please..."

"Tell me or I'll stop," he slid his finger back inside me as he spoke. I knew this was embarrassing, and humiliating. I blushed terribly as I said it, but I couldn't help myself. I really couldn't.

"Mmm, I-I'm very ticklish?"  "Come on now," he me fingered faster, massaging deep down where it felt uncontrollably pleasing, "you can do better than that, keep talking..."  "I... mmm, I need you to tickle my clit Nicolas. I want you to do it so fucking badly, please, please don't stop!" I felt my entire body tremble as I said this. Feverish humiliation fell over me as he continued to circle my clit with his tongue. His finger moving in and out, around and again. It was H-O-T. I was melting in the palm of his hand. Oh god, but it felt good.

He stopped.

"I have a meeting," he stood up and straightened his jacket.

"WHAT!?!!" I sat up abruptly, "are you serious?" I looked at him with utter astonishment, "I was so close to... I mean, what?"

"Naww, don't be upset, Jennifer," He smiled at me and leaned over to whisper in my ear, "I might be mistaken, but you look almost pink with embarrassment."

"But..." I began to speak, but knew not what to say.

"But what?" He grinned.

"That's it? You're leaving me with that?!" I could feel my pussy itching desperately for more play. I felt hot and bothered and wanted to reach orgasm, now!

"Jennifer," he frowned at me, somehow with a gentle expression, "It might interest you to know that I almost asked you out at the party the other night. Except I could barely grab a moment with you, because you just chased after Barry the whole time, and avoided me." He crossed his arms across his chest and waited for my response.

"You were going to ask me out?" I felt shocked, actually, flattered.

"Yes I was," he ran his fingers through his hair and nodded, "but then I woke up humiliated because a certain person decided to paint me pink." I was speechless. He picked up his ankle cuffs and the key and placed it in his pocket.

"Mr Bolts... I didn't know..." My eyes followed him around the room as he moved things about, "Barry and I, we're over, and have been for a long time. I guess I just, I felt lonely last night, and Barry is the only guy I've really known like that and."

"Call me Nicolas," he stopped me from talking, "I fired Barry because I thought he was wrong about you." He walked towards the door, "but I don't know now, maybe you're not the kind of girl I thought you were."

He turned to leave. It felt like slow motion. He was almost out the door. Almost gone. But I ran towards him and pulled his collar. I pulled it back inside, and with it followed Nicolas. Shutting the door quickly, I turned the lock and looked up at him nervously.

"You fired Barry?" I looked up into his dark brown eyes; his brow furrowed above them with somberness.

"Yeah, unfortunately for him, I did."

"And you were going to ask me out?" I frowned in thought. He exhaled loudly then, and looked to the other side of the room.

"Yes I was. I was going to ask out the girl who ignored me all night and then painted me pink." He gave me a mean-ish look.

"So you came in here and seduced me only to leave me alone?" I crossed my arms over my chest and gave him a mean look back, "that's stupid logic."

"Stupid logic?" he waved his hands in the air, "this is coming from the girl who THINKS it's funny to paint her boss at a party?"

"AND THIS is coming from the person who thinks it's appropriate for the boss to pass-out at a work party?" I recounted loudly.

"Well, that's well said, from the equally drunk employee who followed her ex around in hopes the jerk would take her back!" He shouted, "And who likes being tickled to orgasm - what the fuck is with that?!?!"

That was embarrassing. I started to breath heavily. I hated that I could be turned on by even the WORD 'tickle', even when it's yelled at me as an insult. And there he looked at me, so close to my face, breath hot on my skin, invasive hands reaching up to my neck, lips touching gently, fiercely to my own; a hot passionate kiss that should not have happened.

We pulled apart.

"You kissed me," I accused him, pointing my finger. He frowned for a moment and then glanced at my bare feet and back again.




Tickled Pink and Tortured Well



"I'll tickle you right now, and skip my meeting, if you agree that we kissed with 50/50 effort from each of us," he proposed.

"Seriously?" I was not about to be hustled that easily!

"40/60," he bargained, "but let us not forget which one of us spent hours trying to scrub all the pink off of his face before work this morning."

"Well," I tried not to giggle, "I guess I can agree to that, based on a sympathy vote."

"You little shit," he grinned and leaped forward. Pinning me to the floor he teased, "I hope your knees aren't ticklish, you naughty brat!"

He tickled me into submission, without fail, turning us both pink with laughter.



Tickled



His fingers slipped a little higher and I moaned at the sudden coiling of heat in my womb. He was playing with me, and I couldn't do a thing to stop it, I realized. And God, it was good.

"You made me beg," I whispered. "No one's ever made me do that before."

"You've never let anyone do that before," he said. "And I think you liked it."

He was rubbing lightly, making little circles on the most sensitive part of my clit. I was going to come any minute. I felt myself tugging my arms, testing the tie to make sure it was tight enough to keep me bound. "I loved it," I confessed, more to myself than to Aaron. "I loved every second of it."

He shifted his hand a little and I was coming, my body rocking under his quick, sure touch.

I was still breathing hard, still floating when he untied my wrists. He rubbed them gently, easing the places where the tie had rubbed my skin red.

"I think we should act out that fantasy of yours," he said. "Not all of it. Not the parts that make you feel humiliated. But I'd love to give you a long, hot tease, make you want it so badly you can't think of anything else. And then watch you lose control when I finally give it to you. I could tie you to the bed so you wouldn't feel so exposed. And we'd use a safe word so you can tell me if I go too far. Think about it, baby. You can trust me. I'll keep you safe."

I shivered a little, picturing myself tied hand and foot to the bed, the vibrator buzzing away inside me while Aaron watched. "We can talk about it," I said. A minute later, we were snuggled together again. "What about you? What's your fantasy?"

"Well, since you brought it up, there's this one where I tie a woman up and tickle her until she tells me all her secrets," he said, and I could just feel his grin. "Maybe we could try that sometime." 



Ticklers



So, let's say you've got your sub lined up for a bondage and discipline session. An array of brightly colored feathers on sticks is laid out around her, next to a jar of clothespins.

A bondage scene will feature total domination. The sub is given NO control. The sub presents her body as a playground, and she is grateful of her master for taking the time to caress and enjoy her body.. Thank you. 

You're going to introduce her to a tickler, and see how she likes that. Because the fluffy business end is on a stick, you have lots of leverage and can cover a wide area rather quickly. Tickle her tits. Make her grit her teeth as you take it down her sides. The bondage is the best part... that's why the B is first. Trace this feathery tongue around her thighs and her pussy. A light feathering is a yummy warmup to prepare her for more exciting sensations to come. 

Nevermind the groaning. It's natural. Nothing feels like being flayed in bondage, cuffed in fixed and unyielding restraint on the bed, watching your master heat the fork up again. Or maybe she squirts some more oil in her hands. And all you can do is watch. That is, if she isn't dangling a blindfold in front of you, grinning...

And maybe we can get these nipple suckers to work again. But not without a little lubricant. Wet skin is the best skin. Lubing up your subby is a fun event in and of itself. Rubber sheets? You could use rubber sheets. Get her cuffs wet. A well lubed sub will have all fingers dragged down her skin in the most seductive and erotic manner at approximately two inches per second, after Googling effleurage and finding what that's about, and tying a partner up in an excruciatingly revealing position on the bed, for erotic stimulation.

Weird massage oil, regular olive oil or cheap-ass baby oil, it's up to you. She will wait while you operate the microwave. Hot oil is thinner, slicker, and sizzlier on her nipples, as drizzled, whereas cold oil might make her squeal while it rolls slowly under her breast and gets dragged back over again. Yummy. It makes feathers and fingernails alike glide easily and readily, which will keep her moaning cause believe me, it works. After she looks like a seal on your laboratory bench, you can select your peacock feather and work her over a bit more. It's stiffer than the regular ticklers but just as soft... you will see it put to great use around her tanlines, the soles of her feet, under her chin... am I forgetting something? Right, her armpits. Always a hit. Let her experience you documenting her body with exacting detail and precision, that is until you can tell she can't take it anymore; can't stop squirming, can't be liquified any further. Pause. Let's go back to something deeply pleasurable; body kisses and oral attention. This is why I'll tie you with your hands up: full access. More tongue opportunities. Lots and lots of smooching.

And now, for sensation play. Think swimsuit model, getting massaged. But this time, her 34 C tits are candidates for more thorough attention because she's tied down. Willfully of course. Anyone who owns an inflatable gag knows it gets a lot of use... A big black latex bulb can fill her mouth, forcing her to breathe through her nose. Could just ballgag her. But do it after the tickling... and before you peel off the g-string, and blindfold her, as you prepare her for a sexy and scintillating tour of the nervous system.

Bring out the tickle tools. No, the other tickle tools. That'll be your Wartenberg wheel, on a bowl of ice, a knife and fork, some chopsticks, toothpicks... and some cord. Maybe she'd rather her breasts weren't such obvious targets for Adult Playtime, but such is how it is when you're the sub... 

Put on your devil horns. Your arsenal of toys within easy reach, your victim also within reach, you are now ready to perform some lighthearted sadism. Tie each breast with soft, wet rope, just a little bit tight, only a little, just enough to enhance and help define the inherent curvature, and prepare it for attack. See how it makes her nipples kind of hard? See how you can... trace an icecube along the rope? Mmm.

For wicked sensation play you must use ice. Cold, wet ice applied deliberately all over your body is... acute, and helps ensure you make the most of your sub's time in the room. I recommend a peeled, frozen carrot for this part of your bondage scene, cause they are approximately ninety percent water. Frozen vegetables might have your sub moaning out in ecstasy.

Oh, but that just makes your hands cold. Nobody wants cold hands. So you could wear a glove, like a latex one, on both hands actually, and that would help your numb fingers. Gloves are slippery, too, and that would help your fingertip massage. I also recommend the absolutely disgusting "Foreplay Ice Chill Massager". Find it on Stockroom.com.

Let us reevaluate. Your sub is panting, moaning... sweating. In bondage discipline, you have no choice... clearly defined penalties may be imposed for any disobedience. You are pinned, and thinking about it. Your master is wise, and has subjected you to strict restraint, somewhere comfortable, like on the bed. You'd probably never be able to cope without it. The door is locked, and there will be no disturbances. You can't even sit up. Your whole body is a sexual canvas, and there's nothing you can do about it. Perhaps she has you stretched taut, limbs tightened and continuously tugging at the restraints, or perhaps your wrists are linked to the back of your collar. You can struggle, but please, but it's better just to hold the position. 

Your master may as well light some scented candles. You're not going anywhere. Don't you want to see what a silicone pastry brush feels like? It feels delicious. This is combined with bondage cause it makes it all the more erotic. And mistress has a thing for toys. You are pinned, for as long as your master pleases, and you are going to be toyed with. You look ready to be flayed... your master might want to eat you alive, and you would just have to listen. It's an endurance test. Don't worry, you'll survive.

Of course you'll survive. All of this is mostly harmless. You just have to decide whether to be evil or not. This is a study in contrast... naughty or nice. Let's be evil.

Evil usually involves spikes, wax, peacock feathers for amusement, clips and clamps, razorblades and probably a gag. How evil can you take it? We're going to find out. You're about to be instructed on the ways of torture.

The tie presents her breasts as very firm and vulnerable... giving them some nice lift. The sensitive skin under her breast and across each nipple is just begging for some tongue. You could make her lactate. You could also make her gurgle and sigh, and you can also make her scream. It's up to you. Just be nice. Breasts are to be cherished. Try dragging a fork.

Or go to Home Depot and get a drywall perforator. Either way, it's going to be fun. Amp up your scene with lube, rubber undergarments, your whole body held receptive to your captor's every touch... why not? Let's get oral on it. Why not lick and bite her tendons?

The makeout tour is hardly original but decidedly delicious, and pretty much completely necessary. Tongue in all the right places will have your sub smoldering, melting... hot and turning into jelly. Wet tongue down her ribs, biting, sucking... just wait til you get to her thighs. Prolonged pussy exploration and slurping will have her gasping for air, especially when you deny her an orgasm again, dislodging your muscular appendage at just the right time for maximal contractions and groaning, and maximal frustration. Tease her apart and give her clit a feathering, before pulling back and gently blowing on it. That's the sound of ecstasy. You could also fuck her. 



Tickling Games



My name is Brian. 

My story begins at about the time I turned 18. My dad had left when I was still really young and since I was only an only child it was just me and my mum from there. My mum owned a huge modeling agency so money was never a problem for us.

Since my mum only had me at 18 she was quite young and she worked out a lot, which kept her in fantastic shape. She wasn't very tall just average height. She had 36D cup boobs. She was really beautiful and it wasn't lost on me since she was the object of nearly all my fantasies.

Over the years, being just me and her, we had grown pretty close. We talked openly about everything-including sex; and, since she always trusted me so much, she had undressed before me plenty of times. That's how I knew her pussy was completely shaven.

By the age of 18 I had plenty of pussy with some of the girls from school who loved my eight inch dick. I loved sex probably more than anything other than my mother.

Anyway back to my story.

That evening after taking my usual shower; I realized that my balls looked a little shriveled up; so I went to my mum's room to ask about it in my towel. My mum was watching a movie and drinking a little wine in a tank top and her panties.

"Hey sweetie," she smiled at me.

"Hi mom," I said, giving her a peck on the lips.

"What's up? You look kind of worried," she asked.

"I think there's something wrong with my testicles," I replied.

'Am sure it's nothing, but let me see just to be sure' 

So she moved the towel aside and held onto my dick with one hand while she felt around my balls with the other. My dick slowly started getting hard.

"Your testicles are fine. It's probably just all the cold water or lack of sex cause you seem to be enjoying this a bit too much," she said laughing.

She then shocked me by tugging my dick a few times and saying, "You have a really nice pecker."

She looked up and noticed I was really embarrassed and so she started to tickle me

"Two can play that game, Mom, and besides you always lose," I said.

As I tickled her I got so caught up I didn't notice when my towel fell off. Soon after, I was on top of my mother with my hard cock. Being distracted by my nudity and position my mom took advantage to get the upper hand. She grabbed onto my balls and started to tickle them.

Seeing the circumstances as right, I pulled off her tank top and started to play with her tits, while pretending to still be tickling her. As she wiggled around in excitement at my touch, I slipped my hand into her panties and rubbed her clit.

At first a look of shock hit her face, and then after the second rub she let out a loud moan. The look changed to one of pure pleasure. Her hand that was now holding onto my dick started to stroke me faster. Seeing this as a sign of acceptance I slipped two fingers into her pussy and rubbed her clit with my thumb. I kept fingering her while she stroked me. Soon enough we were both cumming—her on my fingers and me on her tits.

We both collapsed on her bed out of exhaustion and pleasure. Me on top of her.

The next morning I woke up on my bed. My mom acted like nothing had happened and everything went back to normal. I had even begun to think it might have been a dream until a year later...

TO BE CONTINUED...



Tickling Heather



(After reading the great submissions this is my first atrempt. Enjoy it I hope)

Sitting on the sofa my niece comments on how long she's known me. Her mother married my brother like 11 years ago (she was 7); I always tried to be a "good" uncle. Holidays, birthdays and such I made sure they were pleasant. She was a little "plump" when she was younger but I made sure to give her as much attention as to any one else, thankfully she grew into those pounds real well.

"Remember when I was 6, you used to tickle me until I cried uncle?" Laughing, and a little embarrassed I admitted I sure did. She was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, a TOM BOY as ever. When she was younger she was a bit prissy and sickly, I used to say over protected, not allowed to get dirty. Eventually she enjoyed helping me with the yard work and on the cars (my brother and her mommy didn't like it either).

"Yeah you yelled uncle a lot too if I remember," sipping a beer. I had to struggle to keep my eyes off her body as we talked, remembering, as she was a cheerleader and what she'd wear to help. Although she was dressed modestly her tight body and long blonde hair made my mind race.

"Well you loved it Unc~," she laughed walking into the kitchen. Yelling for her to get me a beer while there, she surprised me to bring in two, sipping the second. "You won't tell will you?" Handing me one her knee knocked against mine teasing. I let her sip a few times in the past, always sure to limit it. 

Since she wasn't expected anywhere, "Well I guess if you're good." Letting my hand playfully slap her thigh she surprised me by collapsing on my lap. Thankfully my drink was on the table, my hands were free on her. Immediately I tickled her lightly apprehensively since it's been so long. Giggling she sipped, than offered me her bottle, as my hands traced a path over her firm belly. As I took a drink her hand was on my chest, fingers trying to tickle my ribs. Grasping that hand I was able to tickle her in honest, than placing the beer on the table.

"Want to make me say uncle again?" she laughed. My reply was to grab her hips, facing her towards me. Straddling my lap hands on my shoulders, my fingers made paths up and down her ribs.

Her ribs, thighs, and belly were bait as I tickled, her giggles turned to moans and squeals. Rocking side-to-side blonde hair covering her face, trying to grab my hands. Not deterred, "Say uncle."

"Oh no!" squealing. "Got to do more than that!" Hands going to her neck, knowing her weak spot beneath her ears still she struggled, although not as hard as I'd have expected. Her shirt was open to the second button, not enough to see but enough to entice me, my hands returned to her hips as the one on her thigh rounded to her tight ass.

"Well?" as I grabbed and tickled questioning. In response she bounced a little and again tried to tickle, me. Emboldened I kneaded her ass, letting my fingers roam from her cheek to the crack and back again. This went on a few more seconds, my cock rose and I tried to push her back slightly. That was when she wrapped her arms around me.

"No you don't, I can feel it!" Her breath was on my neck as my hands froze in place, "You've had it hard before, I know. Please don't stop tickling me now!" Slowly my hand grasped her ass again as my other ran a path up her spine "Hmm..."

This time I pressed a hand beneath her shirt still tickling just at her ribs but not as hardily as I let the other enjoy her firm but. She pressed against my chest, giggling, and "Haven't said uncle yet!" Moving the fingers up slowly watching for a reaction all she did was laugh and squirm. I than realized one of her hands was down the back of my shirt and the other was on my thigh, no longer struggling. Up her spine until I reach her bra strap I let it drop again, unsure how far to go. Both hands were on her waist now tickling again.

Leaning back she smiling she unbuttoned her blouse, "Haven't said uncle yet." Opened but still on I went back to her ribs, not so much tickling as just enjoying her young body. This time I let my hands go over the breasts, softly as she moaned and groaned. The bra was actually plain, but on her sexy as hell, my fingers traced the edges as well as her taut nipples. Rolling side to side, my cock was standing out, her hand finally roaming over it. 

"Mmmm," she smiled. "You like this huh?" Slowly she pulled my shirt up, leaning into me slightly biting my neck softly. "Used to love how you tickled me there" as her tongue ran a path below my ear, making me shiver. Her hands were on my chest over my own nipples, imitating the way I was playing with hers. Pulled her shirt off, reaching for her bra, she leaned back and helped. Free of the bra I pulled her close to suck a nipple than the other, my hand returned to her back, to her ass, letting a finger slide into the waist band of the jeans to keep contact with her flesh.

Suddenly standing she opened and kicked off her jeans, than only in her panties she returned to my lap, "Haven't said uncle yet," her hand went to my neck as the other to my cock through my jeans. Tickling for all it was worth, fingers moving up and down her ribs, her ass, and her tits. Giggles became squeals, than moans, as my fingers went to her under arms and her neck. She hugged me, not struggling as all, as my hand went to her ass, than explored under to her wet soft pussy. 

"That's nice," she whispered into my ear as my fingers found her slit. Lifting slightly I had access to her, pressing the fabric to her clit. Feeling her breasts against me, her hand tracing my cock through my jeans I became feverish with my movements. Both hands to her ass, the other in her panties maintaining contact with her hot flesh. I finally let the other go to her breast, as I sucked one than the other into my mouth. 

My cock was hard as a rock as her hand was massaging it, she leaned back looking down. Keeping contact with her ass, I froze as she opened my pants, a small hand reaching in. Feeling her grasp my cock, but not enough freedom she knelt and helped me remove my jeans. As it stood straight up in my shorts, she giggled and let her fingers trace it. "Can we just play?" she asked. Not wanting to just scare her I nodded as she climbed back on me, keeping a hand on me as I returned playing with her breast and ass. 

"Have you ever did it?" hesitantly I asked. 

"Not really, I mean..." Blushing she went on, "My old boyfriend made me feel if I didn't do something we'd break up, well we broke up even since I did play with it."

"We'll only do what you want" I honestly said. Reached up to her chin I kissed her forehead, she moved to my lips in a full kiss. Not a kiss from a niece at all. Her tongue was teasing my mouth, I finally opened and let our tongues join. "Mmmm," was my response.

"Maybe later?" as she looked into my eyes questioning. Smiling I kissed her softly, as she ran her hand up and down my cock. This time she pulled her breast to my mouth, a hand to my back as I sucked and softly bit the nipple. My hand reached between us, into her panties feeling her soft skin of her pussy. Her hand into my shorts now, grasping my cock, running up and down. This went on for a few minutes than the phone rang...

"Uncle Mike?" I heard as I groggily answered the phone. "This is Heather, can you help me do the timing on my car?" Sitting up on the sofa all I could to was grunt.



Tickling Mommy



***This is a story which earlier this year I had submitted to another website made specifically for such stories. However, I have revised the ending of the tale from its original state to something which I am much happier with. I have been a reader of Literotica.com for some months now, and have for a long time wanted to start sharing stories and fantasies of my own, and so I decided to share this one first.

The following work is purely fiction, all characters being over the age of 18. Hope that everyone enjoys, please feel free to leave comments, constructive criticism, and suggestions for future stories you might like to read.*** 

I had just gotten home from work when I saw mom by the pool. It was the middle of the afternoon and I had just finished up with my summer job doing yard work, and after spending all day outside, I needed a shower. As I walked to the back door of the house, I noticed that mom was laying by our backyard pool, drying off in the sun, and when I saw her I nearly froze up. 

She was siting upright and leaning back a little, her arms behind her balancing her. Her one leg was straight out in front of her on the patio, the other bent up at the knee. Her shoulder-length dark red hair was shining in the sunlight, and I could see that her legs were wet and glistening.

She was also wearing my favorite swimsuit of hers: the yellow one with the pink floral pattern. My mother is an incredibly beautiful and well-figured woman, especially for a woman in her mid 40's, her body is wonderful, and that particular swimsuit definitely showed that. It was cut low in the front, allowing a fantastic view of cleavage, and was open all the way down the back right to the very top of her ass. It hugged her body in all the right places. 

I had always had a secret desire to grab my mother and tickle her like crazy and playfully feel my hands all over her wonderful body. It had just always seemed like it would be something fun to do. I remembered back to when I was a little kid, how I would sit in my mom's lap, and when it was just the two of us, I would tickle her neck and make her giggle. I always got a kick out of making my mom giggle from tickling when I was little, and very soon I found the perfect technique of tickling her neck so that she giggled like crazy! As I grew up, this game slowly stopped, but my desire to tickle my mother did not. Also, as I got older, I had desires to tickle her not just on the neck, but to rub my fingers around her belly button and her legs, to see how much I could get her giggling that way. 

Of course, I never confessed this desire to her or to anyone else. But seeing her sitting by the pool that afternoon, looking like a goddess with her shimmering hair and her glistening legs, that tickle-perfect body snug in a swimsuit, I knew that this was the day. my dad worked late nights during the summer, he wouldn't be home until 10:30 at the earliest, and I don't have any siblings to worry about. Conditions were perfect. I couldn't wait any longer. I had to make my mother my tickle prisoner! 

Quickly, I ran upstairs and got in the shower. I had to be fast, since I knew that my mom would be done sunning herself soon and would be inside to change out of her swimsuit, and that wouldn't do for my plan. I quickly showered and then waited for the signal. I didn't have to wait long; mom was soon inside the house. As soon as I heard her open the backdoor to come in, I shut off the water and shot out of the shower, putting my bathrobe on as I heard my mom walking up the stairs. Right after she passed the bathroom door, I opened it up and stepped out, walking calmly toward my room. My mom was heading to hers, but she turned around when she heard me get out of the bathroom. 

She made with the usual conversation after I got home from work; asking how my day was, if everything had been alright, blah blah blah... 

"Well sweetie, I'm just going to change out of this, and then I'll get dinner started, ok?" 

"Ok" I said, and made to look like I was heading back to my room. But as soon as i saw my mom get inside the doorway to her room, I quickly turned around and ran back the hallway and stepped into her room behind her, and closed the door. 

"Honey what are yo.." is all she got out before i had my hand over her mouth. 

She started to make "MMmmpphh"-ing sounds, and she seemed like she was becoming panicked. She was just surprised at first, but in just a matter of seconds began to squirm around and tried to scream louder from under my hand. I realized that I had her frightened pretty bad, so i realized that I needed to show her that i was just having some innocent fun and that she wasn't in danger. with my one hand around her mouth, my other arm looped around her waist and began to prod her ribs. The tickling had begun! 

Almost at once, she forgot about being panicked and began to laugh hysterically beneath my hand gag. I removed my hand covering her mouth so that i could hear her screams of delight. I moved this hand down to her sides as well, and began prodding her body around her ribs and tummy. 

"OOHHH...ohh....Tyler! Stophaaaaahahaha...HAHAHATYLER!!!...STO..OOPPP!!! HEEHEEHAHAHA" 

This was great! I then moved my hands back, to the back of her swimsuit she was still wearing, and began to tickle along the edge of the fabric along her naked back. I got my fingers underneath the material about and inch and began tickling her bare skin. Then I moved my hands back to her sides and, holding her around the waist, I pulled her onto my lap as I sat down on her bed. With one hand, I prodded and circled around her bellybutton, and with the other, I lightly began running my fingers up and down her thigh. My mom exploded into hysterics, she could barely say anything, she was laughing so hard. She kept trying to tell my to stop, please stop, but it was obvious that she was actually rather enjoying the whole experience and that saying such was merely instinctive. 

It was then that i remembered again my experience with tickling her as a child, and I decided that now was the time to unleash it again. holding her tight in my lap, tickling her tummy and legs, I moved my lips to the back of her neck as i did when I was younger and wanted my mommy to giggle. she must have known what I had in mind, because she mustered enough strength to yell, "OH, no no no nononono.." but it was too late! I didn't kiss the back of her neck; instead, with my lips ever so slightly parted, i began making little popping noises on her neck. i remembered that this had used to driver her crazy, and apparently it still did. 

"HAHAHAHAHAHEEHEEHEE...STOPSTOPSTOPSTOOOOOPPP!!!...TYLERPLEASEHAHAHHA!!!!!..." 

soon after, I finally stopped tickling, and mom collapsed on the bed next to me. she was still giggling slightly, and she had a huge grin on her face. She said that dinner was going to be a little late, she needed to cool down for a while. Mom laid down on her bed facing the TV in her room, and started flipping through channels. I got up to leave, but she said "You can stay her if you want honey. I really enjoyed that. That was a lot fun!" I laid down on the bad next to her, and wrapped an arm around her again. "Does that mean we can do this again tomorrow mom? I really enjoyed it too" I said. My mom thought for a minute, but quickly made up her mind when my other hand began to run across her bare legs again. "yes..YES!! hehehe....yes sweetie, you can tickle me again tomorrow after I get out of the pool if you really want to." 

"Good" I replied "because I want to" we laid on bed like that for another hour, and then mom got up, shooed me out of the room so she could change her clothes, and then made dinner. We never told dad any of what happened. 

This game became an everyday part of life that summer. For the rest of that week, every day I would come home from work and shower, and after I got dressed, i would go to my mom's room where she would be waiting for me in that same swimsuit ( I had told her that it was my favorite and was the reason I had decided to begin tickling her). I would then proceed to to probe her body with my tickling fingers, kissing her neck like before, touching her legs and running my fingers over them like little scuttling spiders. After our tickle session for the day, we would lay in bed, mom still in her swimsuit, my arm wrapped around her, still caressing her legs and kissing her neck, and would watch a movie before mom got dinner ready. 

The next Monday, after two whole days that weekend without tickling my mother, i couldn't wait to start again. But i was bored with her swimsuit. I needed her to wear something different now, to keep the game interesting. So, after getting home and showered that day, I walked into mom's room to see her once again dressed in her yellow swimsuit. I told her that I love tickling her, I loved it more than anything, but i wondered if maybe she could wear something different today? Something just as good, but just so that it was different to keep out tickling adventures fun and fresh. 

"Sure sweetie, no problem. I think I have just the thing...". I left the room to let her change clothes, I couldn't wait to see what she had in mind. Soon, she said I could come back. I opened the door and my jaw just about hit hit the floor!

"Now Tyler, you can still tickle me all you want, just don;t go trying anything inappropriate, understand?" My head was barely able to nod. I had expected her put on a different swimsuit, but instead she was dressed in a shimmering light-blue nightie! It was also my favorite one, and I had fantasized many times about tickling her in this particular outfit. It consisted of two parts.

The first was a shirt-like piece. It was held up by thin shoulder straps and hung very low in the front. it came down to just past her belly button. The second piece was the skirt that went with it. This had an elastic waistband to keep it on, and it just barely, BARELY, covered her ass! I could see why she said she didn't want me doing anything inappropriate during today's tickle game. I had to say, I practiced marvelous self-control. 

I tickled her just like before, kissing the back of her neck in that special way to make her giggle, running my fingers up and down her legs, never going past the hem of her nightie's skirt of course. I hoped that if i behaved my self as instructed, I might be allowed more intense tickling games later on down the road. I mean, look at what she was wearing while i played with her today! The most adventurous I got during that game was lifting the shirt-piece up a little bit so that I could tickle her bare tummy.

Afterwards, we laid down as usual and watched TV. While running my fingers over her legs, I got just a little more adventurous, and lifted her shirt piece a little again, leaned over and started kissing her bellybutton. It was great! Mom didn't reprimand me at all, and actually had a very satisfied smile on her face while my lips gently caressed her tummy.

My patience and good behavior payed off! The next day, after my shower when i got home, I walked into her bedroom and, instead of being dressed in a swimsuit or another nightie, mom just had her bathrobe on. "Tyler", she said "Since we're having so much fun together with these ticking games, and since you behaved yourself so well yesterday, I'm letting you personally pick out what I wear today for our game. " She left and waited in the hallway so I could pick something out for her. I couldn't believe it! I looked through her closet at some of her dresses and skirts, but they didn't really do it for me. I checked her drawer full of swimsuits, but none could compare to the yellow one, and I didn't want to waste this special opportunity on that one again. 

Then i got the drawer where she kept her nighties, and it was there i found it! 

Perfect! 

"Mom! Here, I found something!" She came back into the room all smiles, saw the nightie i had found, and became a little nervous. "Oh, Tyler sweetie, i don't know...that one's...don't you think it's a little,,uhhh..." 

"Mom, you said i could pick what you wore today. C'mon, it's not so bad. I bet you look really awesome in this one! PLeeeeaaaase!"

Mom agreed, as I had been promised the opportunity to pick what she wore today. The nightie i had picked put was a silky red one. It was cut extremely low in front, giving ample view of cleavage, the bottom coming just an inch below her ass, with a slit on one side that ran all the way up to the top of her thigh. This was the only piece to this nightie, as opposed to the one the day before, and the whole thing was held up by two spaghetti straps as thick as a spider's web. This would be fun.

I waited in anticipation in the hallway for my mother to finish changing into this incredibly hot nightie so that i could continue out tickling game. I didn't have to wait long. I walked into her room and found her already sitting on the bed. The nightie looked even better on her than i had expected. "Oooh wow mom! You look great!" "really? you think so?" "Yeah! you look awesome! i can't wait to play with you today, dressed like that!" 

"Well you just make sure you behave yourself, mister. I love these games as much as you do, but you do anything inappropriate, and you won't have anymore tickle games with mom. Understand?" 

"yeah, yeah whatever you say mom! I sure don't want this to stop!"

I moved over to the bed next to her and as usual, wrapped my one around her waist and began probing my fingers all around her belly button and lower tummy. Mom once again started to giggle and smile, my other hand making their fingers scuttle over my mom's legs. she leaned back a little, and i moved my head behind hers and placed my lips on her neck to support her. As I kissed her neck that day, I would dart my tongue out quickly every now and then and gently lick the back of her neck while I kissed it. my fingers stayed below the hem of the nightie again, but I once again got adventurous. my hand moved up her legs and joined the other around mom's waist. Still tonguing and sucking gently on the back of my mom's neck, I picked her up by her waist and set her on my lap. This caused her nightie to ride up o good deal, but she didn't seem to notice, she was giggling and squirming with delight too much! And if she did notice, she didn't say anything to me. I could now clearly see the small pair of black panties she had on underneath the nightie, and my hand had free range of her entire legs. I began running my fingers all up and down her thighs. With my other hand, I reached up under the hem of her nightie and probed the bare skin of her lower tummy. Mom screamed and giggled in delight as I did this, tossing her head back in delight. As soon as she did, I moved my lips from the back of her neck towards the front. I was gently necking mom while my fingers crawled all over her legs and belly. I could tell from her delighted laughter that she was greatly enjoying this experience, and we were both in heaven! When finished, she collapsed on the bed next to me like usual, pulling the bottom hem down so that it would cover her ass again, and my arms wrapped gently around her while we settled down to watch another movie before dinner. However, this was just too much. Mom looked so good in this nightie, and we had already done so much just from tickling games, there was one more thing I had to try. 

About 30 min. into the movie, right as mom was finally settling down, I made my move. Her eyes were slightly closed, she was exhausted from the intense tickling session we had just had. I gently rolled her over from on her side onto her back. Her eyes fluttered, and she woke up a little. She realized that I had moved her. "Tyler sweetie, what are you doing?" 

"Nothing mom. Just thought you might be more comfy this way" I was leaning semi-upright in bed next to her, my right arm draped over her midsection. "Well thats very nice of you baby, but i can't really see the TV this way, can i?" 

"Of course you can mom". I leaned forward more, resting my head on her tummy, my hands lightly probing at her belly button again.

"Haha, no I really can't see it well from this angle sweetie" Mom made to roll aver back onto her side, but my hands grasped her waist again, and held her in place. "Well, you can see it well enough". I leaned my head up and grasped the bottom of mom's nightie, and started to pull it up. 

"TYLER! what are!..." 

"Mom, it's ok. I'm not gonna do anything. i just want a look at your tummy mom. that's all. i just want to kiss and tickle your bare tummy a little" 

"Well, alright Tyler. As long as that's all you do!" 

I lifted mom's nightie up over her tummy, revealing her panties again. I pulled it up right yo where it covered the bottoms of her tits, which were bare underneath this nightie. True to my word, I only revealed her tummy, stopping before her tits were uncovered (all the way. I still saw the bottoms of the globes). the nightie lay bunched up in a heap around mom's neck, and i kissed her all over her tummy. My lips started on her bellybutton, and moved all over, gently and softly kissing her skin, my tongue once again darting out now and again, adding to the tickling sensation I could tell my mother was once again feeling. My hands moved up mom's sides and worked their way under the bunched up cloth and found her armpits, a very ticklish spot indeed! Mom cried out and squealed in delight, and after about 15 minutes of this, I finally stopped and used my mom's bare tummy as a pillow while we took a nap together on her bed before dinner. 

The next day after i got home, she wore the same outfit for me and let me pull it up to tickle her bare tummy again. After out nap that day, mom went downstairs to make dinner without changing out of the red nightie. She said that she was just too exhausted to worry about changing clothes right then. i came downstairs to watch mom move around the kitchen dressed as she was, enjoying the show as she moved around the kitchen in that short, shimmering piece of of cloth. I even walked up behind her and helped her, gingerly necking with her again and probing the flesh around her ribs while she tried to stir something on the stove. She could feel my erection pressing against her ass, and she let out a little surprised gasp, then just smiled slily to herself and went back to what she was doing while I continued to fondle her through her thin nightie.

After we ate dinner, Mom snuggled up with me on the couch while we watched another movie together. Instead of letting Mom focus on the movie though, I kept pulling at the hem of her little nightgown while she playfully batted my hands away from the tiny piece of clothing that she wore. Each time, I managed to get her nightie pulled up just a little bit higher until it once again lay bunched up around her waist and I had full access to a full view of her shapely legs and her crotch, clad in only a pair of extremely itty bitty black panties. I kept necking with mom while she lay in my arms on the couch, my one hand gently fondling her tits, my other hand rubbing at the front of her panties. Mom began to become aroused by all the attention I was giving her, and began to grind against my hand that was working in between her legs. 

Mom was dry humping my hand faster and faster now, and I could feel her panties becoming more and more soaked with her juices! I playfully tweaked her nipples through the thin material of her nightie, and soon after I felt her shudder in orgasm as she came right in her little black panties, and I could feel the explosion of her juices against my hand through the fabric. Mom was sweating a little bit after the excitement, and was close to passing out. Being the good son that I am, I scooped her up in my arms after turning off the TV and carried her up the stairs to her room, laying her onto her bed. I quickly climbed under the covers with her and held her with my arms wrapped tightly around her.




Tickling Mommy



As I felt Mom nodding off to sleep, I couldn't help myself; I pulled the hem of her nightgown up around her waist once again, removed my own pants from around my waist, and began to dry-hump my mother's lovely, round ass. She moaned lightly in her sleep as I rubbed myself against her, and it wasn't long before the wonderful sensation led me to orgasm right there in my underwear as I lay snugly against my lovely mother. 

I lay there in bed with her for what I guess was another hour or so, before I heard my dad's car pull up the driveway and into the garage. Quickly, I gave my mom a goodnight kiss and a final fondle, grabbed my pants, and sped into my own room to get some shut eye.

This was the beginning of a wonderful relationship with my mother that we still continue to this day, but that first week together with Mom will always be the best time of my life that I have ever had!



Tickling/Taking Cindy



I wasn't raised to be mean to girls. But a guy can only take so much.

Ashley and I were H.S. seniors and had been assigned to work together on a project. She'd been on vacation for a week before the assignment was due...and that meant we had a lot of last-minute stuff to get done over that weekend. Her dad worked at this little radio station located in the middle of a farm field. There was a small building there with the studios, plus a little mobile home beside it for the station offices. But this was the weekend, and only the guy on the air was there...and he was out in the building. The office had a heavy-duty copy machine, and her dad figured it would be cheaper for us to do our work there than go to Kinko's. And, what the heck...we were both 18. It wasn't like we needed any major oversight. At least, it seemed like we shouldn't.

Cindy was cute. Blonde, attractive, sparkly personality, and glasses. But, you know how it is. Someone either catches your interest, or they don't. She didn't interest me. I had a girlfriend, anyway. I just wasn't looking. Plus...I knew how much we had to get done that day. So I didn't have anything else on my mind...except getting done and getting home to watch some college basketball that afternoon.

However, Cindy was very interested in me. Some girls play hard-to-get...some are subtle with their flirting. She was very much "out there". She loved to flirt. Hell, so did I. Words never really meant all that much anyway. But, I guess she decided that that day, without my girlfriend around, she might have a shot. Or maybe it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I'll probably never know.

Anyway...some of the collating trays on the copier had issues...papers would spill on the floor as they began to sort, etc. So it became my job to grab them and hold them in my hands, between my fingers...to keep from having to hand-sort them after the fact. It was actually somewhat comical watching me try to keep track of all the pages. All the fingers on both hands completely occupied. Cindy walked over with a rolled up piece of paper in her mouth and pulled it out slowly...smiled, and said: "Gotta light, big boy?" I smiled back. Yeah, she was a nice enough girl.

But, for whatever reason...who knows...just her personality, I guess...she couldn't let it go. Next, she came up behind me and tried to tickle my sides at the waist. I'm a little ticklish, but not much...so I was able to resist until she gave up in frustration.

It didn't take long for her to come up with a new idea. My fingers still occcupied with the papers, she slid her arms around my waist and pulled up close behind me. I felt her boobs soft against my back...but that only held my attention so long. Her hands were sliding south...and she started rubbing my crotch slowly through my pants. It wasn't 30 seconds until I started to get hard. After all, you don't have to be into someone to be turned on by them...with the right touch applied. I made a horn sound like "stop it". But she didn't. She just slid her fingers slowly up to my waist and then down inside my pants. I was about half-hard by this point, and it didn't take long for her to wrap those delicate little fingers around my cock. I was pissed because I couldn't resist. My thick 7" cock perked up proudly in short order...and she just wrapped her hands around it and started, very slowly, jerking me off. I know...I should have just enjoyed it, or been flattered, or whatever. But frankly, I was just pissed. I didn't like beind controlled like this, and I was pissed at myself for reacting.

I said, "Cut it out, Cindy. That's enough." She just purred like a kitten and kept stroking me as she rubbed her chest against my back. I was sure I could even feel her stiff nipples thru her top against my back. I could hear her soft laughter and feel her warmth breath against my back. But I was steaming by this point. I tried to hold my temper....but I knew if I didn't do something quickly, she was going to make me squirt all over inside my jeans.

I slammed my hands down on the table beside the copier...trying not to let the papers get completely out of control. Of course, half of the rest of them were headed for the floor as they came out of the copy machine, but I couldn't help that. I had a situation that I needed to deal with...RIGHT NOW. I yanked her hands out of my pants and whipped around...grabbing her around the waist and doing to her exactly what she had tried to do first. I gouged at her waist with my thumb and forefinger and she shrieked with laughter. I knew she would be easy to control.

The trailer had two sections and an office (plus a bathroom). The office was too small and in the wrong direction. But the front of the trailer was unlit (except by windows with blinds, so it was pretty dark in there). I turned toward it and shoved her toward the door...keeping her disabled and gasping for breath with my tickling. I wasn't completely without mercy. I would occasionally stop long enough to give her a few seconds to get some breath before taking control of her again. When we got through the door, I put her down on the floor and began stripping her...just tickling her enough to keep her hands from being of any use in blocking me. It took between 2 and 3 minutes until she was sitting there, completely naked.

I still wasn't in this because I was into her. This was something primal...pure reaction, without clear thought. I just decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. She was completely humilated by this time. Obviously, things were not going the way she planned. She was crying softly. I thought for a moment about walking away and leaving her like that. But, the primal thing kicked in again, and I decided that she needed to be taught a lesson.

I unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock...still stiff from the stroking and the roughhousing while stripping her. I smacked her on the cheek with it. Not hard enough to bruise...but hard enough to send a message. She was still gasping for air and had tears running down her face, but she finally opened her mouth and I slid it inside. She was still jerking a little...sort of like hiccups...no doubt from the lack of air she'd been struggling with for awhile. But her mouth was nice...warm and wet. It felt good. I slid my cock in and out, in and out...using her...just as she had used me earlier for her pleasure.

Again, I could have finished off there...shot down her throat, and made her swallow it. I guess that's often considered some level of humiliation. Doesn't really feel that way to me. And my temper still hadn't been satisfied. I finally pulled out of her mouth and flipped her over...pulling a straight chair over that she could put her head and shoulders on...and where she could rest her hands.

I grabbed her around the waist and lifted her up until her knees were just about straight up and down. And I started smacking her ass hard. She was enough of a smartass that I wasn't sure how she'd react. In fact, I wondered if she might not enjoy it...although I didn't really care. And she might have at first. But I wasn't playing nice. I was still exacting my revenge. The pain started working on her, and she was shrieking (although mutedly) and recoiling with each hard smack.

Once I'd worn her out good, I slipped the fat head of my cock up against her pussy lips from behind, and slipped it just inside her...working it slowly in, deeper and deeper. She was alternating crying and moaning and even gasping for air occasionally. I was kneeling behind her now...roughly fondling her breasts...squeezing and twisting her nipples just beyond the point of pleasure.

As I reached full depth inside her, I began smacking against her...pounding her forward into the chair with each thrust. She was mostly moaning now. Again, no doubt that wasn't what she wanted...but she had apparently resigned herself to it, and was starting to get into it on some level. Finally, I felt her begin to tighten down around my cock and knew that she was ready to climax.

I pulled out and sprayed my hot ropes all over her back. Without a word, I got up and walked out of the room...and got back to work on the project.

About 10 minutes later, she emerged from the dark room herself. We sat and worked silently until the work was completed, and then headed out. I dropped her off at her house without a word.

I felt badly about how I had treated her and tried to pull her aside and apologize. She nodded her head, but never spoke another word to me again.



Tickling the Ivories with Derek



Following the footsteps of my father I wanted to learn how to play piano. But attending a tutor's class turned out to be a lot more than tickling the ivories!

I guess it didn't take me long to realize Derek aimed to show me more than just how to play a piano. It was just the way he'd close up behind me and extended his arms each side of me as I sat on the piano stool to 'show me the notes.'

We went through some Chopin, Mozart and `Handel variations from sheet music, which I had just about got the hang of but I had in mind being a jazz pianist.

"That may well as be" Derek snuffed, but first things first, we need to start with the simple rudimentary things first.

I went through the simple scales and soon picked up the first lesson without to much ado. Despite the touch and feeling Derek who's fingers, besides tickling the ivories seemed to be delving suggestively between my crotch as I followed the lesson.

At first I thought it was just accidental because of his position standing behind me and that was standard.

But it didn't happen just once, when I was in the middle of my Clare-de-lune piece his hand definitely slipped down over my crotch.

"You are doing so well Peter, but then I knew you would, you have a natural ability which I guess follows on from your Father's teaching, You will pick it up quickly" and all the time his fingers were moving down there, bunching and squeezing like it was the most natural thing in the world to do whilst he praised my efforts on the piano forte.

The thing is it was rather enjoyable to say the least and the inclination to be homo sexually aroused was very evident as I opened my thighs and let him pursue what he was doing and it was lovely and soothing.

"I do think the world of you, Pete and was so glad when you accepted my offer to teach you piano" then I felt the thrill as he started to undo my trouser zip and feel me over my briefs underneath.

Holding my head back I felt the ecstasy of his touch, those gentle piano playing finger tips soothing my growing cock.

"Just relax Peter and enjoy. You feel so good, you are divine. Let me take it out so I can suck you." Derek soon came to the point and I was in a daze as he made me feel so good, the things he was doing down there, with me seated on the edge of the piano stool which he'd around, enabling an easier stance to what he had in mind.

This was going to be my very first oral experience and at eighteen Long overdue, But the truth be known I had been confused since I reached puberty, I dated a girl but that came to nothing, somehow girls weren't for me, but now, I was beginning to realize what was!

"Just let me strip you, these just get in the way" Derek said and lifting my bum, I helped him take my trousers off, Then I started to down my briefs but Derek said not to, because I looked so adorable and 'funky' in them and feeling his face indulge in some gentle presses into my brief laden crotch I could see this was something that really turned him on, the pressing, the sniffing and the licking over my briefs told me that.

All this was so very new to me, to be enjoyed by another guy, and older guy at that - but the joy and feel of his doings were absolutely wonderful and somehow I felt so very comfortable with this guy who must be twenty years my senior.

Eventually he slipped my briefs down to my knees and examined my credentials, as he called them, and I could see he was getting very worked up as he so gorgeously slipped back my foreskin and muttered compliments about my cock. It was growing like I couldn't believe whilst being in another's company, this was a far cry from my private wanks, being so brazen with this guy and watching what he was doing to me.

"It is lovely, I love the scent and the prominence, and he was gently caressing my balls as he sniffed up to my p-hole and ventured to stick his tongue into it. I already felt the sensitivity of his touch but this was out of this world, and my cock was jerking on its own steam like never before, and watching, I saw him slowly take the head between his lips and start to very slowly suck. I felt the wonderful thrill of that and pushed myself out to him, standing up as, on his knees, he took me to the full and I was marveling at just how he got it all inside his mouth.

That sheer feel of his jaw moving and masturbating me with his mouth was so wonderfully soothing and II felt like he could have done that all day.

He must have been so hungry for it and when he came up for air, I still felt it was inside his throat, it was throbbing like hell and I wanted him to do more, I felt I was left in the lurch and craved for him to finish me off and he gave me a real stiff frigging that was absolutely adorable.

"That feel so good, I love the feel of you, the touch and taste of you" and still wanking me he started to stroke my ass and I felt the fingers of his free hand delve between my ass cheeks and then his fingers started to rim me I guess I knew what he wanted of me then.

Still wanking me he sucked me some more, and I really felt I wanted him inside me. It was something I was learning about myself and it was like Derek knew.

"I'm coming -I'm coming" I yelled feeling his busy fingers working me to a crescendo, and I was there, feeling the relief of that special experience guys crave for and there was Derek hungrily sucking me up. But then his stance changed considerably and he put a CD into the recorder beside the piano.

"I have always fancied a fuck to the 1812 overture," he said roughly pushing me over the edge of the baby grand and I instantly knew what he was about as he smothered my ass with some lubricating jelly that seemed to appear from nowhere, like he knew this was going to happen, like he knew he would have his wicked way with me.

"You have the most desirous asshole" he said and soon he was having his eats of me there too, he'd eaten my cock and creamed me, now he was enjoying me there and it was like nothing would stop him, he was like an animal and somehow I wanted that, I was all ass for him and said so, and when at last I felt his stiffness begin to open me, I knew it would hurt. I gritted my teeth and resisted the initial pain as he went for it.

The sound 1812 overture started to rev up to the final with the guns firing and already he was fucking my virgin hole into a frenzy, the pain had dissolved into numbness and I felt him trust it into me like a wild animal as soon the guns sounded, and so did he with a loud growl, and he was here, spurting his fuck into me.

Afterwards he smiled, patted me on the ass and said I was the best that he would see me tomorrow and he would introduce to a second tutor, who would teach me a few more notes.

I guess I knew the score and the idea of being taught the piano came with a bonus.



Ticklish



They were lying in his bed, all curled up and ready to go to sleep, when she slowly trailed her fingers up his back. He shuddered.

She smiled, knowing she had provoked a reaction, and waited for a moment to make it seem like a one-time thing. Just as his breathing was slowing and evening out into the rhythm of sleep, however, she did it again, tracing his spine with a single fingernail. His eyes flickered open as the shiver passed through his body, and he saw her staring down into his face with a wicked grin.

"Why, you're not ticklish, are you?" she asked, drawing patterns on his back and watching him suck in a breath. Her feather-light fingers ghosted to his sides, teasing softly, her face schooling itself into an innocent expression. They trailed their way up the underside of his arm, and his knees jerked up in an automatic response. She said nothing, merely guiding her fingers down his back again, along the waistband of his boxers and over his ass, which clenched in reaction. She gave it an admiring squeeze before moving onto the highly sensitive backs of his thighs.

Throughout all of this he had been maintaining eye contact with her, but now his eyes fluttered closed. Blindly, he reached out a hand and cupped the back of her neck, drawing her closer to him. Sensing what he wanted, she leaned in, turning her head at the last moment to kiss the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then the spot right below his ear. He groaned. She kissed the corner of his mouth again, feeling his tongue swipe out and try to catch her mouth, in vain. And all the while her fingers danced up and down his back.

His hand removed itself from her neck, skated experimentally down her side. She laughed softly and kissed his forehead. He'd have to try a bit harder than - her thoughts were interrupted by a hitch in her breathing as his larger, rougher fingers stroked her through her instantly wet underwear. As long as it had just been her teasing him she'd kept a lid on her own lust, but he had taken that lid off and it was open season. One of her hands tangled in his messy black hair, the other made a small fist against his back, and he let out a low laugh. His fingers came back, more insistent this time, and almost against her will she tightened the hold she had in his hair.

"That's not fair," she gasped.

"Why, you're not ticklish, are you?" he asked with a devilish glint in his eye.

"That-" she said, struggling to keep her breathing even as he showed no signs of stopping, "doesn't count as tickling, I don't think... ohhh." She ended on a moan as his fingers deftly pushed the soaked lace of her panties aside, briefly brushing against her clit before entering her - first one finger, then two, then three.

All pretence of teasing aside, she grabbed his head with both hands, pulling his face down to meet her own. Her lips grabbed at his hungrily, and the last thing he saw before letting his eyelids fall shut were her piercing green eyes staring straight at him through the pleasure he knew her well enough to recognise.

He continued to stroke at her from the inside out, coaxing from her gentle whimpers that were snatched by his tongue and lost in his mouth. Slowly, one at a time, her hands left his head, until suddenly they were both playing with the elastic of his boxers, slowly creeping under. It was a sneaky move, and she knew it and relished it; but even more she relished her next move, sliding the boxers over his hips to let his cock spring free.

He felt himself being relieved of his only article of clothing, and the sudden coolness of the air on his stiff cock made his fingers pause for a second, but only for a second, as he could already feel her start to clench around him. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers just as hers wrapped around him. He moaned as she began to move her hand down his length, and decided that she, in her lace bra and panties, was wearing entirely too much clothing. So he peeled off the rest of her knickers, brushing his knuckles against her slit in the process, and tossed them somewhere in the general direction of where she had deposited his boxers moments before. Then he tackled the problem of her bra (although that skimpy lace object that barely covered her what looked to be already hard nipples could hardly be called a bra). He reached behind her to unhook it, and it fell down her arms. She let him go for the briefest of moments to slip her arms out of the straps, and he felt the loss of contact acutely, capturing her lips in another kiss in an attempt to make up for it. Then her hands were back, and he released her mouth, choosing instead to swirl his tongue around one breast, getting closer and closer to the top of the mound before finally catching her nipple with his teeth. She let out a cry, more needy than she'd been up till that point, and squeezed him harder. He groaned.

Her eyes flew open and she looked at him, thousands of unsaid things passing between them. He palmed her other breast, thumb toying with her nipple, and she maintained eye contact.

"Please," she breathed, eyes bright and wild. Her flaming hair was spread out on the pillow like a halo, the red in stark contrast against the white sheets; her face was flushed and her chest heaving, her round breasts bare for the world to see - but there in that moment he was the world. He thought she never looked as beautiful as in this moment, these brief seconds before he claimed her as his own. Her hands moved back to his head, pulled him down for another kiss, moved down to grip his shoulder blades. 

Her legs wrapped around his waist and he smiled at her impatience. Her heels were pressing into his buttocks, pulling him closer, and he finally obliged, sheathing himself in her almost completely. She moaned in pure bliss, and he joined his voice to hers, pulling out slightly before thrusting back in, her hips bucking eagerly to meet him. They were both close to the edge; her grip on his shoulders relaxed as her fingers drifted down his back somewhat in time to their rhythm, and his hand found its way back to her breast, and he leaned down to kiss her as they fell over that edge together like so many times before. 



Ticklish Cindy & The Firefighters



Cindy smiled to herself as she admired her long legs in the mirror. She particularly enjoyed the feel and the look of sheer nylon. It was this pleasure that she took right now as she glanced back over her shoulder to check that her seams were absolutely straight. 

It was unusual for Cindy to have to perform this task alone. Normally there were more than enough men who would be willing to drop to her feet and be allowed the 'privilege' of straightening her seams.

Sipping from her glass of wine her thoughts travelled to the events of the previous evening. Cindy had known that the invite to the Christmas party at the Fire Station would have been a wonderful opportunity to demonstrate the power of a woman, and she had not been proven wrong. What was it about men that made them so predictable? As always the men had been so polite and charming, yet within seconds of arriving it had been obvious that some of the admiring glances had transpired into more than physical reactions. 

Cindy loved this best, and recalled with pleasure and wickedness the moment when she had asked if she could climb into the drivers seat of one of the larger fire tenders. Naturally this had involved hitching her skirt high enough to show the dark bands of her stocking tops. One of the younger fire-fighters had been barely able to contain himself as Cindy's long elegant hands had reached down to pull up her skirt. Her red painted nails 'snaked' around the lower part of her dress, and to ensure that she got everyone's attention continued to give a running dialogue; 

' Oh dear I do hope I don't catch my nylons' she mused in a soft tender voice, 

' Is anyone going to help me up into the cab?' It seemed that almost before she had finished the sentence dozens of strong hands had lifted her off the ground and into the drivers seat. In that short space of time the hands had wandered everywhere and Cindy's mind had been awash of differing sensations of pleasure as warm, soft and firms hands had gently caressed her. What a pity, she thought as she seemed unable to identify the owner of a particularly sensuous pair. They had seemed so loving and for a few moments 

Cindy had imagined how they would feel over the rest of her alive and excited body. The thought caused her mouth to dry and she found it necessary to lick her dark lips.

Seated comfortably in the drivers seat she was now wickedly aware that her ridden up skirt had not been adjusted, more enticingly it was now at eye level. Not that this needed pointing out, as all male eyes were firmly riveted on those smooth firm thighs. 

'You naughty boys' reprimanded Cindy in a soft gentle voice, making a token gesture to correct her skirt, but in point of fact only making it worse. 

' Is this the accelerator?' she asked whilst stretching her long leg towards the pedal. Cindy knew her game well and ensured that as her leg extended she would point her elegant foot thereby elongating the leg even further. 

'Do you like my nylons?' she asked of one young fireman who had appeared entranced by her from the start. His attempt at a reply became nothing more than a stumble of words. He felt his face redden and became acutely aware of the hardness of his erection as his manhood brushed firmly against the rough serge of his uniform. It wasn't lost on Cindy. 

'Why don't you climb up in the cab next to me' she asked patting the seat gently. With an instinct that only women have Cindy knew this would be too much for him. As he moved his leg up toward the foot rest the sensation tripped him over the edge. Never before had he come with such vigour, his legs felt like jelly and with a low pitched groan he slumped against the side of the door . The throbbing, gushing sensation deep in his groin felt as if it would never end. 

Looking very embarrassed he mumbled something about feeling unwell and turned to walk away. 

'I hope you feel better soon' added Cindy closely followed by a sensuous 'You naughty boy'.

'One down fifteen to go'. The thought was almost instantaneous. Cindy was an expert at this, and could play the game without a second thought. She had the ability to constantly appear innocent whilst driving men around her to distraction. And that was precisely what she intended. The Firemen knew this of course, and would cooperate fully:men always did!

The game continued, the firemen in a state almost akin to hypnosis. 

‘This must be the gearstick' stated Cindy in a low soft voice, whilst gently wrapping her slender fingers around the long leather phallic like knob. 

‘Now, now, just behave' she asserted her authority having realised that her teasing had pushed her ‘ hard' and desperate audience beyond reason, but it was too late. Four of the fire-fighters were now in the cab and Cindy found herself manhandled onto the long back seat behind the drivers. 

Hands and mouths seemed to be everywhere, she felt the buttons on her blouse being undone, and groaned with uncontrolled sensuality as her neck was gently kissed and nibbled at the base. She felt herself losing control and muttered a low and almost inarticulate ‘Oh God' as the waves of pleasure washed over her.

Cindy's long legs were not lost on these hungry men. Warm hands gently caressed her lower legs, then her thighs, whilst anonymous tongues licked and kissed her ankles. Cindy wanted more and found herself unconsciously pushing her body towards the sources of pleasure. They came from all angles which left her a twisting, writhing mass of pleasure as she sought to hungrily devour every last sensation.

Pain and pleasure had always featured simultaneously in Cindy's life. Today was to be no exception. To her horror she suddenly felt her shoes being gently removed. Cindy was terribly ticklish. It was her one dread in life. Although intensely pleasurable it was none the less unbearable. 

As she felt the gentle rasp of a tongue along her pointed arch she emitted an ear piercing scream, 

‘please not that, please don't tickle me' she screamed, desperately struggling for freedom. Intuitively this seemed to give her captors the authority they needed and within seconds the situation had been reversed. Cindy found herself helpless against their firm and powerful hold. She was now the victim not them. 

‘So, you're ticklish are you?' asked the Senior of the men. ‘We'll have to teach you a lesson for teasing us won't we?. 

Cindy's stomach turned at the thought of what was to happen. She knew from experience that it would only be seconds before she completely collapsed and lost control if they tickled her, yet at the same time the thought was delicious. Her mind was awash with conflicting feelings and sensations. It was arousing and she felt a warm glow deep inside of her.

‘Hold her firmly guys' came the order. 

Cindy felt herself being stretched out on the long leather seat. Her hands held above her head, and her legs imprisoned in a firm hold. At most she could wriggle her hips slightly. Her blouse was now undone and soft warm fingers began to gently run up her sides and over her bosom. Cindy became hysterical, her hips bucked and writhed but there was to be no escape. 

The torment continued unabated as Cindy's screams became an inarticulate barrage of pleas to stop. Her head tossed from side to side as the gentle fingers remorselessly and relentlessly covered every inch of her taught and sensitive body. 

After what seemed like eternity she was allowed some respite. Aware that the tickling had stopped, Cindy gulped lungfulls of needed air. 

‘So, are you being a good girl?' asked a voice from somewhere above her. Her forehead was gently stroked in a gesture of kindness that seemed paradoxical to her torture. 

‘Yes,Yes' urged Cindy in forced whisper which was about as much as she could muster. 

‘Well that's good , but I'm afraid you haven't been punished enough just yet' said the calm, deep and somehow reassuring voice. 

‘I want you to be very brave about the next part' . Again Cindy felt the hold on her tighten.

With dread she suddenly realised that those same fingers were now gently running up and down the tops of her stocking clad feet. 

‘Oh please God not that, please don't tickle me ‘ she pleaded through an already breaking voice. 

‘I can't stand it, please.........' her voice trailed into an hysterical shriek as the fingers slowly made their way to the underside of her foot. 

Cindy had never experienced anything quite like this. It was as though every nerve ending in her body had focused on the soles of her delicate and neat little feet. As the fingers skilfully and nimbly brushed along her arches and beneath her toes she thought that she would die. Her screams and pleas had by now become maniacal and she was fast losing her senses. 

As each fireman took his turn as the tickler, fresh screams and shrieks varied in pitch as some new technique was tried. Cindy tried desperately to retain herself but it was hopeless. 

Any vestige of dignity or decorum was lost. As the terrible tickling continued she felt her legs being pulled open, and the sensation of a warm tongue on the inside of her thigh. 

The tongue worked its way slowly and deliberately up her legs until it simply and gently methodically licked at her love nest. It was too much. With reserves of energy that she would not have though possible, Cindy arched herself upwards to meet the probing tongue. As she did so, she felt the warm glow inside of her spread throughout like a raging fire. 

With a final desperate scream she came frantically. It was the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced. Her over excited body continued to tremble and shake long after she had been let go. 

Exhausted with passion Cindy was unable to move. The tickling had stopped and Cindy found herself being gently held and consoled by one of her captors. She was offered a sip of water which was gratefully accepted. Rather than being tickled she was now being tenderly stroked 

After some minutes she was able to recover . 

Some of the Firemen began to look nervous, as if they had taken things just a bit too far. Cindy's wicked smile and reassurances were able to convince them of the opposite. With a glint in her eye she now stated that her seams were indeed crooked and needed straightening. She pointed and selected her volunteer for this task, 

‘but not before you've helped me with my shoes' she purred in her best honeyed voice' whilst stretching her long and shapely legs before those eager eyes. 

As she was attended to by her willing slave Cindy smiled inwardly to heself. This was such fun and they seemed to enjoy it too. All too briefly the fun would be over, but never mind. Next week was open day at the paramedic centre, Cindy just knew in adavance how events were going to turn out!!!