True story: A Ticklish Topic (M/F and F/M, 18+ only!)

This is the true story of how I “converted” a lovely young lady to our tickling side of life. It happened about ten years ago, and I wrote it down shortly after our relationship was over. The first part is mainly a lot of dialogue about erotic tickling without real action, but it might be helpful for all those who want to convince their partner of our lifestyle. If you’re only interested in the action, scroll down to the second part (“The Reward”, first reply in this thread). Enjoy!

A Ticklish Topic

Part One: The Convincing

Recently I dined with my new flame in a small, cozy Italian restaurant. Susan was the most bewitching, sweetest female being I had encountered in a long, long time. She unveiled feelings inside me that I had forgotten forever. Her smile caused the sun to rise, even on that chilly winter evening.

Only during our previous date, we came to be on first name base (which is used only for good friends here in Germany). My falling in love with her forbade me to press the issue too much. I guess I wanted to experience the whole romantic phase and feel all the butterflies in my stomach again, not just hop into bed with her for a friendly tumble and a shy good-bye. Instinctively I knew: she was the one who could give me so much more than plain sex.

Accidentally (I swear!) I touched her ribs when I was helping her out of her coat, and she jumped and giggled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. You seem to be rather ticklish, aren’t you?” I just had to ask this. A slight shiver ran through her. “Oh yes, terribly!”

“What’s so terrible about it? Being ticklish isn’t terrible at all. Applied cleverly, it can even provide a lot of fun!” She shrugged, but offered no reply.

During our excellent dinner, we had a great time just talking about all kinds of topics. I enjoyed to make her laugh with witty remarks. She noticed this and asked me: “You seem to like making people laugh?” – “Only if their laughter is as enticing as yours,” I replied in a sudden fit of old-world-charm. Another smile was my reward, and she added somewhat cheeky: “I guess that’s why you tickled me before, isn’t that true?” – “That was pure coincidence. To tell the whole truth, it was even a coincidence that I tickled you by accident.”

“Could you explain that? I don’t understand.” – “Well, I’ll explain it to you during another date. This just doesn’t seem to be the right place and time for it.” She shook her pretty hair and inquired further: “And what would be the correct time and place and time for it?” The ploy with the proverbial female curiosity worked once again, whatever feminists might think about it. Intentionally, I guided our conversation to a different, more inconspicuous topic, well aware that I had managed to arouse her interest.

Cunning as she was, she used the next opportunity when I had provoked another laugh. “Have you read today’s newspaper? They say that a contagious laughing disease has broken out in some eastern part of Africa. Wouldn’t that be the perfect holiday destination for you?” This time, it was my turn to laugh, and she giggled along merrily as I asked her: “Only in East Africa? But seriously, Susan: Laughter and disease are natural enemies normally. Laughing is the best remedy for most kinds of diseases.”

“Only if you laugh out of your own free will, not forced by some strange virus. Or by something else…” Systematically, she steered our conversation back to tickling. Well, she had asked for it, so I took the ball and ran.

“Well, I wouldn’t like to be forced into laughter by a virus. I prefer other reasons…” – You mean: by tickling?” – “Yes, especially by tickling. But that’s a very erotic topic, be warned!”

Her crystal-clear guffaw rang out once more. “You’re joking! Tickling and erotic? That’s ridiculous!” – “Well, you’re already laughing, aren’t you? But seriously, I wasn’t intending to talk about tickling yet, in this stage of our relationship. You might misinterpret it. Maybe you’d consider me a sex-crazed monster or a pervert, and thus decide never to meet me again. And in addition, I would have to reach very far back to explain it correctly. That could get rather theoretic and dry, and much too serious to talk about right now.”

-“You seem to have researched tickling very thoroughly, haven’t you? I wasn’t aware that you’ve become a scientist lately! But this subject interests me. I suffer from getting completely hysterical by the lightest touch, and now you’re telling me stories about tickling which make this phenomenon appear so ordinary, even scientific. Don’t worry, I won’t take your explanations as sexual harassment. But I won’t consent to play the guinea pig for some obscure pseudo-scientific experiments either. So, get going!”

I grinned. “Okay, you’re asking for it. Have you ever thought about the reason why people are ticklish?” – “Hmm, no, now that you’re asking. Why are they?” – “Well, that originates from the evolution of human physiology. Just reflect on this: Where are you most ticklish? Specifically around the tummy, on your ribcage, in your armpits, and on palms and soles.” She nodded approvingly, and I took it as a positive signal, so I carried on:

“Well, the tummy and loin area, as well as the ribcage, are highly vulnerable body regions. To prevent injuries there, nature has built in a reflex that makes us withdraw at once when we’re touched there. The body buckles forward to present less vulnerable body parts like our backs. To trigger that reflex, it takes a considerable amount of highly sensitive nerve endings around these body parts.” She nodded again and said: “Sounds logical. But there are no important organs in our armpits. Why are we so ticklish there?”

“That’s not quite right. In the armpits, there are the nerve centers which control our arms and hands. There’s a karate blow into the armpits that paralyzes the whole limb for minutes. But I don’t think that the protective function is the real reason for our ticklishness there. I guess it’s just because so many nerves are centered there. This increases our sensitivity, quite similar to our palms and soles.” – “Palms? People are not ticklish there, are they?” – “If you don’t believe me, we need to prove this fact. Give me your hand!”

Hesitantly, she stretched out her left hand. I held her wrist and let my fingertips glide over the palm ever so gently. She jerked her hand back and clenched it into a fist. “Ticklish indeed,” she giggled and rubbed her palm with her right hand. “I didn’t even know I was ticklish there.” – “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got a lot more ticklish spots than you are aware of!” She blushed slightly and scolded me playfully: “No experiments, you promised it!”

“Okay, okay. But back to our topic: Palms and soles are so ticklish because of the huge amount of nerve endings there. Originally, our animal ancestors used to walk on all four limbs, and frequently through high grass where you can’t see the ground. Imagine stepping on a sharp object. If you step on it with your full weight, it would mean an injury. Or you step on something soft and moving. A snake? Better to withdraw fast! There’s even a special medical terminus for this reflex of your feet: Babinsky Reflex. Doctors draw a sharp pencil over your soles to test if the leg is paralyzed after an accident. Don’t worry, I won’t demonstrate this on you now.”

Once more she guffawed: “If you did, we’d get thrown out of this restaurant immediately!” Smiling, I continued my ‘highly scientific’ lecture: “Our society played an important role in increasing the ticklishness of our soles. People who walk barefoot all their lives develop a thoroughly callused skin surface, just like our ancestors. But they can still feel dangerous objects, despite the calluses. Barefoot cultures know ticklish soles as well, though they won’t react to a soft, feather-like touch. You’ll have to turn the feather around and apply a firmer touch with the quill, then these people can sense the tickling impulse, and they, too, react to the Babinsky reflex.”

I interrupted my explanation as I saw her shuddering uncomfortably when I mentioned the word ‘feather’. “Are you alright?” I asked her. She replied: “I already jump at the mere thought of a feather. That’s a real phobia against feathers, I suppose.”

“Hmm. Would be interesting to research the reason for this. But let’s do that later. I was talking about why our civilization is responsible for the degree of ticklishness on our soles. Imagine you’re sensitive enough to feel something through a callused sole. Suddenly, the calluses are gone, only soft skin stretches over the soles. But the numerous and extremely sensitive nerve endings are still there. We’re used to wear shoes for many generations, only rarely we walk barefoot. How can we develop a strong, callused skin? All the sensitive nerve endings are still there. What’s the result? We’re extremely ticklish there.”

I stuffed and lit my pipe before I continued, as I just needed my hands to do something. “This effect is not quite as strong with our palms. Our sensitivity there has decreased to a lower level through time. But the hands still are our most important tools for touching. Thus, a certain amount of nerve endings is still important and functioning well. That’s the reason for the ticklishness on our palms.”

The waiter interrupted us. We ordered another bottle of wine; this topic was much too fascinating to break off and go home. Susan told me that she was particularly ticklish on her toes, and she wanted me to explain this as well.

“Our feet, too, were gripping devices in our evolution. The ‘fingers’ there became smaller, but the amount of nerve endings in our toes is approximately the same as in our much longer fingers. And as our toes eventually touch each other at their sides, the skin there is extremely tender and soft. Please correct me if I’m wrong: The most ticklish spots on the toes are between them, and at their undersides.” Once more she nodded, shivering visibly: “You can say that! But where’s the connection of all this with eroticism?”

“Now we’re getting to the really interesting part. Haven’t you noticed that most of the ticklish areas are highly erogenous zones as well? I suppose that a soft tongue on your tummy and around your loins is not completely unknown to you. Most people consider this stimulating.” Instinctively, she affirmed.

“Well, if you tickle somebody at these spots, it is just as stimulating, you just don’t recognize it at once. At least, you don’t notice the stimulating effect during the brief moment you need to withdraw from the tickling. This can only work if you can’t resist the tickling, but then it works a lot better.”

Her exes widened: “What do you mean by that? Not able to resist? You’d have to tie me up for that! That’s something I will never consent to!” – “Never say never,” I calmed her gently. “How do you react when you get tickled? You try to protect your ticklish spots with your hands or arms, or you just run away. That’s a perfectly normal reaction, but that way, you’re denying yourself the chance to become aroused by the soft touch. The only sensation you feel is the uncomfortable initial irritation that triggers your reflexes.”

Susan looked at me pensively and obviously disbelieving, so I continued: “But if you’re willing to let yourself get carried over that threshold, tickling can unfold its true erotic effect. In the beginning, the tickling feels simply unbearable, your nerve endings become overloaded with the stimulation. As the tickling happens on especially sensitive body parts which are erogenous zones as well, you’re likely to become extremely aroused. After a few moments, the sexual sensation will drown out the initial discomfort. Believe me, I’ve experienced many a girl crawling out of her skin from pure lust, just from continuous tickling. Okay, only very few will reach orgasm by tickling alone, without any additional sexual stimulation, but the tickling usually increases the lust level considerably during a climax.”

Her eyes still wide, she asked incredulously: “And that’s no bullshit you’re telling me?” Completely serious, I replied: “My word of honor, no bullshit. Admittedly, not everybody reacts the same positive way to tickling. But I know that women with orgasm problems get treated with tickling. Of course, this doesn’t work if these problems are of organic nature, or for victims of rape or child abuse. But a lot of anorgasmic women just have difficulties to let themselves go. Their control is too tight. If these women get tickled continuously and patiently, they will lose that control. Their mind barriers will crumble. Of course, that’s only possible if they’re tied down.”

I seemed to get somewhere, finally. “But there is another physical connection between tickling and orgasm: The laughing triggers the same muscle contractions as an oncoming sexual climax. Our brain seems to conclude that an orgasm is imminent, and it causes our glands to pour out more sexual hormones. You could say the brain prepares the body for an orgasm. This is some sort of feedback effect. By the way: The reason why we must laugh during tickling is still an unsolved mystery.”

This frank conversation about sex and orgasm obviously showed some effect on Susan. Her eyes sparkled, and she adjusted her long brown hair with a nervous gesture. Outwardly cool, she replied:

”That’s almost incredible. Obviously you have dealt with this quite intensely. But there are still some things I don’t understand. For example: what do the feet have to do with all this? Feet aren’t erogenous zones after all, are they?”

“On the contrary! Have your feet never been kissed, have you never experienced soft licks of gentle sucking on your toes? Then you’ve missed something, my friend. But there’s a scientific explanation for that as well: The impulses from different nerve endings lead to specific brain regions. Extensive research has shown where exactly these impulses end up. By some odd chance, the receptors for the feet are located in direct vicinity to the receptors for the genitals. If there are very strong impulses from the soles and toes, the overloaded receptors cans spark off electrical energy into neighboring receptors. Very strong tickle impulses at the feet can cause this overflow.”

Lost in thoughts, she shook her head. “That’s simply incredible! And all this can be proven by science?” – “Yes. At least the vicinity of the mentioned receptors has been proven, and the fact of impulse overflow. I just added two and two. It seems nobody has yet combined this knowledge. If I had enough money, I’d gladly finance some research projects on tickling.”

We fell silent. Naturally, she needed some time to digest all that. I didn’t press on, I simply paid the check. Before she climbed into her car, we embraced each other. What an absurd situation, We hadn’t even exchanged our first real kiss, but I was already lecturing about sex and tickling to her!

*

Two weeks later, we met again, this time during a social event. No chance for a private conversation, and the shallow party small talk soon annoyed me terribly. Of course, our special topic wasn’t mentioned at all. Just as I started to leave, she offered to accompany me. “We could have a cup of coffee or a glass of wine elsewhere,” she suggested.

Now that came somewhat unexpected. Our conversations on the phone since our previous date had been rather inconsequential, if not a bit too cool. I had already berated myself for foolishly lecturing to her. As I had feared before, our relationship seemed too break before it even began. And now this proposal!

We went to a nice wine bodega nearby. I forced myself to circumnavigate the topics sex and tickling. Any impulse in that direction had to come from her now, if ever. And she did! My dry, theoretic seed had fallen into fertile ground and started to bud.

“You told me an interesting story last time,” she mentioned offhandedly. – “I told you a lot of stories. Which one do you mean?”

“Don’t play innocent. You know very well what I mean! The one about tickling and sex, and all that. I guess it was just a ploy do seduce me somehow?” Honestly offended, I protested fervently: “Before God, it was the truth and nothing but the truth! And certainly no ‘ploy’ to seduce you!” – “But why else did you tell me all that?” she drilled deeper. – “Well, it’s because I find this topic quite interesting. And I think it a pity if somebody as marvelously ticklish as you considers tickling as merely uncomfortable, instead of using it for a personal advantage and enrichment.”

She smiled in her pixyish way: “You’re so sweet when you get all excited about something, d’you know that?” This vixen really managed to embarrass me! I think I even blushed a little but she continued with a smirk: “If this topic makes you feel uncomfortable, just say so, and we’ll talk about something else…” – “Okay, okay,” I shrugged, “I’m glad you’re interested in that topic as well.” – “Then you can certainly answer a few more questions, can’t you?” – “Of course, just start away.”

“Last time, you mentioned that you actually had some real experiences with this. I mean tickling in connection with bondage and sex. How on earth did you convince those women to consent?” My dry throat needed to be cleared, and a sip of wine provided the necessary courage. “You know, I think they were simply curious to experience something new and different. But the bondage stuff is something else. If you’re not careful, it can backfire!”

“I thought as much. As I said before, I’d never let anybody do this to me.” – “And as I said before: Never say never! But seriously: For this to become a really great experience for both, a lot of rules have to be obeyed.”

“Rules? So you think it’s just some sort of game?” – “Don’t you call sex a love game sometimes? Is love a game? I don’t think so. Nevertheless, there are a lot of rules in love, too, for example fidelity or honesty. Therefore, you may talk about bondage rules as well.”

“Okay, one score for you,” she admitted. “What kind of rules?” – “First of all, both partners must agree to it. It’s not enough to just talk somebody into it, and any use of force or coercion ruins it completely. That would be comparable to rape, and I detest this strongly.”

Her brain was working visibly as I went on: “It’s quite natural to be afraid of being tied up for the first time. But I compare that with your first jump from the 10-foot-board into the pool. You’re terribly afraid of it at first, standing up there so alone. But you know for sure: if you don’t jump there and then, you’ll never try again. So you overcome your fear, and you jump. You’ll still get a strange feeling in your stomach whenever you stand on the board again, but by then you know: I can manage it, and I can derive pleasure out of it. But if you produce a painful belly-flop at your first jump, it will be very difficult for you to dare it one more time. For that reason, it’s most important that nothing goes wrong during your first bondage session, absolutely nothing!”

One more sip of wine, then I continued: “The most important thing is mutual trust between the partners. Not only the tied partner takes a risk, the other one as well. What if the woman accuses him for having raped her? She can prove her rope marks. And the bound partner surrenders himself completely to the other’s mercy. Once tied up tightly, resistance is impossible. What if the active partner is a closet sadist? If he or she enjoys to inflict real pain? If he or she doesn’t care for limits or rules that were agreed upon previously? You see, trust is of utmost importance. That usually works only between very good friends, or lovers, of course. I’d strongly discourage others from such experiments.”

“Sounds convincing,” she approved. “You were talking about agreeing on rules and limits?” – “That’s the next important point. The active partner must know what the other one likes, and especially what he or she doesn’t like at all. For example, there’s no point in tying up somebody for tickling if tickling has been specifically ruled out before.”

She interrupted: “But why should anyone consent to bondage in the first place? Just to prove one’s trust?”

“Well, if you’re tied up, all the responsibility is in the active person’s hands. Don’t laugh at me, sometimes it’s very comfortable to hand over all responsibility. Simply lay back and let yourself go. You don’t have to be a masochist to enjoy the titillating helplessness. Just do with me as you like, I will simply enjoy it. Do you know this kind of feeling?”

She nodded silently. “I just haven’t tried it with bondage yet. But the feeling of sweet, lustful surrender is familiar to me.”

“Guessing from your face, you obviously liked it. Most people who’ve actually tried it fall for it. But back to the rules. Part of them is to define which body parts shouldn’t be touched. Some people don’t like anal stimulation at all, for example, so that region is taboo. And if your partner has real feelings for you, this taboo will be respected. After all, it has to be pleasurable for both.”

I stubbed the remainders of my pipe tobacco ashes out, then I looked directly in her eyes again: “In your case, tickling with feathers would be taboo. In my case, face tickling would be off-limits. It just feels uncomfortable for me, although I’m quite ticklish there. This kind of taboo is important if you want to keep your partner. If it’s broken, the mutual trust will be badly damaged, and it won’t return.

“Another important point is the danger signal. A mere ‘stop!’ or ‘quit’ isn’t enough. During any heavy tickling session, you will utter these words automatically, even if you want the tickling to continue, because you’ve reached the point when the unbearable turns to lust.

“With my former bondage partners, I always used a cough as a danger signal. The tickling must stop at once when a cough is uttered. There’s another reason for it: If you’re on the receiving end of a heavy tickling session, you’ll laugh so hard that you can’t talk at all. And sometimes, you swallow the wrong way and cough automatically. You know, being tickled isn’t completely without danger: You might actually suffocate if you aren’t allowed to breathe deeply from time to time.”

Susan agreed eagerly: “I experienced that once. As a teenager, I used to play wrestling with my best girlfriend, just for fun. One day during the wrestling, she tickled me so intensely that I could hardly breathe. I almost passed out before she let me go.”

“Hear, hear, so you’ve got some experience already! Now, seriously: Tickling was used as torture by several cultures during the Middle Ages. They even tickled people to death. Don’t ridicule it, that’s the truth! Nobody was able to prove the torture afterwards, as there were no visible injuries on the victims. Thus, their ‘confessions’ must have been given voluntarily.

“What do we learn from this? During erotic tickling you must be careful not to overdo it. Even without the danger signal, the passive partner should be given a break now and then. You can fill these breaks with purely erotic touches, that’s very efficient. The whole body is in a state of increased sensitivity then, and extremely sensitive for sexual stimulation.

As I’ve told you before, tickling increases the lust level during orgasm tremendously. Some people literally fall into ecstasy, and several women even reach multiple climaxes. Another important thing: You should untie your partner immediately after the climax, or painful cramps in arms and legs could follow. You’ll have sore muscles anyway next morning, but I know less interesting reasons for sore muscles.”

Again she grinned: “Hear, hear, the expert is speaking. Please tell me: Have you always tickled other people, or have you ever been on ‘the receiving end’ as well?” – “Of course, and I really can’t say which I enjoy more. Naturally, the tickled victim should be given a chance for revenge, otherwise the whole concept gets lopsided and unfair.” She giggled, a little embarrassed: “Am I to take that as an invitation?” – “Hmm, take it as you like…”

Now we behaved like teenagers at their first date. None of us had the courage for the next step. To overcome our embarrassment, I just made some funny remarks, and her laughter loosened the tension. We kept on horsing around for quite a while, and I enjoyed it tremendously.

Once more, an evening was over. Arrived at her car, we stood together very close, for a long time, and the usual good-night-kiss turned into a hot lovers’ kiss. I was in paradise, but she managed to top it: She promised to think this over thoroughly. Half joking, she said: “Okay, listen to my words: If I ever should decide to want erotic tickling, I’ll do it with you. Just give me a little more time.”

“As much as you like, dear Susan. I’m incredibly happy about your words already!” I kissed her once more, and she drove off.

(continued)

Part Two: The Reward

Another fortnight passed by before we met again, this time in a rather romantic Spanish restaurant. The evening rolled by smoothly, but without our special topic. I didn’t want to press her. Some furtive caresses were enough to make me feel so happy.

Afterwards, it must have been around eleven, I accompanied her to the car. We kissed, she boarded, and I was ready to declare the evening over. But as she turned the key, the engine just uttered a strange wheezing sound instead of the usual smooth hum. She tried to start again and again, but the engine just didn’t respond.

She got out of the car and asked me: “How much do you know about cars?” I shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, anything technical is way out of my grasp. Are you an ADAC (= German version of AAA) member?” – “Nope, forget ADAC. But a cab home will be rather expensive.” She lived in a suburb well out of the city. And I didn’t have a car to take her home!

“Okay, listen to my idea now, and please don’t misunderstand it: We take a cab to my home, and you sleep in my flat. To be exact, you can have my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.” – “I bet you’d like that! You’d dare to take advantage of my problem, won’t you?” Her eyes glinted furiously. I calmed her down: “On the contrary, I’m just trying to be helpful. No need to worry, I’ll behave like a real gentleman. No attempts at you, I promise!”

Her hands on the waist, she tilted her head to one side and shot me an inquisitive glance: “So, I’m supposed to believe you, even though you told me about all those things about bondage and tickling?” – “Cross my heart and hope to die. A boy scout’s word of honor!”

“All right. Anyway, it’s better than standing here in the cold. Hurry up, there’s a cab!” This girl was breathtaking in more than one way. One moment fury impersonated, the “don’t-you-dare-to-touch-me” engraved in capital letters on her forehead, next moment in the cab, cuddling gently to my shoulder. We even held hands.

Wisely, I had cleaned my bachelor’s flat beforehand. I always do that before dates, hoping for a chance not to spend the night alone. In vain, till that day. Arrived at home, I offered to make some coffee. “Sorry, I haven’t got a record collection to show you, but at least I’ve got coffee.” She laughed: “It doesn’t look like a playboy’s apartment anyway.”

We took the coffee in my lounge, sitting side by side on the couch, and talked about this and that. My favorite radio station always played soft love songs at this hour, and the atmosphere became relaxed but somewhat tingling at the same time. She kicked off her high heels and drew her feet up on the couch, halfway beneath her legs. “Oh, that feels heavenly. I haven’t got out of my shoes since seven in the morning!”

“Would you like me to massage you feet a little? I’m sure that’ll feel even better,” I offered her. She shot me a doubtful glance: “Okay, if you promise not to tickle me!” Without waiting for my reply, she placed her adorable tiny feet in my lap. Using all my skills, I began to massage them gently, but firm enough not to tickle.

She purred with pleasure, like a kitten. “Ohh yeesss, that feels so good. Don’t stop!” – “Lean back, that’s more comfortable.” After quite I while, she remarked with a giggle in her voice: “You know, now I believe you: The feet really seem to be erogenous zones. That feels so good! I’m totally relaxed now. And very surprised about you!” – “Why?” – “Well, after what you told me, I really couldn’t believe you’d be able to resist the temptation to tickle my feet. This would be the perfect opportunity, after all!”

I suppressed a smile and replied: “I confess, I’ve got to pull myself together very strictly, especially with these extremely beautiful feet. But a deal is a deal.” – “Sweet! So you think my feet are beautiful?” – “Too beautiful not to kiss them!” – Okay, you may kiss them.”

What?! This dream girl allowed me to kiss her feet? She even held them right in front of my face! Very gently, I covered the upper side with my kisses, then the bottoms. Finally, I arrived at her toes. With great tenderness I nibbled at them, and she started to giggle: “Ahee, watch out, that tickles!” But she didn’t withdraw her feet. By and by, I became more daring. My tongue came into contact with her nylons. This time, she squealed, but she tried to keep her feet still. “Just tell me when I get too courageous,” I grinned. Giggling continuously, she replied: “You’re much too courageous already, but that feels so great! It’s a weird feeling, being kissed on the feet, I’ve never felt anything like that before. Please don’t stop. And don’t make my nylons so wet!” “Then take them off. That won’t make you naked, will it?” Without a word, she followed my suggestion, much to my surprise.

Now her feet were bare and in front of my face! I was in seventh heaven to get at her soft skin now. She smelled so clean, just with a trace of new leather. I licked her big toes, and once more she squealed with pleasure. Then each single toe got its share of tenderness. I took them in my mouth one after the other and sucked on them ever so gently. When my tongue slipped between two toes, she screamed and pulled her feet away to hide them beneath her body once more. I was afraid I had gone too far, but much to my astonishment, she apologized:

“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s really unbearable what you’re doing to me. You were right: A woman has missed something if she hadn’t been kissed on her feet. But your last action tickled so much, my feet withdrew on their own. However, it was an incredibly wonderful feeling at the same time. Slowly, I’m beginning to get curious about real tickling. Still, I’m afraid of it.”

I bent over to kiss her. Our tongues entwined hotter and more languorously than ever. Yes, she was aroused, I could sense that clearly. Gently, I whispered in her ear: “I could show you how wonderful it can be if it’s done with love…” Again we kissed. After a while, she said: “Do you promise to treat me real nice when you tickle me? And to stop immediately when I ask you to?” I nodded silently. “Okay, then I’d like to get tickled by you now. I trust you, you won’t hurt me.”

Crash-boom-bang, that was eighth heaven! We moved to my bedroom. There’s a vase on my bedside table with several different feathers, and when Susan noticed it, she shrank back. “Don’t worry.” I calmed her, “I won’t use them. Wait a minute, I’ll take them to the lounge, then they’re out of sight.”

I helped her to undress. “I prefer to keep my slip on,” she said. – “No problem, that won’t hamper the tickling, I smiled. I kept my boxer shorts on as well, but shed the rest of my clothes. Cuddling together closely, we kissed. Without interrupting the kiss, we lay down on the bed.

“It’s cold in here,” she shivered, so I pulled the coverlet over us. My hands caressed her dream body tenderly, and her hands responded. I had turned the heating higher before, and now it became almost too hot under the coverlet. So I folded it back a little and started to caress her small, wonderful breasts. She sighed audibly. That way we kept on snuggling for quite a while. Finally, she stated: “You’ve got to tie me down now, or I won’t be able to stand the tickling. But please, no sex yet. Just your tenderness, and I want to know more about tickling now, before I get second thoughts about it!”

From a bedside table drawer, I took well-padded leather cuffs for wrists and ankles, and I adjusted them on her now. Wide-eyed, she glanced at the professional equipment. “It’s not the first time I’m tying somebody down for tickling,” I remarked. “These restraints are the most comfortable ones I could find. They don’t leave any marks our your skin, and they won’t hurt if you pull at them. But they are very efficient. Look at these snap hooks, I can open them in seconds. If you feel any pain, or if you get a cramp, I can free you immediately. And now, please stretch out your limbs.” I fastened her cuffs to my bed’s head and foot rails with leather straps. Now she lay before my eyes spread-eagled and completely helpless, the most beautiful picture I’ve ever seen.

She was breathing deeply, and her eyes looked at me a bit afraid. What was I going to do to her now? But I just kissed her till she calmed down. “Why don’t we continue where we’ve left off before?” I suggested and moved down towards the bed’s foot end. “Oh God, you’re not going to tickle my soles now, are you?” she sighed. As an answer, my fingertips grazed ever so gently over her right arch. She reacted with a cute little giggle.

But then I intensified the pressure a bit. Now it really tickled, and she started to guffaw loudly. “No, ahahaah, I can’t staaahaaand thahahat!” I stopped at once, and she raised her head in surprise. “Why do you stop?” – “You asked me to, and I promised it,” I replied dryly. “I didn’t mean it like that. But okay, I can see the point of a danger signal now. From now on, you’ll stop immediately when I cough!” I grinned: “Very sensible!”

Again, I turned to her soles, this time with my tongue. Earlier, I had avoided to apply my tongue tip, but that changed now. She was now experiencing how much a tongue could tickle. She squealed and guffawed loudly, but there was no escape that time. However, she seemed to enjoy it, so I continued happily on the other foot.

Intentionally, I avoided to tickle her really heavily. It was more of a titillating caress. Oh, she certainly felt genuinely tickled, but I didn’t want to torture her. So her laughing didn’t get too loud, instead she kept uttering moans and sighs which sounded rather lustful.

When I thought her feet had received enough attention for the moment, I straddled her hips. I gave her another kiss and asked her: “Well, how do you like it?” – “Not bad, at least until now. I’d never have imagined that I could really like tickling, but you’re doing it so tenderly. What’s next?”

“Wait and see.” My fingertips circled around her breasts. Her nipples became even stiffer, and she moaned softly. But instead of narrowing the circles as she expected, I widened the diameter. Soon my fingers arrived at the highly sensitive spots below and at the sides of the breasts, and she twitched and laughed: “Careful, that tickles!” – “It’s supposed to.” One single index finger on each side drew a line from her forearms over the elbow crease towards her armpits. Arrived there, she squealed shrilly. But I didn’t stay there, not yet. My fingers continued their downward path over ribs and tummy. Her laughter became continuous now, and she pulled at her restraints. Then my fingers followed the V-shaped loin crease to meet below her navel. Now she really jerked about and screamed.

Then my fingers started a ticklish spider walk over her sides and her tummy, up and down. That made her really freak out, although I hadn’t begun the heavy tickling yet. But I granted her a short break to breathe. My tongue tip caressed her breasts. I sucked at her nipples until her breath became more regular. Without taking my tongue off her breasts, I resumed the soft finger tickling on her sides. Her guffawing started anew, but not that intensely this time. This double treatment felt too good to her, I could sense that.

Only when my fingertips touched her armpits again, she screamed out her sweet torment once more. She coughed, and I interrupted the tickling at once. “Are you alright?” I asked her compassionately. She gasped audibly and convulsively. – “I think I have swallowed the wrong way.” I knew the sound of a real cough too well to believe her, but that didn’t bother me. Maybe she only wanted to test my reaction to the danger signal, maybe she really couldn’t stand the tickling any more.

“Just tell me when I can go on.” – “Just give me a moment, I can hardly breathe now. This tickling is terrible!” – “We can stop it completely if you don’t like it anymore,” I offered her. She smiled: “You really didn’t lie about your being considerate. Good to know that you obey your own rules. But however torturous the tickling feels, it is exciting and wonderful at the same time. My whole body is still tingling. I think I can stand it a little longer.” Silently I kissed her. Then my tongue wandered down her neck and up to her earlobes, gently nibbling at them with my lips. This aroused her visibly, so I continued this caress.

After a few minutes, my tongue moved down to her armpits. She was incredibly sensitive there, and her laughter warmed my soul. Deeper and deeper, my tongue tip glided over her ticklish ribs and tummy, then around the bellybutton. This was rewarded by particularly loud guffawing.

In the meantime, my hands took care of her breasts again. Her lustful moans became more frequent. Her face was flushed, and her eyes got that special glint I call ‘tickle-drunk’. The tickling really turned her on!

I granted her another breather after a while. “Are you still okay?” – “Yes, but the tickling starts to become unbearable. A few more minutes, and I’ll crawl out of my skin, despite the bondage!” This time, it was my turn to laugh. “Okay, I’ll collect your pieces if you explode,” I replied, and she joined my laughter although I wasn’t tickling her then.

“May I suggest something?” I asked her. “I can see your state of arousal. May I touch you at more intimate spots?” – “Hmm, I don’t know. Originally, I didn’t want to have sex, but I’m not so sure about it now.” – “I could tickle you until you consent,” I teased her. – “Try it!” she replied coquettishly.

“Okay, are you ready for some genuine tickle torture now? Brief but really heavy?” – “All right, but really brief!” This time, I didn’t apply stroking touches, instead I kneaded her tummy and ribs with pressure. That was completely new to her, and she reacted strongly. Her laughter became so hysteric that tears ran down her cheeks. At the same time, she wriggled convulsively under my hands, and she bucked like a wild bronco. I suppose she wouldn’t even have been able to cough, the tickling was too heavy. Only for about a minute though, then I stopped to let her breathe.

It took twice as long before she was able to speak again. “That was horrible,” she gasped. “Do it again, I want to know how much I can stand. But you stop immediately when I cough!” I could hardly believe it, she was really asking for more! Of course, I obeyed her wish, and just like before, she freaked out totally; her laughter became soundless. Her squirming and struggling became weaker, and tears flowed over her contorted face. She must look like that during an orgasm, I thought to myself.

I tickled her for at least five minutes and stopped only when I noticed her fruitless attempt to cough. She continued laughing for quite a while. Meanwhile I kissed her breasts until she had calmed down a bit. “Madness,” she gasped, still out of breath. “Completely crazy! I’m hornier than ever before. Please untie me, I want to have sex now, on the spot!”

“Patience, patience. Talking about spots: Let me show you something special first. You’re reacting so positively to tickling, I’m sure you will like it.” I couldn’t believe that I was able to turn on such a dream girl that much; I even had to slow her down.

“Okay, do with me as you like, but do something about my horniness,” she gasped. My fingertips moved along her inner thighs, from her knees up to her slip. She was extremely sensitive to the lightest touch now, and these soft strokes made her laugh and squirm again. Time after time, I caressed her thighs, just to stop the touch short of her panties.

“You’re so mean! Do it to me right now!” she complained. “No hurry,” I grinned and repeated that arousing game several times. Then I pulled her panties real tight with one hand. Her pink labia protruded on either side. My other hand’s index finger tickled the area beside her pussy now, and once more she resumed her tormented laughter.

Finally I had mercy on her horniness. My fingernail scratched gently over that special spot on her panties beneath which I assumed the clit. That hit home! Giggling, she arched her back and started to moan loudly. Again and again I touched that spot with soft pressure, until she threw her head from side to side and bucked strongly. Her face contorted, and she struggled herself into a climax within her bondage, wiggling like a fish in the net. Seemingly endless, her lust exploded.

As soon as her muscles lost their tension, I opened the snap hooks and embraced her. Slowly she came down to Earth. We caressed each other without words for a long time. Finally, she sighed: “That was simply unbelievable! I’ve never before climaxed so hard and heavy. What did you do to me?” – “I’m glad you liked it so much. But that was just a small hors d’oeuvre compared to how much more we could do with tickling.”

She kissed me. “What, still more? But not tonight, I’m ready to drop.” – “No desire for revenge?” – “Hmm, that doesn’t sound bad. Are you as ticklish as me?” she remarked and tickled me beneath the coverlet. A funny tickle-wrestling game evolved, and we both enjoyed it. Accidentally, she touched my pants.

“Hey, what’s that?” she inquired with mock surprise. “Are you carrying a bunch of keys in your boxer shorts?” Her hand slipped inside to tickle me there. “Of course, you’ve been somewhat neglected in our game. Come on, let me help you.” She pulled down my shorts and caressed my best friend.

“But not only with sex, with the tickling as well. Just wait, it’s your turn now!” I unfastened her wrist and ankle cuffs. They were adjustable for different widths, so I could fit them on my limbs securely. “Stretch out, I want to tie you down the same way as you did to me.” I obeyed. As I was lying there, tied up and unable to move, Susan straddled my hips, and I began to feel a little queasy. Just the kind of feeling you get when you helplessly surrender to somebody else’s mercy. Her eyes sparkled promisingly as she asked me if I was ready.

“Yeah, but don’t forget the danger signal!” – “Okay.” Her fingers roamed over my body, and very soon I was unable to hold back my laughter. “Hey, you’re really ticklish! What about your feet?” Before I could say anything, I felt her fingernails gliding up and down my soles. That was too much! Wildly I tugged at my bondage, lost in screaming laughter. She, too, laughed: “How does it feel when the shoe is on the other foot?” she inquired ironically during a short break.

Breathless, I replied: “Wonderful! You’re doing a great job!” – “Then let’s see what you say to this.” She took a seat on my thighs. “Have you got a condom here?” – “In the upper drawer of my bedside table. I thought you didn’t want sex yet?” – “Well, sometimes I just change my mind…” she grinned. Her practiced grip showed me clearly that this wasn’t her first encounter with a condom. Her hands caressed my best friend until I started to moan.

“Patience, patience, first I’d like to show you something,” she imitated my previous words. At first she merely kissed my nipples, and I really like that. But then her fingertips began a ticklish game on my body. Dammit, those were the swiftest fingers that ever had touched my skin! Obviously, I had forgotten what it feels like to be tickled heavily in bondage.

She counted each single rib, whirled over my tummy, and dealt with my armpits thoroughly. Now it was my turn to freak out! My screams must have been so loud, it was a miracle that my neighbors didn’t call the cops. Only during the next break, I realized her pussy was rubbing over my penis. She stopped the tickling but not her hip movements. It felt delicious!

“So, how do you like it?” she asked jokingly, well knowing the answer. I was still trying to catch my breath when I replied: “Diabolically wonderful, and heavenly bad.” She touched my cock gently. “What would you prefer now? My hand on your you-know-what, or more of the tickling?” I gasped, “Both, if possible!”

But she did something completely different: with her hand, she guided my best friend into her hot, moist prison. A few gentle hip rotations proved her to be an expert. “So, do you still want more tickling, or is this enough for you. Oh, by the way: have you ever seen ‘Basic Instincts’?”

“Of course. Ahh, go on, don’t stop! And tickle me a little more, but not as heavy as before.” Her fingertips resumed the rib treatment, but not in a tormenting way. Laughing, I nodded. My involuntary hip twitching turned us on even more. Her face was bright red again, and her lust was contagious.

Her finger dabbling became more nervous and erratic, and her hip rotated faster as we approached our simultaneous climax. Suddenly she moaned out loudly and lay forward on my breast. Her hands were still in my armpits, and with a primeval lust cry I exploded, right into her own convulsing orgasm. I raved around like a madman from pure lust, it was indescribable.

When the waves had ebbed, she opened the snap hooks and kissed me long and passionately. We cuddled together closely, and we were both very, very happy. A long time later, she remarked: “I’d never have imagined that I could like tickling at all, and now I love it. You have shown me its lustful side, and now, I’m no longer afraid of it.”

“I’m glad about that, my darling. You’re a natural talent. I will never forget what you’ve done to me today. Do you think we can repeat this, sometimes?” – “Oh yes, the sooner, the better. But tell me, is it always that fantastic?” – “Most times. It’s the same as with ‘normal’ sex: Sometimes you’re more in the mood for it, and sometimes less. But there are still so many things to explore together!”

“What are you thinking about?” – “Well, there are a lot more possibilities to combine erotic tickling with sex. Why don’t you think of something yourself?” She strained her pretty little head. “Oh, maybe you could tickle me during real sex.”

“Excellent,” I praised her. “That’s especially wonderful, as your internal muscles contract convulsively during your ticklish laughter. The best way to do it is you riding on top of me, with your hands tied together on the back. But there’s still a lot more. Simultaneous foot tickling, for example. Or an endurance competition. Or you can straddle my mouth while your hands tickle me. And it’s a lot of fun to combine role plays with tickling. There’s no chance for boredom, as you can see.”

These fantasies seemed to roll by before her eyes. “Now stop it,” she said, “or I’ll get horny once more!”

“And what exactly would be so bad about that?”…

*

We dated quite frequently over almost a year, but then she fell in love with another man. We remained friends, and she ‘converted’ her boyfriend to tickling. Two years later, they married, and I was invited to the ceremony. My marriage present was her favorite pair of leather cuffs…

As always, you can load down this and all my other stories from my smartgroup:
http://smartgroups.com/groups/halticklingclub1 (under ‘Files’)

An awesome read! You're knowledge of human anatomy is astonishing. I wasn't aware of the level of trust required for an adult tickling session. I can only hope that by following your rules I might one day find a woman to have fun with. A truly inspiring story that won't soon be forgotten.