kibdos
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Aug 29, 2002
- Messages
- 63
- Points
- 1
This is going to sound like pure fantasy or, at the very least, exaggeration. BUT IT IS THE COMPLETE TRUTH. It is also not a story of hard, thrashing, fighting tickling but of a session of erotic tickling that I found just as arousing.
I am divorced now and it was a painful experience as it was not what I wanted. We had differences but I was sure they could be overcome. Em felt otherwise and so that was that. I missed many things, the family life with the kids most of all, but the heavy tickling of our sex life was not the least of it.
We hadn’t had an ideal sex life – perhaps few do – and I seemed to want it everyday and she didn’t but we had reached an accommodation and I was moderately satisfied. And the best times made up for the times of drought.
Em had a great body – that sounds like fiction but it is not – and I never took it for granted. She sometimes wore sexy lingerie to bed – various teddies, a bright red basque, sheer black nylons that showed off her sexy feet, a variety of clinging slips that displayed her heavy breasts and great legs. But my favorite was a black nylon Harem costume that we called her “slave outfit”. It was what she was wearing on one very memorable night.
The kids were in bed and we had a candle-light dinner and wine. She served it wearing an old toweled bathrobe and then, just before she sat down, she said, “I guess I won’t be needing this any longer” and let the robe fall to the floor. She stood for a moment watching me as my mouth hung open. Her dark hair set off her darker eyes and matched the sheer black nylon. The costume had long sleeves, slit from shoulder to wrist, joining a full top whose sheerness hid nothing of her breasts. Her waist was bare and the low slung pants – tied on either side by two velvet bows, were black nylon too, slit from her hips to tight gathered bands at her ankles that seemed to focus my eyes on her bare feet. She found being tickled in nylon very exciting and, with this outfit, I could tickle her bare skin or switch quickly to the nylon without missing a beat. She sat down, enjoying the look on my face. She put a drop of wine on her toes and raised a leg towards me. I licked her toes appreciatively but she pulled her leg back and said, ”That’s all for now. Dessert is later.”
After dinner, she stood up and said, “Can I leave the dishes?” and came next to me. She bent and gave me a deep, wet kiss. My left hand went to her right breast and my right started a light tickling glide down her thigh. Her hand slipped into my bathrobe and squeezed my erection twice. And then she slid out of my arms and walked to the bedroom.
When I poured and warmed two brandies, I followed her. I found her spread out on the bed, her arms above her head, shadows and candlelight dancing on her body. She spread her legs and arched her back like a cat, asking to be stroked. “I’m your sex-slave,” she said. “What do you want tonight?”
“You know, “I replied. “I want to tickle every inch of your body and then go deep inside you.”
“It’s been a while since you tickled me,” she teased, stretching again and slowly spreading her toes. “I don’t know if I can stand it.” I put the brandy snifters on the end table, slipped out of my robe and knelt by her feet.
Em’s degree of ticklishness was like a barometer I could never read. When I first met her, she was seventeen and so ticklish that she became angry whenever I tried it. Later, I got her to relax by starting off with proper massages and then gradually letting my strokes get lighter and lighter until she got used to it. Her feet were my initial focus – I have had a foot-fetish for as long as I could remember – but, since my tickling fetish was equally strong and the rest of her body was so delightfully ticklish, soon no area hadn’t been tickled, stroked, and licked.
She had three levels of response: At times she was too ticklish and got angry if I continued; at other times, she loved it and could lie for a long time being tickled and played with until I finally stroked or licked her into an orgasm; but the best times, to me, were when she felt the tickling was “almost too much” and then she would giggle and squirm and writhe on the bed, telling me how much it tickled and gurgle out a jumble of noises as she fought to control the tickling that was licking around her body like white fire. On occasion, she laughed out loud but most often, she would make the strangest moaning noises, halfway between passion and agony. From the teasing look on her face, I knew this was going to be an “almost too much” night.
We had tried bondage a few times until she got used to the tickling but now she liked it best when she ”tried to stand it” without being tied down. I liked it because I loved the twisting and thrashing of her body under my tickling fingers.
As I knelt by her right foot she twisted it slowly in front of me, spreading and bunching her toes, something she knew turned me on. “No matter how tough it gets,” she said, “I’ll keep my feet steady.”
I reached out my index finger and placed it on her big toe. She stiffened in anticipation. Then I slowly – very slowly - ran my finger down her slightly chubby toe, across the wide ball of her foot and down into her deep, ticklish arch. She gasped and her body bent as she fought the feeling surging through her. “My God…my God…my God…it tickles so much!” I glanced towards her. Her body had twisted sideways almost in agony and was trembling with the tension of keeping her leg steady. Her words came out between gritted teeth…”I’m doing this for you…I’m doing this for you…”
Now both my hands were on her foot, tickling and scraping her bare sole, digging and probing under her short, chubby, symmetrical toes. Her foot flexed and bunched as my fingers roamed, twisted a bit as her body turned but I didn’t need to hold her down. My face was almost right over her foot now, inches away from her toes. They spread open for me and my tongue flicked between them.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaah…” A long, muffled groan of tortured ecstasy broke from her. My left hand gripped her ankle, my right tickled her arch harder and faster, while my tongue washed between each of her toes. I turned on the bed, my back towards her. I was using my tongue all over her sole now, both hands gripping her ankles. Behind me, I could hear and feel her body thrashing back and forth as she pounded the mattress, trying to fight against the tickling. “No–no-no-no-no! I’m standing it…I’m standing it!!” This went on for several incredible minutes and then finally….”Stop please…oh stop-stop-stop!”
I stopped and faced her, kneeling between the spread of her legs. Both her bare feet nestled against me. Her stomach was heaving, her breasts rising and falling, swelling the sheer nylon of her top. (Of course, had this been a fantasy woman, I would have gone on tickling but this was real and she was my wife and she needed a break. That was part of the deal.) Her breath slowed as my eyes roamed her dark, half-nude body like probing hands. I wanted her - but not quite yet.
She had her arms by her sides. She settled into the bed and smiled back at me. “Okay…I think I’m ready.”
Keeping my eyes on hers, I reached a hand down to the sole of each foot and started tickling slowly. Her back arched again as if electricity had shot through her and a sharp groan broke from between her teeth. When I had tickled her feet enough to satisfy me, my fingers trickled over ends of her flexing toes, across the tops of her feet to her ankles. Doing light, tickling circles, I started up the inside of both her legs. Both her feet hit the mattress hard and her hips shot upwards as her body strained against this new tickling. A long, drawn out series of “Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh’s” came from her as my tickling fingers, barely touching her quivering skin, glided towards her knees and the softness of her inner thighs. Her legs were shaking from the tension of holding them steady, her face frozen in gritted concentration.
“You’re doing beautifully,” I said, meaning it.
“Oh my God – it tickles so much - so much - so much! Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh!”
Both my hands were now trickling over her tender inner thighs, gliding towards her dark, moist vulva. With each index finger, I slowly circled and teased the wet strip of black satin that covered her. She loved it but said, “No–no-no-no-no-not yet-not yet- I don’t want this to end!” I wasn’t going to have it end but I teased her for a few more minutes and then stopped. My eyes focused on her quivering stomach inches above the black velvet string tying her pants. Straddling her thighs, I slowly reached out both hands to her sides. She watched where I was going and then closed her eyes and gritted her teeth in anticipation.
I touched both her sides at once. She let out a long, squealing whimper. Her forearms, tight by her sides, flayed the mattress. My fingers glided up and down her sides and then slowly slid towards her soft, tanned stomach and an “Oh my God…my God…my God…no-no-no-no…please-please-please!” burst from her lips. Suddenly, she bucked hard. “My stomach’s knotting! Please – please stop!”
I stopped. Again, this had to be mutually pleasurable for us, a shared experience or nothing at all. To relax her a bit I started tickling on the outside of her arms, something she really loved. She grinned and snuggled into the pillow. “Oh yeah, that’s great…that’s really great…” She lay happy for a moment, bathing herself in the feeling. Then she looked at me, smiling. “I know what you want now,” she teased and she tightened her arms against her sides.
Her underarms were incredibly ticklish and, sometimes, she would put up with a heavy foot-tickling but not let me anywhere near her arm-pits. From the look on her face, I knew she wasn’t going to give me easy access to them tonight. I started tickling her shoulders and her neck. She giggled and twisted her head back and forth but every time my hands slide down to her underarms, her arms tightened against her sides.
I climbed off and knelt next to her on her right side. I gripped her wrist with my left hand and, while still tickling her arm with my right, started to pull it slowly away from her side. She giggled more with the struggle than the tickling and finally I got her arm pinned above her. The black nylon of her split sleeve fell away, revealing her soft underarm, her breasts thrusting upwards against her transparent top. Teasingly, I started tickling her pinned wrist and then drifted a single finger down the inside of her forearm. She started thrashing, struggling to break free, giggling and squealing so loud I was afraid she would wake the kids. Closer and closer, my tickling right hand glided down the inside of her arm towards that sensitive target. She was hauling madly, her laughter coming louder until my fingers finally scrambled into that shadowed hollow. A long scream exploded from her, her body twisting and heaving spasmodically, her legs kicking, completely out of control. She wasn’t laughing but screaming half in ecstasy. I leaned across her body quickly, grabbing her left arm and pinning it above her head. This time, I went straight for her ticklish underarm. She bucked and twisted under me, her laughter and squealing only inches from my ear. I let her hysteria wash over me as I tickled and tickled.
Then suddenly, I stopped. She lay beneath me, sweating, gasping for breath, her full breasts heaving and swelling the nylon of her harem-top. I watched a bead of perspiration roll down from her neck and disappear in the deeply shadowed valley between her breasts. Through the black nylon, her nipples were dark and very erect. I leaned over and gave her a deep kiss, my tongue probing her mouth as my right hand – still tickling but gentler now - slipped out of her arm-pit and drew slow tickling circles around her left breast. An animal groan came from her as my middle finger rubbed the nylon against her stiff nipple. I had had my tickling fun. Now it was time to give her the tickling that she loved.
Our favorite position was her on top. Not only was the view better for me, but it also left my hands free to keep sensuously tickling her now thoroughly aroused body. I lay back as she peeled off her top and tossed it onto the floor. Then she climbed on top, straddling me, her knees on either side of my hips, her arms resting above each of my shoulders. Her beautiful tits hung heavily in front of me. She pushed her right nipple towards my waiting mouth while my hands tickled the sides of her breasts.
“Oh yeah…oh yeah…Now, this kind of tickling I can take all night!”
I sucked and licked first one nipple then the other, all the while my hands were tickling her sides and back. She giggled and groaned and twisted with the passion of it as my fingers crawled across her skin. Finally, my right hand slipped down her side and undid the velvet ribbon of her harem pants. They fell away and I tickled across her curving ass and down between her legs. She spread them wider in anticipation then gasped sharply as my fingers tickled her hot, dripping labia. I teased her for a moment before going in and tenderly probing her clitoris. Her gasps were coming more quickly now, becoming deep groans, her thighs thrusting against my hand. I kept sucking her left nipple and my left hand now slipped across her stomach, tickling the crease going into her groin, something she could stand only when my other hand was playing with her clit. The tickling, stroking and licking were harder now, the rhythm increasing. She kept gasping, “My God…my God…my God…!” over and over. Suddenly she exploded above me with a sharp, groaning shriek! Her entire body shuddered and stiffened all at once. She held herself rigid for a long, quivering moment then collapsed shaking on top of me. “That was so good…so good…so good…”
I gently rolled her over and climbed on top of her. Her hand slipped my swollen erection into her and her legs tightened around me. My mouth locked on hers, my tongue taking the same rhythm as my prick. As I started fucking her, my right hand drifted down her leg and she raised a bare foot to meet it. Finding that foot seemed to add another inch to my erection and I tickled her sole harder and harder while I pounded into her. Beneath me she giggled and groaned, “Keep tickling…keep tickling…what a combination….what a combination!” Finally, I erupted inside her, pouring myself out in an incredible orgasm.
We lay for a long while in each other’s arms, catching our breath and cooling our bodies. Then I rolled over and went down to the bottom of the bed. The elastic bottoms of her harem pants were still wrapped around each ankle. I pulled the pants free and tossed them aside. I dipped my finger into one of the glasses of brandy and washed her feet with it. Then, gently, I began kissing and licking her toes. For her, the passion was over. She lay quietly, purring like a cat, as I sucked each toe, my hands tickling her arches at the same time. I was getting harder again but I knew she was worn out. My eyes were filled with the beautiful sight of her bare feet so close to me; my nose and tongue were filled with the aroma and taste of the brandy. I kept licking her toes, my left hand tickling her sole, my right going down to my swelling prick. I masturbated to another orgasm, a pattern we had nicknamed, “Making love to her feet”. Then I gave each delicious, bare sole one final, grateful kiss and crawled up and lay beside her.
There weren’t a lot of nights like that but this story was absolutely true and those good times helped cover some of the pain that was to follow.
I am divorced now and it was a painful experience as it was not what I wanted. We had differences but I was sure they could be overcome. Em felt otherwise and so that was that. I missed many things, the family life with the kids most of all, but the heavy tickling of our sex life was not the least of it.
We hadn’t had an ideal sex life – perhaps few do – and I seemed to want it everyday and she didn’t but we had reached an accommodation and I was moderately satisfied. And the best times made up for the times of drought.
Em had a great body – that sounds like fiction but it is not – and I never took it for granted. She sometimes wore sexy lingerie to bed – various teddies, a bright red basque, sheer black nylons that showed off her sexy feet, a variety of clinging slips that displayed her heavy breasts and great legs. But my favorite was a black nylon Harem costume that we called her “slave outfit”. It was what she was wearing on one very memorable night.
The kids were in bed and we had a candle-light dinner and wine. She served it wearing an old toweled bathrobe and then, just before she sat down, she said, “I guess I won’t be needing this any longer” and let the robe fall to the floor. She stood for a moment watching me as my mouth hung open. Her dark hair set off her darker eyes and matched the sheer black nylon. The costume had long sleeves, slit from shoulder to wrist, joining a full top whose sheerness hid nothing of her breasts. Her waist was bare and the low slung pants – tied on either side by two velvet bows, were black nylon too, slit from her hips to tight gathered bands at her ankles that seemed to focus my eyes on her bare feet. She found being tickled in nylon very exciting and, with this outfit, I could tickle her bare skin or switch quickly to the nylon without missing a beat. She sat down, enjoying the look on my face. She put a drop of wine on her toes and raised a leg towards me. I licked her toes appreciatively but she pulled her leg back and said, ”That’s all for now. Dessert is later.”
After dinner, she stood up and said, “Can I leave the dishes?” and came next to me. She bent and gave me a deep, wet kiss. My left hand went to her right breast and my right started a light tickling glide down her thigh. Her hand slipped into my bathrobe and squeezed my erection twice. And then she slid out of my arms and walked to the bedroom.
When I poured and warmed two brandies, I followed her. I found her spread out on the bed, her arms above her head, shadows and candlelight dancing on her body. She spread her legs and arched her back like a cat, asking to be stroked. “I’m your sex-slave,” she said. “What do you want tonight?”
“You know, “I replied. “I want to tickle every inch of your body and then go deep inside you.”
“It’s been a while since you tickled me,” she teased, stretching again and slowly spreading her toes. “I don’t know if I can stand it.” I put the brandy snifters on the end table, slipped out of my robe and knelt by her feet.
Em’s degree of ticklishness was like a barometer I could never read. When I first met her, she was seventeen and so ticklish that she became angry whenever I tried it. Later, I got her to relax by starting off with proper massages and then gradually letting my strokes get lighter and lighter until she got used to it. Her feet were my initial focus – I have had a foot-fetish for as long as I could remember – but, since my tickling fetish was equally strong and the rest of her body was so delightfully ticklish, soon no area hadn’t been tickled, stroked, and licked.
She had three levels of response: At times she was too ticklish and got angry if I continued; at other times, she loved it and could lie for a long time being tickled and played with until I finally stroked or licked her into an orgasm; but the best times, to me, were when she felt the tickling was “almost too much” and then she would giggle and squirm and writhe on the bed, telling me how much it tickled and gurgle out a jumble of noises as she fought to control the tickling that was licking around her body like white fire. On occasion, she laughed out loud but most often, she would make the strangest moaning noises, halfway between passion and agony. From the teasing look on her face, I knew this was going to be an “almost too much” night.
We had tried bondage a few times until she got used to the tickling but now she liked it best when she ”tried to stand it” without being tied down. I liked it because I loved the twisting and thrashing of her body under my tickling fingers.
As I knelt by her right foot she twisted it slowly in front of me, spreading and bunching her toes, something she knew turned me on. “No matter how tough it gets,” she said, “I’ll keep my feet steady.”
I reached out my index finger and placed it on her big toe. She stiffened in anticipation. Then I slowly – very slowly - ran my finger down her slightly chubby toe, across the wide ball of her foot and down into her deep, ticklish arch. She gasped and her body bent as she fought the feeling surging through her. “My God…my God…my God…it tickles so much!” I glanced towards her. Her body had twisted sideways almost in agony and was trembling with the tension of keeping her leg steady. Her words came out between gritted teeth…”I’m doing this for you…I’m doing this for you…”
Now both my hands were on her foot, tickling and scraping her bare sole, digging and probing under her short, chubby, symmetrical toes. Her foot flexed and bunched as my fingers roamed, twisted a bit as her body turned but I didn’t need to hold her down. My face was almost right over her foot now, inches away from her toes. They spread open for me and my tongue flicked between them.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaah…” A long, muffled groan of tortured ecstasy broke from her. My left hand gripped her ankle, my right tickled her arch harder and faster, while my tongue washed between each of her toes. I turned on the bed, my back towards her. I was using my tongue all over her sole now, both hands gripping her ankles. Behind me, I could hear and feel her body thrashing back and forth as she pounded the mattress, trying to fight against the tickling. “No–no-no-no-no! I’m standing it…I’m standing it!!” This went on for several incredible minutes and then finally….”Stop please…oh stop-stop-stop!”
I stopped and faced her, kneeling between the spread of her legs. Both her bare feet nestled against me. Her stomach was heaving, her breasts rising and falling, swelling the sheer nylon of her top. (Of course, had this been a fantasy woman, I would have gone on tickling but this was real and she was my wife and she needed a break. That was part of the deal.) Her breath slowed as my eyes roamed her dark, half-nude body like probing hands. I wanted her - but not quite yet.
She had her arms by her sides. She settled into the bed and smiled back at me. “Okay…I think I’m ready.”
Keeping my eyes on hers, I reached a hand down to the sole of each foot and started tickling slowly. Her back arched again as if electricity had shot through her and a sharp groan broke from between her teeth. When I had tickled her feet enough to satisfy me, my fingers trickled over ends of her flexing toes, across the tops of her feet to her ankles. Doing light, tickling circles, I started up the inside of both her legs. Both her feet hit the mattress hard and her hips shot upwards as her body strained against this new tickling. A long, drawn out series of “Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh’s” came from her as my tickling fingers, barely touching her quivering skin, glided towards her knees and the softness of her inner thighs. Her legs were shaking from the tension of holding them steady, her face frozen in gritted concentration.
“You’re doing beautifully,” I said, meaning it.
“Oh my God – it tickles so much - so much - so much! Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh!”
Both my hands were now trickling over her tender inner thighs, gliding towards her dark, moist vulva. With each index finger, I slowly circled and teased the wet strip of black satin that covered her. She loved it but said, “No–no-no-no-no-not yet-not yet- I don’t want this to end!” I wasn’t going to have it end but I teased her for a few more minutes and then stopped. My eyes focused on her quivering stomach inches above the black velvet string tying her pants. Straddling her thighs, I slowly reached out both hands to her sides. She watched where I was going and then closed her eyes and gritted her teeth in anticipation.
I touched both her sides at once. She let out a long, squealing whimper. Her forearms, tight by her sides, flayed the mattress. My fingers glided up and down her sides and then slowly slid towards her soft, tanned stomach and an “Oh my God…my God…my God…no-no-no-no…please-please-please!” burst from her lips. Suddenly, she bucked hard. “My stomach’s knotting! Please – please stop!”
I stopped. Again, this had to be mutually pleasurable for us, a shared experience or nothing at all. To relax her a bit I started tickling on the outside of her arms, something she really loved. She grinned and snuggled into the pillow. “Oh yeah, that’s great…that’s really great…” She lay happy for a moment, bathing herself in the feeling. Then she looked at me, smiling. “I know what you want now,” she teased and she tightened her arms against her sides.
Her underarms were incredibly ticklish and, sometimes, she would put up with a heavy foot-tickling but not let me anywhere near her arm-pits. From the look on her face, I knew she wasn’t going to give me easy access to them tonight. I started tickling her shoulders and her neck. She giggled and twisted her head back and forth but every time my hands slide down to her underarms, her arms tightened against her sides.
I climbed off and knelt next to her on her right side. I gripped her wrist with my left hand and, while still tickling her arm with my right, started to pull it slowly away from her side. She giggled more with the struggle than the tickling and finally I got her arm pinned above her. The black nylon of her split sleeve fell away, revealing her soft underarm, her breasts thrusting upwards against her transparent top. Teasingly, I started tickling her pinned wrist and then drifted a single finger down the inside of her forearm. She started thrashing, struggling to break free, giggling and squealing so loud I was afraid she would wake the kids. Closer and closer, my tickling right hand glided down the inside of her arm towards that sensitive target. She was hauling madly, her laughter coming louder until my fingers finally scrambled into that shadowed hollow. A long scream exploded from her, her body twisting and heaving spasmodically, her legs kicking, completely out of control. She wasn’t laughing but screaming half in ecstasy. I leaned across her body quickly, grabbing her left arm and pinning it above her head. This time, I went straight for her ticklish underarm. She bucked and twisted under me, her laughter and squealing only inches from my ear. I let her hysteria wash over me as I tickled and tickled.
Then suddenly, I stopped. She lay beneath me, sweating, gasping for breath, her full breasts heaving and swelling the nylon of her harem-top. I watched a bead of perspiration roll down from her neck and disappear in the deeply shadowed valley between her breasts. Through the black nylon, her nipples were dark and very erect. I leaned over and gave her a deep kiss, my tongue probing her mouth as my right hand – still tickling but gentler now - slipped out of her arm-pit and drew slow tickling circles around her left breast. An animal groan came from her as my middle finger rubbed the nylon against her stiff nipple. I had had my tickling fun. Now it was time to give her the tickling that she loved.
Our favorite position was her on top. Not only was the view better for me, but it also left my hands free to keep sensuously tickling her now thoroughly aroused body. I lay back as she peeled off her top and tossed it onto the floor. Then she climbed on top, straddling me, her knees on either side of my hips, her arms resting above each of my shoulders. Her beautiful tits hung heavily in front of me. She pushed her right nipple towards my waiting mouth while my hands tickled the sides of her breasts.
“Oh yeah…oh yeah…Now, this kind of tickling I can take all night!”
I sucked and licked first one nipple then the other, all the while my hands were tickling her sides and back. She giggled and groaned and twisted with the passion of it as my fingers crawled across her skin. Finally, my right hand slipped down her side and undid the velvet ribbon of her harem pants. They fell away and I tickled across her curving ass and down between her legs. She spread them wider in anticipation then gasped sharply as my fingers tickled her hot, dripping labia. I teased her for a moment before going in and tenderly probing her clitoris. Her gasps were coming more quickly now, becoming deep groans, her thighs thrusting against my hand. I kept sucking her left nipple and my left hand now slipped across her stomach, tickling the crease going into her groin, something she could stand only when my other hand was playing with her clit. The tickling, stroking and licking were harder now, the rhythm increasing. She kept gasping, “My God…my God…my God…!” over and over. Suddenly she exploded above me with a sharp, groaning shriek! Her entire body shuddered and stiffened all at once. She held herself rigid for a long, quivering moment then collapsed shaking on top of me. “That was so good…so good…so good…”
I gently rolled her over and climbed on top of her. Her hand slipped my swollen erection into her and her legs tightened around me. My mouth locked on hers, my tongue taking the same rhythm as my prick. As I started fucking her, my right hand drifted down her leg and she raised a bare foot to meet it. Finding that foot seemed to add another inch to my erection and I tickled her sole harder and harder while I pounded into her. Beneath me she giggled and groaned, “Keep tickling…keep tickling…what a combination….what a combination!” Finally, I erupted inside her, pouring myself out in an incredible orgasm.
We lay for a long while in each other’s arms, catching our breath and cooling our bodies. Then I rolled over and went down to the bottom of the bed. The elastic bottoms of her harem pants were still wrapped around each ankle. I pulled the pants free and tossed them aside. I dipped my finger into one of the glasses of brandy and washed her feet with it. Then, gently, I began kissing and licking her toes. For her, the passion was over. She lay quietly, purring like a cat, as I sucked each toe, my hands tickling her arches at the same time. I was getting harder again but I knew she was worn out. My eyes were filled with the beautiful sight of her bare feet so close to me; my nose and tongue were filled with the aroma and taste of the brandy. I kept licking her toes, my left hand tickling her sole, my right going down to my swelling prick. I masturbated to another orgasm, a pattern we had nicknamed, “Making love to her feet”. Then I gave each delicious, bare sole one final, grateful kiss and crawled up and lay beside her.
There weren’t a lot of nights like that but this story was absolutely true and those good times helped cover some of the pain that was to follow.
