Sherbet Riley
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A recent commission that the client has very generously allowed me to share with you all. Includes all the usual beats, as well as a focus on smoking and leather. I hope you enjoy.
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“Do you mind if I smoke?”
Parker had anticipated the question, but now that it had finally been spoken aloud he suddenly found himself lost for words. Standing there, beside the guest bed, Molly already had the cigarette between her fingers. She’d just returned from a work trip in Greece and had smuggled a carton of exotic looking smokes back to the US. They were slim and slightly longer than average, as were the filters. Had she not asked permission to smoke, one might mistake the object between her fingers for a piece of chalk, or perhaps a lollipop stick.
They had met at summer camp nearly two decades ago. Molly had been a counselor, herself a former camper, while Parker had been a nervous kid away from home for the first time. She was in her early 20s then, coming back for one last summer job at Camp Deerskin before she’d graduate from college and move on with her life. Being 11, Parker had been terribly homesick. He spent the first two weeks of camp sulking and crying, frequently making the long walk uphill to the main office to whisper his futile pleas into the camp’s single landline phone, begging his parents to come and pick him up.
It was useless, of course. Parker’s parents had insisted that he needed to tough it out. After all, if they came and picked him up, it would set a bad precedent. Life just didn’t work that way. What eventually got him through it all was Molly. She’d been homesick her first summer too, and took it upon herself to bring Parker out of his shell. Molly had something of a rep at Camp Deerskin, that of the “cool counselor.” It was the late 80s, and Molly had been too young to participate in the 70s punk scene as it was happening, but dressed as though she might be asked to jump in the pit at any given moment. She had tattoos and dyed her hair a different color every summer. The year Parker met her; Molly had opted for a chemical shade of red. Instead of sandals or Birkenstocks, she opted for a pair of knee-high leather boots and favored a thick leather biker jacket when it got cold at night. Molly liked the way she looked in leather, always had. Naturally, she was Parker’s first crush.
Parker had a lot of firsts that summer; his first camping trip, his first performance in a play, his first waterpark, and first bee sting. But of all the things Parker remembered of his first summer at Camp Deerskin, one memory stood out in particular, one that he had revisited over and over again as the years had worn on.
He’d been lying awake in his bunk; long after the rest of his cabin mates had fallen asleep, when he smelled smoke. Parker army crawled to the end of his bed and peered through the window’s bug-screen to find its source. There, leaning against the wall of the opposite cabin was Molly, smoking a cigarette with Liam, the lake lifeguard. Maybe it was the light, or the way her biker jacket laid across her shoulders, or perhaps it was the way her lips sensuously puckered around the caramel colored filter – but in that moment she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Even from his vantage point, Parker could make out the red lipstick staining the filter as Molly dropped it to the ground and stubbed out the smoldering tip with the heel of her leather boot. She quietly asked Liam for another and he politely declined. Parker couldn’t make out what she said next, but Molly leaned close to Liam, as if she were about to tell him a secret. Instead, her hands flew to his torso and began furiously tickling his ribs. Liam immediately doubled over, trying to protect his sensitive sides, before falling over onto the grass where Molly moved in for the kill. She straddled his waist and kept tickling him until he agreed to give her another smoke.
“Be quiet,” Parker could remember her chiding him, “don’t wake the kids. If you do, I’ll just have to gitsy you until you pee! Do you wanna pee, Weeiam? Huh? Where’d da big stwong wifeguard go, huh? C’mon, give me one and I’ll stop. Come on…”
Watching the exchange had made Parker feel funny inside, and he retreated from the window. When puberty hit Parker not long after this, he found himself returning to the memory over and over again. He didn’t smoke himself. Parker’s parents were so vehemently opposed to it growing up that he couldn’t see the activity as anything other than “dirty”, and did not himself like the flavor or sensation of smoke in his lungs. But whenever he caught the passing scent of burning tobacco, Parker would think back to the image of the leather-clad Molly tickling a helpless boy to get what she wanted. In his fantasies, it was him under Molly, being tickled hysteric until he agreed to do whatever she asked of him.
And now here she was, standing in his guest bedroom, asking if she could light up. They’d kept in touch after that summer, intermittently exchanging letters. Molly had succeeded in slowly brining Parker out of his shell, and it was only because of her guidance and attention that he wound up enjoying the last 4 weeks of camp as long as he did. In fact, he’d return for another 4 summers after that, eventually becoming a counselor himself in his final year.
Now 27, Parker worked as the assistant manager at the local bank and kept a tidy apartment near the edge of town. He and Molly had gradually advanced from the occasional letter to a bi-annual email, exchanges Parker always looked forward to. Just a month prior, Molly had emailed him out of the blue asking if she could stay the night at his apartment when she came to town for a concert. Parker had immediately agreed and deep-cleaned the apartment in anticipation of her arrival.
She’d arrived on his doorstep in a pair of tight leather pants that drew the eye down to her trusty boots, an upgraded version of the ones Parker remembered from all those years ago. But the jacket was exactly the same. It was a little worn in spots – it was her favorite jacket, after all – but Molly had clearly made a good effort to preserve it as best she could. The smell of her cigarette smoke intermingled with the scent of the well-loved leather and seemed to radiate off her in a way that made Parker’s pants tight. She’d grown out her hair, allowing it to return to its natural color, a dark and thick brunette that cascaded over the shoulders of her leather jacket that was nearly the same shade. Her nails were long, or at least longer than he’d remembered, painted black to match the rest of her outfit. And now she wanted a smoke.
“So? Do you?”
In truth, it was complicated. Parker cared for his health, and the idea of breathing in all that second hand smoke didn’t sit comfortably with him. At heart he was still the good boy his parents had raised. He’d only ever tried smoking once, unsuccessfully, and even now, close to 30, found profanity distasteful. He didn’t mind the smell of smoke. In fact he was partial to it. But the thought of the smell lingering and permeating his walls, sheets, and his own dark brown hair gave him pause. He would have been more comfortable with Molly smoking outside.
And yet, the thought of this leather-clad beauty sparking up a cigarette right then and there excited him greatly. He wanted to say no, if only so that she could disregard his objection and light up anyway, acting like the no-nonsense rocker in her biker jacket he’d always fantasized about. He looked at her lips – a dark red shade with an almost imperceptible smear at the corner of her mouth – and imagined how they’d look curled around the filter of that exotic, Greek cigarette. Besides it was rainy, and what kind of host would he be if he forced his guest, who had just turned 40, to stand outside in the rain?
“I don’t mind. Go ahead.” He sounded so meek, like he was still that shy 11 year old, and felt his ears grow hot.
“You sure? Because I can step outs– “
“No!” Parker blurted out. He heard how loud his voice had gotten and shrank into himself once more. “I…I want you to.”
Molly tilted her head to one side, small wrinkles forming in the corners of her eyes as she smiled curiously at the stammering man before her.
“You want me to smoke? In here?”
Parker nodded. He was fidgeting. Molly was accustomed to this. She knew exactly what kind of effect she had on men, and relished any opportunity to indulge in the power they surrendered to her. She knew how good she looked in leather, how some men responded to it, the casual sensuality of it. She got a little thrill watching the way men’s eyes would follow the glowing ember of her lit cigarette in the dark as she brought it to her lips. She never would have guessed that Parker saw her in such a manner, would be drawn to her like this. But she didn’t mind. If anything, she was having fun.
“Okay then,” Molly purred, her face briefly illuminated by the spark of her lighter. The end of her cigarette crackled faintly as it ignited, the smoldering orange glow accentuating the red of her lip. Parker watched with rapt attention as he watched her lips pucker around the filter and draw the smoke into her lungs, as if she were drinking it in through a straw. “What my Parker wants, my Parker gets.”
She took a step toward him as she exhaled, being sure to gently blow the smoke in his direction. The tendrils of smoky vapor curled and danced around his head, intoxicating him with the scent. Molly stood before him now as she took another drag, savoring the taste. She smiled, the milky smoke escaping from between her parted lips as she spoke.
“What else do you want, baby boy?” She reached out to touch him, running her fingers through his brown hair, her nails dragging against his scalp. It gave him goose bumps, and Molly felt a little thrill as she felt Parker tremble under her hand.
“Come on…use your big boy words.”
“Can…can you…?” He couldn’t just ask for this, could he?
Molly smirked impatiently and blew another stream of smoke into his face. Parker coughed a little, unable to help himself. The smoke entered his lungs and stung the back of this throat. It was intoxicating.
“Speak up.”
“Can you…can you tickle me? Like you…like you tickled Liam at camp?”
In truth, Molly had forgotten all about that particular incident until that very moment. She’d tickled many men over the years, and often in a much more prolonged and intense manner. Such a brief tickle from so long ago had been forgotten among the more potent tickle memories she held dear. She’d had a crush on Liam at the time and tickling had been a safe, easy excuse for her to touch him. Tickling was one of Molly’s favorite ways to initiate intimacy with her partners, or playfully torture them when they displeased her. That was one of the reasons she kept her nails so long and so sharp, as they were her favorite tickle tools. Well, that and her smoky voice, which had quite the profound effect on her victims. Parker’s invoking of this incident told her that he’d likely witnessed the exchange and realized at once what he was really asking for.
She looked Parker up and down as she took another long drag of her cigarette. The room had already filled with smoke, casting the light in a faint blue haze that softened Molly’s maturing features. She took a step forward. Parker took a step back and felt his butt press up against the footboard of the bed.
“Is that what you want, little Parker? You want a little gitsee goo from your counselor? Huh? Does the shy little boy want his tickles?”
“Mhm…” it came out as something close to a whine. Parker could scarcely stand to meet Molly’s gaze he was so nervous.
“Look at me,” she intoned, slipping into her playfully commanding voice Parker knew so well from his time with her at camp.
But as Parker met her gaze, Molly’s hands flew to his sides, her fingers scribbling and poking about searching for tickle spots.
"Eeeheheheheheheheheheheheheheheeee,” Parker giggled. Even through his shirt her nails were devastating. Parker immediately began to curl into himself, ducking his head to make himself as small as possible, trying to get away from the very tickles he had invited only moments before.
“What’sa mattah, bubba? Mama Molly wants to find her baby’s giggle spots. Can you show me where you’re tickly? Huh? Or do I need to find out?”
With that, Molly gave him a light shove backwards, causing Parker to fall backward onto the bed. In seconds, Molly had straddled him, her leather pants touching his stomach just above his beltline, making him even more aroused than before. The smell of her cigarette smoke mingled with the leather and her light perfume, intoxicating him further as his brain was overwhelmed by the ticklish sensations running up and down his body. His head swam as tried to sit up and feebly plead for mercy.
“Mohohohohohohoholllleeeeeeehehehehehehehehehe! Nahahahahahahahahat thehehehehehehehehere!”
“Awww, my widdle Parker is so soft and tickawee! Just a little puddle of giggles from my silly widdle fingers. I should have thought of this years ago! Whenever I needed to make you smile I could have just coochied you and all that shyness would have melted away.”
Her hands crept up his shirt now, the pads of her fingers searching for the tender spots between his ribs. Her fingers were a little cold, causing Parker to leap even higher off the bed while Molly rode astride her giggling victim.
“Nahahahahahahahahahahahahat myhihihihihihihihihi riiiihihihihihihihihihihihbs! Plehehehehehehehehehease! Nooooohohohohohohohohohohooooo rihihihihihihihihihibbeeeeeeees!”
“Not your wibbies?” Molly cooed, removing one hand from beneath his shirt so she could take another drag of her cigarette, “But your wibbies are my favorite place to tickle!”
His shirt was riding up now. Having withdrawn one of her hands, Parker tried to fight back, to sit up, to bat her remaining hand away. Instead, as she grabbed for his wrist in an attempt to restrain him, she lost her balance for a moment, causing the zipper of her leather jacket to run along his exposed and vulnerable belly. The sensation was unexpected, and elicited a yelp from the giggling man beneath her.
Molly’s blue eyes widened, as did Parker’s. She ashed her cigarette in an empty soda can on the bedside table, and raised her eyebrow at him.
“Parker, are you hiding giggles from your counselor in your tummy?”
“No…” Parker breathed, unsure if he was saying it to beg for mercy or to play along with her role play and deny it.
“I think the giggles want to come out of hiding, don’t you?” Molly smiled, leaning in close to Parker once more, bringing her lips to within an inch of his ear. She purposefully let her zipper once more drag along his stomach, which quaked beneath the leather jacket’s touch. His nose was filled with the scent of leather and smoke, his vision obscured by her dark hair as she whispered in his ear. “Does my Parkey Poo have a tickly little tum tum?”
The way the said it, a breathy little whisper, smoke still radiating off her breath, made Parker turn to jelly.
“Molly, I….please….”
In one fluid motion, Molly grabbed Parker’s wrists with her free hand and held them firmly above his head, while her free hand began tickling his exposed belly. Her nails began by skittering about, enough to coax fresh laughter from the former camper, causing whatever resistance he’d attempted to hold on to quickly dissipate.
“Please what? Please more tickles? Oooooookayyyyyy!” Molly sing-songed, clearly relishing in her time tickling the writhing man beneath her. “You should have told me you were this ticklish ages ago! Why, I would have coochied you all Summah wong if you let me. Laff for me, Parkey Poo! Laff for Molly…”
“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Thahahahahahahahahat’s nahahahahahahahahahat whahahahahahahahahahat Ihihihihihihihi Meheheheheheant ahahahahahand yohohohohohohohohu knohohohohohohohow ihihihihihihihihit! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
Parker was astounded by how ticklish his stomach was. Every scrape and poke of Molly’s sharp fingernails along his trembling belly caused more and more laughter to pour from his mouth. His hands being held in place only made him feel more vulnerable and ticklish. Parker was amazed at just how strong Molly was. Even after all these years, he was just a silly little boy trapped beneath an older girl.
“Awww, Parkey Poo love his tummy time with Molly! Just look at those pink widdle cheeks! My Parkey Poo is such a tickawish widdle boy isn’t he? Yes he isssss!” Her nail dipped into his belly button now, eliciting fresh squeals from the hysterical boy beneath her. “Gitsee, gitsee, gee! Laugh some more for the tickle monster!”
Parker’s cheeks grew so red they practically glowed, shaking his head back and forth to rebut the infantilizing tease. This had always been Molly strategy, and what made her such an effective tickler. It was her teases that ultimately broke the damn on her victim’s ticklishness. Each tease and coo brought them closer and closer to their breaking point, where they’d have no choice but to surrender to her ticklish whims and do anything she said.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OHOHOHOHO MYIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIH GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOOOO! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHP!”
“You know! For as ticklish as your tummy is, I think your wibbies might be just your worst spot. Whaddaya say? Should Tickle Monster Molly pway accordion with her Parkey Poo’s wibbies?”
Parker was growing hoarse, the muscles in his neck and sides were sore from the strain of laughter. He could barely muster his feeble pleas.
“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORE! NOOHOHOHOHOHO WHIHIHIHIHIHIBBBBBEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHES! PLEHEHEHEHEEHASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHHIHIHI’LL BEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEE AHAHAHAHA GOOOHOHOHHOOOOD BOHOHOHOHOHOHY! I SWEHEHEHEHEHEAR!”
“Then be a good boy and laugh for me, baby. Laugh for me…”
Molly’s hands once again shot to his ribs, now knowing exactly where to tickle and tease for maximum effect. The reaction was explosive, and Molly had to try her best not to be thrown off. Her sharp nails raked up and down his ribs, skittering this way and that, always applying just the right level of pressure to drive Parker through the roof.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
Parker was beyond words now. He knew there was nothing he could do to make Molly stop, even if he wanted her to. Every time he danced over the line from bliss to torment, he found that her sweet, teasing words brought him right back into a playful space. It was torment of the highest order, and she knew all the right buttons to push to make it so much worse when it pleased her.
“What tender widdle wibbies! I wonder what would happen if I had a little nibble…”
With that, Molly leaned forward and began to playfully nibble at Parker’s ribs and sides.
Parker’s eyes bulged out of his skull, his head rolling back as explosive peals of squealing laughter erupted from his throat.
“OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH MIHIHIHIHIHIHIY GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD!”
Parker had never felt anything like it before. The warm, slippery feeling of her tongue sliding around, tasting him as her teeth scraped and nibbled along his already sensitive ribs drove him absolutely wild. It tickled worse than anything Parker had ever felt before, and the erogenous nature of the warm, wet tongue going around and around brought him to hitherto unforeseen levels of hysteric arousal. It was too much for Parker to take. If Molly kept on like this, Parker worried he might cry.
Molly seemed to sense he was nearing his limit and withdrew her mouth from his ribs, once again employing her nails to turn the ticklish man beneath her into a helpless, giggling toy. He wasn’t even bothering to resist her anymore, his strength had left him, worn out from Molly’s tickling onslaught. With both hands now, she attacked his ribs with renewed gusto.
“Poor little Parkey Poo! Can’t get away from Molly’s Coochie Coo! Beg me to stop baby boy, beg your counselor for mercy. Or I’m just gonna tickle and tickle and tickle until you lose your silly little mind!”
Through the tears that had begun to form in the corners of his eyes, Parker marveled at the leather-clad goddess that straddled him. From where he was laying she was the tickler of his dreams, the ceiling above dancing with curls of cigarette smoke, these chandeliers of vapor. Though he was in heaven, Parker knew he needed a break. It was all too much. Coupled with the tickling was the smoke of the smoldering cigarette resting on the soda can beside the rocking bed. It was a sensory onslaught Parker couldn’t overcome. Though he wanted more, craved it, he found his body had reached it’s limit. As if moved by an unseen spirit, he heard himself babble for mercy.
“MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOLLLEEEEEEEE PLEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHASE! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHIHI’M BEHEHEHEGGING YOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOU! MHEHEHEHEHERCYYYEEEEEEE!”
Molly retracted her claws and regarded the sweaty, giggling mess beneath her. She reached over and picked up what remained of her lit cigarette, taking a long, relaxed drag. It was as if they’d just slept together, and yet the experience felt all together more intimate.
She could Parker’s erection straining against his jeans, and smiled. Parker fought to catch his breath, made even more difficult by the fresh smoke emanating from the tip of Molly’s cigarette.
“That was fun,” Molly breathed, smoke filtering from between her teeth.
“Was?” Parker asked, playfully.
“You mean, you want more?” Molly was surprised. Even the most willing of ticklish victims would have tapped out by now. But Parker was a different breed. He loved this.
“Your train doesn’t leave for a while, right?”
“Not for hours,” Molly smiled.
“Then we have some time.”
Molly grinned and dropped the smoking filter into the empty soda can beside the bed, listening for the satisfying hiss of the ember extinguishing in the dregs of liquid that remained at the bottom.
“You’re on, Parkey Poo,” Molly teased.
Her train didn’t leave for another ten hours, and Parker wouldn’t stop laughing for the next nine. Long after Molly left, Parker would keep the door to the guest room shut so as to preserve the smell of her cigarette smoke. Luckily for him, this would not be the last time Molly came to visit, and he made sure to keep a pack of her favorite brand on hand, just in case.
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“Do you mind if I smoke?”
Parker had anticipated the question, but now that it had finally been spoken aloud he suddenly found himself lost for words. Standing there, beside the guest bed, Molly already had the cigarette between her fingers. She’d just returned from a work trip in Greece and had smuggled a carton of exotic looking smokes back to the US. They were slim and slightly longer than average, as were the filters. Had she not asked permission to smoke, one might mistake the object between her fingers for a piece of chalk, or perhaps a lollipop stick.
They had met at summer camp nearly two decades ago. Molly had been a counselor, herself a former camper, while Parker had been a nervous kid away from home for the first time. She was in her early 20s then, coming back for one last summer job at Camp Deerskin before she’d graduate from college and move on with her life. Being 11, Parker had been terribly homesick. He spent the first two weeks of camp sulking and crying, frequently making the long walk uphill to the main office to whisper his futile pleas into the camp’s single landline phone, begging his parents to come and pick him up.
It was useless, of course. Parker’s parents had insisted that he needed to tough it out. After all, if they came and picked him up, it would set a bad precedent. Life just didn’t work that way. What eventually got him through it all was Molly. She’d been homesick her first summer too, and took it upon herself to bring Parker out of his shell. Molly had something of a rep at Camp Deerskin, that of the “cool counselor.” It was the late 80s, and Molly had been too young to participate in the 70s punk scene as it was happening, but dressed as though she might be asked to jump in the pit at any given moment. She had tattoos and dyed her hair a different color every summer. The year Parker met her; Molly had opted for a chemical shade of red. Instead of sandals or Birkenstocks, she opted for a pair of knee-high leather boots and favored a thick leather biker jacket when it got cold at night. Molly liked the way she looked in leather, always had. Naturally, she was Parker’s first crush.
Parker had a lot of firsts that summer; his first camping trip, his first performance in a play, his first waterpark, and first bee sting. But of all the things Parker remembered of his first summer at Camp Deerskin, one memory stood out in particular, one that he had revisited over and over again as the years had worn on.
He’d been lying awake in his bunk; long after the rest of his cabin mates had fallen asleep, when he smelled smoke. Parker army crawled to the end of his bed and peered through the window’s bug-screen to find its source. There, leaning against the wall of the opposite cabin was Molly, smoking a cigarette with Liam, the lake lifeguard. Maybe it was the light, or the way her biker jacket laid across her shoulders, or perhaps it was the way her lips sensuously puckered around the caramel colored filter – but in that moment she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Even from his vantage point, Parker could make out the red lipstick staining the filter as Molly dropped it to the ground and stubbed out the smoldering tip with the heel of her leather boot. She quietly asked Liam for another and he politely declined. Parker couldn’t make out what she said next, but Molly leaned close to Liam, as if she were about to tell him a secret. Instead, her hands flew to his torso and began furiously tickling his ribs. Liam immediately doubled over, trying to protect his sensitive sides, before falling over onto the grass where Molly moved in for the kill. She straddled his waist and kept tickling him until he agreed to give her another smoke.
“Be quiet,” Parker could remember her chiding him, “don’t wake the kids. If you do, I’ll just have to gitsy you until you pee! Do you wanna pee, Weeiam? Huh? Where’d da big stwong wifeguard go, huh? C’mon, give me one and I’ll stop. Come on…”
Watching the exchange had made Parker feel funny inside, and he retreated from the window. When puberty hit Parker not long after this, he found himself returning to the memory over and over again. He didn’t smoke himself. Parker’s parents were so vehemently opposed to it growing up that he couldn’t see the activity as anything other than “dirty”, and did not himself like the flavor or sensation of smoke in his lungs. But whenever he caught the passing scent of burning tobacco, Parker would think back to the image of the leather-clad Molly tickling a helpless boy to get what she wanted. In his fantasies, it was him under Molly, being tickled hysteric until he agreed to do whatever she asked of him.
And now here she was, standing in his guest bedroom, asking if she could light up. They’d kept in touch after that summer, intermittently exchanging letters. Molly had succeeded in slowly brining Parker out of his shell, and it was only because of her guidance and attention that he wound up enjoying the last 4 weeks of camp as long as he did. In fact, he’d return for another 4 summers after that, eventually becoming a counselor himself in his final year.
Now 27, Parker worked as the assistant manager at the local bank and kept a tidy apartment near the edge of town. He and Molly had gradually advanced from the occasional letter to a bi-annual email, exchanges Parker always looked forward to. Just a month prior, Molly had emailed him out of the blue asking if she could stay the night at his apartment when she came to town for a concert. Parker had immediately agreed and deep-cleaned the apartment in anticipation of her arrival.
She’d arrived on his doorstep in a pair of tight leather pants that drew the eye down to her trusty boots, an upgraded version of the ones Parker remembered from all those years ago. But the jacket was exactly the same. It was a little worn in spots – it was her favorite jacket, after all – but Molly had clearly made a good effort to preserve it as best she could. The smell of her cigarette smoke intermingled with the scent of the well-loved leather and seemed to radiate off her in a way that made Parker’s pants tight. She’d grown out her hair, allowing it to return to its natural color, a dark and thick brunette that cascaded over the shoulders of her leather jacket that was nearly the same shade. Her nails were long, or at least longer than he’d remembered, painted black to match the rest of her outfit. And now she wanted a smoke.
“So? Do you?”
In truth, it was complicated. Parker cared for his health, and the idea of breathing in all that second hand smoke didn’t sit comfortably with him. At heart he was still the good boy his parents had raised. He’d only ever tried smoking once, unsuccessfully, and even now, close to 30, found profanity distasteful. He didn’t mind the smell of smoke. In fact he was partial to it. But the thought of the smell lingering and permeating his walls, sheets, and his own dark brown hair gave him pause. He would have been more comfortable with Molly smoking outside.
And yet, the thought of this leather-clad beauty sparking up a cigarette right then and there excited him greatly. He wanted to say no, if only so that she could disregard his objection and light up anyway, acting like the no-nonsense rocker in her biker jacket he’d always fantasized about. He looked at her lips – a dark red shade with an almost imperceptible smear at the corner of her mouth – and imagined how they’d look curled around the filter of that exotic, Greek cigarette. Besides it was rainy, and what kind of host would he be if he forced his guest, who had just turned 40, to stand outside in the rain?
“I don’t mind. Go ahead.” He sounded so meek, like he was still that shy 11 year old, and felt his ears grow hot.
“You sure? Because I can step outs– “
“No!” Parker blurted out. He heard how loud his voice had gotten and shrank into himself once more. “I…I want you to.”
Molly tilted her head to one side, small wrinkles forming in the corners of her eyes as she smiled curiously at the stammering man before her.
“You want me to smoke? In here?”
Parker nodded. He was fidgeting. Molly was accustomed to this. She knew exactly what kind of effect she had on men, and relished any opportunity to indulge in the power they surrendered to her. She knew how good she looked in leather, how some men responded to it, the casual sensuality of it. She got a little thrill watching the way men’s eyes would follow the glowing ember of her lit cigarette in the dark as she brought it to her lips. She never would have guessed that Parker saw her in such a manner, would be drawn to her like this. But she didn’t mind. If anything, she was having fun.
“Okay then,” Molly purred, her face briefly illuminated by the spark of her lighter. The end of her cigarette crackled faintly as it ignited, the smoldering orange glow accentuating the red of her lip. Parker watched with rapt attention as he watched her lips pucker around the filter and draw the smoke into her lungs, as if she were drinking it in through a straw. “What my Parker wants, my Parker gets.”
She took a step toward him as she exhaled, being sure to gently blow the smoke in his direction. The tendrils of smoky vapor curled and danced around his head, intoxicating him with the scent. Molly stood before him now as she took another drag, savoring the taste. She smiled, the milky smoke escaping from between her parted lips as she spoke.
“What else do you want, baby boy?” She reached out to touch him, running her fingers through his brown hair, her nails dragging against his scalp. It gave him goose bumps, and Molly felt a little thrill as she felt Parker tremble under her hand.
“Come on…use your big boy words.”
“Can…can you…?” He couldn’t just ask for this, could he?
Molly smirked impatiently and blew another stream of smoke into his face. Parker coughed a little, unable to help himself. The smoke entered his lungs and stung the back of this throat. It was intoxicating.
“Speak up.”
“Can you…can you tickle me? Like you…like you tickled Liam at camp?”
In truth, Molly had forgotten all about that particular incident until that very moment. She’d tickled many men over the years, and often in a much more prolonged and intense manner. Such a brief tickle from so long ago had been forgotten among the more potent tickle memories she held dear. She’d had a crush on Liam at the time and tickling had been a safe, easy excuse for her to touch him. Tickling was one of Molly’s favorite ways to initiate intimacy with her partners, or playfully torture them when they displeased her. That was one of the reasons she kept her nails so long and so sharp, as they were her favorite tickle tools. Well, that and her smoky voice, which had quite the profound effect on her victims. Parker’s invoking of this incident told her that he’d likely witnessed the exchange and realized at once what he was really asking for.
She looked Parker up and down as she took another long drag of her cigarette. The room had already filled with smoke, casting the light in a faint blue haze that softened Molly’s maturing features. She took a step forward. Parker took a step back and felt his butt press up against the footboard of the bed.
“Is that what you want, little Parker? You want a little gitsee goo from your counselor? Huh? Does the shy little boy want his tickles?”
“Mhm…” it came out as something close to a whine. Parker could scarcely stand to meet Molly’s gaze he was so nervous.
“Look at me,” she intoned, slipping into her playfully commanding voice Parker knew so well from his time with her at camp.
But as Parker met her gaze, Molly’s hands flew to his sides, her fingers scribbling and poking about searching for tickle spots.
"Eeeheheheheheheheheheheheheheheeee,” Parker giggled. Even through his shirt her nails were devastating. Parker immediately began to curl into himself, ducking his head to make himself as small as possible, trying to get away from the very tickles he had invited only moments before.
“What’sa mattah, bubba? Mama Molly wants to find her baby’s giggle spots. Can you show me where you’re tickly? Huh? Or do I need to find out?”
With that, Molly gave him a light shove backwards, causing Parker to fall backward onto the bed. In seconds, Molly had straddled him, her leather pants touching his stomach just above his beltline, making him even more aroused than before. The smell of her cigarette smoke mingled with the leather and her light perfume, intoxicating him further as his brain was overwhelmed by the ticklish sensations running up and down his body. His head swam as tried to sit up and feebly plead for mercy.
“Mohohohohohohoholllleeeeeeehehehehehehehehehe! Nahahahahahahahahat thehehehehehehehehere!”
“Awww, my widdle Parker is so soft and tickawee! Just a little puddle of giggles from my silly widdle fingers. I should have thought of this years ago! Whenever I needed to make you smile I could have just coochied you and all that shyness would have melted away.”
Her hands crept up his shirt now, the pads of her fingers searching for the tender spots between his ribs. Her fingers were a little cold, causing Parker to leap even higher off the bed while Molly rode astride her giggling victim.
“Nahahahahahahahahahahahahat myhihihihihihihihihi riiiihihihihihihihihihihihbs! Plehehehehehehehehehease! Nooooohohohohohohohohohohooooo rihihihihihihihihihibbeeeeeeees!”
“Not your wibbies?” Molly cooed, removing one hand from beneath his shirt so she could take another drag of her cigarette, “But your wibbies are my favorite place to tickle!”
His shirt was riding up now. Having withdrawn one of her hands, Parker tried to fight back, to sit up, to bat her remaining hand away. Instead, as she grabbed for his wrist in an attempt to restrain him, she lost her balance for a moment, causing the zipper of her leather jacket to run along his exposed and vulnerable belly. The sensation was unexpected, and elicited a yelp from the giggling man beneath her.
Molly’s blue eyes widened, as did Parker’s. She ashed her cigarette in an empty soda can on the bedside table, and raised her eyebrow at him.
“Parker, are you hiding giggles from your counselor in your tummy?”
“No…” Parker breathed, unsure if he was saying it to beg for mercy or to play along with her role play and deny it.
“I think the giggles want to come out of hiding, don’t you?” Molly smiled, leaning in close to Parker once more, bringing her lips to within an inch of his ear. She purposefully let her zipper once more drag along his stomach, which quaked beneath the leather jacket’s touch. His nose was filled with the scent of leather and smoke, his vision obscured by her dark hair as she whispered in his ear. “Does my Parkey Poo have a tickly little tum tum?”
The way the said it, a breathy little whisper, smoke still radiating off her breath, made Parker turn to jelly.
“Molly, I….please….”
In one fluid motion, Molly grabbed Parker’s wrists with her free hand and held them firmly above his head, while her free hand began tickling his exposed belly. Her nails began by skittering about, enough to coax fresh laughter from the former camper, causing whatever resistance he’d attempted to hold on to quickly dissipate.
“Please what? Please more tickles? Oooooookayyyyyy!” Molly sing-songed, clearly relishing in her time tickling the writhing man beneath her. “You should have told me you were this ticklish ages ago! Why, I would have coochied you all Summah wong if you let me. Laff for me, Parkey Poo! Laff for Molly…”
“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Thahahahahahahahahat’s nahahahahahahahahahat whahahahahahahahahahat Ihihihihihihihi Meheheheheheant ahahahahahand yohohohohohohohohu knohohohohohohohow ihihihihihihihihit! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha!”
Parker was astounded by how ticklish his stomach was. Every scrape and poke of Molly’s sharp fingernails along his trembling belly caused more and more laughter to pour from his mouth. His hands being held in place only made him feel more vulnerable and ticklish. Parker was amazed at just how strong Molly was. Even after all these years, he was just a silly little boy trapped beneath an older girl.
“Awww, Parkey Poo love his tummy time with Molly! Just look at those pink widdle cheeks! My Parkey Poo is such a tickawish widdle boy isn’t he? Yes he isssss!” Her nail dipped into his belly button now, eliciting fresh squeals from the hysterical boy beneath her. “Gitsee, gitsee, gee! Laugh some more for the tickle monster!”
Parker’s cheeks grew so red they practically glowed, shaking his head back and forth to rebut the infantilizing tease. This had always been Molly strategy, and what made her such an effective tickler. It was her teases that ultimately broke the damn on her victim’s ticklishness. Each tease and coo brought them closer and closer to their breaking point, where they’d have no choice but to surrender to her ticklish whims and do anything she said.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OHOHOHOHO MYIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIH GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOOOO! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHP!”
“You know! For as ticklish as your tummy is, I think your wibbies might be just your worst spot. Whaddaya say? Should Tickle Monster Molly pway accordion with her Parkey Poo’s wibbies?”
Parker was growing hoarse, the muscles in his neck and sides were sore from the strain of laughter. He could barely muster his feeble pleas.
“NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORE! NOOHOHOHOHOHO WHIHIHIHIHIHIBBBBBEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHES! PLEHEHEHEHEEHASE! IHIHIHIHIHIHHIHIHI’LL BEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEE AHAHAHAHA GOOOHOHOHHOOOOD BOHOHOHOHOHOHY! I SWEHEHEHEHEHEAR!”
“Then be a good boy and laugh for me, baby. Laugh for me…”
Molly’s hands once again shot to his ribs, now knowing exactly where to tickle and tease for maximum effect. The reaction was explosive, and Molly had to try her best not to be thrown off. Her sharp nails raked up and down his ribs, skittering this way and that, always applying just the right level of pressure to drive Parker through the roof.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
Parker was beyond words now. He knew there was nothing he could do to make Molly stop, even if he wanted her to. Every time he danced over the line from bliss to torment, he found that her sweet, teasing words brought him right back into a playful space. It was torment of the highest order, and she knew all the right buttons to push to make it so much worse when it pleased her.
“What tender widdle wibbies! I wonder what would happen if I had a little nibble…”
With that, Molly leaned forward and began to playfully nibble at Parker’s ribs and sides.
Parker’s eyes bulged out of his skull, his head rolling back as explosive peals of squealing laughter erupted from his throat.
“OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOH MIHIHIHIHIHIHIY GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD!”
Parker had never felt anything like it before. The warm, slippery feeling of her tongue sliding around, tasting him as her teeth scraped and nibbled along his already sensitive ribs drove him absolutely wild. It tickled worse than anything Parker had ever felt before, and the erogenous nature of the warm, wet tongue going around and around brought him to hitherto unforeseen levels of hysteric arousal. It was too much for Parker to take. If Molly kept on like this, Parker worried he might cry.
Molly seemed to sense he was nearing his limit and withdrew her mouth from his ribs, once again employing her nails to turn the ticklish man beneath her into a helpless, giggling toy. He wasn’t even bothering to resist her anymore, his strength had left him, worn out from Molly’s tickling onslaught. With both hands now, she attacked his ribs with renewed gusto.
“Poor little Parkey Poo! Can’t get away from Molly’s Coochie Coo! Beg me to stop baby boy, beg your counselor for mercy. Or I’m just gonna tickle and tickle and tickle until you lose your silly little mind!”
Through the tears that had begun to form in the corners of his eyes, Parker marveled at the leather-clad goddess that straddled him. From where he was laying she was the tickler of his dreams, the ceiling above dancing with curls of cigarette smoke, these chandeliers of vapor. Though he was in heaven, Parker knew he needed a break. It was all too much. Coupled with the tickling was the smoke of the smoldering cigarette resting on the soda can beside the rocking bed. It was a sensory onslaught Parker couldn’t overcome. Though he wanted more, craved it, he found his body had reached it’s limit. As if moved by an unseen spirit, he heard himself babble for mercy.
“MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOLLLEEEEEEEE PLEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHASE! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE! IHIHIHIHIHI’M BEHEHEHEGGING YOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOU! MHEHEHEHEHERCYYYEEEEEEE!”
Molly retracted her claws and regarded the sweaty, giggling mess beneath her. She reached over and picked up what remained of her lit cigarette, taking a long, relaxed drag. It was as if they’d just slept together, and yet the experience felt all together more intimate.
She could Parker’s erection straining against his jeans, and smiled. Parker fought to catch his breath, made even more difficult by the fresh smoke emanating from the tip of Molly’s cigarette.
“That was fun,” Molly breathed, smoke filtering from between her teeth.
“Was?” Parker asked, playfully.
“You mean, you want more?” Molly was surprised. Even the most willing of ticklish victims would have tapped out by now. But Parker was a different breed. He loved this.
“Your train doesn’t leave for a while, right?”
“Not for hours,” Molly smiled.
“Then we have some time.”
Molly grinned and dropped the smoking filter into the empty soda can beside the bed, listening for the satisfying hiss of the ember extinguishing in the dregs of liquid that remained at the bottom.
“You’re on, Parkey Poo,” Molly teased.
Her train didn’t leave for another ten hours, and Parker wouldn’t stop laughing for the next nine. Long after Molly left, Parker would keep the door to the guest room shut so as to preserve the smell of her cigarette smoke. Luckily for him, this would not be the last time Molly came to visit, and he made sure to keep a pack of her favorite brand on hand, just in case.