melonboobs
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2010
- Messages
- 194
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"Don't laugh," I said softly into the naked blonde's ear.
Gretchen lay spreadeagled to the bed in room #34 of my 156 room mansion. Her wrists and ankles were fastened tightly to the bed posts. She's my German maid. I also keep a Mexican, a Liberian, a Korean, a Russian, and an English maid on staff. They are all young and pretty and they do more than keep house and cook. I pay them all a fabulous salary, and they happily do whatever I say. I can afford this because I'm one of the richest 1% that has so many people marching on Wall Street these days.
One of the questions on their job applications was whether they liked to be tickled. It helped narrow down the applicants who were also required to send videos of themselves walking around in the nude. There were so many attractive applicants that a desire to be tickled allowed me to decide which ones I wanted to work for me.
Gretchen is my favorite. She's a voluptuous 36-30-40, and she jiggles like crazy when she moves. Plus, she's only of moderate intelligence and is materialistic, so for her, money trumps morals.
"Don't laugh," I quietly repeated.
Gretchen smiled in anticipation. I straddled her and my fore fingers stiffly tickled her underarms on both sides of her body. She giggled silently.
"Don't laugh," I warned her. "If you laugh, you're going to get it."
My stiff forefingers stubbornly continued the tickling. Gretchen tried to flex her arms shut. She shook her head back and forth--her giggles still silent.
"Don't laugh."
I dug my fingers into her soft belly and she let out her first audible laugh. I paused and sucked her nipples, unable to resist. My erection raged, but I didn't want to cut the game short. I stopped pretend nursing.
"Don't laugh."
I tickled the inside of her hips and her upper thighs and hit paydirt. She let out a helpless laugh and the laughter became continuous. I smelled the faint odor of pussy.
"I told you not to laugh," I teased, "now, you're really going to get it."
She thrashed desperately, her flesh, her boobs jiggling like jello as I tickled her, alternating between her underarms, neck, belly, groin, and legs. All she could do was wiggle, laugh, and laugh some more.
I'd been in this same joyful predicament many years ago. When I was still in college my Aunt Lenore set up residence in the same apartment building I lived in. She purposefully moved there to discourage gold-digging women and friends who she thought were "bad characters." She effectively cramped my social life and isolated me, so I had no outlet but masturbation. She even interfered with this outlet, discovering and throwing out my porno mags. She told me that was unacceptable, then she seduced me, giving me the real thing instead. The seduction was easy--she was a short woman with unusually large breasts--and I always had fantasies about her. She trained me in the art of lovemaking for months before she introduced me to the Don't Laugh Game. I let her tie me to the bed, unable to resist the depraved urge. And she warned me not to laugh, while she tickled me unceasingly. I felt frustrated, helpless, and humbled as her large breasts hovered over me. She ordered me not to laugh--the one thing I absolutely could not do. That was our last time together. She went to live in Paris. I went on to quadruple the family fortune, and I can simply buy woman willing to play the Don't Laugh Game. But I never let a woman tie me up again, even though I enjoyed my one time as the ticklee victim. I'm not sure why I desire to lose control but instead always stay in control.
I got off the bed and moved toward Gretchen's foot soles.
"Don't laugh."
I tickled her feet for awhile. I stuck my fingers under her soft fleshy buttocks and tickled there. Gretchen squirmed and laughed still. I wanted to keep tickling, alternating her feet and buttocks, but I was too excited and needed to relieve my throbbing cock.
"Don't cum," I softly said next to her ear. I squirted KY jelly on my forefinger.
I knelt next to her hip. I kissed her on the spot where her leg meets her groin, and began tickling her clitoris. She moaned.
"Don't cum."
I jammed my other fingers in her wet pussy while I continuously tickled her clitoris. She gyrated her hips and moaned louder.
"Don't cum."
"I need your cock," she said.
I untied her right hand so she could guide my penis inside her. I pumped but kept one finger tickling her clitoris.
"Uunnh!" she groaned.
I felt contractions squeezing my penis.
"Stop! please! mercy!" she yelled.
"I warned you not to cum."
I stopped tickling her clitoris. I was reaching orgasm myself and thought of tickling her cruelly until she shouted out "firecracker," the safe word I could never make her say, though my Korean and Liberian maids easily were often forced into shouting it between their helpless fits of laughter. I took my weight off my elbow and used both hands to reach under her ass and tickle her crack. She laughed and bucked. I tried not to cum, as I tried frantically to make her say the safeword but I couldn't control it and shot my load inside her.
I untied her. We cuddled for a minute. She kissed me, put her maid uniforn on, and a few minutes later I heard the vacuum cleaner in room #22.
Gretchen lay spreadeagled to the bed in room #34 of my 156 room mansion. Her wrists and ankles were fastened tightly to the bed posts. She's my German maid. I also keep a Mexican, a Liberian, a Korean, a Russian, and an English maid on staff. They are all young and pretty and they do more than keep house and cook. I pay them all a fabulous salary, and they happily do whatever I say. I can afford this because I'm one of the richest 1% that has so many people marching on Wall Street these days.
One of the questions on their job applications was whether they liked to be tickled. It helped narrow down the applicants who were also required to send videos of themselves walking around in the nude. There were so many attractive applicants that a desire to be tickled allowed me to decide which ones I wanted to work for me.
Gretchen is my favorite. She's a voluptuous 36-30-40, and she jiggles like crazy when she moves. Plus, she's only of moderate intelligence and is materialistic, so for her, money trumps morals.
"Don't laugh," I quietly repeated.
Gretchen smiled in anticipation. I straddled her and my fore fingers stiffly tickled her underarms on both sides of her body. She giggled silently.
"Don't laugh," I warned her. "If you laugh, you're going to get it."
My stiff forefingers stubbornly continued the tickling. Gretchen tried to flex her arms shut. She shook her head back and forth--her giggles still silent.
"Don't laugh."
I dug my fingers into her soft belly and she let out her first audible laugh. I paused and sucked her nipples, unable to resist. My erection raged, but I didn't want to cut the game short. I stopped pretend nursing.
"Don't laugh."
I tickled the inside of her hips and her upper thighs and hit paydirt. She let out a helpless laugh and the laughter became continuous. I smelled the faint odor of pussy.
"I told you not to laugh," I teased, "now, you're really going to get it."
She thrashed desperately, her flesh, her boobs jiggling like jello as I tickled her, alternating between her underarms, neck, belly, groin, and legs. All she could do was wiggle, laugh, and laugh some more.
I'd been in this same joyful predicament many years ago. When I was still in college my Aunt Lenore set up residence in the same apartment building I lived in. She purposefully moved there to discourage gold-digging women and friends who she thought were "bad characters." She effectively cramped my social life and isolated me, so I had no outlet but masturbation. She even interfered with this outlet, discovering and throwing out my porno mags. She told me that was unacceptable, then she seduced me, giving me the real thing instead. The seduction was easy--she was a short woman with unusually large breasts--and I always had fantasies about her. She trained me in the art of lovemaking for months before she introduced me to the Don't Laugh Game. I let her tie me to the bed, unable to resist the depraved urge. And she warned me not to laugh, while she tickled me unceasingly. I felt frustrated, helpless, and humbled as her large breasts hovered over me. She ordered me not to laugh--the one thing I absolutely could not do. That was our last time together. She went to live in Paris. I went on to quadruple the family fortune, and I can simply buy woman willing to play the Don't Laugh Game. But I never let a woman tie me up again, even though I enjoyed my one time as the ticklee victim. I'm not sure why I desire to lose control but instead always stay in control.
I got off the bed and moved toward Gretchen's foot soles.
"Don't laugh."
I tickled her feet for awhile. I stuck my fingers under her soft fleshy buttocks and tickled there. Gretchen squirmed and laughed still. I wanted to keep tickling, alternating her feet and buttocks, but I was too excited and needed to relieve my throbbing cock.
"Don't cum," I softly said next to her ear. I squirted KY jelly on my forefinger.
I knelt next to her hip. I kissed her on the spot where her leg meets her groin, and began tickling her clitoris. She moaned.
"Don't cum."
I jammed my other fingers in her wet pussy while I continuously tickled her clitoris. She gyrated her hips and moaned louder.
"Don't cum."
"I need your cock," she said.
I untied her right hand so she could guide my penis inside her. I pumped but kept one finger tickling her clitoris.
"Uunnh!" she groaned.
I felt contractions squeezing my penis.
"Stop! please! mercy!" she yelled.
"I warned you not to cum."
I stopped tickling her clitoris. I was reaching orgasm myself and thought of tickling her cruelly until she shouted out "firecracker," the safe word I could never make her say, though my Korean and Liberian maids easily were often forced into shouting it between their helpless fits of laughter. I took my weight off my elbow and used both hands to reach under her ass and tickle her crack. She laughed and bucked. I tried not to cum, as I tried frantically to make her say the safeword but I couldn't control it and shot my load inside her.
I untied her. We cuddled for a minute. She kissed me, put her maid uniforn on, and a few minutes later I heard the vacuum cleaner in room #22.
