Paul Jones1
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- Oct 16, 2006
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(Previously published elsewhere)
Patrick was naked and sprawled out on the grass. Charlene was there, too. She was
the charming lady who so fascinated him. Her beguiling Irish eyes and her lilting brogue
simply melted his “Hibernian heart.”
In fact, he had come to think that she might actually be one of the “little people,”
a leprechaun, in the form of a tantalizingly adorable woman.
His limbs were fastened down in some mysterious way, though he didn’t know how.
Even his feet and toes were completely immobilized.
Charlene was naked, and he was thrilled by how truly beautiful her body was.
Her skin was creamy; her contours, elegant. And her breasts were so sweet!
Reading his mind, she asked, “Are you thinking that my breasts are pretty?”
“They’re the loveliest breasts I’ve ever seen!” he exclaimed truthfully.
She was genuinely delighted by his words.
Then she drew her nails across his stomach, making him laugh heartily.
“Well, Patrick, are you ticklish then? I knew you were. And now I’m going to have
the most delicious fun with you.”
“You see, it so happens that what you’ve been thinking is true. I am a leprechaun!”
His heart fluttered with excitement.
“And nobody knows more about how to tickle a body than we leprechauns do.
Tickling mortals is one of our favorite kinds of mischief.”
“In particular, we lady leprechauns love to overpower men folk, and then tickle
the daylights out of them. Men and boys like to think that they’re so ‘big and strong.’
That’s what makes tickling them to pieces so amusing,” she teased.
He was thrilled to the core by these revelations. But there was more to come.
“There’s another thing that you should be knowing about us. We can cast a spell
that greatly increases how ticklish a person is.”
“In fact, I’ve just increased your ticklishness several times over, and it’s going
to stay that way awhile.”
She once again drew her nails across his stomach. This time, he laughed hysterically.
“Now you’re making a real commotion, much better than before,” she teased.
“The spell is always very effective on the tummy—also the armpits, breasts,
and some other places—but especially the tummy.”
Initially, Patrick had been skeptical about her ability to elevate his level of ticklishness.
But now, he was a true believer. Her spell really worked. He was stunned by how
incredibly ticklish his stomach had become.
Again reading his mind, she asked, “You wouldn’t have believed that you could be so
ticklish, would you?”
“No, NO!” he exclaimed joyously.
“In fact, you used to be this ticklish. I’ve made you about as ticklish as you were when
you were just a little boy. Small boys are always so hysterically ticklish.”
”As you used to be,” she added knowingly, like someone who had been watching over
him all his life. “Do you remember?”
He would never have thought of it without her prompting. But now, he realized that
the indescribably intense tickling sensations that he was experiencing were indeed
reminiscent of childhood (as well as early adolescence).
Hazy recollections of other females tickling him years ago—siblings, playmates,
schoolmates, adults—floated up into his consciousness, after having been submerged
for many years.
And yes, the heightened sensations that he was now experiencing tallied with those
memories.
She resumed her tickling by pressing into his stomach with her thumbs, jiggling them
to create a deep tickling effect. He bellowed raucously.
Next, she rhythmically squeezed his thighs above his knees, making him roar with
laughter.
But he giggled with embarrassment as she adroitly tickled his inner thighs. “You like
that, don’t you, you rascal?” she teased, with a knowing sparkle in her lovely, Irish eyes.
He squealed as she deftly tickled his armpits and breasts. “Isn’t it grand? While
you’re under the spell, your breasts are more ticklish than mine are!” The remark
excited Patrick, and slightly embarrassed him.
Next, she started tickling his ribs vigorously, making him shriek with laughter.
As with his stomach, these subsequent tickling sensations were remarkably intense,
confirming what she had said about the efficacy of her spell on other parts of his body.
“Would you be wanting me to stop now?” she asked in all sincerity. He smiled and
shook his head No.
Then she lovingly kissed him on the mouth.
Next, she began an adroit foot tickling. Because of the immobility of his feet, she was
able to tickle his soles and toes with remarkable effectiveness. He went wild, and
wailed with frenzied laughter.
As with his upper body, he was amazed at how ticklish his feet had become. Again,
he marveled at how Charlene had restored the immoderate ticklishness of his
childhood.
Then she resumed tickling his stomach. She covered it with short, rapid tickling
strokes. Patrick laughed uncontrollably.
He was embarrassed by his own raucous laughter. But he couldn’t help himself.
Charlene’s spell had made him “hysterically ticklish”—just as she said he’d been
when a “small boy.”
“You know, Patrick, I’ve had lots of fun tickling men over the years, but you’re definitely
the best of all. You’re so very responsive!” He blushed, but was really quite pleased.
“But I have to be careful. While you’re under the spell, I could literally tickle you to
death! I won’t, but I’m afraid that some ‘little people’ have actually done that.” A tingle
ran through Patrick’s body.
“Wouldn’t that be a lovely way to die?” And then she added—knowingly—”Isn’t that the
way you’ve always wanted to die?” In his heart, he knew that she was right.
Then she stopped to let him rest.
He lay exhausted as she stood above him, smiling mischievously. His eyes rested
adoringly on her.
“How did you come to choose me as a tickle toy?” he asked, with frank curiosity.
”You were chosen before you were born,” came her startling reply.
With an elfin smile on her lovely face, she explained,
“Even before infancy, you were given the tickling fetish that you’ve had
all your life. It’s deeply rooted in you. It is your destiny. You were born
to tickle, and to be tickled.”
This confirmed that Charlene had, indeed, chosen him, and had been watching over
him all these years. It also answered the question of his tickling fetish, a question that
had puzzled him all his life.
For several minutes, he pondered these things in his heart and mind.
Then Charlene brought her sweet breasts to his lips, and let him kiss them fervently,
especially her adorable nipples. His excitement was euphoric.
“All right, Patrick. Now I’ll be giving you a happy ending,” she said. “That’s what we
leprechauns do best of all.”
She kissed him again, and he felt a strange tingling in his genitals.
She said, “I’ve just cast another spell on you. This is a very special one. It makes
a man’s climax incredibly intense—and prolonged!”
“Believe me, you’re going to love this!”
And so he did. Caressing his now hyper-sensitive penis, she soon overwhelmed him
with stupefying pleasure, bringing him to an intensely thrilling orgasm.
Unutterable pleasure electrified his now exceedingly sensitive body. And it seemed to
go on forever. Never had he experienced an orgasm that was so intense—or lasted so
long!
Finally, after a deliciously long time, he cried out loudly (and long) in pure ecstasy,
an ecstasy so exquisitely intense that he lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he had been unfastened. He lay on the grass, and slowly recovered
as Charlene sat by quietly.
Finally, he spoke. She beamed with pleasure when he asked, imitatively,
“When may I be coming under your spell again?”
:clover:
