KittenToes
Verified
- Joined
- Nov 15, 2005
- Messages
- 284
- Points
- 18
This kind of story is really hard for me to write, because it's not easy to talk about intimate things, so if you like it, please let me know, so I know it's worth the trouble! Thanks.
I don’t think I need to specify who I’m speaking of- it should be obvious. The appellation he, or him etc, will do.
We’d both had a flu with a cough for some time, so had been unable to do much tickling, or for that matter, anything else amorous for about a week. I know- a week doesn’t seem so long, but it’s an absolute eon for me, when I’m in close proximity to the man I love. It’s even worse to have a desire, but not enough energy to initiate the activity.
Anyhow- one night, we both felt a bit better, and were snuggled up in bed as we often are, me lying on his chest, face burrowed into his neck, one leg draped over his- it’s a very comfy position (for me anyway- sometimes his leg falls asleep)
He was massaging my back, lulling me into a drowsy daze, when the pressure of his hands changed slightly- it lessened, becoming just a bit lighter, and just the slightest bit tickly, at the base of my spine, right above the tailbone- an area that’s always been one of my “danger zones”.
Was it intentional on his part? I do not know. At any rate, I reacted, maybe even more strongly than usual because of the illness-induced tickle drought. My hips jerked spasmodically against his leg, a stifled giggle escaped my lips, which brought my reaction to his attention. He continued to trail his fingers along my spine, ever so lightly; just the fingertips and nails, and I shuddered under his touch.
I knew subconsciously that I mustn’t laugh too hard as it would cause me to start coughing. Somehow, the suppression of my normal reaction to tickling made me feel the sensation even more. At this point, he’d pinned my left arm in his right armpit so it was impossible for me to escape, and extended his exploration of my body to my ribs and waist. The only thing that could really move was my hips, and I continued to writhe and grind my pelvis into his leg- well, I HAD to react to the tickling somehow!
Now, I get aroused from being tickled by him regardless of position or situation, but it’s always far easier to get turned on when you have got something to hump, in this case a strategically placed thigh. After a few minutes of this activity, my thoughts were starting to turn southward. However, I was distracted momentarily by those evil fingernails, this time moving along the back of my neck and behind my ears. My breath came out in huge gasps, and the evil nails were joined by an even more devilish tongue, dancing around my earlobe.
My tickly danger spots tend to move about a bit, but my ears and neck are a constant- always an 11 on a ticklishness scale of 1 to 10. Silent laughter shook my body, interspersed with gasps and the occasional cough, as he continued his assault on my ear. I struggled away from him and lay there, trying to regain my breath. He watched me as I lay there gasping, then ran a hand along his leg.
“You’re wet” he observed. “Naughty girl” But I knew I wasn’t alone in my arousal, as I’d felt the growing evidence of his reaction to my writhing struggles against my leg and it was clearly visible as well as he lay there with an impish twinkle in his eye.
We both knew what the next activity would entail, and the only question was how soon it would happen. As he rolled his body over mine, pressing himself against my hip, I murmured that he must be careful- I’m a rather small girl, and in that respect he’s NOT a small guy, and we hadn’t “done it” in a little while- I wasn’t sure if my body had readied itself at its usual speed. “All right” he said, as he then wrapped me up in the duvet, mummifying me, and sprawled across my legs. He drew the duvet back to expose my feet, and pulled my toes backwards. He raked his nails across my vulnerable arches, back under my heels, and around my anklebones. My urge to laugh finally vanquished my fear of coughing, and deep belly laughter exploded from my mouth. I writhed as best I could, imprisoned as I was by the blankets, attempting to get a word out.
I finally succeeded and gasped, “Please- I want you”. “Now you’re ready” he chuckled. “Hadn’t you better get under the covers first” I suggested, “It’s a bit difficult to do it through the duvet”. Yes, I’m cheeky.
He slid under the covers, and gently eased his cock into me. I moaned and raised myself to meet him, and he responded by teasing me, drawing it back every time I pressed forward. Punishment for being cheeky, perhaps…
I hovered for a few seconds on the verge of climax, and then when I didn’t expect it at all, he pushed forward, all the way into me, past any resistance I might have offered, and pushed me over the edge. I suppose I howled a bit like a cat on heat. I do hate listening to myself sometimes. But then I guess most women sound funny during sex.
The problem, or advantage, however you choose to see it, with combining tickling and sex is that once a lady has orgasmed, she generally becomes more sensitive. Such is certainly the case for me. As my howl subsided, he began raking his nails over my sides and ribs, pounding into me the whole time. I thrashed and bucked, shaking with silent laughter- I’m a “squirmer” in the extreme- and he might have fallen off if my legs hadn’t been locked around him and he wasn’t so far inside me.
As spasm after spasm continued to shake my body, I decided simply to surrender to my fate. I flung both arms over my head, pressing my hands against the headboard, giving him access to my previously protected armpits. He took advantage of this, tickling my left armpit with his fingertips, while lifting my hips with his other hand, pressing further still into me, and hitting bottom. Hopefully you will know what I’m referring to- if I describe it in more detail it will come out sounding far too clinical. While doing this, he began to nibble on my neck. Oh no. I walked a fine line at this point between yet another orgasm and total exhaustion, and I gasped “No- I can’t come again” “Yes you will” said he. “Once more”, and as my final climax exploded from me, he throbbed within me and finally lost control, collapsing against me.
We lay there, heads spinning, for a few moments, managed to separate somehow and collapsed into a heavy, dreamless sleep. Maybe there’s something to be said for taking an occasional break from this…
I don’t think I need to specify who I’m speaking of- it should be obvious. The appellation he, or him etc, will do.
We’d both had a flu with a cough for some time, so had been unable to do much tickling, or for that matter, anything else amorous for about a week. I know- a week doesn’t seem so long, but it’s an absolute eon for me, when I’m in close proximity to the man I love. It’s even worse to have a desire, but not enough energy to initiate the activity.
Anyhow- one night, we both felt a bit better, and were snuggled up in bed as we often are, me lying on his chest, face burrowed into his neck, one leg draped over his- it’s a very comfy position (for me anyway- sometimes his leg falls asleep)
He was massaging my back, lulling me into a drowsy daze, when the pressure of his hands changed slightly- it lessened, becoming just a bit lighter, and just the slightest bit tickly, at the base of my spine, right above the tailbone- an area that’s always been one of my “danger zones”.
Was it intentional on his part? I do not know. At any rate, I reacted, maybe even more strongly than usual because of the illness-induced tickle drought. My hips jerked spasmodically against his leg, a stifled giggle escaped my lips, which brought my reaction to his attention. He continued to trail his fingers along my spine, ever so lightly; just the fingertips and nails, and I shuddered under his touch.
I knew subconsciously that I mustn’t laugh too hard as it would cause me to start coughing. Somehow, the suppression of my normal reaction to tickling made me feel the sensation even more. At this point, he’d pinned my left arm in his right armpit so it was impossible for me to escape, and extended his exploration of my body to my ribs and waist. The only thing that could really move was my hips, and I continued to writhe and grind my pelvis into his leg- well, I HAD to react to the tickling somehow!
Now, I get aroused from being tickled by him regardless of position or situation, but it’s always far easier to get turned on when you have got something to hump, in this case a strategically placed thigh. After a few minutes of this activity, my thoughts were starting to turn southward. However, I was distracted momentarily by those evil fingernails, this time moving along the back of my neck and behind my ears. My breath came out in huge gasps, and the evil nails were joined by an even more devilish tongue, dancing around my earlobe.
My tickly danger spots tend to move about a bit, but my ears and neck are a constant- always an 11 on a ticklishness scale of 1 to 10. Silent laughter shook my body, interspersed with gasps and the occasional cough, as he continued his assault on my ear. I struggled away from him and lay there, trying to regain my breath. He watched me as I lay there gasping, then ran a hand along his leg.
“You’re wet” he observed. “Naughty girl” But I knew I wasn’t alone in my arousal, as I’d felt the growing evidence of his reaction to my writhing struggles against my leg and it was clearly visible as well as he lay there with an impish twinkle in his eye.
We both knew what the next activity would entail, and the only question was how soon it would happen. As he rolled his body over mine, pressing himself against my hip, I murmured that he must be careful- I’m a rather small girl, and in that respect he’s NOT a small guy, and we hadn’t “done it” in a little while- I wasn’t sure if my body had readied itself at its usual speed. “All right” he said, as he then wrapped me up in the duvet, mummifying me, and sprawled across my legs. He drew the duvet back to expose my feet, and pulled my toes backwards. He raked his nails across my vulnerable arches, back under my heels, and around my anklebones. My urge to laugh finally vanquished my fear of coughing, and deep belly laughter exploded from my mouth. I writhed as best I could, imprisoned as I was by the blankets, attempting to get a word out.
I finally succeeded and gasped, “Please- I want you”. “Now you’re ready” he chuckled. “Hadn’t you better get under the covers first” I suggested, “It’s a bit difficult to do it through the duvet”. Yes, I’m cheeky.
He slid under the covers, and gently eased his cock into me. I moaned and raised myself to meet him, and he responded by teasing me, drawing it back every time I pressed forward. Punishment for being cheeky, perhaps…
I hovered for a few seconds on the verge of climax, and then when I didn’t expect it at all, he pushed forward, all the way into me, past any resistance I might have offered, and pushed me over the edge. I suppose I howled a bit like a cat on heat. I do hate listening to myself sometimes. But then I guess most women sound funny during sex.
The problem, or advantage, however you choose to see it, with combining tickling and sex is that once a lady has orgasmed, she generally becomes more sensitive. Such is certainly the case for me. As my howl subsided, he began raking his nails over my sides and ribs, pounding into me the whole time. I thrashed and bucked, shaking with silent laughter- I’m a “squirmer” in the extreme- and he might have fallen off if my legs hadn’t been locked around him and he wasn’t so far inside me.
As spasm after spasm continued to shake my body, I decided simply to surrender to my fate. I flung both arms over my head, pressing my hands against the headboard, giving him access to my previously protected armpits. He took advantage of this, tickling my left armpit with his fingertips, while lifting my hips with his other hand, pressing further still into me, and hitting bottom. Hopefully you will know what I’m referring to- if I describe it in more detail it will come out sounding far too clinical. While doing this, he began to nibble on my neck. Oh no. I walked a fine line at this point between yet another orgasm and total exhaustion, and I gasped “No- I can’t come again” “Yes you will” said he. “Once more”, and as my final climax exploded from me, he throbbed within me and finally lost control, collapsing against me.
We lay there, heads spinning, for a few moments, managed to separate somehow and collapsed into a heavy, dreamless sleep. Maybe there’s something to be said for taking an occasional break from this…
Last edited:
Maybe I can cause her to have an erotic dream... so I can wake her up in the middle of it! 
Kitten,
