"My First Wife"
You may well be lukewarm about tickling, serious/severe tickling, what I even go and call rape-tickling. Yet I share this anyhow:
So I will not use full names nor exact locations, none of that. More than anything I was/have been guilty of failure to do, failure to intervene much more than guilty of DOING anything myself.
My first wife getting tickled became such an idea for me, such a real obsession, it was so so so very right in my mind that this deleted most if not all of any wrongness. I got carried away with being excited about it, and others got carried away executing on the ideas.
There was a married couple, Bob and Linda. Bob was a tickle fiend, admitted to this, and his prime regular target was his wife, Linda. Easy and available was she, right at home. Many times Bob would lock up, draw the drapes, and spend hours going after Linda.
I talked with him more and more, got lost in his obsessions to tickle. He had met and gotten to know my wife, said she had a cute giggle, and eventually he brought up tickling her. I should have made this a no no no no NO, but slowly the idea clicked within me more and more.
And Linda eventually admitted she had a liking/lust for Donna, my wife, and for other females generally, and also that she would really appreciate a rest, meaning Bob would go after someone else and leave her alone for a change.
It was one evening, they came over, we played some tabletop games, had snacks and drinks, my wife got intoxicated and among other things giggled. She kind of was losing some of her self-control.
The set-up was that on signal from Bob, I would seem to leave to make a trip to the store, this established in Donna's mind that I was simply hot around. In actuality, it had gotten dark, and really I stationed myself outside of the dining room window, able to see and hear, it was a condominium, I had somewhat of a panoramic view of the L-shaped dining room, living room as well as straight ahead into the rectangular kitchen area.
Donna actually sipped her drink more, and then Bob "freshened" it for her, adding more to the glass. She was even then giggling over nothing at all specifically. We had benches instead of chairs on each of the long sides of the dining table, she was on one, her head drooped forward and down, she was resting it on the table, and it was then Bob stepped right behind her, reached out and down a bit and started finger tickling plus poking her sides, that made her first giggle more abruptly, as like giggle outbursting, and but as Bob repeated his actions, Donna began her "hoo hoo hoo" laughing. Linda then was right there, stepped a bit to Bob's side, and then pit her one hand on Donna's head and was actually holding it down on the tabletop so Donna could not really lift her head up then.
No words as I recall had been spoken, but then Linda exclaimed to Donna that she had had too much to drink and was out of control ( as if Donna was not being tickled and poked ). And then Linda went and said that Bob and she weren't going to quit until "you, Donna, settle down and get a hold of yourself". Bob and Linda were acting as if they were not doing anything, and the fact Donna was spinning out was HER doing only.
She had a knit pullover on, loose and untucked, and it was not long before Bob had his fingers underneath, had the knit top pulled up at that point along the waistline, fingers directly on Donna's bare skin.
Donna's hoo-hoo-hooing increased, and then suddenly they were pulling her up off the bench, had her back up on her feet, and as Bob held her, Linda was pulling up that knot top big time, hiking it way up so in front it was above Donna'a bra cups, and I knew for sure THAT was getting both Bob and Linda really excited. Linda put on an angry act saying she was tired of that knit top, " I am throwing it away". This was a signal for Linda to pull the top totally up over Donna's head, and then she tossed it like ten feet into the living room, and Donna was now standing in slacks and brassiere. Both Bob and Linda launched a fresh new and vigorous tickle-tickle attack, and Donna in about three or six seconds was slumping and collapsing right where she stood. B & L immediately dropped down with her to continue using their fingers to tickle and poke. At the moment Donna was a rather completely conquered mess, and meanwhile outside the window I was about as excited as can be, I might add surprised as well with how far and fast B & L had gone. I had a spot in my mind enough for it to occur to me they had no right to do what they were doing, and were doing it anyway, and this also made me wild. (I had to try to be quiet out there, not make a lot of noise lest Donna somehow notice).
===To Be Continued===
Part 2
And so Bob and Linda had my wife down on the floor where the living room does an " L " into the dining room, but then lifted her up again to her feet, then left go of her completely. I expected maybe she'd collapse anew, but instead, and I was not the only one surprised, my wife headed to the door, then was outside as I froze. My only option was trying to stay motionless and hope hope hope that she would not notice me.
Bob and Linda both were out that door in a flash, my wife was noisy and Linda raised her own voice, saying, "Where the hell do you think you're going?!!" Bob spoke up then, too, "Get back inside right now, we'll make sure you don't run away anymore, honey!" In a second flash they had her back inside the condo, and I heard the door lock. Yes, it dawned on me that then I was unable to go in my own residence, Donna was locked in and I was locked out.
They started a sort of chase game with my wife, grab and tickle her and then let her go only so they could chase and catch her, and the cycle repeated it self numerous times. I thought to myself that one goal had to be to attain a certain level of hysteria in my wife and try to maintain it, an attain and maintain game. But, you know, something else popped into my thoughts, something Bob had told me weeks ago. Seemed factual, too. Alcohol intoxicates her brain and sense, and then tickle tickle further, yes, FURTHER does it more to her. Lightheaded, right, my wife all the while was getting more and more lightheaded along with less and less capable. Her brain was getting slowed down by TWO causes, drink and tickle. She was one frantic mess of a victim, that was the skinny of it by then---a trapped frantic mess at that, outnumbered and outmaneuvered and out of damn luck in her own home where she should be the safest and most calmly assured. B and L had no trouble, none at all, catching Donna again each time they let her go. She was, shall I say, bouncing off the walls in more than just one way, more ways than one. They had been tickling and poking her in the sides and ribs and kidneys for so long, and then made a very sudden change. On about what was their seventh or eighth catch, Bob grabbed her by the wrists and held her arms way up, and as if rehearsed, Linda launched quite a determined undie-arm siege. I thought Donna's screechy vocal cords would surely burst and explode right through the front of her neck (and also fretted someone nearby might call the police, all three but me were making what seemed too much of an ear-shattering ruckus. I could make out that Donna was trying to form the word "HELP" with her mouth and lips, but no way was she capable of clear talk. And then my ears got a fresh shock as Linda, of all people, exclaimed, "Get her gawddamn bra off, I want that for a friggin' souvenir!!" And that yell was at once followed by both of them pausing the tickle-poke attacks to get that bra off, and it was a quick deal, no efforts to take any care, yank yank yanking Donna's brassiere off of her torso. Bob was seeing my wife's bare breasts. Bob was, oh jeez, was seeing my wife's bare breasts. And two breaths later Bob was touching my wife's bare breasts, and Linda was yakking about a brand new target to tickle.
Could I ever maybe become an accessory to a tickle sex crime? I was witnessing such a downfall, the downfall of my own drunken, doubly intoxicated wife. And then Linda went and said it, wiped me out really totally, "Tickle tickle tickle titties". Both were taking turns touching and tickling Donna's titties and having more fun at it than a kid in a candy shop.
( End of Part 2 )
Part 3
I wasn't ready, no one could be ready for the next noise and another wife shriek. Bob and Linda pulled her up on her feet again, she was wearing just her blue jeans, nude-naked from the waist up, drunken and having some diffy with her breathing. As if out of their tickle playbook, Bob was behind my wife and reaching around, got his arms under hers, and then Linda was yelling "Reach for the stars, reach for the sky", something like that as Bob lifted my wife's arms up up up. What Linda then did was go down on the exposed left arm pit, down with a lip-smack. That made my wife's knees wobble-buckle, I could almost see those knees trembling right through the heavy denim. It was a shriek for sure, one I did not know she was capable of, and in an instant she was once more on the floor. Bob let go and moved back away and simply let her fall down like a floppy doll without muscles. And Linda went down there lightning quick-quick, and proceeded to pin my wife, hold her down there flat on the carpet with her own body mass, and was once again lip-smacking her some more pitty pit pit as Donna tried getting some damn laugh-n-coughs out of her mouth and started kicking her legs as if that would do any good. Bob was right there then, and used his arm strength to hold those legs still. Then like three seconds later Bob has his mouth on my wife's right bare breast as Linda moved to the left one, and both were in sync with their kisses and tickle-licks, then I thought I believed what I saw as Linda sucked Donna's entire left breast into her mouth, small enough those titties were that engulfing one was totally possible. Everything going on there in our condominium had gone way, way past a mere sadistic tickle attack, and B & L had been clearly spinning out of control while I remained locked out and peering in the window with a male member I thought must have been ten inches hard and long. And Donna was not just quiet because no one was tickling or poking her, I am sure she ALSO was just simply out of energy.
You may well be lukewarm about tickling, serious/severe tickling, what I even go and call rape-tickling. Yet I share this anyhow:
So I will not use full names nor exact locations, none of that. More than anything I was/have been guilty of failure to do, failure to intervene much more than guilty of DOING anything myself.
My first wife getting tickled became such an idea for me, such a real obsession, it was so so so very right in my mind that this deleted most if not all of any wrongness. I got carried away with being excited about it, and others got carried away executing on the ideas.
There was a married couple, Bob and Linda. Bob was a tickle fiend, admitted to this, and his prime regular target was his wife, Linda. Easy and available was she, right at home. Many times Bob would lock up, draw the drapes, and spend hours going after Linda.
I talked with him more and more, got lost in his obsessions to tickle. He had met and gotten to know my wife, said she had a cute giggle, and eventually he brought up tickling her. I should have made this a no no no no NO, but slowly the idea clicked within me more and more.
And Linda eventually admitted she had a liking/lust for Donna, my wife, and for other females generally, and also that she would really appreciate a rest, meaning Bob would go after someone else and leave her alone for a change.
It was one evening, they came over, we played some tabletop games, had snacks and drinks, my wife got intoxicated and among other things giggled. She kind of was losing some of her self-control.
The set-up was that on signal from Bob, I would seem to leave to make a trip to the store, this established in Donna's mind that I was simply hot around. In actuality, it had gotten dark, and really I stationed myself outside of the dining room window, able to see and hear, it was a condominium, I had somewhat of a panoramic view of the L-shaped dining room, living room as well as straight ahead into the rectangular kitchen area.
Donna actually sipped her drink more, and then Bob "freshened" it for her, adding more to the glass. She was even then giggling over nothing at all specifically. We had benches instead of chairs on each of the long sides of the dining table, she was on one, her head drooped forward and down, she was resting it on the table, and it was then Bob stepped right behind her, reached out and down a bit and started finger tickling plus poking her sides, that made her first giggle more abruptly, as like giggle outbursting, and but as Bob repeated his actions, Donna began her "hoo hoo hoo" laughing. Linda then was right there, stepped a bit to Bob's side, and then pit her one hand on Donna's head and was actually holding it down on the tabletop so Donna could not really lift her head up then.
No words as I recall had been spoken, but then Linda exclaimed to Donna that she had had too much to drink and was out of control ( as if Donna was not being tickled and poked ). And then Linda went and said that Bob and she weren't going to quit until "you, Donna, settle down and get a hold of yourself". Bob and Linda were acting as if they were not doing anything, and the fact Donna was spinning out was HER doing only.
She had a knit pullover on, loose and untucked, and it was not long before Bob had his fingers underneath, had the knit top pulled up at that point along the waistline, fingers directly on Donna's bare skin.
Donna's hoo-hoo-hooing increased, and then suddenly they were pulling her up off the bench, had her back up on her feet, and as Bob held her, Linda was pulling up that knot top big time, hiking it way up so in front it was above Donna'a bra cups, and I knew for sure THAT was getting both Bob and Linda really excited. Linda put on an angry act saying she was tired of that knit top, " I am throwing it away". This was a signal for Linda to pull the top totally up over Donna's head, and then she tossed it like ten feet into the living room, and Donna was now standing in slacks and brassiere. Both Bob and Linda launched a fresh new and vigorous tickle-tickle attack, and Donna in about three or six seconds was slumping and collapsing right where she stood. B & L immediately dropped down with her to continue using their fingers to tickle and poke. At the moment Donna was a rather completely conquered mess, and meanwhile outside the window I was about as excited as can be, I might add surprised as well with how far and fast B & L had gone. I had a spot in my mind enough for it to occur to me they had no right to do what they were doing, and were doing it anyway, and this also made me wild. (I had to try to be quiet out there, not make a lot of noise lest Donna somehow notice).
===To Be Continued===
Part 2
And so Bob and Linda had my wife down on the floor where the living room does an " L " into the dining room, but then lifted her up again to her feet, then left go of her completely. I expected maybe she'd collapse anew, but instead, and I was not the only one surprised, my wife headed to the door, then was outside as I froze. My only option was trying to stay motionless and hope hope hope that she would not notice me.
Bob and Linda both were out that door in a flash, my wife was noisy and Linda raised her own voice, saying, "Where the hell do you think you're going?!!" Bob spoke up then, too, "Get back inside right now, we'll make sure you don't run away anymore, honey!" In a second flash they had her back inside the condo, and I heard the door lock. Yes, it dawned on me that then I was unable to go in my own residence, Donna was locked in and I was locked out.
They started a sort of chase game with my wife, grab and tickle her and then let her go only so they could chase and catch her, and the cycle repeated it self numerous times. I thought to myself that one goal had to be to attain a certain level of hysteria in my wife and try to maintain it, an attain and maintain game. But, you know, something else popped into my thoughts, something Bob had told me weeks ago. Seemed factual, too. Alcohol intoxicates her brain and sense, and then tickle tickle further, yes, FURTHER does it more to her. Lightheaded, right, my wife all the while was getting more and more lightheaded along with less and less capable. Her brain was getting slowed down by TWO causes, drink and tickle. She was one frantic mess of a victim, that was the skinny of it by then---a trapped frantic mess at that, outnumbered and outmaneuvered and out of damn luck in her own home where she should be the safest and most calmly assured. B and L had no trouble, none at all, catching Donna again each time they let her go. She was, shall I say, bouncing off the walls in more than just one way, more ways than one. They had been tickling and poking her in the sides and ribs and kidneys for so long, and then made a very sudden change. On about what was their seventh or eighth catch, Bob grabbed her by the wrists and held her arms way up, and as if rehearsed, Linda launched quite a determined undie-arm siege. I thought Donna's screechy vocal cords would surely burst and explode right through the front of her neck (and also fretted someone nearby might call the police, all three but me were making what seemed too much of an ear-shattering ruckus. I could make out that Donna was trying to form the word "HELP" with her mouth and lips, but no way was she capable of clear talk. And then my ears got a fresh shock as Linda, of all people, exclaimed, "Get her gawddamn bra off, I want that for a friggin' souvenir!!" And that yell was at once followed by both of them pausing the tickle-poke attacks to get that bra off, and it was a quick deal, no efforts to take any care, yank yank yanking Donna's brassiere off of her torso. Bob was seeing my wife's bare breasts. Bob was, oh jeez, was seeing my wife's bare breasts. And two breaths later Bob was touching my wife's bare breasts, and Linda was yakking about a brand new target to tickle.
Could I ever maybe become an accessory to a tickle sex crime? I was witnessing such a downfall, the downfall of my own drunken, doubly intoxicated wife. And then Linda went and said it, wiped me out really totally, "Tickle tickle tickle titties". Both were taking turns touching and tickling Donna's titties and having more fun at it than a kid in a candy shop.
( End of Part 2 )
Part 3
I wasn't ready, no one could be ready for the next noise and another wife shriek. Bob and Linda pulled her up on her feet again, she was wearing just her blue jeans, nude-naked from the waist up, drunken and having some diffy with her breathing. As if out of their tickle playbook, Bob was behind my wife and reaching around, got his arms under hers, and then Linda was yelling "Reach for the stars, reach for the sky", something like that as Bob lifted my wife's arms up up up. What Linda then did was go down on the exposed left arm pit, down with a lip-smack. That made my wife's knees wobble-buckle, I could almost see those knees trembling right through the heavy denim. It was a shriek for sure, one I did not know she was capable of, and in an instant she was once more on the floor. Bob let go and moved back away and simply let her fall down like a floppy doll without muscles. And Linda went down there lightning quick-quick, and proceeded to pin my wife, hold her down there flat on the carpet with her own body mass, and was once again lip-smacking her some more pitty pit pit as Donna tried getting some damn laugh-n-coughs out of her mouth and started kicking her legs as if that would do any good. Bob was right there then, and used his arm strength to hold those legs still. Then like three seconds later Bob has his mouth on my wife's right bare breast as Linda moved to the left one, and both were in sync with their kisses and tickle-licks, then I thought I believed what I saw as Linda sucked Donna's entire left breast into her mouth, small enough those titties were that engulfing one was totally possible. Everything going on there in our condominium had gone way, way past a mere sadistic tickle attack, and B & L had been clearly spinning out of control while I remained locked out and peering in the window with a male member I thought must have been ten inches hard and long. And Donna was not just quiet because no one was tickling or poking her, I am sure she ALSO was just simply out of energy.
