gth1
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- Mar 28, 2003
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I confess. I am obsessed with the art of tickling. Growing up, I loved to be THAT guy … the tickler that every ticklish woman HATED to be around. I craved the thrill of the sneak attack.
I saw the requisite tickling cartoons as a kid, but nothing changed my view until high school. While at a gathering of friends at a youth group, I noticed one of my girl buddies pinned on a couch and snorting uncontrollably. I watched while one of her girlfriends sat on her tummy poking her ribs and two others lightly scraped and slid across the tops and bottoms of her bare feet. The hysterics were simply mesmerizing.
Bonnie laughed so hard that the friend who sat on her stomach almost got thrown off. I stood spellbound for what felt like hours. I stared at her unguarded arms till I could no longer stand idly by. Her hilarity was so intense, she didn’t notice me drawing her tired arms over her head. Between giggles, she begged, “No … NO!” The chuckles turned into panicked howls, especially when I looked at her and breathed one word: “Now”.
I bit my lip to hide the fact that I was terrified and only pretending to be some tough-minded game-faced tormentor. Using two fingers, I gently outlined from her elbow to armpit then drawing small, specified circles around its hollow. Then … there it was. Silent laughter. Belly shaking. Head bouncing against the sofa cushion and mouth open wide. I switched between both arms while the other girls continued their assaults on her feet, ribs and knees. I was hooked.
Now in my second marriage, I’m in love with a deliciously phenomenal tickler who transformed me into a submissive. Where I once desired the hunt, I now crave captivity. She gives me permission to pull her into the bedroom as a cue to begin using me as her ever willing sensitive boy toy.
Our lovemaking ritual begins early in the morning with tender touches and soft, sweet words. This day is no different. By the time we get to the business of passion, we’re prepared as possible as we’ve caressed and excited each other all day.
I return from the bedroom in pajamas and a t-shirt, sitting next to my lover on our sofa. She knows my maneuvers poised to get closer all too well. My hand strokes her succulent skin from wrist to shoulder and occasionally sliding across her face and neck. She laughs, throws off pillows and points, decreeing me to lay down. She places my legs in her lap and begins taking off my pants baring my very vulnerable skin.
She sits in silence, feigning a “focused” gaze on a program playing on TV. I watch her, continuing my tempting caresses on her arm … until she slaps my hand away. “SHH! Don’t distract me … I like this show”. Detecting her sheepish smirk, I can’t help but laugh at her protest, especially when she finishes her objection with the word “DAMMIT”. “My sincerest apologies, my lady. How could I ever make it up to you?”
While television drama develops on cable, our own tantalizing production rises to a new level. My lover lightly traces her index finger along the sides of my feet. As I jump an attempt to stifle the giggle, she turns once again to give me a rather disapproving glare. “I said I … LIKE … THIS … SHOW … DAMMIT!” She punctuates every word with a poke at one of my inner thighs. I start to chuckle until I notice she’s a bit aggravated at my “interruptions”. I feel I have no choice but to suppress every sound. She turns to me and responds with a pleasant “thank you”.
She stops sketching with her single finger and begins a full-on assault on my feet. One hand swiftly scraping along the bottoms of my soles from toes to heels while the other glides along the tops of my feet, a part of my body that I believe is one of the more ticklish areas. It’s all I can do to endure this in silence.
Without warning, the hand delighting the tops of my feet moves to my kneecaps. The assault shifts back to three fingers slowly tracing the edges of my knees. This, in combo with my sensitive soles, sends me into my first bout of screaming hysteria for the night.
She quips, “WHAT DID I SAY?!?” I know my responses will land me in hotter water, but I have no choice. I am, at this point, inconceivably stimulated. She said, “Finally! A commercial break!” She commands me to place one leg behind her on the top of the sofa. Once I am where she wants me to be, I hear, “Shirt. Off.” As I pull the top over my head, I feel her inching closer to my midsection. She places one hand of the shaft of my penis, massaging its head while the other hand continues its assault on my knee. Moisture emanating from my manhood takes me to a new level of wild.
As the sixty second new car campaign comes to an end, I find myself relieved that the TV show is back on the air. I think all have a few minutes of peace. However, I couldn’t be more mistaken. She slithers one finger on my pelvis while her other hand continues slipping across the tip of my manhood. I start cackling like a hen in heat … feeling as if I am moments away from gushing, when she suddenly stops. As I catch my breath, she says to me, “It’s time for our shower”.
She rises to her feet and throws me the most intimidating look. I question, “Am I in for it?” She answers, “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.” She commands me to stand, disrobe and remain still and silent. She bares her beautiful body and pulls me to her. She kisses me while one hand massages my manhood and the other tickles the back of my neck, another area that I know is hyper sensitive. I’m torn between breathless moans and small bouts of laughter. She implores, “Shhh, lover … shhh”.
She at the drops to her knees and slowly places me inside her mouth. Unprepared, my knees buckle though I make ready for what is to come. I feel dancing fingers electrifying my perineum, more fingers sliding across my sensitive behind while her tongue presses against the slit at the head of my shaft.
I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to pull myself out of her mouth, drop to the ground and insert myself into her pleasure center. But, before I move to take control, she releases me, spanks my ass and declares, “Shower time”.
She casually stands up and nonchalantly walks into the bathroom as if the last hour was a snooze fest. I hear the shower running then my name along with the invitation to join her. I gather my composure and enter the shower ready to share the space as we often do.
As I reach for the body soap, she clutches my arm and tells me to place my hands behind my head. She reaches behind me for our loofah then takes hold of my penis and her hand. While stroking my shaft, she rubs the loofah against the head of my manhood. I can barely keep my balance as my knees weaken under the weight of my increasing arousal. As the loofah continues its assault, her hand reaches between my legs and begins kneading my scrotum. Once again, I feel I’m ready to gush when she stops at the perfect time.
She bends down, lifts my leg and tickles my foot while stroking my shaft. I’m laughing uncontrollably and trying desperately to keep from falling. Before our shower concludes, she inserts me into her mouth and while fingers slip across my sides. This quick blitz attack is just the beginning of what promises to bring much more sensation.
As I towel off and she dries herself, my imagination runs wild what new things she has in store for me. Before I can visualize further, she hurries me into the bedroom and fetters my arms to the top of our four poster bed. Baby powder flows freely around my midsection and pelvis. She then leans forward, placing her body weight on my stomach while gliding all ten fingers gleefully around my ribs and thighs. I squeal like a little girl and begin a deep raucous laugh, ready for the next attacks.
Before I can gather any composure, she places her dancing tongue in the hollow of my armpit while she caresses my member, sending me into further hysterics. I’m beginning to feel hyper ticklishness with each erotic move she makes … a feeling she knows I adore.
She straddles me, preparing to insert me inside her then slides her fingers up and down my pelvis. I laugh so hard my throat is nearly hoarse. I can’t move to avoid the feeling which gives my lover great delight. As I enter her pleasure center, she throws her head back and utters the sweetest moans. “I love you, baby … I’m not through with you yet.”
I can barely catch my breath again before I feel her rapidly moving up and down on my extremely ticklish penis. I’m screaming in laughter and she’s moaning louder and louder. My nerve endings are alive and electric … building to the awaited explosion. She slows to a crawl and begins tickling my hips while squeezing her buttocks together, exponentially increasing the feeling I get while I’m inside of her. She begins a steady thrust and pull, throwing her head back and moaning, all while skating fingers range from my armpits to my sides.
I feel as if I’m as close to the edge of the cliff as I can be without falling into a pool of my own pleasure. With every move she makes, every inch of me feels uncontrollably ticklish. She notices THAT look on my face … the one that tells her I can no longer control myself or keep myself from climax. I’m aware that she has me where she wants me … something she knows full well. She leans closer thrusting forcefully while skating around my kneecaps. Suddenly, she plunges faster and faster until I’m over the edge.
Gusts of laughter echo off the walls of my ticklish prison of pleasure and torture. As my seed streams, she reveals a rather fiendish grin which tells me she’s nowhere near concluded with her designs for me. In fact, I’m counting on it.
I try to prepare myself for territory I fear I have never before traversed. She massages what moisture covers the head of my excruciatingly delicate member lightly around its tip while softly sliding her other hand between my perineum and the edge of my crack. I’m completely beside myself.
I can’t move after such a powerful eruption. Every nerve ending … every cell of my skin is delectably hypersensitive. I nervously laugh and moan while her devious scheme proceeds onward, fingers dancing from my shaft to my inner thighs. She concentrates her wiggling finger on my phallus’ head, which sends me into even more maniacal hysterics. As I catch my breath, I also catch her eye. I feel she wants to start all over again, with every inch of me infinitesimally more excited than before.
She moves to mount me once again and stops to stare at me. It’s almost as if she calls an audible, completely catching me off guard. I wait, nearly holding my breath in anticipation for what might come next. Then there’s that wicked giggle again … the one that scares the very life out of me. She positions herself in order to climb on top of me with her sight locked on my feet.
Before introducing my stiff, highly electrified manhood into her once again, she rubs its crown against her entrance, sending me more shockwaves of pleasure. Much more than pleasure … she teases the shaft and head so much so that every inch of my penis is now excruciatingly ticklish. I’m cackling in hysteria … laying defenseless, sweat glistening off of me allowing her to move as freely as when my skin was bathed in baby powder at the beginning of the night.
She settles in with me firmly inside her in reverse, a feeling I’ve never experienced before. She rotates her hips from side to side while her fingers lightly but rapidly prance across my hips. Not only are my hips incredibly ticklish, but my bulging shaft is incredibly more excited than I could ever imagine.
Deep hoarse howls interrupt my winded moans in my legs begin to shake as if to wish themselves from being trapped under her. My insufferably sensitive and ticklish shaft prepares to release for a second time. Although the flood isn’t as forceful as was the first discharge, the flow is constant and my head’s sensation leaps through the roof. I’m drained. I’m gasping. I’m screaming laughter and flowing tears.
She stops her circular motion, reaches over to bend my legs and forcing the bottoms of my feet to touch. She exhorts, “Don’t move, or you’ll get worse”. My heart nearly skips a beat. What on earth could possibly be WORSE than what I am about to endure … that which I have no idea of what to expect?
She fixes her beautiful body to lay on top of my legs. Two fingers on her left hand wriggle and trace circles around the top and edges of my feet while the fingers on her right hand slide around my kneecap. I cry out, “PLEASE!” She retorts, “If you insist”. She attacks the tops of my feet, which are more ticklish than ever because of everything else I’ve endured. A high pitched squeal fills the room as she starts sliding from side to side with me inside her. I can barely get out “NO” or “PLEASE” for the laughter and head shaking and bouncing on my pillow.
She randomly changes between my feet, my hips and my knees, all while she moves my member inside of her. Just as I feel I’m ready to pass out, she stops her torment. I’m grateful for whatever reprieve she grants me. She slowly lifts herself from on top of me, rising and lowering to cause me more laughter. She disappears from the bedroom and I pray for some ending … ANY ending. I’m sure that I can’t take anymore.
She emerges with a moistened washcloth covering my manhood so as to clean off any flow from my highly sensitized head. For a moment, I forget that my hands are tightly strapped to the posts of our bed. But that fact is clear as I try unsuccessfully to protect myself.
She begins blowing raspberries and licking my pelvis while reaching up to dance around my armpits. Although my mouth is wide open, there is no sound. There it is. Silent laughter. My round belly shaking. My sweaty head bouncing against the pillow. My mouth open wide. My love chuckles and smiles as she takes great satisfaction in my vulnerability.
What more can I do but smile at my love? I excitedly nervously whisper, “Thank you. I love you”. How else can my lover respond? “You’re so welcomed, my dearest love. Now, turn over”.
I love her. I just … turn … turn over? TURN OVER?!? There it is … again. There’s that mischievous chortle I’ve come to fear. “Your body speaks to me, lover. The backs of your knees are lonely … and your thighs. They need some loving attention … and your butt … and your back … and the back of your neck … and .…” Her fingers slide across or poke a part of my body as she names it, causing even deeper laughter and shaking again.
Did she actually say, “Turn over”? Surely, I must’ve heard wrong. She releases the restraints on my hands then leans down to kiss me tenderly then whisper, “Now”.
I saw the requisite tickling cartoons as a kid, but nothing changed my view until high school. While at a gathering of friends at a youth group, I noticed one of my girl buddies pinned on a couch and snorting uncontrollably. I watched while one of her girlfriends sat on her tummy poking her ribs and two others lightly scraped and slid across the tops and bottoms of her bare feet. The hysterics were simply mesmerizing.
Bonnie laughed so hard that the friend who sat on her stomach almost got thrown off. I stood spellbound for what felt like hours. I stared at her unguarded arms till I could no longer stand idly by. Her hilarity was so intense, she didn’t notice me drawing her tired arms over her head. Between giggles, she begged, “No … NO!” The chuckles turned into panicked howls, especially when I looked at her and breathed one word: “Now”.
I bit my lip to hide the fact that I was terrified and only pretending to be some tough-minded game-faced tormentor. Using two fingers, I gently outlined from her elbow to armpit then drawing small, specified circles around its hollow. Then … there it was. Silent laughter. Belly shaking. Head bouncing against the sofa cushion and mouth open wide. I switched between both arms while the other girls continued their assaults on her feet, ribs and knees. I was hooked.
Now in my second marriage, I’m in love with a deliciously phenomenal tickler who transformed me into a submissive. Where I once desired the hunt, I now crave captivity. She gives me permission to pull her into the bedroom as a cue to begin using me as her ever willing sensitive boy toy.
Our lovemaking ritual begins early in the morning with tender touches and soft, sweet words. This day is no different. By the time we get to the business of passion, we’re prepared as possible as we’ve caressed and excited each other all day.
I return from the bedroom in pajamas and a t-shirt, sitting next to my lover on our sofa. She knows my maneuvers poised to get closer all too well. My hand strokes her succulent skin from wrist to shoulder and occasionally sliding across her face and neck. She laughs, throws off pillows and points, decreeing me to lay down. She places my legs in her lap and begins taking off my pants baring my very vulnerable skin.
She sits in silence, feigning a “focused” gaze on a program playing on TV. I watch her, continuing my tempting caresses on her arm … until she slaps my hand away. “SHH! Don’t distract me … I like this show”. Detecting her sheepish smirk, I can’t help but laugh at her protest, especially when she finishes her objection with the word “DAMMIT”. “My sincerest apologies, my lady. How could I ever make it up to you?”
While television drama develops on cable, our own tantalizing production rises to a new level. My lover lightly traces her index finger along the sides of my feet. As I jump an attempt to stifle the giggle, she turns once again to give me a rather disapproving glare. “I said I … LIKE … THIS … SHOW … DAMMIT!” She punctuates every word with a poke at one of my inner thighs. I start to chuckle until I notice she’s a bit aggravated at my “interruptions”. I feel I have no choice but to suppress every sound. She turns to me and responds with a pleasant “thank you”.
She stops sketching with her single finger and begins a full-on assault on my feet. One hand swiftly scraping along the bottoms of my soles from toes to heels while the other glides along the tops of my feet, a part of my body that I believe is one of the more ticklish areas. It’s all I can do to endure this in silence.
Without warning, the hand delighting the tops of my feet moves to my kneecaps. The assault shifts back to three fingers slowly tracing the edges of my knees. This, in combo with my sensitive soles, sends me into my first bout of screaming hysteria for the night.
She quips, “WHAT DID I SAY?!?” I know my responses will land me in hotter water, but I have no choice. I am, at this point, inconceivably stimulated. She said, “Finally! A commercial break!” She commands me to place one leg behind her on the top of the sofa. Once I am where she wants me to be, I hear, “Shirt. Off.” As I pull the top over my head, I feel her inching closer to my midsection. She places one hand of the shaft of my penis, massaging its head while the other hand continues its assault on my knee. Moisture emanating from my manhood takes me to a new level of wild.
As the sixty second new car campaign comes to an end, I find myself relieved that the TV show is back on the air. I think all have a few minutes of peace. However, I couldn’t be more mistaken. She slithers one finger on my pelvis while her other hand continues slipping across the tip of my manhood. I start cackling like a hen in heat … feeling as if I am moments away from gushing, when she suddenly stops. As I catch my breath, she says to me, “It’s time for our shower”.
She rises to her feet and throws me the most intimidating look. I question, “Am I in for it?” She answers, “You don’t even know the meaning of the word.” She commands me to stand, disrobe and remain still and silent. She bares her beautiful body and pulls me to her. She kisses me while one hand massages my manhood and the other tickles the back of my neck, another area that I know is hyper sensitive. I’m torn between breathless moans and small bouts of laughter. She implores, “Shhh, lover … shhh”.
She at the drops to her knees and slowly places me inside her mouth. Unprepared, my knees buckle though I make ready for what is to come. I feel dancing fingers electrifying my perineum, more fingers sliding across my sensitive behind while her tongue presses against the slit at the head of my shaft.
I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to pull myself out of her mouth, drop to the ground and insert myself into her pleasure center. But, before I move to take control, she releases me, spanks my ass and declares, “Shower time”.
She casually stands up and nonchalantly walks into the bathroom as if the last hour was a snooze fest. I hear the shower running then my name along with the invitation to join her. I gather my composure and enter the shower ready to share the space as we often do.
As I reach for the body soap, she clutches my arm and tells me to place my hands behind my head. She reaches behind me for our loofah then takes hold of my penis and her hand. While stroking my shaft, she rubs the loofah against the head of my manhood. I can barely keep my balance as my knees weaken under the weight of my increasing arousal. As the loofah continues its assault, her hand reaches between my legs and begins kneading my scrotum. Once again, I feel I’m ready to gush when she stops at the perfect time.
She bends down, lifts my leg and tickles my foot while stroking my shaft. I’m laughing uncontrollably and trying desperately to keep from falling. Before our shower concludes, she inserts me into her mouth and while fingers slip across my sides. This quick blitz attack is just the beginning of what promises to bring much more sensation.
As I towel off and she dries herself, my imagination runs wild what new things she has in store for me. Before I can visualize further, she hurries me into the bedroom and fetters my arms to the top of our four poster bed. Baby powder flows freely around my midsection and pelvis. She then leans forward, placing her body weight on my stomach while gliding all ten fingers gleefully around my ribs and thighs. I squeal like a little girl and begin a deep raucous laugh, ready for the next attacks.
Before I can gather any composure, she places her dancing tongue in the hollow of my armpit while she caresses my member, sending me into further hysterics. I’m beginning to feel hyper ticklishness with each erotic move she makes … a feeling she knows I adore.
She straddles me, preparing to insert me inside her then slides her fingers up and down my pelvis. I laugh so hard my throat is nearly hoarse. I can’t move to avoid the feeling which gives my lover great delight. As I enter her pleasure center, she throws her head back and utters the sweetest moans. “I love you, baby … I’m not through with you yet.”
I can barely catch my breath again before I feel her rapidly moving up and down on my extremely ticklish penis. I’m screaming in laughter and she’s moaning louder and louder. My nerve endings are alive and electric … building to the awaited explosion. She slows to a crawl and begins tickling my hips while squeezing her buttocks together, exponentially increasing the feeling I get while I’m inside of her. She begins a steady thrust and pull, throwing her head back and moaning, all while skating fingers range from my armpits to my sides.
I feel as if I’m as close to the edge of the cliff as I can be without falling into a pool of my own pleasure. With every move she makes, every inch of me feels uncontrollably ticklish. She notices THAT look on my face … the one that tells her I can no longer control myself or keep myself from climax. I’m aware that she has me where she wants me … something she knows full well. She leans closer thrusting forcefully while skating around my kneecaps. Suddenly, she plunges faster and faster until I’m over the edge.
Gusts of laughter echo off the walls of my ticklish prison of pleasure and torture. As my seed streams, she reveals a rather fiendish grin which tells me she’s nowhere near concluded with her designs for me. In fact, I’m counting on it.
I try to prepare myself for territory I fear I have never before traversed. She massages what moisture covers the head of my excruciatingly delicate member lightly around its tip while softly sliding her other hand between my perineum and the edge of my crack. I’m completely beside myself.
I can’t move after such a powerful eruption. Every nerve ending … every cell of my skin is delectably hypersensitive. I nervously laugh and moan while her devious scheme proceeds onward, fingers dancing from my shaft to my inner thighs. She concentrates her wiggling finger on my phallus’ head, which sends me into even more maniacal hysterics. As I catch my breath, I also catch her eye. I feel she wants to start all over again, with every inch of me infinitesimally more excited than before.
She moves to mount me once again and stops to stare at me. It’s almost as if she calls an audible, completely catching me off guard. I wait, nearly holding my breath in anticipation for what might come next. Then there’s that wicked giggle again … the one that scares the very life out of me. She positions herself in order to climb on top of me with her sight locked on my feet.
Before introducing my stiff, highly electrified manhood into her once again, she rubs its crown against her entrance, sending me more shockwaves of pleasure. Much more than pleasure … she teases the shaft and head so much so that every inch of my penis is now excruciatingly ticklish. I’m cackling in hysteria … laying defenseless, sweat glistening off of me allowing her to move as freely as when my skin was bathed in baby powder at the beginning of the night.
She settles in with me firmly inside her in reverse, a feeling I’ve never experienced before. She rotates her hips from side to side while her fingers lightly but rapidly prance across my hips. Not only are my hips incredibly ticklish, but my bulging shaft is incredibly more excited than I could ever imagine.
Deep hoarse howls interrupt my winded moans in my legs begin to shake as if to wish themselves from being trapped under her. My insufferably sensitive and ticklish shaft prepares to release for a second time. Although the flood isn’t as forceful as was the first discharge, the flow is constant and my head’s sensation leaps through the roof. I’m drained. I’m gasping. I’m screaming laughter and flowing tears.
She stops her circular motion, reaches over to bend my legs and forcing the bottoms of my feet to touch. She exhorts, “Don’t move, or you’ll get worse”. My heart nearly skips a beat. What on earth could possibly be WORSE than what I am about to endure … that which I have no idea of what to expect?
She fixes her beautiful body to lay on top of my legs. Two fingers on her left hand wriggle and trace circles around the top and edges of my feet while the fingers on her right hand slide around my kneecap. I cry out, “PLEASE!” She retorts, “If you insist”. She attacks the tops of my feet, which are more ticklish than ever because of everything else I’ve endured. A high pitched squeal fills the room as she starts sliding from side to side with me inside her. I can barely get out “NO” or “PLEASE” for the laughter and head shaking and bouncing on my pillow.
She randomly changes between my feet, my hips and my knees, all while she moves my member inside of her. Just as I feel I’m ready to pass out, she stops her torment. I’m grateful for whatever reprieve she grants me. She slowly lifts herself from on top of me, rising and lowering to cause me more laughter. She disappears from the bedroom and I pray for some ending … ANY ending. I’m sure that I can’t take anymore.
She emerges with a moistened washcloth covering my manhood so as to clean off any flow from my highly sensitized head. For a moment, I forget that my hands are tightly strapped to the posts of our bed. But that fact is clear as I try unsuccessfully to protect myself.
She begins blowing raspberries and licking my pelvis while reaching up to dance around my armpits. Although my mouth is wide open, there is no sound. There it is. Silent laughter. My round belly shaking. My sweaty head bouncing against the pillow. My mouth open wide. My love chuckles and smiles as she takes great satisfaction in my vulnerability.
What more can I do but smile at my love? I excitedly nervously whisper, “Thank you. I love you”. How else can my lover respond? “You’re so welcomed, my dearest love. Now, turn over”.
I love her. I just … turn … turn over? TURN OVER?!? There it is … again. There’s that mischievous chortle I’ve come to fear. “Your body speaks to me, lover. The backs of your knees are lonely … and your thighs. They need some loving attention … and your butt … and your back … and the back of your neck … and .…” Her fingers slide across or poke a part of my body as she names it, causing even deeper laughter and shaking again.
Did she actually say, “Turn over”? Surely, I must’ve heard wrong. She releases the restraints on my hands then leans down to kiss me tenderly then whisper, “Now”.
