Stephanie's Mindless Hysteria
By: Brandon
Stephanie was a college freshman who, on arrival at the college dorm in September, was quick to hit on almost every spoken-for male living there. This was, of course, much to the chagrin of a number of angry girlfriends. Stephanie managed to make even the most monogamous male's constitution fall into utter shambles. Tall, statuesque and brunette, Stephanie was quite simply deistic. Her green eyes were elongated, as if Oriental were part of her make-up. Her body was impeccable. Being a fashion model as well as a student, she had to stay in tip top condition. Many a campus man had tried to conceal his roaring hard-on in the gym as he worked out in the presence of this classic beauty. She would put herself through a number of 'suggestive'-looking exercises, glancing out of the corner of her eye intermittently to spy the growing masses in their track pants, and smile.
She was very soft spoken. She purred her sexual innuendoes, directing them towards young men who momentarily caught her fancy. What made the cockteasing all the more fun for her was the way it infuriated the girlfriends of the men she pawed at. They were usually women of lesser endowment and most likely of lesser talent. Some nights, I would awaken at the sounds of voices in the hall, and venture out to find six or seven guys with their ears plastered to someone's door, listening attentively as one of their cohorts screwed this goddess until the early hours of the morning. Their girlfriends were eager to seek revenge upon this new Aphroditic whirlwind, but what, short of violence, could be done?
One night at about four a.m., I was doing some social rounds in the women's dorm where I knew a couple of female friends would be still be awake. As I rounded a corner, I came upon four girls outside Stephanie's dorm room, quietly trying to pick the lock. I knew it was Stephanie's door from the telltale sign she hung as a message board: ‘So many men.... so little time'. I knew all four girls well, and they were at a loss for words when I appeared. I immediately promised to keep my mouth shut if they let me in on the plan. I figured that if I went in on the plan with them, I could get in a good peek at those ample melons of Stephanie's. The girls were planning to tie Stephanie to the bed, and after spreading some gooey concoction all over her, they were going to snip her hair off. Being a tickle fetishist, my cock began to twitch at the thought of Stephanie in bondage. I shared the idea with the girls that what Stephanie needed most was a good old-fashioned tickle torture. They might also audiotape the whole ordeal on Stephanie's tape recorder and make the tape public. After some humming and hawing on their part, I sold them on the idea.
Well, to make a long story short, we managed to get inside Stephanie's room and tie her hands to the bedposts while she slept soundly. She had been drinking that night. I made very sure I helped out in tying her feet together. I am an avid foot fetishist, and had been dying to see her peds since I first laid eyes on her. My hands were quivering slightly as we pulled the covers from the foot of the bed to reveal her bare feet. We delicately secured her ankles together. A rope was meticulously tied between her ankles and the loose end was secured to the bed frame underneath. There was no footboard on the bed. As one girl slammed the door and turned on the lights, I held my breath at the sight of that gorgeous, helpless and naked 5'9" frame, blindfolded and tied to the bed. Her arms were tied above her head, pulling her torso upwards, lifting her firm breasts, and pronouncing her delicate ribs. Her smooth underarms were moist-looking and very hollow against the curvature of her surrounding anatomy. Her tummy was lightly defined, striated, and dipping below the rise of her deliciously helpless ribs. Her belly button was deep and inviting.
Stephanie immediately began a desperate struggle, all the time demanding an explanation for the outrage. All of the girls had kept quiet, but they now advanced and quietly assumed their places on various parts of the bed. Stephanie, feeling the sudden weight of multiple bodies on her bed, became very still and awaited whatever prank had befallen her. I could see the pulse quickening in her neck. "I know that's you, Steve," she declared. "I can smell your girlfriend's perfume."
Steve's girlfriend couldn't help but giggle, and Stephanie's smirk dissolved when she heard the feminine laughter. I pulled my chair closer to the foot of the bed where Carrie, a pretty shorthaired blond, was eyeing Stephanie's captive feet. Her bare feet were just plain beautiful, long and slender with deep arches and topped with long succulent-looking toes. "Do it, do it", I whispered to Carrie.
Carrie placed one red nail on the heel of Stephanie's right sole. Immediately, a look of surprise and puzzlement came over Stephanie's face as she awaited an explanation for the sudden slight pressure on her foot. The poor thing found out soon enough. "This is for being such a slut", said Carrie. With that, Carrie slowly drew her long pointed nail lightly up the length of Stephanie's bare sole. Carrie's nail didn't even reach the arch of the sole before Stephanie reacted by arching her back, gasping in shock.
"Don't do that!!" Stephanie demanded, trying to sound assertive. The nails continued their teasing assault, gliding up and down Stephanie's flexing soles, first one and then the other. Carrie held back the toes of Stephanie's right foot with one hand and tickled her narrow arch with a sideways motion, causing Stephanie to wrench around on the bed shouting obscenities. But for all of her visible torment, Stephanie was still refusing to give in to the torture, and by this I think you know what I mean. Oh sure, she struggled wildly against her restraints and continuously vocalized her anger, but she would not succumb to that subtle humiliation that all tickle torture victims must succumb to at some point, regardless of how proud, angry, or assertive they are...this is the humiliation of being forced to laugh. Gasping and shouting threats, she persisted in her catty stubbornness. If they could just find the right button, the girls could open the floodgates of Stephanie's hysterical laughter. Once that laughter starts, it never stops until the torture subsides. Stephanie's haughty nature failed her in the next instant. The button was found. Carrie directed her tickling attack on the tender undersides of Stephanie's wickedly sensitive toes. That did it. Stephanie's rump rocketed off the surface of the bed as she burst into uncontrollable whoops of laughter. The sinews in her neck and shoulders stood out visibly as she contorted in wild screams of ticklish agony. I was delighted to see that a girl could be so stunningly attractive and so ticklish at the same time. Her melon-like breasts shook up and down, flattening and elongating with each bounce her body made on the bed. Her brown mane of hair whisked from side to side. The overwhelming agony of Carrie's long nails tickling in between her toes really began to weaken the poor girl. Sweat was breaking out in all the right places.
Stephanie wailed, half-laughing, half-crying. "Christ!!! N-n-n-not on my f-feet!!!! Oh GGoddd!! Don't you dare...(gasp) touch my TTOOOEEESSS!!!!!!" After about five minutes of intense foot tickling, Carrie gave herself a break and let the others take over. All were ready to hone in and explore Stephanie's other vulnerable spots. Poor Stephanie thought the torture was over. She lay there groaning, taking in gulps of much needed oxygen. Sweat ran from her underarms and breasts. But she was dealing with four angry slighted women, and so, the torture was only beginning.
Laurie, who was sitting on one side of Stephanie's upper body, opened a tube of massage oil that was nearby and suggested to the rest of us that Stephanie might like a massage after such a ticklish ordeal. She also wondered aloud as to whether the same tube of massage oil was used at some point on her own boyfriend in that very same room. Before Stephanie could muster up the strength to protest, Laurie's oily index finger began making feather-light revolutions around the perimeter of Stephanie's left armpit.
Stephanie twisted horribly on the bed in vain, desperately trying to close the gap between her arm and her side with what little slack she had. Fortunately, her attempts failed, and she once more succumbed to tormented laughter, this time higher-pitched and more hysterical. "OHH GGODDD!! That's ENOUGH!! Please, you can't do this to me anymore!! I CAN'T STAND ANY MORE!!!!"
The girl on Stephanie's opposite side followed suit and happily went to work on her other armpit. It was dazzling to see Stephanie's body jump every time a new finger or nail touched down on a sensitive spot. The blindfold probably increased her ticklishness, making her unable to anticipate any touch. Stephanie was clearly in agony again, bucking on the bed so hard that I though it would break under the combined weight at any minute. Her laughter was becoming wilder and louder. This was due only to the tormenting of her underarms alone. Just when I thought she could handle no more delicious torment, one of the armpit ticklers put her free hand to good use. The next time that Stephanie arched her back, the girl on her left whipped an overstuffed pillow under the middle of the victim's back. Stephanie's back came down on the pillow. She was oblivious to the fact that her now permanently arched back had created an incredible protrusion of her ribs. The armpit tickler on her left began poking Stephanie in her heaving ribs. The torturer across from her soon picked up the lead and began to rub some massage oil onto the ribs of her other side. After both torturers covered her gleaming rib cage with oil, they began a one-finger tickle massage, playfully counting each rib with a tickle. The oil was a superb friction-reducer. It enabled the one girl to easily run her index finger with some pressure over multiple ribs like ladder steps. Stephanie's underarms and ribs were at the complete mercy of these two girls. Stephanie's head flew from side to side. Her forced laughter was maniacal, out of control, and teetering on the brink of madness.
As for myself, my engorged cock was engaged in its own struggle in my track pants. I was still at my ringside seat at the foot of the bed. One quick move and I would have shot my load in my pants.
There she twisted and writhed, a captured puppet held down by her own strings. Every spot on her body that appeared the slightest bit ticklish was tormented that night. Ribs, soft underarms, sides, taut tummy, inner thighs, knees, and tender soles were all gleaming with a thin coat of oil after twenty minutes of torture. At one point, one of the girls found a very sensitive spot by daubing a Q-tip in oil and then twirling the end of it inside Stephanie's navel. At another point I had to close my eyes to keep from witnessing a scene that surely would have made me come sooner than I wanted to. The eight hands of all four girls covered the various parts of Stephanie's helpless anatomy to such an extent that it became difficult to see much of Stephanie other than her flying hair. Two index fingers were busy on her underarms, two sets of five fingers were rubbing her ribcage, one finger was probed her navel, multiple fingers were testing her waist, tummy, sides, and groin area, two sets of fingers were attacking the undersides of her knees, and finally, one girl laid across her ankles and traced torturous circles on her arches while making "kitchy-kitchy-koo" sounds.
When her tormentors stopped for a break (more for themselves than for Stephanie), Stephanie opened communications with her torturers in a meek and submissive voice that was barely audible. "Is it over? Will you let me go now?" She seemed to regain part of composure after a minute or two, and even had the audacity to demand release. My four female friends gazed over at me and smiled. They knew that I wanted to be dealt a hand in this whole affair. Wasn't I the one who suggested tickle torture in the first place? I guess my time had come. I didn't need to be asked whether or not I wanted a turn at this gorgeous, blindfolded nymph. I realized that Stephanie was not going to be able to stand much more tickling without passing out. So I decided that if I was going to tickle her, I was going to do it well and the do it the way which delighted me most. I quietly assumed a position at the foot of the bed and knelt down in front of the body part of Stephanie's that I couldn't take my eyes off of all night. Carrie moved out of the way to give me clearance. I had a feeling, as did everyone else present, I'm sure, that's Stephanie's most ticklish spot was the soles of her feet and the undersides of her toes. All the more pleasure for a foot fetishist. I decided right then and there that her pretty bare feet were going to get a devious dose of tongue tickling. Being blindfolded, Stephanie had no idea that my face was only an inch or two from the bottoms of her feet. Being a committed foot fetishist who doesn't get to satiate his foot lust very often, I gazed both lovingly and hungrily at her smooth pink soles in a moment's reflection. Her toes were still quivering a bit from the previous attack on them. Just staring at the detail of her soles, the lines on her feet and the swirls of her toe prints caused me to shake with anticipation. I could hold out no longer. I moistened my tongue and stiffened the tip. Beginning at her heel, I slowly trailed my wet tongue up her hot oily sole. Her pretty foot recoiled under my tongue, hardly expecting the assault. Her toes pressed into my forehead.
She half-pleaded and half-laughed. "No! No! NO! That's someone's tongue!!!”
Well, from that point on, I couldn't let up. I placed my hands around her warm ankles, gripping them lightly to help amplify her feeling of restraint. If the skin on her ankles was creamy soft to the touch, the skin on the soles of her feet was ten times that. I tasted her soles, up and down, up and down, sometimes just flicking my tongue across both soles. I was in heaven, having both fetishes realized at once. To feel the hot wrinkles of a beautiful young woman's soles against your own sensitive tongue as her captive feet convulse and recoil in ticklish agony is definitely something to be savored. To taste the flavor of her supple toes, and running your tongue quickly and hungrily along the bottoms of those toes. Her toes were excruciatingly ticklish all right, and every time I left her arches to tease them, her screams were pretty near deafening. I waited for her to mistakenly and foolishly spread her toes so that I could reach all of the super-ticklish spots in-between. I tongue-tickled her peds until my tongue was sore, my hard-on ached, and Stephanie ready to crack up. As I collapsed on the floor, near orgasm, one girl straddled Stephanie's ankles and pulled back the toes of both feet while Carrie administered the coup de grace. Carrie slowly and meticulously began to glide a hairbrush across Stephanie's photogenic soles; the kind of hairbrush with widely spaced plastic teeth rounded with tiny bulbs on the ends. It was all that both Stephanie and I could take. As my whole body contracted in a gut-wrenching orgasm, I watched Stephanie's toes fight their restraints; I watched her taut ticklish soles glimmering with oil under the movement of the brush; I watched Stephanie wet the bed at the pinnacle of her humiliation, and saw her repeatedly slam her head into the pillow in an attempt to divert the tickling sensations on her bare feet. In the end, the girls got what they wanted and I certainly got what I wanted. Not only do I have the memory of that night, which I will retain for the rest of my life, but I also got to keep the cassette that we made of the torture session. For years to come, I will be able to listen to that tape late at night, headphones in place, and re-live the experience. And although Stephanie's screams had sometimes been so forceful as to distort the recording, even from across the room, somehow that seems to add something.
Thanks for writing this Brandon
Smade
By: Brandon
Stephanie was a college freshman who, on arrival at the college dorm in September, was quick to hit on almost every spoken-for male living there. This was, of course, much to the chagrin of a number of angry girlfriends. Stephanie managed to make even the most monogamous male's constitution fall into utter shambles. Tall, statuesque and brunette, Stephanie was quite simply deistic. Her green eyes were elongated, as if Oriental were part of her make-up. Her body was impeccable. Being a fashion model as well as a student, she had to stay in tip top condition. Many a campus man had tried to conceal his roaring hard-on in the gym as he worked out in the presence of this classic beauty. She would put herself through a number of 'suggestive'-looking exercises, glancing out of the corner of her eye intermittently to spy the growing masses in their track pants, and smile.
She was very soft spoken. She purred her sexual innuendoes, directing them towards young men who momentarily caught her fancy. What made the cockteasing all the more fun for her was the way it infuriated the girlfriends of the men she pawed at. They were usually women of lesser endowment and most likely of lesser talent. Some nights, I would awaken at the sounds of voices in the hall, and venture out to find six or seven guys with their ears plastered to someone's door, listening attentively as one of their cohorts screwed this goddess until the early hours of the morning. Their girlfriends were eager to seek revenge upon this new Aphroditic whirlwind, but what, short of violence, could be done?
One night at about four a.m., I was doing some social rounds in the women's dorm where I knew a couple of female friends would be still be awake. As I rounded a corner, I came upon four girls outside Stephanie's dorm room, quietly trying to pick the lock. I knew it was Stephanie's door from the telltale sign she hung as a message board: ‘So many men.... so little time'. I knew all four girls well, and they were at a loss for words when I appeared. I immediately promised to keep my mouth shut if they let me in on the plan. I figured that if I went in on the plan with them, I could get in a good peek at those ample melons of Stephanie's. The girls were planning to tie Stephanie to the bed, and after spreading some gooey concoction all over her, they were going to snip her hair off. Being a tickle fetishist, my cock began to twitch at the thought of Stephanie in bondage. I shared the idea with the girls that what Stephanie needed most was a good old-fashioned tickle torture. They might also audiotape the whole ordeal on Stephanie's tape recorder and make the tape public. After some humming and hawing on their part, I sold them on the idea.
Well, to make a long story short, we managed to get inside Stephanie's room and tie her hands to the bedposts while she slept soundly. She had been drinking that night. I made very sure I helped out in tying her feet together. I am an avid foot fetishist, and had been dying to see her peds since I first laid eyes on her. My hands were quivering slightly as we pulled the covers from the foot of the bed to reveal her bare feet. We delicately secured her ankles together. A rope was meticulously tied between her ankles and the loose end was secured to the bed frame underneath. There was no footboard on the bed. As one girl slammed the door and turned on the lights, I held my breath at the sight of that gorgeous, helpless and naked 5'9" frame, blindfolded and tied to the bed. Her arms were tied above her head, pulling her torso upwards, lifting her firm breasts, and pronouncing her delicate ribs. Her smooth underarms were moist-looking and very hollow against the curvature of her surrounding anatomy. Her tummy was lightly defined, striated, and dipping below the rise of her deliciously helpless ribs. Her belly button was deep and inviting.
Stephanie immediately began a desperate struggle, all the time demanding an explanation for the outrage. All of the girls had kept quiet, but they now advanced and quietly assumed their places on various parts of the bed. Stephanie, feeling the sudden weight of multiple bodies on her bed, became very still and awaited whatever prank had befallen her. I could see the pulse quickening in her neck. "I know that's you, Steve," she declared. "I can smell your girlfriend's perfume."
Steve's girlfriend couldn't help but giggle, and Stephanie's smirk dissolved when she heard the feminine laughter. I pulled my chair closer to the foot of the bed where Carrie, a pretty shorthaired blond, was eyeing Stephanie's captive feet. Her bare feet were just plain beautiful, long and slender with deep arches and topped with long succulent-looking toes. "Do it, do it", I whispered to Carrie.
Carrie placed one red nail on the heel of Stephanie's right sole. Immediately, a look of surprise and puzzlement came over Stephanie's face as she awaited an explanation for the sudden slight pressure on her foot. The poor thing found out soon enough. "This is for being such a slut", said Carrie. With that, Carrie slowly drew her long pointed nail lightly up the length of Stephanie's bare sole. Carrie's nail didn't even reach the arch of the sole before Stephanie reacted by arching her back, gasping in shock.
"Don't do that!!" Stephanie demanded, trying to sound assertive. The nails continued their teasing assault, gliding up and down Stephanie's flexing soles, first one and then the other. Carrie held back the toes of Stephanie's right foot with one hand and tickled her narrow arch with a sideways motion, causing Stephanie to wrench around on the bed shouting obscenities. But for all of her visible torment, Stephanie was still refusing to give in to the torture, and by this I think you know what I mean. Oh sure, she struggled wildly against her restraints and continuously vocalized her anger, but she would not succumb to that subtle humiliation that all tickle torture victims must succumb to at some point, regardless of how proud, angry, or assertive they are...this is the humiliation of being forced to laugh. Gasping and shouting threats, she persisted in her catty stubbornness. If they could just find the right button, the girls could open the floodgates of Stephanie's hysterical laughter. Once that laughter starts, it never stops until the torture subsides. Stephanie's haughty nature failed her in the next instant. The button was found. Carrie directed her tickling attack on the tender undersides of Stephanie's wickedly sensitive toes. That did it. Stephanie's rump rocketed off the surface of the bed as she burst into uncontrollable whoops of laughter. The sinews in her neck and shoulders stood out visibly as she contorted in wild screams of ticklish agony. I was delighted to see that a girl could be so stunningly attractive and so ticklish at the same time. Her melon-like breasts shook up and down, flattening and elongating with each bounce her body made on the bed. Her brown mane of hair whisked from side to side. The overwhelming agony of Carrie's long nails tickling in between her toes really began to weaken the poor girl. Sweat was breaking out in all the right places.
Stephanie wailed, half-laughing, half-crying. "Christ!!! N-n-n-not on my f-feet!!!! Oh GGoddd!! Don't you dare...(gasp) touch my TTOOOEEESSS!!!!!!" After about five minutes of intense foot tickling, Carrie gave herself a break and let the others take over. All were ready to hone in and explore Stephanie's other vulnerable spots. Poor Stephanie thought the torture was over. She lay there groaning, taking in gulps of much needed oxygen. Sweat ran from her underarms and breasts. But she was dealing with four angry slighted women, and so, the torture was only beginning.
Laurie, who was sitting on one side of Stephanie's upper body, opened a tube of massage oil that was nearby and suggested to the rest of us that Stephanie might like a massage after such a ticklish ordeal. She also wondered aloud as to whether the same tube of massage oil was used at some point on her own boyfriend in that very same room. Before Stephanie could muster up the strength to protest, Laurie's oily index finger began making feather-light revolutions around the perimeter of Stephanie's left armpit.
Stephanie twisted horribly on the bed in vain, desperately trying to close the gap between her arm and her side with what little slack she had. Fortunately, her attempts failed, and she once more succumbed to tormented laughter, this time higher-pitched and more hysterical. "OHH GGODDD!! That's ENOUGH!! Please, you can't do this to me anymore!! I CAN'T STAND ANY MORE!!!!"
The girl on Stephanie's opposite side followed suit and happily went to work on her other armpit. It was dazzling to see Stephanie's body jump every time a new finger or nail touched down on a sensitive spot. The blindfold probably increased her ticklishness, making her unable to anticipate any touch. Stephanie was clearly in agony again, bucking on the bed so hard that I though it would break under the combined weight at any minute. Her laughter was becoming wilder and louder. This was due only to the tormenting of her underarms alone. Just when I thought she could handle no more delicious torment, one of the armpit ticklers put her free hand to good use. The next time that Stephanie arched her back, the girl on her left whipped an overstuffed pillow under the middle of the victim's back. Stephanie's back came down on the pillow. She was oblivious to the fact that her now permanently arched back had created an incredible protrusion of her ribs. The armpit tickler on her left began poking Stephanie in her heaving ribs. The torturer across from her soon picked up the lead and began to rub some massage oil onto the ribs of her other side. After both torturers covered her gleaming rib cage with oil, they began a one-finger tickle massage, playfully counting each rib with a tickle. The oil was a superb friction-reducer. It enabled the one girl to easily run her index finger with some pressure over multiple ribs like ladder steps. Stephanie's underarms and ribs were at the complete mercy of these two girls. Stephanie's head flew from side to side. Her forced laughter was maniacal, out of control, and teetering on the brink of madness.
As for myself, my engorged cock was engaged in its own struggle in my track pants. I was still at my ringside seat at the foot of the bed. One quick move and I would have shot my load in my pants.
There she twisted and writhed, a captured puppet held down by her own strings. Every spot on her body that appeared the slightest bit ticklish was tormented that night. Ribs, soft underarms, sides, taut tummy, inner thighs, knees, and tender soles were all gleaming with a thin coat of oil after twenty minutes of torture. At one point, one of the girls found a very sensitive spot by daubing a Q-tip in oil and then twirling the end of it inside Stephanie's navel. At another point I had to close my eyes to keep from witnessing a scene that surely would have made me come sooner than I wanted to. The eight hands of all four girls covered the various parts of Stephanie's helpless anatomy to such an extent that it became difficult to see much of Stephanie other than her flying hair. Two index fingers were busy on her underarms, two sets of five fingers were rubbing her ribcage, one finger was probed her navel, multiple fingers were testing her waist, tummy, sides, and groin area, two sets of fingers were attacking the undersides of her knees, and finally, one girl laid across her ankles and traced torturous circles on her arches while making "kitchy-kitchy-koo" sounds.
When her tormentors stopped for a break (more for themselves than for Stephanie), Stephanie opened communications with her torturers in a meek and submissive voice that was barely audible. "Is it over? Will you let me go now?" She seemed to regain part of composure after a minute or two, and even had the audacity to demand release. My four female friends gazed over at me and smiled. They knew that I wanted to be dealt a hand in this whole affair. Wasn't I the one who suggested tickle torture in the first place? I guess my time had come. I didn't need to be asked whether or not I wanted a turn at this gorgeous, blindfolded nymph. I realized that Stephanie was not going to be able to stand much more tickling without passing out. So I decided that if I was going to tickle her, I was going to do it well and the do it the way which delighted me most. I quietly assumed a position at the foot of the bed and knelt down in front of the body part of Stephanie's that I couldn't take my eyes off of all night. Carrie moved out of the way to give me clearance. I had a feeling, as did everyone else present, I'm sure, that's Stephanie's most ticklish spot was the soles of her feet and the undersides of her toes. All the more pleasure for a foot fetishist. I decided right then and there that her pretty bare feet were going to get a devious dose of tongue tickling. Being blindfolded, Stephanie had no idea that my face was only an inch or two from the bottoms of her feet. Being a committed foot fetishist who doesn't get to satiate his foot lust very often, I gazed both lovingly and hungrily at her smooth pink soles in a moment's reflection. Her toes were still quivering a bit from the previous attack on them. Just staring at the detail of her soles, the lines on her feet and the swirls of her toe prints caused me to shake with anticipation. I could hold out no longer. I moistened my tongue and stiffened the tip. Beginning at her heel, I slowly trailed my wet tongue up her hot oily sole. Her pretty foot recoiled under my tongue, hardly expecting the assault. Her toes pressed into my forehead.
She half-pleaded and half-laughed. "No! No! NO! That's someone's tongue!!!”
Well, from that point on, I couldn't let up. I placed my hands around her warm ankles, gripping them lightly to help amplify her feeling of restraint. If the skin on her ankles was creamy soft to the touch, the skin on the soles of her feet was ten times that. I tasted her soles, up and down, up and down, sometimes just flicking my tongue across both soles. I was in heaven, having both fetishes realized at once. To feel the hot wrinkles of a beautiful young woman's soles against your own sensitive tongue as her captive feet convulse and recoil in ticklish agony is definitely something to be savored. To taste the flavor of her supple toes, and running your tongue quickly and hungrily along the bottoms of those toes. Her toes were excruciatingly ticklish all right, and every time I left her arches to tease them, her screams were pretty near deafening. I waited for her to mistakenly and foolishly spread her toes so that I could reach all of the super-ticklish spots in-between. I tongue-tickled her peds until my tongue was sore, my hard-on ached, and Stephanie ready to crack up. As I collapsed on the floor, near orgasm, one girl straddled Stephanie's ankles and pulled back the toes of both feet while Carrie administered the coup de grace. Carrie slowly and meticulously began to glide a hairbrush across Stephanie's photogenic soles; the kind of hairbrush with widely spaced plastic teeth rounded with tiny bulbs on the ends. It was all that both Stephanie and I could take. As my whole body contracted in a gut-wrenching orgasm, I watched Stephanie's toes fight their restraints; I watched her taut ticklish soles glimmering with oil under the movement of the brush; I watched Stephanie wet the bed at the pinnacle of her humiliation, and saw her repeatedly slam her head into the pillow in an attempt to divert the tickling sensations on her bare feet. In the end, the girls got what they wanted and I certainly got what I wanted. Not only do I have the memory of that night, which I will retain for the rest of my life, but I also got to keep the cassette that we made of the torture session. For years to come, I will be able to listen to that tape late at night, headphones in place, and re-live the experience. And although Stephanie's screams had sometimes been so forceful as to distort the recording, even from across the room, somehow that seems to add something.
Thanks for writing this Brandon
Smade
