I shared this post on another board and I would love to hear the thoughts and oppininos of everyone here. I hope that you enjoy!!!
The Death of Friendship (M/F-mature content)
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This is my first attempt at tickle fiction in a public forum. I think that we have all made gentle scribbling to a pen pal or a girlfriend, but there is something about the process of putting a piece together for all to see that is a little different. This piece contains some mature content so I would appreciate all the kiddies leave it be and that all the Adults give it their kind attention. I would really like feedback good or bad. Over the process of writing this I really feel like I used every adjective and descriptive phrase that I can and that this represents very close to my limits as a creative writer at present. I can only get better as you share your thoughts and opinions with me. I know that it probably IS too long. It can probably be cut into two neat parts. With the time I put in it’s less like a story and more like a child, so I had a hard time cutting it. As I get more writer cred the stories will become a lot shorter I promise, but right now I wanted to give everyone a look at what I have to offer in its entirety. Just a note, I focus a lot on emotional transformation. This isn’t Cloverfield; this is more LIKE Excalibur or the Lord of the Rings. Please enjoy and give me your honest feedback. Thanks for your time.
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The Death of Friendship
By: JJ82277
We are all born of blood and turmoil. Some of mans greatest moments and achievements came as the result of suffering, bleeding, or even death. Sometimes this death is not that of a person or an army. It can be the death of an institution, ideology, or sense of status-like a friendship. This is the story of such a delicious tragedy that gives life to a new world of possibilities.
Hi my name’s Jim. Sarah and I have been friends for years, ever since we met at college. It’s really weird that we are such good friends. We pretty much come from two different worlds. I’m an Attorney; Sarah is an editor for an alternative fashion magazine. I never had the balls to get a tattoo she has 6. Her nose ring is cute, but I don’t really know how one would go with a tie clip.
I still call her my friend because I am still really trying to process what just happened. I had to tell someone, but promise to be Quiet. I don’t want to wake her. I need to collect my thoughts before we have “the talk” about how things are changing, if they’re changing.
It all started when I came over to her house for dinner. I don’t know why I always do that; I cook better than she does. I take that back, it all makes sense now, but I will get to that later. I had just finished writing my summation for a client of mine on trial for MURDER. Everyone tells me I am a great attorney. My Senior Partners are applauding me for how well I have done this far in trial. Somehow in this world of praise I choose to take refuge in the one person who thinks I am just an average Lawyer. Sick I know, but hey-free food. At least it used to be free.
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I don’t think any of this would have happened had she not put on those reading glasses, but I am the one who always insists that she proofs all my summations and briefs. Sometimes it’s subtle things like that you notice that change the way you see a person, or awaken the truth inside you.
Somehow with the hundreds of years of legal experience at my firm, she is always the one who points out the most flaws in my opinions. I wonder what it must be like being on her staff at the magazine?
She’s tall for a girl, about 5’7”. I was taken back a little when I walked in, she was taller than usual. Normally, she walks around in ankle socks or sneaks, but she was wearing some strikingly cute ankle boots about 3 ½ inches at the heel. Maybe she was going to meet someone after we finished up. With her form fitting jeans and tight black blouse I was almost sure of it. I am generally attracted to full figured women in general but wow, she looked very fetching today. Her flowing red hair was resting on her shoulders, framing her pretty face accentuated by those librarian reading glasses. There’s something about when a beautiful woman looks so professional.
I always feel so nervous when she is reading my work. She’s VERY intelligent, that’s one of the things I like about her. She also prides herself on being BRUTALLY honest. (I personally think that she is FAR too modest in that regard). No matter how perfect my work is she always finds a better way to say this, a split infinitive here, or a useless paragraph there. No matter how harsh she can get I always tell myself, “whatever makes me better in court”. I tell myself that’s what Friends are for.
She set the roast in the oven and brought the last few pages of my summation as she sat next to me on the couch. Sometimes I honestly feel like she pretends to be reading just to increase my anxiety and raise the level of suspense. I smell some new wonderful fragrance; she must be going out after we’re done eating.
She finally finishes and I get a proud look on my face. I took special care preparing this. I have never done more research to prepare for an address to a jury. I’m who people call when they face the needle. From Nathaniel Hawthorne to God himself, I have referenced everyone with an opinion on guilt versus innocence.
Finally she’s done reading. I have become all too familiar with this pretty but stoical expression of hers. She turns to me with a quizzical look, “How many people do you think have heard of Hawthorne?”
“Sarah, I think you’re missing the point, what I’m trying to do is to…”
“Just answer the question Jim, How many people do you think have actually read Hawthorne, or have this extensive a knowledge of the Bible?” she said to me with the most serious of faces. For some reason I keep noticing the contrast of the black reading glasses to her green eyes and fiery red hair.
“It’s not important that they know where the quotes came from, It’s important that they carry the message that I am trying to present.” It seemed like a good point to me.
“People don’t give a shit about logical messages, Jim. You know that better than anyone. People need emotion and something they can connect with. This isn’t some law paper. You are trying to convince twelve people that a man doesn’t deserve to die, not that you are the best at looking up obscure quotes in books they never read. These Twelve people didn’t go to law school and don’t care how many fancy quotes you can find. They only care about feeling safe when they go home at night, and that you’re client if set free won’t be the one to hurt them.” Like I said, she’s really smart… and BRUTALLY HONEST.
“You can’t be serious Sarah, I spent days preparing this.”
“Well a few more won’t hurt you if you. You do want your client to LIVE don’t you.” In a way she’s right. Maybe it was a little over the top. I always had a hard time gauging my audience. I just never really felt comfortable with the almost overconfidence she has when she’s criticizing me. It’s almost like she takes joy in it.
She put down my last page, only to pick up a can of tea. As she sat there sipping her tea I could only think to myself: days and hours of hard work, invalidated. I just stared at her for what seemed like hours, but only lasted a few seconds.
“What?” I’m sure she could feel my stare. “If you wanted someone to lie to you and stroke your ego I think that you came to the wrong door,” she got that one right, “you’re a big boy you can handle it. I’m more worried about the life of your client than the way that you feel about me telling you the TRUTH about what you WERE going to say to twelve ordinary people. You’re a smart boy it won’t take you long to rewrite it.” She enjoyed this too much. She just sat there drinking her tea as if nothing was wrong, and I just kept staring.
“You’re amazing you know that.”
“Yeh, yeh I know I know, I’m a loudmouth who says what’s on her mind. Let the world beware. Some people might not like it, but hey it’s who I am. That’s the price I pay for being me I guess.” She said it so casually as if there wasn’t a care I the world. As if her words should have had no lasting effect on me. It’s very easy to plant the seeds of evil.
“It could be worse. Some Guy could get really pissed off and decide to get you back.”
Those words struck deep within her. My intentions needed no clarification. I almost felt guilty for how much I playfully ticked my good friend (who is VERY ticklish) over the years, but hell-she deserved it.
She stopped drinking her tea immediately and looked me right in the eyes, “DON’T YOU DARE!” Those have to be my three favorite words. Tickling Sarah is one of the few activities guaranteed to make Sarah smile. Even then she doesn’t give up easily. I always liked her tough girl attitude trying not to laugh while I tickle her. Futility can be the greatest form of entertainment. She already lowered her arms in anticipation.
“Don’t What”
“You better not tickle me, I’m serious I am NOT in the mood.” After all these years you’d think that for such a smart girl she would have figured out that the “STERN VOICE” just makes me want to tickle her more. She’s so confident hiding behind her librarian rims. As if mere words could stop me?
“Okay okay, what do you think I am >? Could you hand me my papers? I would like to use it as a road map for the NEXT version.” It’s so easy to lie with the truth. She always falls for it when I stroke her ego.
“I’m Glad that you see the light, trust me you won’t regret it. Frankly you’re better than what you wrote, but it does show real POTENTIAL” She picked shuffled the pages together and handed it to me with her left hand which was closest to me on the couch. I didn’t even bother taking the paper out of her hand. I just pinned her outstretched arm against the couch with my right side and pounced on her (silly girl). She let out an initial squeal, but then tried desperately to keep her composure as my left hand began lightly probing her right side.
“You’re such a Fucking Liar!!!” she exclaimed at the top of her lungs while trying desperately to bat my left hand away. I am just playing with her now. I can’t hide the huge grin on my face. This is my favorite game in the world.
“You know you can’t make me laugh…ohhhhhhhhh,” see, I told you she deserves it. She might have gotten off with a few playful pokes but now she’s challenging me. Hey I Played football my whole life, I don’t back down from challenges.
I reach my right hand behind her trapped arm to her vulnerable left side just to remind her that she is really helpless and that gets her to let out a nice little squeal but I’m not ready to finish her yet. In classic Sarah fashion, she doesn’t get the point that she is trapped and starts fighting viciously against my ministrations. Not that it’s bad yet, she just doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction of laughing. It’s almost as if she reads my mind on how to make this more fun for me. I guess that’s just what good friends do.
Why is it that ticklish girls always think they can fight you off? You’d think they would just take what’s coming to them and hope that you have mercy on them. She’s actually doing a decent job of keeping my left hand away from her sensitive stomach sides and ribs, but I’m not really trying that hard yet. She actually looks kind of cute when she thinks she has a chance. Besides, feeling her struggling against me is half the fun (especially since she is destined to loose)
“So I can’t make you laugh huh”
I let her pin my left hand to the top of her left thigh and she looks me dead in the eye, “NO, YOU CAN’T.” I don’t know why but I really LOVE seeing her like this. She’s so confident, such a tease, such a smart ass. For some reason whenever I tickle Sarah the most fun part is her persistent defiance. That defiance is like the spring of life. It’s so much fun to strip it away from her… SLOWLY.
I push her back onto the couch her arm still pinned next to me. I pin her down with my sheer body weight; she’s not going any where. Her legs are still hanging off the couch but I have her upper body pinned for my fun. It’s a rush of empowering sensation to feel someone breathing beneath you COMPLETLEY HELPLESS, unable to move away. She’s completely powerless, and too proud to admit it. Her defiant attitude and desperate struggling against me are perfect inspiration for my nimble fingers and evil desires. I almost feel sorry for her, but she deserves it.
Both my arms free to explore any ticklish part of her. I have done this a thousand times before but for some reason today I am very conscious of her large breasts rising under me as she breathes, how beautiful her exposed neck looks, and how intoxicating her perfume is. It’s almost hard to concentrate, but my instincts for tickling her have me on sadistic autopilot. So far she has only rewarded me with a half smirk as she looks up at me nervously to say, Her refusal to smile is taken as a direct insult. She’s only making things much worse in her TICKLISH situation.
“CHEATER!” Her voice dripping with mock anger, even she knows that she deserves this deep down inside. I can see a look of anticipation and excitement in her piercing green eyes. Sarah is so serious all the time, I think she needs to feel SILLY sometimes.
“That’s Mr. Cheater to you young lady” still holding onto her spirit like a good girl. I love it when she puts up a fight. It makes my inevitable triumph even more enjoyable. The Sadist inside me really enjoys having her make REALLY fucked up decisions.
I sneak my right hand up to lightly spider tickler her neck, she really can’t stand that. She has to choke back a giggle to maintain her composure. This is too much fun. I don’t tickle too deliberately just yet. I want the game to last. Psychologically though, she knows what I could make her feel on her neck.
Now she’s really fighting to get her left arm free. She tries to bat my hand away with her right hand but that only leaves her side wide open. I snake my left hand under her shirt to lightly tickle her smooth stomach, and massage her sides. Her pride has her squirming like a snake in a futile effort to deny me her beautiful laughter. Silly girl. She’s gritting her teeth and holding her breath fighting a battle that she lost when I walked into her apartment.
Finally I can see the dam beginning to break and her beautiful smile about to form. The first few giggles begin to escape her lips and that only serves to embolden me. I almost feel bad for her. It’s only going to get worse from here. I feel so proud of myself seeing the control freak breaking in front of me.
“Which one Sarah, You’re neck or your sides” See, fucked up decisions, she meets the question initially with an angry grunt between giggles. I really enjoy teasing her. She is REALLY ticklish and I love making her realize it, slowly. It’s really fun to watch her flail her arm deciding which area to feebly defend.
“Fuck youhheheheheheheheheheheehehehe” as you can see, she’s undecided, like any good friend I decide for her… BOTH.
It’s pretty much over when I bring my hand down to squeeze her hips. It’s all about timing with her. You always wait until mid insult to tickle her worst spots. It’s so fun to watch her just let go and laugh (especially when it’s because of me). It has to be the sweetest music that I have heard all day. I can feel her kicking her legs, bucking against me, yearning for freedom, and release from her torment. The confidence and defiance lost in a sea of giggles and waves of thrashing to get away from my constant torment. Such a sweet predicament I love putting her in. Lucky for her she’s a friend. As you know, Tickling does THINGS to me, and I don’t want to push it too far.
I torture her for a few more minute, just so she gets the POINT.
Reluctantly, having had my fun I unpin her arm and let her up. She actually has a tear streaming down her left cheek. I’m proud of myself now >.
“Awwwww, what’s the matter is the little baby ticklish?”
“You know you’re an Asshole.” She playfully punched me in the arm as she unruffled her shirt.
“You’re brutally honest and I tickle you for it. What a pair we make: you and I.”
“So how was work today?” I try to change the subject, I’ve teased her enough. Normally this is where the conversation would have gone to how things were at the magazine, how I was going to rewrite my summation, etc. For some reason she didn’t want to let it go.
“You know it’s really MEAN to tickle someone like that.” She said in a surprisingly and very playful tone.
“Oh come on you’re a tough girl you can take a lil tickling can’t you. And it’s not exactly nice to invalidate someone’s hard work in 30 seconds either. I guess that means we’re even.” Did you ever notice that most smart asses can’t take what they dish out?
“That’s right I am a TOUGH GIRL, that’s why I’m never going to LET you tickle me again.” She must have been kidding!
“Really, you’re never going to LET me”
“Nope!” She kept shaking her head back and forth with this evil grin on her face. This girl was challenging me. She obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with.
“Hey whatever, the last thing I want to do is get beat up by a magazine editor. The guys at the firm would never let me live that one down.” Stroke her ego, wait for the opening, I should really write a paper on it.
She then looks at me right in the eye with the “STERN VOICE” again and says “That’s RIGHT! I wouldn’t want to have to EMBARASS you.” As always, her comments were punctuated with a sly smirk.
Apparently some radioactive spider bit her in the time I just tickled her near tears and now when she adopted this mock tough girl attitude. That familiar defiant smirk was still tormenting me as she turned to look for the remote on the stand next to the couch. See, there’s my opening
Then I just grabbed both her legs and pulled them onto the couch and her closer to me. I pounced on top of her pinning her down again with my body weight. I love a challenge!!! I pinned both of her arms down with hands. I was straddling the backs of her legs and my face was right next to hers. Surprisingly she had the biggest grin on her face (trust me, I am going to make it bigger). I tried my best not to fully rest my waist against her backside, after all we’re friends. I’m not going to hold back as much this time. I’m just going to let her have it on her ticklish torso. After all, she deserves it.
“So you’re not going to let me tickle you anymore”
“hehe, NO, I’m going to use my superpowers to throw you off me just you wait.”
Apparently she bought into the whole radioactive spider thing too, but I didn’t see any around. In the meantime I thought it prudent to keep us both entertained, so I went right for her hips, both hands, full tickle. It was amazing, she just started screaming and laughing right away. I know that she wanted to hold her hysterical laughter in, but I was in no mood for games. It was time to show her whose boss. I just wanted drink in her dizzy laughter like a fine wine, and it didn’t look like I would run out any time soon. Her violent thrashing into me was a nice ADDED BENEFIT.
I could feel every muscle in her body writhing under me. Man this girl was strong. It was almost too much fun to have such a strong girl helpless under me. She was really ticklish on her hips. She tried to push my hands away with her arms but it was beyond futile. She was getting the daylights tickled out of her and only God himself could stop me-even then he would have to ask nicely!
“So you’re sure you’re not going to let me tickle you anymore?”
“hhhehehehehehehehheheheheheeeeeeheheh NEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER”
“Oh well that’s a relief. That means I can never do this again.” I put my hands into both her pockets. Man these jeans are tight. I start massaging her pocket points at the front of her hips and she just looses it. She just starts roaring for me, my ticklish lioness.
“OH SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIT NOT THERE hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaah”
The only problem is that I am REALLY starting to like the way she is bucking up against me trying to get free. She’s never been accused of having a small bum and it’s starting to rub up against certain PARTS, and like I said, we are friends.
I relent a little, just so that I can ask her more fucked up questions. “So what do you think about my summation now?”
She just sucks in much needed air for about five seconds. “You know…I think it REALLY SUCKED!!” For some reason hearing those words kindled something inside me. I couldn’t quite make it out, but it was even more delicious than her maniacal laughing. The warmth of my sadistic urge is now throbbing in my temples being fed by the words of her delicious defiance.
In the mean time she needed to get it for that so I started spidering my fingers underneath her shirt, lightly tickling her soft skin (and boy it was soft) up and down from her waist to the top of her ribcage. All she could do was squirm left and right beneath me. It was beautiful. Every kiss of my fingertips DEMANDED a new futile gyration. Her arms were pretty much useless at this point. And it only got better from here.
“It heheheheheheheeheehe REALLY REALLLLLLLLLLLLLLY hehehehehe SUCKED hhahahahahaahahahahaahahahaha NOT THE RIBS.. hehehehehehehehehe ehehehe YOU ohhohohohohohohohhohooh WENT TO hohohohohoohohoh LAW SCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL?”
Okay the librarian glasses were a start, the tight jeans, the sexy boots, they were all present in my mind, but this encouraging her tickle torture was REALLY starting to turn me on. I felt wave after wave of euphoria coming over me. All I could hear was her laughing. It was so beautiful. It’s all I could think about. How beautiful it was to hear my friend just let go and laugh. I accidentally nudged the side of her breast through her bra. I felt the instant desire to probe more, but I couldn’t-WE’RE FRIENDS. But the thought was INTOXICATING.
I stepped back and flipped her over onto her back. She was very surprised at how easily I tossed her from one side of her body to the other. Her nicely toned thighs were a warm greeting for my legs as I straddled her once again, ensuring she had no escape. Her chest was heaving up and down as she was sucking in air. She was out of breath, gasping for air, and SMILING.
“Are you ready to apologize yet?”
“HELL NO!” She said as she wiped the plastered hair from her face. Whose side was she on, hers or mine? She was playing pretty well for my side so far. I have NEVER seen her like this (in real life anyway).
“Okay then, Let’s count Sarah’s Ribs” She instinctively pulled her arms down to her side in the classic don’t tickle me posture and that’s what I was waiting for. I wrapped my left arm around her torso pinning her arms to her side and her to my chest. I used my right hand to mischievously explore the ultra ticklish zone right around her neck and shoulders. Her outpour of giggles was priceless because it was right into my ear. There was nothing she could do to stop me, and that made me feel so GOOD inside. She was squirming and gyrating beneath me, sending all kinds of messages through my nerve endings as she tried in vein to free herself from the prison of my body weight.
“Are you sorry?”
“Noeheheheheheheeheheheheheheehheehehehheh”
“How about now?” I reached my hand back down to squeeze and massage her hips. She could do nothing but squirm up against my firm grip and I loved it. “Tickle Tickle Tickle.” I whispered gently into her ear.
“Okay okay heheheheheheheheheheheheh I’m sorry” Victory.
“SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT.” RUBBING IT IN
“IM SORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRYY heheheheheh” .
Finally I let her up. She’s a mess: her hair gone wild, her glasses gone crooked, her shirt wrinkled, face flushed with red, gasping for air. What can I say, I do good work!
“Water…” Is all she can say. I get up to get her bottled water, hoping that I can conceal the subtle beginnings that have started within me. I feel a little guilty, but boy that was fun. Very rarely do I ever LET GO when I tickle Sarah, and this was the worst yet. It was even better than I dreamed it would be, but that’s between us.
I couldn’t help but steal a glance at her from the kitchen. She looked so different, missing her venire of overconfidence and sarcasm. She was straightening her glasses and her shirt, rubbing her hair back into place, still getting her breath back to normal. I don’t think she will be forgetting this any time soon.
I always feel pretty good when I get through tickling Sarah, but there was something ELSE. Something about today, is different. She always provokes me subtly or overtly depending on her mood, but today its provoking different parts of me.
I return to the couch. She has propped her legs up onto the couch with her knees in her chest (probably to keep me from attacking again). I hand her the bottle of water and she takes a long hard sip.
“What, no thank you???” What can I say? I can be a tease too.
“Thank you??? It’s your fault that I’m out of breath and thirsty in the first place. You with all your TICKLING.” She punctuated it with a playful kick in the arm with her boot.
“Don’t kick me”
“Or what???” there’s this new evil grin again? She placed her left boot on my right arm. For some reason the smile on her face just kept getting bigger and bigger.
“I SAID… Don’t Kick Me”
With that she pushed my arm with her left foot and laughed at me from behind her librarian glasses. I snatched her left ankle and placed her foot on my lap. I immediately went for the zipper when then I heard it… Silence. No protest, no fidgeting, no struggling, no squirming. I let go of her ankle and her foot lay there gyrating almost inviting my invasion.
I looked at Sarah, her eyes locked on her endangered ped. I looked at her, and only silence. Then it broke. I heard a single breath. It was a type of breath that I had barely dreamed to her from her. That is all it took for me to know the truth of what was happening. That is all that it took for Fear to die.
I pulled her to me violently. She dropped the bottle of water to the ground as though it never existed. I sat her firmly in my lap and just looked at her. She stared at me almost in a trance. She couldn’t hide behind her glasses anymore.
The look in her eyes told me all that I needed to know about the lies I had been told. Years of Tension died as our lips met. The excitement was building between both our bodies. This was a Kiss so long overdue, and yet arriving at the PERFECT time. Our breath finally melded into one after all these years. One hand gently caressed her side, the other getting tangled in her long fiery hair. I can feel her hands caressing the back of my neck as she kisses me back. Is this a Dream? Is this really happening?
I take a small break from her lips as mine find refuge on her soft neck. Her eyes closed so tight she whispers so softly in my ear, “I don’t want to wake up.” This is just a subtle preview of her repressed emotions and passions.
My lips meet hers again, as our minds are already together. I can feel her tongue against mine, and the electricity of sharing the same breath. My hand starts to spider lightly at her waist line, I can feel her squirm so gently, trying not to break the kiss or to giggle into me, but not fighting me. The taste of her mouth and her gentle writhing are almost too much to take at once, but I can’t get enough. I can tell that she enjoys our little game. I tease her waistline ever so persistently, causing her to giggle in the back of her throat as our mouths are locked. A slight massage of her waist causes her to break from me… breathless.
“You know you don’t have to kick me if you don’t want me to stop tickling you Sarah! It’s okay to like it!” Now it’s my turn to be the smart ass.
“I don’t like it.” She’s lying to me. Eyes still shut. Breath erratic, she’s lying to me. She’s still hiding. Her defiance is lasting even now.
“Really,” my hand starts to lightly trail along her inner thighs. She gasps in approval. It’s almost not fair. I have her, ALL of her. “You don’t like it at all? Not even a little?”
“Noooooooooooooooooo.” Her voice is quivering now. Even when she is clearly broken she still holds my satisfaction like a prize. All confessions of the masochistic mind are wrapped in the blanket of a lie they need to have exposed for them.
“I think someone’s Lyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyying.” Sometimes the most intense form of communication is the most well placed whisper.
“I don’t like it,” her lips lie to me, but her body betrays her; her legs moving in time with my knowing hand.
“What do I get if you’re lying?” It’s so unfair. That is such an audacious question in such a circumstance.
“mmmmmmmmmmmmm” is all that she can manage in response. My hand is now actively massaging her inner thigh, slowly. Her legs are gently yielding to my kind caress. I know what she wants. She wants to confess, but she can’t. My prize is not hers to give, it is mine to take.
“If you’re lying I get to do WHATEVER I want to you, for as long as I want, no matter how much you SCREAM!” I punctuate my threat with another gentle caress of her stomach. It causes her to stir, but it will take more than that to jolt her out of her rhythmic trance.
She leans against me for comfort. Almost Ironic, the place she feels safest is in the arms of her tormentor. “Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay” she moans into my ear.
The truth has long since been told and received. Our relationship has changed in ways I have only dared to dream of. All that remains now is to complete HER fantasy.
She gasps as I begin to unbuckle her pants. She knows the result. I take my time. I am not letting her off easy. She deserves this. Every time that she told me I wasn’t good enough, every sly remark, every time she dismissed me. She REALLY deserves this.
I can hear her sighing nervously as I part the top of her Jeans. If she opened her eyes she would see the wicked smile plastered across my face. As my hands tease the waste line of her newly exposed lace undergarment I am greeted by the moans and squeals of approval as her warm nervous and excited breath caresses my ear. I know that she can’t bear to watch, so I make her wait as long as I can stand. She deserves it.
I finally trace the outline of the damp warmth that I anticipated. Her gasps, squeals and squirms begin anew with this subtle torture. Now her secret lust is fully exposed. The score card already won has been turned in, but her fantasy is not complete.
“Awwwwwwwwwww, someone’s a liar!” As if at all possible she squeezes me even tighter. The implications of her predicament are truly sinking in for the first time. Inside her the delicious consequences of her unbridled enjoyment must be cascading around her mind, driving her even further towards sheer excitement.
“Look at me Sarah,” For all the years that I had waited, I was going to enjoy this. I could feel her shaking her head back and forth against my shoulder. She couldn’t look at me, I knew it. That’s exactly why she had to. It’s what she wanted.
“Look at me Sarah,” I repeat again. She reluctantly takes her head from my shoulder. Her arms are frozen. I brush the hair gently out of her face even though she looks away. Such a dominant personality, so in control all the time, so confident, ALL mine. The gift that she had given me was not made of gold or silver. It was her pride: the pride that pushed me away for so long and that I was too afraid to take before now. But not today, not on the day that Fear dies.
She finally looks at me. I can see the emotions swimming in her teary eyes. In all my wildest daydreams, she has never looked this magnificent. Her breathing let’s me know how long she’s wanted this. I can see how afraid she was to ask, to admit what she needed. Now her fear is all mine.
“What happens to liars Sarah?” Usually such an innocent question, but in this moment it is more loaded than a policeman’s sidearm. I know she can’t bear to speak it, but she has to. It’s what she wants. She is usually so full of words, now she is sitting before me speechless. The reversal of power warms places deep inside, some I didn’t even know about.
She just stares back at me. I can tell the words are caught in her throat. I can’t blame her. Such an emotional transition, it happened so fast. How could she speak, but she had to.
“What happens to liars SARAH?” This time I make sure that she can see my evil grin and how much I am enjoying her mental anguish over her purchased confession. My hands begin to lightly caress the top of her delicate stomach. I get oh so close to the undersides of her precious peaks. “Come on Sarah, you’re such a SMART Girl, you have an answer for everything I know you can tell me.”
As my fingers subtly help the situation sink in, her EVIL grin starts to sneak back. That’s my girl. “They get punished.” She is barely able to say it above a whisper.
“I’m sorry I can’t here you!” My hands acting more deliberately now, making her situation all the more uncomfortable. With nothing left to defend, she lets her instincts finally take over.
“THEY GET PUNNISHED!” There’s my “STERN VOICE” that I love so much. With that she straddled my lap and kissed me even more deeply than before. The initial shock of our transition was wearing off and she was freely enjoying the moment. I loved the feeling of the subtle wisps of red hair that dangled on my face as she kissed me deeply. Both her hands are now resting firmly on the couch behind me.
My sneaky fingers mischievously found their way to her open hollows. The electric ticklish jolt hit her immediately, but she started to fight just as quickly. Not fighting against it, but fighting to endure it. To enjoy the intimacy of our connection, and the inevitable torment that came with it in one glorious wave of pleasure for her.
I could sense her grabbing tighter and tighter onto the couch material and the giggles being stifled in the back of her throat as we shared our breath. Like anyone would in my situation I made it as hard as possible for her with my skilled fingers. After all, she deserves it.
Finally she started to giggle into me once again, and it only drove her to kiss me harder now. There was no more hiding, no more games, she was allowing me into the deepest parts of her that she had kept hidden for so long, and that I had only dreamt existed.
Teasing her neck again caused her to break the passion of our kiss and let her delicious laughter pour out audibly once again. The lust in her eyes was evident of her second wind.
She leaned back into me to start kissing my neck and nibbling my earlobes. The feelings were electric against my skin. This overwhelming affirmation of her affection thundered in my heart. I have longed for her approval for so long. The sensation is so warm, it washes over me completely. I just sit and take in the moment for a while as she continues to please me with her sweet lips. The part of me that is still wondering if all this is happening slowly melts away with every brush of her lips against my neck, and every warm breath in my sensitive ears. Slowly, this is how Doubt died.
“So you think you can PUNISH me huh?” Words can barely describe how her lips are making me feel as my hands caress her. Her familiar tone returning as she takes her new form. The audacity of her words tuned me on to no end.
“MMMMM, Still defiant I see.”
She has never laughed in such a sultry seductive manner, not even in my dreams, “Silly boy. I will always be Defiant… Stubborn… and BITCHY… The only question is, ‘what are you going to DO ABOUT IT’ hehehe?” Somehow she has read the diary that I have never kept. Seen the fantasies I was never honest with myself about. The same tone that once kept us apart now holds us together in a seductive magnetism.
All at once, it happened so fast, I threw her to the couch. She licked her lips and looked invitingly up into my eyes. I pick her up in my arms with ease. Her eyes light up in amazement. Her arms wrap around my neck and her lips return there as well. I rarely go into her bedroom, we were just friends. Now it is MY bedroom, and the sacred venue for her first REAL torture. Feeling her passionate lips explore me, I can’t tell who is more excited: she or I?
I brush her beddings aside. I don’t want them ruined by her desperate thrashing for mercy, and she will thrash. I promise you. I throw her onto the bed. Only a pillow is left to keep her comfort. She lifts her boot to tease my pants line as I loosen my tie. Like I said, she deserves this. I take off my tie, loosen my top buttons, roll up my sleeves and set about my business. Before she could not bear to look at me; now with lust filled eyes, she can’t bear to look away. Her smile looks so evil, so seductive, so inviting.
“Hands against the headboard.” I don’t want her to be able to get away from me. This is my favorite Tommy Hilfiger Tie. More valuable possessions have been wasted on endeavors far less momentous than this. Her boot never left my pant line, and now she shakes her head playfully in defiance. I’m certain she can read my mind.
“Make me!” Almost before she can finish, I grab her teasing leg and pull her to me. I pin her down beneath me, and press her arms high above her head. I am looking her right in eyes, through her librarian glasses. I can see her longing for the blissful helplessness of the not so distant future. I hold her wrists in place and begin to tie them together. To try and break my concentration her left thigh seeks for the arousal between my legs, and her lips seek mine. I pull back my head, denying her request and leaving her to her frustration. I am set about my business. She will lie helplessly bound before me.
I slide her beneath me, relishing the sensation of her moving against my body. All my nerves are alive and awaiting her delicious input. As I begin to tie the loose end of my mock rope to the rail in the headboard she begins her mock protest struggling beneath me. She is not trying to get free, she just likes the reminder of her helplessness that my firm body weight is pleased to give. The persistence of her gyrations only adds to my arousal.
A simple tie, for a simple task: the task of making her mine. I have longed for this charge for so long, the weight of the situation sinking in. I only have one chance, one chance to do this one thing right, one chance to consummate he change in our relationship forevermore.
Now she lies helpless, unable to stop me from exploring every inch of her quivering TICKLISH body. She tests her bonds. She knows that there is no escape. Ironically I can see her become more relaxed as she realizes her predicament. She has wanted this for so long. I almost envy her as I straddle her waist. My evil leer is met by her familiar confident smirk. I’m glad she has her spirits about her. Her precious defiance is like a spring of living water, freshly renewed as soon as it is consumed again. Luckily, my thirst for her complete submission is insatiable, fed by years of endless teasing, taunting, and delicious criticism that will all be brought to bear.
“You know you have been REALLY mean to me over the past few years… This is what happens To Mean girls Sarah!” I emphasize my threat by ripping open her black button up shirt. She proudly presents her breasts through her lacy black lingerie. My fingertips gently kiss her freshly exposed skin, and there is no escape. All she can do is close her eyes, moan deeply, and move in time with my teasing caress. She balls her hands into tight little fists as she deals with the sensations that are invading her mind.
“mmmmmmmmm You promise!” This is her reply. This is the final ratification of her demise. As her hands are tied above and behind her, her torso is stretched revealing the perfection of her ribcage. My gentle caressing turns to subtle probing as I begin to massage the skin gently into the bone and the hollows between.
This is how it started, and this is how the end will begin: with my gentle teasing and her defiance to give me the beautiful laughter that haunts my dreams. She tries so hard for me. I know that now. It would be so easy for her to give in and surrender to the giggles building inside of her, but she is fighting for me. She’s fighting because she knows that I Love to break her, and the warm sense of omnipotence that each triumph spurs deep within me.
“You better not laugh; otherwise it will get MUCH MUCH WORSE!!!” The verbal teasing makes it much worse for her. I can see it in her face as the words hit gently home. She wants to retort, she wants to scream, she wants to get away, but if she breaks back her concentration on holding in her precious laughter then the dam will burst and I will have won. I almost feel guilty for causing such conflict within her, but as I said-She deserves it.
Finally it takes over me, and I have let go completely. The time for teasing has come and gone. Now the real fun can begin. My finger snakes up to her exposed porcelain hollow and she can not react in time to the new configuration of my ministrations. The burst of laughter is instant. Her arms try to jerk down only for her simple bondage to hold her fast. There is no escape. Her desperate laughter is a new tone, helplessness altering the intensity of the ticklish sensations.
“I told you it would get worse.” I can tell that she wanted to say SOMETHING, but I didn’t give her the chance. She had had years to say what she wanted to say. Now it was MY TURN. Both of my hands danced lightly in her exposed hollows. My nimble fingers are gently circling their outermost rim, only to scurry furiously into the centers. Her laughter is pouring out like the River Jordan, giving new life to my evil intentions.
Finally I hear her start to scream. It is punctuated by her furious struggles at her bonds and her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow. Her cute librarian glasses threaten to fly off. I have dreamt of this so much, and only now do I understand the splendor of her helplessness. Her every shriek and scream a symphony of my superiority. The tears streaming gently down her face like the wax sealing the envelope of her submission to me. Finally, after all these years.
I stop the cruel tickling of her hollows just for a moment. Not out of mercy, I just don’t want my beauty to run out of air before I am done with her. I want to hear her full laughter the entire time that I torment her, and only her.
She lies there gasping in air desperately. I would blindfold her but I don’t she can open her eyes. I can see in how tightly she closes them that she is still afraid, afraid she might WAKE UP.
“This is what happens to MEAN GIRLS SARAH!!!” This is the anthem of my torment. I can not let her forget it. She has to be reminded of how she makes me feel with her cold criticism, tearing down the best of me, insulting my most brilliant ideas, tearing down my perfect lie. Now it’s my turn to be mean. Even as she regains her breath she cannot manage a reply.
My fingers return to gently kissing the flesh of her torso. Her body begins to move in time again, not wanting to break the delicious discomfort of my teasing caress. She almost whimpers as my fingers begin to circle her navel. This is an area far too often guarded by garment that is not the case today. Now it is bare for the entire world to see, bared just to be my prey.
The radius of my teasing circle gets shorter and shorter. She holds her breath as her hips can’t help but rise and aid me in my task. She can’t help but bring her skin closer to me so that I can fill her deepest desires. A steady stream of giggles pours out of her sweet lips as I get closer and closer.
Part of her wants to get away, to get free, and to stop me. But that sorrowed minority is over ruled by the burning within her that can’t wait for her torment to be renewed. My index finger closes in and probes her depth. New streams of belly laughter can be heard filling the room, my ears, and my waiting heart. I am greeted by a renewed strength in her bucking against me. Her body’s internal conflict is playing out before me. Now I don’t have to hide what these gyrations are doing to me. After all, we aren’t JUST FRIENDS any more.
I can see the frustration building within her. Her pelvis rising to meet my body weight is pleasing her, but not neat in the way she desires. I hope she knows how I felt. Never quite getting the CREDIT that I deserved… no matter how hard I tried to IMPRESS HER.
“Come on Sarah, say something funny, say something smart, and tell me what I’m doing WRONG.” I can see that she her lick her lips through her giggles. I don’t know if it’s the writhing beneath me or hearing what she wants to be told. I think it is a combination of both. Either way, I am not ready for either to stop. It is not often that Sarah is at a loss for words. Her forced silence is like a badge of honor for me that I will wear on my heart always-even if it only lasts a few more fleeting moments.
As I move to massaging the points within her pockets I can here a deep moan. This is more than just a flirty or even torturous tickle. This is also a little OTHER stimulation. The front of her pelvic bone is so sensitive. It yields to me all the precious feedback of approval that has been denied to me for so long. Her back arches off the bed, her giggles intertwined with sighs of pleasure. Her pelvis rises violently to increase the pressure against me, but I lift up to deny her. The seeds of Evil are easy to plant.
I’ve waited years for the release from her torment; she can wait a little longer for hers.
“What’s the matter Sarah, is there something you WANT?” I love asking questions I know the answer to. It’s every lawyer’s secret pleasure. Today I have a VERY transparent whiteness on the stand, her confession already signed.
“hehehe Oh My God mmm” Words finally return to her again, if only briefly. I pause with her delicate hip bone to climb to the head of the bed, and by beautiful blushing beauty. I let my lips brush ever so lightly against the soft skin of her neck. She shudders suddenly. I know what that does to her. I take pleasure in causing her distress. I gently begin to nibble her ear lobe and kiss her ever so softly. My warm breath begins to tease her.
I barely whisper, “I’m sorry dear, GOD CAN’T HELP YOU RIGHT NOW.” I can see her lick her lips again in anticipation as the message of her continued plight hits softly home. She can’t bear to say it, but I can see her mouth the words, thank you.
With every passing second, all of her belongs more and more to me and me alone. I let my fingers trail delicately over the tops of her caged breasts as I climb off of her and stand next to the bed. I do not step lightly. I want her to hear me walking. I want her to hear every step as I walk to the foot of the bed. I want her to know that every step takes her closer to her greatest fear. Her feet are excruciatingly TICKLISH. She hides them from the world, but she can no longer hide them from ME. I know this may seem cruel psychological torment, but as I said-She deserves it.
I sit down at the foot of the bed. She tries to pull her delicate feet away from me. I grab her ankles unapologetically. I have her ankles locked under my right arm, my left playing with the zipper to her sexy left boot. She fidgets away from me. She knows what’s coming. I let the game continue. I am in no rush. This isn’t one of Sarah’s scheduled events, this was MY TIME. I am going to use as much of it as I see fit.
I finally come to my business, unzipping her left boot fully. I pull at the heel GENTLY, just moving it an inch or so. I run my fingers along the top of her shoe.
“Is there a ticklish little foot in here? Come on… You can tell me!!!” She is beyond the ability to speak, and I know that. Her renewed futile kicks to free her legs are the only defiance left in her. Even her most witty retort and an army of men could not separate me from the task at hand. “I’ll make you a deal, if you can keep you shoe on, I won’t tickle your poor feet OKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”
This is cruel. She has no chance. Her hands are tied. Her words are lost in a sea of emotion and unbridled sensation she has never experienced before. She can barely muster the strength to kick anymore. This is pure torture, right down to her very core. As I Said, she deserves it.
She sneaks her boot back onto her heel with steady gyration. A simple enough first test. I tug at her heel playfully. I can sense her scrunching her toes inside her teasing footwear. I want the game to last. I have all the time in the world. Years of waiting can afford a few seconds to build the tension of delicious anticipation. I tug on the heel of her shoe more deliberately. I pull it two inches off of her heel. It’s a little harder for her to make it back into the shoe. To add to her plight I add two knowing fingers to tease the soft exposed heel of her left foot through the mock protection of her cute white ankle socks. I have resigned to the fact that she knows all my darkest fantasies.
Her stream of giggles is freshly renewed. Her foot wiggles so beautifully in my grasp. Watching its trapped form struggle under my cruel touch sent waves of power inspired lust washing over me, again and again. Her musical laughter is the perfect backdrop to my Evil game. Her foot jerks back, trying to escape my cruel touch. It is no use, it is trapped. The only thing it succeeds in doing is inching her protection further and further off of her heel. With every square inch of skin that is exposed, my attack goes higher, and higher. I am driving my laughing beauty closer and closer to my prize.
Finally, as my knowing hands find a ticklish arch her toes give up their delicate fight and her shoe falls delicately off her foot. I brush it off the side of the bed. I let the large clunk of her boot hitting the ground serve as just another audible reminder that her fate has been sealed a LONG LONG time ago.
“Uh oh, I think you dropped something Sarah ahahaha.” I can feel her cringe at my sly remark. She is used to being the one laughing at me. It doesn’t feel quite as good when the shoe is OFF the other foot. I bend down to bring her bared foot in its cute white sock to my lips. I take in the deep aroma. It smells perfectly of her light delicate perspiration and the lotion used to keep it ever so soft… and sensitive. I begin kissing her delicate foot through the sock. I nuzzle my nose between her toes and gently kiss the length of her sole. I can tell that she is surprise by this strange form of kindness.
Sarah’s confidence is her undoing. All that you have to do is stroke her ego, and wait for the opening. My humble worship of her socked sole has a dualistic purpose. I want her to be completely relaxed when it starts. I can feel her body moving rhythmically, enjoying the warmth of my mouth on her delicate sole. I hear one solemn moan escape her clinched lips and that is my opening.
Suddenly Five fingers invade her poor delicate ticklish sole. I keep her other shoe on just so she will have a false sense of protection. It’s fun watching her try in vein to protect her Ticklish foot from my cruel fingers. She tries so hard… but it’s meaningless, invalidated, and not nearly good enough to stop my evil onslaught.
I stop suddenly, “You know… Mean girls don’t get ANY protection Sarah...” She lets out the cutest whimper. She knows without being told what comes next. Her baited breath tells me that she truly cannot wait. I rip off the protection of her sock. Her pale sole is so precious. It is devoid of any flaw. Her delicate bare foot is an object of my obsession from being hidden from my gaze inside sneakers and boots. I delicately trace the top of her pale delicate foot, the toes painted my favorite dark shade of plumb. She twitches so cutely. Her skin is perfect. Her nerves are responsive.
Without warning I unzip and rip off the other shoe. The sock soon follows. Now I have her beautiful bare feet before me.
“What pretty feet you have my dear…”
“Thank you…” her voice barley returns. It is quivering in the excitement to come. No where to run, no columns to proof, no deadline to keep. She is finally free to enjoy her deepest fantasies.
Her final act of kindness is to point her toes forward, scrunching her wrinkly soles inviting my loving kiss. I taste her delicious toes gently. My tongue is ever so softly caressing the very tips of her ticklish toes. I can sense the shivers going up and down her slender spine and I lovingly kiss and nibble her sensitive toes.
A sultry moan can be heard in-between her bouts of flirtatious giggles of approval. I take both her big toes in my mouth and I begin to suck gently, then harder, and harder. My tongue begins to probe gently flicking between the two delicate digits. The moans and giggles merge into one long audible of pleasure.
Just as suddenly as it started, my gentle worship ended. It is replaced by the demented torture that I have dreamt of so much. I almost mindlessly scramble my free fingers over her cringing ticklish soles. I can feel my arousal begin to pound within me as wave after wave of her maddening laughter crashes into my ear drums. I thoroughly enjoy every futile violent jerk of her legs trying to free her trapped ticklish feet from their deserved fate. She is such a silly girl. I almost feel sorry for her… almost.
Up and down, I spider and rake my fingers into her most sensitive spots. I tease her arches ruthlessly, the very centers of her feet mercilessly, the balls of her feet without ceasing, and the base of her toes endlessly. I can think of nothing but how much I am aroused by the mad dance of wiggling that her feet are doing with their ankles trapped in my torturous deadlock. Years of waiting, anticipating, hoping, and dreaming were all merging into this moment. This moment when…
“I’m sorry Sarah, I think I used the wrong TICKLE pattern that time… don’t worry though, I WILL DO IT AGAIN… hahaha” I get lost in a trance, fixated with the sheer HAVIC and PANIC that I am causing in my precious beauty and it gives me joy to no end.
I finally pry myself away from her beautiful squirming feet. It only seems like seconds, but the clock on the dresser says it has been slightly more than 15 minutes since I started tormenting her feet. Time really flies when you are having FUN.
I look up at my delicious beauty. As I pull down her jeans, I am reminded of my own desperate arousal. The constant throbbing reminds me that this experience is real. I look up at my sweet, so disheveled from her ordeal. I can only imagine what she must be feeling. I can see her erect nipples straining against her bra. They heave up and down as she takes in her breath desperately. She should savor ever bit of air for it is the last that I can give. I pull her jeans around her ankle to reveal the lacy wrapping of my greatest treasure: a pearl that is reserved for only one. I can see from the moistness of her womanhood that it has long sense hardened and ripened from the excitement of her delicious torment.
As I look upon her beautiful face, accented by her long fiery hair plastered to her forehead from all her futile thrashing, her glasses now lying on the side of the bed. I can not help but envy the content smile as she lay exhausted. Soon I will be able to take her, take her to the place she ahs been so afraid to go that she even pushes me away with her harsh words and cold exterior. Now they provide the fuel and inspiration for my sweetest cruelty that will lead to her most torturous pleasure.
I finally throw her jeans to the ground. I crawl up the bed to meet my beauty. I lay each leg to one side of me and sit patiently between her wide legs, gazing at her vulnerable womanhood. Her breath now renewed she begins to stir once more. Her erotic trance broken slightly and she can again interact in the world of the living, even though part of her is in a MUCH better place.
She watches intently as I unclasp her bra. I finally free her large breasts that have been straining against their prison this whole time. Her cherry tipped peaks calling to me yearning to be teased. Her breath catches as she sees my hands approach her mounds. She holds her breath until I make contact. She closes her eyes once more, tighter than ever when I begin my cruel massage. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes inside her. She lets out an earthy moan as I continue to fondle her breasts. I pay close attention not to tease her nipples just yet.
“Does that feel good Sarah?”
“Yesssssssssssssssss!”
“Am I doing anything wrongggggggg?”
“No no…..mmmmmmm please don’t stop”
She is mine. Finally, she is all mine.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stop?”
“Yessssss”
“Then you have to do something for me…”
“Anything, just please don’t stop!”
“Tell me that you like it, Sarah!”
“Ohhhhhh I like it, please, rub them just a littttttttle harder!”
I relished her desperation. “Not that silly, we know you like this, I want you to tell me that you like to be tickled, Tickled until you are a helpless little girl.”
“Ohhhhhhhhhhh I can’t. I can’t Jim, Please don’t make me say it.” Psychology teaches me everything I need to know. There is still a part of her that hasn’t admitted it. As long as she doesn’t say it, then it is somehow less true. She can still hide from it. Not today.
“Fine, have it your way!” I pick up the two makeup brushes that are lying on her night stand. This is unfair. Under normal circumstances, nipples are almost too sensitive to be tickled. Now she is tied down, exhausted, and she has been teased and stimulated for almost 2 hours. The electric stimulating will feel so good that it will be excruciating. This is wrong, This is cruel, This is torture, but as I said SHE DESERVES IT.
I bring the twirling brushes gently to her puffy areolas. The giggles are subdued by her desperate moaning, although they peak through from time to time. She is writhing madly against me, not for escape, but for my evil brushes to give her a final act of malice and torment her turgid nipples.
“Oh my God, Oh My GOD” her desperation grows and grows with every second that my brushes don’t contact her yearning nipples, just as I had planned.
“Now Sarah, I have told you, HE CAN’T HELP YOU. IT’S JUST YOU AND ME” I don’t know if she could hear me. She looked lost in a sea of sensation. With her sanity already teetering on the breaking point, I can’t say for sure that my verbal teasing was the cause… but it surely wasn’t helping >.
“Tell me you like it!” I punctuated my command by dipping my brushes over her aching nipples. You’d think she was electrocuted. Her back arched violently to meet my evil tools. As my words faded I resumed my teasing of her breasts.
“I CAN’T” the tears streaming down her face letting me know that she was close to her release. Not just of the body, but of the mind.
“SARAH, TELL ME THAT YOU LIKE IT.” I let my brushes linger a little longer her back arching so painfully to meet and press against my evil tools. It was so evil, but she deserved it.
She sucked in all the air she could violently for her last will and testament. “I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE IT!” The tears were flowing freely now. She was almost there.
I stopped my cruel tickling of her sensitized nipples and came close to her cheek.
“You like what?”
“I love it when you tickle me; I always have, especially when you make it TORTURE… I love it when you make me feel so helpless. That no matter what I do, you will give me what I want… what I need…” that was her final release, her biggest confession, her darkest secret, her most desperate wish in the entire world. Now it was my most precious treasure, I would remember it always, even though I am sure she will remind me constantly.
It is time fro her reward. My hand trails slowly over her navel down to the waistline of her panties and slips in. I have never heard her gasp the way that she did when my hand first touched her delicate lips. Her mouth stayed open, breathing becoming sporadic. I lightly teased her glistening lips. I can tell that she has enjoyed her little punishment as much as I have enjoyed giving it. Then I find it. I caress her ripe pearl with my thumb and forefinger. I trace the tip of my finger over the tip of it SLOWLY and gently. Her entire body shudders from the gentle caress. She’s already so close. I massage her pearl lightly; driving her closer and closer to the edge she craves so deeply, the edge that she was so afraid to tell me about, the edge that I am finally brave enough to send her crashing over.
I lovingly kiss and nibble on her earlobe. My warm breath starts bringing her home. She is safe here with me. She can trust me with her deepest pleasure. I respect love all of her and this burden is NOT too much to carry.
I whisper gently in her ear as I massage her precious pearl “This is not a dream.” The weight of reality along with my knowing hand is all it takes. She is at her edge. She asks without being told.
“Please…” This word is uncommon to her expansive vocabulary. This word represents a request so basic it borders on absurdity. As her true giver of pleasure there is only one plausible response.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOO”
Her scream of frustration is delicious. Her renewed sense of panic is exquisite. My Power over her is complete. I have within my hands the keys to her deepest pleasure, and they are mine to play with as I wish. It’s cruel to the point of madness, evil to the point of insanity. As I said… SHE FUCKING DESERVES IT.
Still recovering from her shock I lustfully purge her lips. I am the eternal dualist. This holds her head still, lost in lustful frustration. My hand skitters up her collarbone (with only one destination in mind). She dare not break the kiss, for fear of further frustration, but she has to know what’s coming.
My hand lightly and deliberately dances around the sensitive skin under her chin and around her neck. The burst of laughter filling her mouth and mine as our breath becomes one is magnificent. The rush of power racing through me is stronger than it has ever been. It’s not enough that she confess, it’s not enough that she break down, she has to be sorry. SHE WILL BE SORRY.
Her hands for the first time are alive and straining desperately to free themselves from her simple bondage, but the knots hold her tight. My hand terrorizing one of her most sensitive destinations causing her to SCREAM INTO ME and it makes me sick with POWER. I own every bit of her. I have paid the price, and earned my prize of her deepest desperation. Through it all she only kisses me harder. She has wanted this for so long. She has wanted to be made naked, emotionally naked. She has wanted to be PUNISHED for pushing me away, and making me feel less than I truly am, for being so mean when she didn’t have to be. Even She KNOWS SHE DESERVES IT.
Her essence firmly in my hand, and my dominance proven I brake the kiss. The smile that returns to her face is not from the tickling, but from the pure bliss of having her last barrier forcefully taken from her and ready to receive all the pleasure I have to give.
I pull her panties down, exposing her perfection. My tongue starts at her navel and she knows where it’s going. I don’t want to hide it. She has earned it. She has surrendered everything to me, and she is hiding nothing. Now I will give her everything she has wanted and things she never dreamt of.
My tongue finds its final destination. My pearl tastes so sweet. Her moan is immediate. Her pelvis grinds desperately against my face. My hands each find a turgid nipple to roll between eager fingers. All these years waiting and hoping to see her in her greatest ecstasy and the moment has finally arrived. Her back fully arched, her soles digging into the bed, her pearl hard, and dripping with her desperate excitement.
The only thing that can break my kiss with her perfection is to answer her only request.
“Pleassssssssssssse?????????????????????????? ” she has no breath left in her now, only gasping, and grunting as her perfection grinds against me.
“Yes” taking her pearl deep inside my mouth, sucking so gently, lightly flicking the tip of her pearl with my tongue she exploded in my mouth, over and over again.
“Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo” was the only sound she could make as her juices ran desperately down my face. She ground her perfection into me faster and faster taking wave after wave of insane pleasure as it crashed over her like a wave over a tiny boat. Every sweet bit of her that dripped from her perfection was licked up cleanly. As the final wave subsided she lay there exhausted. That was her pleasure, for release from years of suppression.
Now, it was time for mine. She had her glorious explosion in peace, comfort and release. That’s not enough. She still doesn’t fully understand the frustration that she caused me. The pain inside that each subtle rejection caused. The wounds that are only now starting to heal in this moment when…
I pick up the makeup brush. She is lost in a sea of her own ecstasy. She has no idea what she has gotten herself into. She has no idea the evil that she has awakened in me.
In her bliss she begins to stir again… smiling her gentle smile. I can see no pretense, this is her happy. She has finally been able to let it all go, but I want MORE.
Time is short; I have to move while she is still sensitive. I position her right leg against my hardness between my strong thighs. I am not trying to hide it. After all, we aren’t just friends anymore. I press her left leg against the mattress. I smile so evilly at her that it makes her uneasy.
She senses something is wrong, that her plight might not be over, and the strangest thing. The smile on her face just grows wider and wider.
“Who is you’re Master Sarah” I say teasingly, she can see the brush now.
She sees how her legs are pinned. She feels how sensitive she is. She sees the brush. She hears the question with no right answer. She has to make a choice, a really fucked up choice. She can’t think, all she has is her instincts. BAD FOR HER.
In her respite she gained the free breath for four words to determine the rest of her life…
“I don’t have one...” In my greatest hour of lustful need, she came through with her greatest act of selflessness. She issued one final challenge to push me closer to the edge.
“Really,” I dip the brush in her damp pubic hairs. They are all the perfect length. All she can do is throw her head back and laugh. Her entire body alive once again with desperate thrashing. It is so unfair, so cruel, but as I said, She deserves it.
I move the evil makeup brush to her exposed pearl. I wish I could record the screams. It was a wonderful mixture of hysterical laughter, pre orgasmic bliss, sheer panic, and sheer desperation. It was the final symphony to take me home. Her head was thrashing from side to side, her eyes closed tight, her entire body writhing and bucking like a mad woman, there was nothing left. She just gave me what she knew I wanted. Her most unbridled reactions were mine to play with.
An ancillary benefit to her suffering her trapped leg was gyrating and squirming right against my hardness. The building throbbing from the spasmodic struggling is too much to articulate. Nothing FEELS THAT GOOD. To be brought to orgasm by the desperate helpless struggles of the girl you have dreamed of. Such sweet simplicity should only be reserved for dreams. The reality was invading every nerve in my body as my own explosion was minutes away, but I feared it would not preempt the second volcano of my SCREAMING BEAUTY.
Her screams were desperate. I made sure to be very slow and deliberate torturing her with my make up brush, slowly twirling it over her pearl, lightly and lazily dragging it back and forth. Her delicate ripe clitoris had never been teased, tickled, and tortured this ruthlessly before. I’m sure that there are parts of her that NEVER wants it to end.
She had to know. I had to tell her why she was being tortured like this… “This is what happens to MEAN GIRLS SARAH. YOU KNOW YOU LOVE BEING A MEAN GIRL, SARAH. THIS IS FOR EVERY SMART ASS COMMENT, EVERY TIME THAT YOU DISMISSED ONE OF MY IDEAS, EVERY TIME YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN ME, AND EVERY TIME THAT YOU TREATED ME LIKE A CHILD SARAH. YOU HAVE BEEN A VERY NAUGHTY GIRL SARAH, AND YOU HAVE TO BE PUNNISHED!!!” My erotic revenge was making me drunk in euphoric passion.
Her torture complete she uttered the only two words that would give her respite in the midst of her musical delirious screaming… “PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE…..MASTERRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRR?”
AS I made the brush do one more cruel dance over her tortured clitoris I uttered four words, that would unlock her world. “CUM FOR ME SARAH!!!” Boy, did she CUM!!!
With that the world we knew ended. It was lost somewhere in her passionate screams and desperate gyrations as her second orgasm ravaged every muscle in her tortured frame. The melody of her delicious torment in this moment to end all moments will haunt me until the day I die, and never leave my closest thoughts. She let it ALL GO, every emotion, every secret, every fear, she gave it to me in this desperate moment when…
Her second eruption was far greater than the first. The torturous tickling, my hardness pressed against her, her list of evil deeds. They all melted together somewhere deep inside her to make a symphony of sensation the likes of which I had never seen and she had never felt.
Her pelvis was now gyrating against the brush, hoping for every ounce of pressure to force wave after delicious wave of torturous pleasure from her drained body. Watching her in her bliss and feeling her toned thigh massage against me ended my years of sorrow and I finally released all the frustration of or friendship as spasm after delicious spasm consumed all that I am, all that I was and shaped all that I will be.
Finally coming down off her man made (and man controlled) roller coaster of emotions and sensations she collapsed into the pillow, completely exhausted. I have never seen Sarah so content. It is almost like she found a lost puppy that she never knew she had.
Just then the ding went off. 2:30 minutes of torture and one done beef roast. Can an evening be more perfect? I had an idea that Sarah wouldn’t be in any condition to take the roast out of the oven so I let her rest there lost in her own blissful land of fulfillment.
I walked to the kitchen, pants ruined, tie stretched to the point of ruin, years of frustration washed away and I have never been happier in my life, even in my dreams.
I open the oven to take out the roast. I think to myself how Parallel. Something that Sarah starts that I have to finish for her. That’s just like her quest for me to take her to her deepest point of ecstasy. I put the roast on top of the stove, and wrap it in aluminum foil. Sarah hates when I let things get cold.
I take off the oven mitt and look at the edge of the pan. Promise not to tell anyone but I let my fingertip lightly touch the hot surface. I needed some reminder that this was all really happening. A small burn was no price to pay for bringing my greatest day crashing further into my reality.
I walk back into my bedroom. My beautiful Sarah is laying their like a tortured angel. She looks more peaceful and content than I have ever seen her. Her eyes are still shut but I can see her react to my sound as I enter the room. I lay gently next to her as I untie her wrists. Her pale skin slightly bruised as her own validity of our experience. She still has her eyes closed, so tight. I run my lips against her earlobes.
“It’s okay, I promise I will never let you wake up!”
She turns to me. She can not put into words her excitement over my promise. The promise I made the first day that I met her, that I am now brave enough to keep; that I will make this life into her dream. The promise that no matter how harsh she can be at times, or whatever happens-I will never abandon her.
All she can do is smile at me, and I have a simple question.
“Is that one of your REAL smiles?” The tears in her eyes validate my absurdity and her precious lips are mine again. This is a kiss of thanksgiving, of gratitude, of APPROVAL. I have longed for such a kiss all the days of my life.
She pulls gently away from me, a quizzical look on her face, “How could you keep doing that. Keep giving me pleasures I didn’t know that I wanted so badly, how could you be so selfless?” It’s fair question. It takes a lot to connect with someone, a lot more than fancy quotes from a far off book. She wants to know how I can boldly fulfill her deepest desires for her, not just myself. To give to her what she herself could not admit that she wanted.
I run my fingers through her hair and gently nibble on her ear as I prepare my summation on how I could bring myself to give her what she truly needed. “You deserved it!”
She melted into my arms and her lips into mine for a final time. So many years thinking that because of her boldness that she did not deserve happiness. Only seconds to have that idea invalidated and forcing her to rewrite her entire belief system.
As we held each other in this embrace one last time before her gentle slumber, I spidered my fingers up her side one last time to feel her giggle fill my mouth as we shared our breath, and she went quietly into her well earned rest.
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She’s been asleep for about an hour now. I can’t bring myself to tear away from her beauty. She is so angelic when she sleeps. I don’t know what it will be like when she awakes. I know that we will have to have “the talk”. Realistically nothing is the same. So many boundaries have been melted away, so many lines willingly and enthusiastically crossed. I know we will have to talk about how to move forward, but in all the years we have known each other, neither one of us has had a meaningful relationship. I think we found a deeper level of companionship in each other, so how much has really changed.
I know that something happened. I don’t know when it happened exactly. It could have been when I first noticed how cute she looked in her glasses. It could have been the first smell of her perfume. It could have been when she LOVINGLY insulted my well prepared tragedy (she’s turned me into such a glutton for punishment, it’s sick). It could have been when our ecstasies merged in her bedroom. I don’t know right now, and I am not worried about it. I will figure it out someday. I am not going to lay next to the woman I have dreamed of for so long after the best day of our lives and worry about some obscure detail. That was the old me. That was the me before this long moment. The moment when… our friendship died.
FIN
FOR NOW HAHAHA
The Death of Friendship (M/F-mature content)
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This is my first attempt at tickle fiction in a public forum. I think that we have all made gentle scribbling to a pen pal or a girlfriend, but there is something about the process of putting a piece together for all to see that is a little different. This piece contains some mature content so I would appreciate all the kiddies leave it be and that all the Adults give it their kind attention. I would really like feedback good or bad. Over the process of writing this I really feel like I used every adjective and descriptive phrase that I can and that this represents very close to my limits as a creative writer at present. I can only get better as you share your thoughts and opinions with me. I know that it probably IS too long. It can probably be cut into two neat parts. With the time I put in it’s less like a story and more like a child, so I had a hard time cutting it. As I get more writer cred the stories will become a lot shorter I promise, but right now I wanted to give everyone a look at what I have to offer in its entirety. Just a note, I focus a lot on emotional transformation. This isn’t Cloverfield; this is more LIKE Excalibur or the Lord of the Rings. Please enjoy and give me your honest feedback. Thanks for your time.
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The Death of Friendship
By: JJ82277
We are all born of blood and turmoil. Some of mans greatest moments and achievements came as the result of suffering, bleeding, or even death. Sometimes this death is not that of a person or an army. It can be the death of an institution, ideology, or sense of status-like a friendship. This is the story of such a delicious tragedy that gives life to a new world of possibilities.
Hi my name’s Jim. Sarah and I have been friends for years, ever since we met at college. It’s really weird that we are such good friends. We pretty much come from two different worlds. I’m an Attorney; Sarah is an editor for an alternative fashion magazine. I never had the balls to get a tattoo she has 6. Her nose ring is cute, but I don’t really know how one would go with a tie clip.
I still call her my friend because I am still really trying to process what just happened. I had to tell someone, but promise to be Quiet. I don’t want to wake her. I need to collect my thoughts before we have “the talk” about how things are changing, if they’re changing.
It all started when I came over to her house for dinner. I don’t know why I always do that; I cook better than she does. I take that back, it all makes sense now, but I will get to that later. I had just finished writing my summation for a client of mine on trial for MURDER. Everyone tells me I am a great attorney. My Senior Partners are applauding me for how well I have done this far in trial. Somehow in this world of praise I choose to take refuge in the one person who thinks I am just an average Lawyer. Sick I know, but hey-free food. At least it used to be free.
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I don’t think any of this would have happened had she not put on those reading glasses, but I am the one who always insists that she proofs all my summations and briefs. Sometimes it’s subtle things like that you notice that change the way you see a person, or awaken the truth inside you.
Somehow with the hundreds of years of legal experience at my firm, she is always the one who points out the most flaws in my opinions. I wonder what it must be like being on her staff at the magazine?
She’s tall for a girl, about 5’7”. I was taken back a little when I walked in, she was taller than usual. Normally, she walks around in ankle socks or sneaks, but she was wearing some strikingly cute ankle boots about 3 ½ inches at the heel. Maybe she was going to meet someone after we finished up. With her form fitting jeans and tight black blouse I was almost sure of it. I am generally attracted to full figured women in general but wow, she looked very fetching today. Her flowing red hair was resting on her shoulders, framing her pretty face accentuated by those librarian reading glasses. There’s something about when a beautiful woman looks so professional.
I always feel so nervous when she is reading my work. She’s VERY intelligent, that’s one of the things I like about her. She also prides herself on being BRUTALLY honest. (I personally think that she is FAR too modest in that regard). No matter how perfect my work is she always finds a better way to say this, a split infinitive here, or a useless paragraph there. No matter how harsh she can get I always tell myself, “whatever makes me better in court”. I tell myself that’s what Friends are for.
She set the roast in the oven and brought the last few pages of my summation as she sat next to me on the couch. Sometimes I honestly feel like she pretends to be reading just to increase my anxiety and raise the level of suspense. I smell some new wonderful fragrance; she must be going out after we’re done eating.
She finally finishes and I get a proud look on my face. I took special care preparing this. I have never done more research to prepare for an address to a jury. I’m who people call when they face the needle. From Nathaniel Hawthorne to God himself, I have referenced everyone with an opinion on guilt versus innocence.
Finally she’s done reading. I have become all too familiar with this pretty but stoical expression of hers. She turns to me with a quizzical look, “How many people do you think have heard of Hawthorne?”
“Sarah, I think you’re missing the point, what I’m trying to do is to…”
“Just answer the question Jim, How many people do you think have actually read Hawthorne, or have this extensive a knowledge of the Bible?” she said to me with the most serious of faces. For some reason I keep noticing the contrast of the black reading glasses to her green eyes and fiery red hair.
“It’s not important that they know where the quotes came from, It’s important that they carry the message that I am trying to present.” It seemed like a good point to me.
“People don’t give a shit about logical messages, Jim. You know that better than anyone. People need emotion and something they can connect with. This isn’t some law paper. You are trying to convince twelve people that a man doesn’t deserve to die, not that you are the best at looking up obscure quotes in books they never read. These Twelve people didn’t go to law school and don’t care how many fancy quotes you can find. They only care about feeling safe when they go home at night, and that you’re client if set free won’t be the one to hurt them.” Like I said, she’s really smart… and BRUTALLY HONEST.
“You can’t be serious Sarah, I spent days preparing this.”
“Well a few more won’t hurt you if you. You do want your client to LIVE don’t you.” In a way she’s right. Maybe it was a little over the top. I always had a hard time gauging my audience. I just never really felt comfortable with the almost overconfidence she has when she’s criticizing me. It’s almost like she takes joy in it.
She put down my last page, only to pick up a can of tea. As she sat there sipping her tea I could only think to myself: days and hours of hard work, invalidated. I just stared at her for what seemed like hours, but only lasted a few seconds.
“What?” I’m sure she could feel my stare. “If you wanted someone to lie to you and stroke your ego I think that you came to the wrong door,” she got that one right, “you’re a big boy you can handle it. I’m more worried about the life of your client than the way that you feel about me telling you the TRUTH about what you WERE going to say to twelve ordinary people. You’re a smart boy it won’t take you long to rewrite it.” She enjoyed this too much. She just sat there drinking her tea as if nothing was wrong, and I just kept staring.
“You’re amazing you know that.”
“Yeh, yeh I know I know, I’m a loudmouth who says what’s on her mind. Let the world beware. Some people might not like it, but hey it’s who I am. That’s the price I pay for being me I guess.” She said it so casually as if there wasn’t a care I the world. As if her words should have had no lasting effect on me. It’s very easy to plant the seeds of evil.
“It could be worse. Some Guy could get really pissed off and decide to get you back.”
Those words struck deep within her. My intentions needed no clarification. I almost felt guilty for how much I playfully ticked my good friend (who is VERY ticklish) over the years, but hell-she deserved it.
She stopped drinking her tea immediately and looked me right in the eyes, “DON’T YOU DARE!” Those have to be my three favorite words. Tickling Sarah is one of the few activities guaranteed to make Sarah smile. Even then she doesn’t give up easily. I always liked her tough girl attitude trying not to laugh while I tickle her. Futility can be the greatest form of entertainment. She already lowered her arms in anticipation.
“Don’t What”
“You better not tickle me, I’m serious I am NOT in the mood.” After all these years you’d think that for such a smart girl she would have figured out that the “STERN VOICE” just makes me want to tickle her more. She’s so confident hiding behind her librarian rims. As if mere words could stop me?
“Okay okay, what do you think I am >? Could you hand me my papers? I would like to use it as a road map for the NEXT version.” It’s so easy to lie with the truth. She always falls for it when I stroke her ego.
“I’m Glad that you see the light, trust me you won’t regret it. Frankly you’re better than what you wrote, but it does show real POTENTIAL” She picked shuffled the pages together and handed it to me with her left hand which was closest to me on the couch. I didn’t even bother taking the paper out of her hand. I just pinned her outstretched arm against the couch with my right side and pounced on her (silly girl). She let out an initial squeal, but then tried desperately to keep her composure as my left hand began lightly probing her right side.
“You’re such a Fucking Liar!!!” she exclaimed at the top of her lungs while trying desperately to bat my left hand away. I am just playing with her now. I can’t hide the huge grin on my face. This is my favorite game in the world.
“You know you can’t make me laugh…ohhhhhhhhh,” see, I told you she deserves it. She might have gotten off with a few playful pokes but now she’s challenging me. Hey I Played football my whole life, I don’t back down from challenges.
I reach my right hand behind her trapped arm to her vulnerable left side just to remind her that she is really helpless and that gets her to let out a nice little squeal but I’m not ready to finish her yet. In classic Sarah fashion, she doesn’t get the point that she is trapped and starts fighting viciously against my ministrations. Not that it’s bad yet, she just doesn’t want to give me the satisfaction of laughing. It’s almost as if she reads my mind on how to make this more fun for me. I guess that’s just what good friends do.
Why is it that ticklish girls always think they can fight you off? You’d think they would just take what’s coming to them and hope that you have mercy on them. She’s actually doing a decent job of keeping my left hand away from her sensitive stomach sides and ribs, but I’m not really trying that hard yet. She actually looks kind of cute when she thinks she has a chance. Besides, feeling her struggling against me is half the fun (especially since she is destined to loose)
“So I can’t make you laugh huh”
I let her pin my left hand to the top of her left thigh and she looks me dead in the eye, “NO, YOU CAN’T.” I don’t know why but I really LOVE seeing her like this. She’s so confident, such a tease, such a smart ass. For some reason whenever I tickle Sarah the most fun part is her persistent defiance. That defiance is like the spring of life. It’s so much fun to strip it away from her… SLOWLY.
I push her back onto the couch her arm still pinned next to me. I pin her down with my sheer body weight; she’s not going any where. Her legs are still hanging off the couch but I have her upper body pinned for my fun. It’s a rush of empowering sensation to feel someone breathing beneath you COMPLETLEY HELPLESS, unable to move away. She’s completely powerless, and too proud to admit it. Her defiant attitude and desperate struggling against me are perfect inspiration for my nimble fingers and evil desires. I almost feel sorry for her, but she deserves it.
Both my arms free to explore any ticklish part of her. I have done this a thousand times before but for some reason today I am very conscious of her large breasts rising under me as she breathes, how beautiful her exposed neck looks, and how intoxicating her perfume is. It’s almost hard to concentrate, but my instincts for tickling her have me on sadistic autopilot. So far she has only rewarded me with a half smirk as she looks up at me nervously to say, Her refusal to smile is taken as a direct insult. She’s only making things much worse in her TICKLISH situation.
“CHEATER!” Her voice dripping with mock anger, even she knows that she deserves this deep down inside. I can see a look of anticipation and excitement in her piercing green eyes. Sarah is so serious all the time, I think she needs to feel SILLY sometimes.
“That’s Mr. Cheater to you young lady” still holding onto her spirit like a good girl. I love it when she puts up a fight. It makes my inevitable triumph even more enjoyable. The Sadist inside me really enjoys having her make REALLY fucked up decisions.
I sneak my right hand up to lightly spider tickler her neck, she really can’t stand that. She has to choke back a giggle to maintain her composure. This is too much fun. I don’t tickle too deliberately just yet. I want the game to last. Psychologically though, she knows what I could make her feel on her neck.
Now she’s really fighting to get her left arm free. She tries to bat my hand away with her right hand but that only leaves her side wide open. I snake my left hand under her shirt to lightly tickle her smooth stomach, and massage her sides. Her pride has her squirming like a snake in a futile effort to deny me her beautiful laughter. Silly girl. She’s gritting her teeth and holding her breath fighting a battle that she lost when I walked into her apartment.
Finally I can see the dam beginning to break and her beautiful smile about to form. The first few giggles begin to escape her lips and that only serves to embolden me. I almost feel bad for her. It’s only going to get worse from here. I feel so proud of myself seeing the control freak breaking in front of me.
“Which one Sarah, You’re neck or your sides” See, fucked up decisions, she meets the question initially with an angry grunt between giggles. I really enjoy teasing her. She is REALLY ticklish and I love making her realize it, slowly. It’s really fun to watch her flail her arm deciding which area to feebly defend.
“Fuck youhheheheheheheheheheheehehehe” as you can see, she’s undecided, like any good friend I decide for her… BOTH.
It’s pretty much over when I bring my hand down to squeeze her hips. It’s all about timing with her. You always wait until mid insult to tickle her worst spots. It’s so fun to watch her just let go and laugh (especially when it’s because of me). It has to be the sweetest music that I have heard all day. I can feel her kicking her legs, bucking against me, yearning for freedom, and release from her torment. The confidence and defiance lost in a sea of giggles and waves of thrashing to get away from my constant torment. Such a sweet predicament I love putting her in. Lucky for her she’s a friend. As you know, Tickling does THINGS to me, and I don’t want to push it too far.
I torture her for a few more minute, just so she gets the POINT.
Reluctantly, having had my fun I unpin her arm and let her up. She actually has a tear streaming down her left cheek. I’m proud of myself now >.
“Awwwww, what’s the matter is the little baby ticklish?”
“You know you’re an Asshole.” She playfully punched me in the arm as she unruffled her shirt.
“You’re brutally honest and I tickle you for it. What a pair we make: you and I.”
“So how was work today?” I try to change the subject, I’ve teased her enough. Normally this is where the conversation would have gone to how things were at the magazine, how I was going to rewrite my summation, etc. For some reason she didn’t want to let it go.
“You know it’s really MEAN to tickle someone like that.” She said in a surprisingly and very playful tone.
“Oh come on you’re a tough girl you can take a lil tickling can’t you. And it’s not exactly nice to invalidate someone’s hard work in 30 seconds either. I guess that means we’re even.” Did you ever notice that most smart asses can’t take what they dish out?
“That’s right I am a TOUGH GIRL, that’s why I’m never going to LET you tickle me again.” She must have been kidding!
“Really, you’re never going to LET me”
“Nope!” She kept shaking her head back and forth with this evil grin on her face. This girl was challenging me. She obviously didn’t know who she was dealing with.
“Hey whatever, the last thing I want to do is get beat up by a magazine editor. The guys at the firm would never let me live that one down.” Stroke her ego, wait for the opening, I should really write a paper on it.
She then looks at me right in the eye with the “STERN VOICE” again and says “That’s RIGHT! I wouldn’t want to have to EMBARASS you.” As always, her comments were punctuated with a sly smirk.
Apparently some radioactive spider bit her in the time I just tickled her near tears and now when she adopted this mock tough girl attitude. That familiar defiant smirk was still tormenting me as she turned to look for the remote on the stand next to the couch. See, there’s my opening
Then I just grabbed both her legs and pulled them onto the couch and her closer to me. I pounced on top of her pinning her down again with my body weight. I love a challenge!!! I pinned both of her arms down with hands. I was straddling the backs of her legs and my face was right next to hers. Surprisingly she had the biggest grin on her face (trust me, I am going to make it bigger). I tried my best not to fully rest my waist against her backside, after all we’re friends. I’m not going to hold back as much this time. I’m just going to let her have it on her ticklish torso. After all, she deserves it.
“So you’re not going to let me tickle you anymore”
“hehe, NO, I’m going to use my superpowers to throw you off me just you wait.”
Apparently she bought into the whole radioactive spider thing too, but I didn’t see any around. In the meantime I thought it prudent to keep us both entertained, so I went right for her hips, both hands, full tickle. It was amazing, she just started screaming and laughing right away. I know that she wanted to hold her hysterical laughter in, but I was in no mood for games. It was time to show her whose boss. I just wanted drink in her dizzy laughter like a fine wine, and it didn’t look like I would run out any time soon. Her violent thrashing into me was a nice ADDED BENEFIT.
I could feel every muscle in her body writhing under me. Man this girl was strong. It was almost too much fun to have such a strong girl helpless under me. She was really ticklish on her hips. She tried to push my hands away with her arms but it was beyond futile. She was getting the daylights tickled out of her and only God himself could stop me-even then he would have to ask nicely!
“So you’re sure you’re not going to let me tickle you anymore?”
“hhhehehehehehehehheheheheheeeeeeheheh NEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER”
“Oh well that’s a relief. That means I can never do this again.” I put my hands into both her pockets. Man these jeans are tight. I start massaging her pocket points at the front of her hips and she just looses it. She just starts roaring for me, my ticklish lioness.
“OH SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IIIIT NOT THERE hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaah”
The only problem is that I am REALLY starting to like the way she is bucking up against me trying to get free. She’s never been accused of having a small bum and it’s starting to rub up against certain PARTS, and like I said, we are friends.
I relent a little, just so that I can ask her more fucked up questions. “So what do you think about my summation now?”
She just sucks in much needed air for about five seconds. “You know…I think it REALLY SUCKED!!” For some reason hearing those words kindled something inside me. I couldn’t quite make it out, but it was even more delicious than her maniacal laughing. The warmth of my sadistic urge is now throbbing in my temples being fed by the words of her delicious defiance.
In the mean time she needed to get it for that so I started spidering my fingers underneath her shirt, lightly tickling her soft skin (and boy it was soft) up and down from her waist to the top of her ribcage. All she could do was squirm left and right beneath me. It was beautiful. Every kiss of my fingertips DEMANDED a new futile gyration. Her arms were pretty much useless at this point. And it only got better from here.
“It heheheheheheheeheehe REALLY REALLLLLLLLLLLLLLY hehehehehe SUCKED hhahahahahaahahahahaahahahaha NOT THE RIBS.. hehehehehehehehehe ehehehe YOU ohhohohohohohohohhohooh WENT TO hohohohohoohohoh LAW SCHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL?”
Okay the librarian glasses were a start, the tight jeans, the sexy boots, they were all present in my mind, but this encouraging her tickle torture was REALLY starting to turn me on. I felt wave after wave of euphoria coming over me. All I could hear was her laughing. It was so beautiful. It’s all I could think about. How beautiful it was to hear my friend just let go and laugh. I accidentally nudged the side of her breast through her bra. I felt the instant desire to probe more, but I couldn’t-WE’RE FRIENDS. But the thought was INTOXICATING.
I stepped back and flipped her over onto her back. She was very surprised at how easily I tossed her from one side of her body to the other. Her nicely toned thighs were a warm greeting for my legs as I straddled her once again, ensuring she had no escape. Her chest was heaving up and down as she was sucking in air. She was out of breath, gasping for air, and SMILING.
“Are you ready to apologize yet?”
“HELL NO!” She said as she wiped the plastered hair from her face. Whose side was she on, hers or mine? She was playing pretty well for my side so far. I have NEVER seen her like this (in real life anyway).
“Okay then, Let’s count Sarah’s Ribs” She instinctively pulled her arms down to her side in the classic don’t tickle me posture and that’s what I was waiting for. I wrapped my left arm around her torso pinning her arms to her side and her to my chest. I used my right hand to mischievously explore the ultra ticklish zone right around her neck and shoulders. Her outpour of giggles was priceless because it was right into my ear. There was nothing she could do to stop me, and that made me feel so GOOD inside. She was squirming and gyrating beneath me, sending all kinds of messages through my nerve endings as she tried in vein to free herself from the prison of my body weight.
“Are you sorry?”
“Noeheheheheheheeheheheheheheehheehehehheh”
“How about now?” I reached my hand back down to squeeze and massage her hips. She could do nothing but squirm up against my firm grip and I loved it. “Tickle Tickle Tickle.” I whispered gently into her ear.
“Okay okay heheheheheheheheheheheheh I’m sorry” Victory.
“SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT.” RUBBING IT IN
“IM SORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRYY heheheheheh” .
Finally I let her up. She’s a mess: her hair gone wild, her glasses gone crooked, her shirt wrinkled, face flushed with red, gasping for air. What can I say, I do good work!
“Water…” Is all she can say. I get up to get her bottled water, hoping that I can conceal the subtle beginnings that have started within me. I feel a little guilty, but boy that was fun. Very rarely do I ever LET GO when I tickle Sarah, and this was the worst yet. It was even better than I dreamed it would be, but that’s between us.
I couldn’t help but steal a glance at her from the kitchen. She looked so different, missing her venire of overconfidence and sarcasm. She was straightening her glasses and her shirt, rubbing her hair back into place, still getting her breath back to normal. I don’t think she will be forgetting this any time soon.
I always feel pretty good when I get through tickling Sarah, but there was something ELSE. Something about today, is different. She always provokes me subtly or overtly depending on her mood, but today its provoking different parts of me.
I return to the couch. She has propped her legs up onto the couch with her knees in her chest (probably to keep me from attacking again). I hand her the bottle of water and she takes a long hard sip.
“What, no thank you???” What can I say? I can be a tease too.
“Thank you??? It’s your fault that I’m out of breath and thirsty in the first place. You with all your TICKLING.” She punctuated it with a playful kick in the arm with her boot.
“Don’t kick me”
“Or what???” there’s this new evil grin again? She placed her left boot on my right arm. For some reason the smile on her face just kept getting bigger and bigger.
“I SAID… Don’t Kick Me”
With that she pushed my arm with her left foot and laughed at me from behind her librarian glasses. I snatched her left ankle and placed her foot on my lap. I immediately went for the zipper when then I heard it… Silence. No protest, no fidgeting, no struggling, no squirming. I let go of her ankle and her foot lay there gyrating almost inviting my invasion.
I looked at Sarah, her eyes locked on her endangered ped. I looked at her, and only silence. Then it broke. I heard a single breath. It was a type of breath that I had barely dreamed to her from her. That is all it took for me to know the truth of what was happening. That is all that it took for Fear to die.
I pulled her to me violently. She dropped the bottle of water to the ground as though it never existed. I sat her firmly in my lap and just looked at her. She stared at me almost in a trance. She couldn’t hide behind her glasses anymore.
The look in her eyes told me all that I needed to know about the lies I had been told. Years of Tension died as our lips met. The excitement was building between both our bodies. This was a Kiss so long overdue, and yet arriving at the PERFECT time. Our breath finally melded into one after all these years. One hand gently caressed her side, the other getting tangled in her long fiery hair. I can feel her hands caressing the back of my neck as she kisses me back. Is this a Dream? Is this really happening?
I take a small break from her lips as mine find refuge on her soft neck. Her eyes closed so tight she whispers so softly in my ear, “I don’t want to wake up.” This is just a subtle preview of her repressed emotions and passions.
My lips meet hers again, as our minds are already together. I can feel her tongue against mine, and the electricity of sharing the same breath. My hand starts to spider lightly at her waist line, I can feel her squirm so gently, trying not to break the kiss or to giggle into me, but not fighting me. The taste of her mouth and her gentle writhing are almost too much to take at once, but I can’t get enough. I can tell that she enjoys our little game. I tease her waistline ever so persistently, causing her to giggle in the back of her throat as our mouths are locked. A slight massage of her waist causes her to break from me… breathless.
“You know you don’t have to kick me if you don’t want me to stop tickling you Sarah! It’s okay to like it!” Now it’s my turn to be the smart ass.
“I don’t like it.” She’s lying to me. Eyes still shut. Breath erratic, she’s lying to me. She’s still hiding. Her defiance is lasting even now.
“Really,” my hand starts to lightly trail along her inner thighs. She gasps in approval. It’s almost not fair. I have her, ALL of her. “You don’t like it at all? Not even a little?”
“Noooooooooooooooooo.” Her voice is quivering now. Even when she is clearly broken she still holds my satisfaction like a prize. All confessions of the masochistic mind are wrapped in the blanket of a lie they need to have exposed for them.
“I think someone’s Lyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyying.” Sometimes the most intense form of communication is the most well placed whisper.
“I don’t like it,” her lips lie to me, but her body betrays her; her legs moving in time with my knowing hand.
“What do I get if you’re lying?” It’s so unfair. That is such an audacious question in such a circumstance.
“mmmmmmmmmmmmm” is all that she can manage in response. My hand is now actively massaging her inner thigh, slowly. Her legs are gently yielding to my kind caress. I know what she wants. She wants to confess, but she can’t. My prize is not hers to give, it is mine to take.
“If you’re lying I get to do WHATEVER I want to you, for as long as I want, no matter how much you SCREAM!” I punctuate my threat with another gentle caress of her stomach. It causes her to stir, but it will take more than that to jolt her out of her rhythmic trance.
She leans against me for comfort. Almost Ironic, the place she feels safest is in the arms of her tormentor. “Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay” she moans into my ear.
The truth has long since been told and received. Our relationship has changed in ways I have only dared to dream of. All that remains now is to complete HER fantasy.
She gasps as I begin to unbuckle her pants. She knows the result. I take my time. I am not letting her off easy. She deserves this. Every time that she told me I wasn’t good enough, every sly remark, every time she dismissed me. She REALLY deserves this.
I can hear her sighing nervously as I part the top of her Jeans. If she opened her eyes she would see the wicked smile plastered across my face. As my hands tease the waste line of her newly exposed lace undergarment I am greeted by the moans and squeals of approval as her warm nervous and excited breath caresses my ear. I know that she can’t bear to watch, so I make her wait as long as I can stand. She deserves it.
I finally trace the outline of the damp warmth that I anticipated. Her gasps, squeals and squirms begin anew with this subtle torture. Now her secret lust is fully exposed. The score card already won has been turned in, but her fantasy is not complete.
“Awwwwwwwwwww, someone’s a liar!” As if at all possible she squeezes me even tighter. The implications of her predicament are truly sinking in for the first time. Inside her the delicious consequences of her unbridled enjoyment must be cascading around her mind, driving her even further towards sheer excitement.
“Look at me Sarah,” For all the years that I had waited, I was going to enjoy this. I could feel her shaking her head back and forth against my shoulder. She couldn’t look at me, I knew it. That’s exactly why she had to. It’s what she wanted.
“Look at me Sarah,” I repeat again. She reluctantly takes her head from my shoulder. Her arms are frozen. I brush the hair gently out of her face even though she looks away. Such a dominant personality, so in control all the time, so confident, ALL mine. The gift that she had given me was not made of gold or silver. It was her pride: the pride that pushed me away for so long and that I was too afraid to take before now. But not today, not on the day that Fear dies.
She finally looks at me. I can see the emotions swimming in her teary eyes. In all my wildest daydreams, she has never looked this magnificent. Her breathing let’s me know how long she’s wanted this. I can see how afraid she was to ask, to admit what she needed. Now her fear is all mine.
“What happens to liars Sarah?” Usually such an innocent question, but in this moment it is more loaded than a policeman’s sidearm. I know she can’t bear to speak it, but she has to. It’s what she wants. She is usually so full of words, now she is sitting before me speechless. The reversal of power warms places deep inside, some I didn’t even know about.
She just stares back at me. I can tell the words are caught in her throat. I can’t blame her. Such an emotional transition, it happened so fast. How could she speak, but she had to.
“What happens to liars SARAH?” This time I make sure that she can see my evil grin and how much I am enjoying her mental anguish over her purchased confession. My hands begin to lightly caress the top of her delicate stomach. I get oh so close to the undersides of her precious peaks. “Come on Sarah, you’re such a SMART Girl, you have an answer for everything I know you can tell me.”
As my fingers subtly help the situation sink in, her EVIL grin starts to sneak back. That’s my girl. “They get punished.” She is barely able to say it above a whisper.
“I’m sorry I can’t here you!” My hands acting more deliberately now, making her situation all the more uncomfortable. With nothing left to defend, she lets her instincts finally take over.
“THEY GET PUNNISHED!” There’s my “STERN VOICE” that I love so much. With that she straddled my lap and kissed me even more deeply than before. The initial shock of our transition was wearing off and she was freely enjoying the moment. I loved the feeling of the subtle wisps of red hair that dangled on my face as she kissed me deeply. Both her hands are now resting firmly on the couch behind me.
My sneaky fingers mischievously found their way to her open hollows. The electric ticklish jolt hit her immediately, but she started to fight just as quickly. Not fighting against it, but fighting to endure it. To enjoy the intimacy of our connection, and the inevitable torment that came with it in one glorious wave of pleasure for her.
I could sense her grabbing tighter and tighter onto the couch material and the giggles being stifled in the back of her throat as we shared our breath. Like anyone would in my situation I made it as hard as possible for her with my skilled fingers. After all, she deserves it.
Finally she started to giggle into me once again, and it only drove her to kiss me harder now. There was no more hiding, no more games, she was allowing me into the deepest parts of her that she had kept hidden for so long, and that I had only dreamt existed.
Teasing her neck again caused her to break the passion of our kiss and let her delicious laughter pour out audibly once again. The lust in her eyes was evident of her second wind.
She leaned back into me to start kissing my neck and nibbling my earlobes. The feelings were electric against my skin. This overwhelming affirmation of her affection thundered in my heart. I have longed for her approval for so long. The sensation is so warm, it washes over me completely. I just sit and take in the moment for a while as she continues to please me with her sweet lips. The part of me that is still wondering if all this is happening slowly melts away with every brush of her lips against my neck, and every warm breath in my sensitive ears. Slowly, this is how Doubt died.
“So you think you can PUNISH me huh?” Words can barely describe how her lips are making me feel as my hands caress her. Her familiar tone returning as she takes her new form. The audacity of her words tuned me on to no end.
“MMMMM, Still defiant I see.”
She has never laughed in such a sultry seductive manner, not even in my dreams, “Silly boy. I will always be Defiant… Stubborn… and BITCHY… The only question is, ‘what are you going to DO ABOUT IT’ hehehe?” Somehow she has read the diary that I have never kept. Seen the fantasies I was never honest with myself about. The same tone that once kept us apart now holds us together in a seductive magnetism.
All at once, it happened so fast, I threw her to the couch. She licked her lips and looked invitingly up into my eyes. I pick her up in my arms with ease. Her eyes light up in amazement. Her arms wrap around my neck and her lips return there as well. I rarely go into her bedroom, we were just friends. Now it is MY bedroom, and the sacred venue for her first REAL torture. Feeling her passionate lips explore me, I can’t tell who is more excited: she or I?
I brush her beddings aside. I don’t want them ruined by her desperate thrashing for mercy, and she will thrash. I promise you. I throw her onto the bed. Only a pillow is left to keep her comfort. She lifts her boot to tease my pants line as I loosen my tie. Like I said, she deserves this. I take off my tie, loosen my top buttons, roll up my sleeves and set about my business. Before she could not bear to look at me; now with lust filled eyes, she can’t bear to look away. Her smile looks so evil, so seductive, so inviting.
“Hands against the headboard.” I don’t want her to be able to get away from me. This is my favorite Tommy Hilfiger Tie. More valuable possessions have been wasted on endeavors far less momentous than this. Her boot never left my pant line, and now she shakes her head playfully in defiance. I’m certain she can read my mind.
“Make me!” Almost before she can finish, I grab her teasing leg and pull her to me. I pin her down beneath me, and press her arms high above her head. I am looking her right in eyes, through her librarian glasses. I can see her longing for the blissful helplessness of the not so distant future. I hold her wrists in place and begin to tie them together. To try and break my concentration her left thigh seeks for the arousal between my legs, and her lips seek mine. I pull back my head, denying her request and leaving her to her frustration. I am set about my business. She will lie helplessly bound before me.
I slide her beneath me, relishing the sensation of her moving against my body. All my nerves are alive and awaiting her delicious input. As I begin to tie the loose end of my mock rope to the rail in the headboard she begins her mock protest struggling beneath me. She is not trying to get free, she just likes the reminder of her helplessness that my firm body weight is pleased to give. The persistence of her gyrations only adds to my arousal.
A simple tie, for a simple task: the task of making her mine. I have longed for this charge for so long, the weight of the situation sinking in. I only have one chance, one chance to do this one thing right, one chance to consummate he change in our relationship forevermore.
Now she lies helpless, unable to stop me from exploring every inch of her quivering TICKLISH body. She tests her bonds. She knows that there is no escape. Ironically I can see her become more relaxed as she realizes her predicament. She has wanted this for so long. I almost envy her as I straddle her waist. My evil leer is met by her familiar confident smirk. I’m glad she has her spirits about her. Her precious defiance is like a spring of living water, freshly renewed as soon as it is consumed again. Luckily, my thirst for her complete submission is insatiable, fed by years of endless teasing, taunting, and delicious criticism that will all be brought to bear.
“You know you have been REALLY mean to me over the past few years… This is what happens To Mean girls Sarah!” I emphasize my threat by ripping open her black button up shirt. She proudly presents her breasts through her lacy black lingerie. My fingertips gently kiss her freshly exposed skin, and there is no escape. All she can do is close her eyes, moan deeply, and move in time with my teasing caress. She balls her hands into tight little fists as she deals with the sensations that are invading her mind.
“mmmmmmmmm You promise!” This is her reply. This is the final ratification of her demise. As her hands are tied above and behind her, her torso is stretched revealing the perfection of her ribcage. My gentle caressing turns to subtle probing as I begin to massage the skin gently into the bone and the hollows between.
This is how it started, and this is how the end will begin: with my gentle teasing and her defiance to give me the beautiful laughter that haunts my dreams. She tries so hard for me. I know that now. It would be so easy for her to give in and surrender to the giggles building inside of her, but she is fighting for me. She’s fighting because she knows that I Love to break her, and the warm sense of omnipotence that each triumph spurs deep within me.
“You better not laugh; otherwise it will get MUCH MUCH WORSE!!!” The verbal teasing makes it much worse for her. I can see it in her face as the words hit gently home. She wants to retort, she wants to scream, she wants to get away, but if she breaks back her concentration on holding in her precious laughter then the dam will burst and I will have won. I almost feel guilty for causing such conflict within her, but as I said-She deserves it.
Finally it takes over me, and I have let go completely. The time for teasing has come and gone. Now the real fun can begin. My finger snakes up to her exposed porcelain hollow and she can not react in time to the new configuration of my ministrations. The burst of laughter is instant. Her arms try to jerk down only for her simple bondage to hold her fast. There is no escape. Her desperate laughter is a new tone, helplessness altering the intensity of the ticklish sensations.
“I told you it would get worse.” I can tell that she wanted to say SOMETHING, but I didn’t give her the chance. She had had years to say what she wanted to say. Now it was MY TURN. Both of my hands danced lightly in her exposed hollows. My nimble fingers are gently circling their outermost rim, only to scurry furiously into the centers. Her laughter is pouring out like the River Jordan, giving new life to my evil intentions.
Finally I hear her start to scream. It is punctuated by her furious struggles at her bonds and her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow. Her cute librarian glasses threaten to fly off. I have dreamt of this so much, and only now do I understand the splendor of her helplessness. Her every shriek and scream a symphony of my superiority. The tears streaming gently down her face like the wax sealing the envelope of her submission to me. Finally, after all these years.
I stop the cruel tickling of her hollows just for a moment. Not out of mercy, I just don’t want my beauty to run out of air before I am done with her. I want to hear her full laughter the entire time that I torment her, and only her.
She lies there gasping in air desperately. I would blindfold her but I don’t she can open her eyes. I can see in how tightly she closes them that she is still afraid, afraid she might WAKE UP.
“This is what happens to MEAN GIRLS SARAH!!!” This is the anthem of my torment. I can not let her forget it. She has to be reminded of how she makes me feel with her cold criticism, tearing down the best of me, insulting my most brilliant ideas, tearing down my perfect lie. Now it’s my turn to be mean. Even as she regains her breath she cannot manage a reply.
My fingers return to gently kissing the flesh of her torso. Her body begins to move in time again, not wanting to break the delicious discomfort of my teasing caress. She almost whimpers as my fingers begin to circle her navel. This is an area far too often guarded by garment that is not the case today. Now it is bare for the entire world to see, bared just to be my prey.
The radius of my teasing circle gets shorter and shorter. She holds her breath as her hips can’t help but rise and aid me in my task. She can’t help but bring her skin closer to me so that I can fill her deepest desires. A steady stream of giggles pours out of her sweet lips as I get closer and closer.
Part of her wants to get away, to get free, and to stop me. But that sorrowed minority is over ruled by the burning within her that can’t wait for her torment to be renewed. My index finger closes in and probes her depth. New streams of belly laughter can be heard filling the room, my ears, and my waiting heart. I am greeted by a renewed strength in her bucking against me. Her body’s internal conflict is playing out before me. Now I don’t have to hide what these gyrations are doing to me. After all, we aren’t JUST FRIENDS any more.
I can see the frustration building within her. Her pelvis rising to meet my body weight is pleasing her, but not neat in the way she desires. I hope she knows how I felt. Never quite getting the CREDIT that I deserved… no matter how hard I tried to IMPRESS HER.
“Come on Sarah, say something funny, say something smart, and tell me what I’m doing WRONG.” I can see that she her lick her lips through her giggles. I don’t know if it’s the writhing beneath me or hearing what she wants to be told. I think it is a combination of both. Either way, I am not ready for either to stop. It is not often that Sarah is at a loss for words. Her forced silence is like a badge of honor for me that I will wear on my heart always-even if it only lasts a few more fleeting moments.
As I move to massaging the points within her pockets I can here a deep moan. This is more than just a flirty or even torturous tickle. This is also a little OTHER stimulation. The front of her pelvic bone is so sensitive. It yields to me all the precious feedback of approval that has been denied to me for so long. Her back arches off the bed, her giggles intertwined with sighs of pleasure. Her pelvis rises violently to increase the pressure against me, but I lift up to deny her. The seeds of Evil are easy to plant.
I’ve waited years for the release from her torment; she can wait a little longer for hers.
“What’s the matter Sarah, is there something you WANT?” I love asking questions I know the answer to. It’s every lawyer’s secret pleasure. Today I have a VERY transparent whiteness on the stand, her confession already signed.
“hehehe Oh My God mmm” Words finally return to her again, if only briefly. I pause with her delicate hip bone to climb to the head of the bed, and by beautiful blushing beauty. I let my lips brush ever so lightly against the soft skin of her neck. She shudders suddenly. I know what that does to her. I take pleasure in causing her distress. I gently begin to nibble her ear lobe and kiss her ever so softly. My warm breath begins to tease her.
I barely whisper, “I’m sorry dear, GOD CAN’T HELP YOU RIGHT NOW.” I can see her lick her lips again in anticipation as the message of her continued plight hits softly home. She can’t bear to say it, but I can see her mouth the words, thank you.
With every passing second, all of her belongs more and more to me and me alone. I let my fingers trail delicately over the tops of her caged breasts as I climb off of her and stand next to the bed. I do not step lightly. I want her to hear me walking. I want her to hear every step as I walk to the foot of the bed. I want her to know that every step takes her closer to her greatest fear. Her feet are excruciatingly TICKLISH. She hides them from the world, but she can no longer hide them from ME. I know this may seem cruel psychological torment, but as I said-She deserves it.
I sit down at the foot of the bed. She tries to pull her delicate feet away from me. I grab her ankles unapologetically. I have her ankles locked under my right arm, my left playing with the zipper to her sexy left boot. She fidgets away from me. She knows what’s coming. I let the game continue. I am in no rush. This isn’t one of Sarah’s scheduled events, this was MY TIME. I am going to use as much of it as I see fit.
I finally come to my business, unzipping her left boot fully. I pull at the heel GENTLY, just moving it an inch or so. I run my fingers along the top of her shoe.
“Is there a ticklish little foot in here? Come on… You can tell me!!!” She is beyond the ability to speak, and I know that. Her renewed futile kicks to free her legs are the only defiance left in her. Even her most witty retort and an army of men could not separate me from the task at hand. “I’ll make you a deal, if you can keep you shoe on, I won’t tickle your poor feet OKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!”
This is cruel. She has no chance. Her hands are tied. Her words are lost in a sea of emotion and unbridled sensation she has never experienced before. She can barely muster the strength to kick anymore. This is pure torture, right down to her very core. As I Said, she deserves it.
She sneaks her boot back onto her heel with steady gyration. A simple enough first test. I tug at her heel playfully. I can sense her scrunching her toes inside her teasing footwear. I want the game to last. I have all the time in the world. Years of waiting can afford a few seconds to build the tension of delicious anticipation. I tug on the heel of her shoe more deliberately. I pull it two inches off of her heel. It’s a little harder for her to make it back into the shoe. To add to her plight I add two knowing fingers to tease the soft exposed heel of her left foot through the mock protection of her cute white ankle socks. I have resigned to the fact that she knows all my darkest fantasies.
Her stream of giggles is freshly renewed. Her foot wiggles so beautifully in my grasp. Watching its trapped form struggle under my cruel touch sent waves of power inspired lust washing over me, again and again. Her musical laughter is the perfect backdrop to my Evil game. Her foot jerks back, trying to escape my cruel touch. It is no use, it is trapped. The only thing it succeeds in doing is inching her protection further and further off of her heel. With every square inch of skin that is exposed, my attack goes higher, and higher. I am driving my laughing beauty closer and closer to my prize.
Finally, as my knowing hands find a ticklish arch her toes give up their delicate fight and her shoe falls delicately off her foot. I brush it off the side of the bed. I let the large clunk of her boot hitting the ground serve as just another audible reminder that her fate has been sealed a LONG LONG time ago.
“Uh oh, I think you dropped something Sarah ahahaha.” I can feel her cringe at my sly remark. She is used to being the one laughing at me. It doesn’t feel quite as good when the shoe is OFF the other foot. I bend down to bring her bared foot in its cute white sock to my lips. I take in the deep aroma. It smells perfectly of her light delicate perspiration and the lotion used to keep it ever so soft… and sensitive. I begin kissing her delicate foot through the sock. I nuzzle my nose between her toes and gently kiss the length of her sole. I can tell that she is surprise by this strange form of kindness.
Sarah’s confidence is her undoing. All that you have to do is stroke her ego, and wait for the opening. My humble worship of her socked sole has a dualistic purpose. I want her to be completely relaxed when it starts. I can feel her body moving rhythmically, enjoying the warmth of my mouth on her delicate sole. I hear one solemn moan escape her clinched lips and that is my opening.
Suddenly Five fingers invade her poor delicate ticklish sole. I keep her other shoe on just so she will have a false sense of protection. It’s fun watching her try in vein to protect her Ticklish foot from my cruel fingers. She tries so hard… but it’s meaningless, invalidated, and not nearly good enough to stop my evil onslaught.
I stop suddenly, “You know… Mean girls don’t get ANY protection Sarah...” She lets out the cutest whimper. She knows without being told what comes next. Her baited breath tells me that she truly cannot wait. I rip off the protection of her sock. Her pale sole is so precious. It is devoid of any flaw. Her delicate bare foot is an object of my obsession from being hidden from my gaze inside sneakers and boots. I delicately trace the top of her pale delicate foot, the toes painted my favorite dark shade of plumb. She twitches so cutely. Her skin is perfect. Her nerves are responsive.
Without warning I unzip and rip off the other shoe. The sock soon follows. Now I have her beautiful bare feet before me.
“What pretty feet you have my dear…”
“Thank you…” her voice barley returns. It is quivering in the excitement to come. No where to run, no columns to proof, no deadline to keep. She is finally free to enjoy her deepest fantasies.
Her final act of kindness is to point her toes forward, scrunching her wrinkly soles inviting my loving kiss. I taste her delicious toes gently. My tongue is ever so softly caressing the very tips of her ticklish toes. I can sense the shivers going up and down her slender spine and I lovingly kiss and nibble her sensitive toes.
A sultry moan can be heard in-between her bouts of flirtatious giggles of approval. I take both her big toes in my mouth and I begin to suck gently, then harder, and harder. My tongue begins to probe gently flicking between the two delicate digits. The moans and giggles merge into one long audible of pleasure.
Just as suddenly as it started, my gentle worship ended. It is replaced by the demented torture that I have dreamt of so much. I almost mindlessly scramble my free fingers over her cringing ticklish soles. I can feel my arousal begin to pound within me as wave after wave of her maddening laughter crashes into my ear drums. I thoroughly enjoy every futile violent jerk of her legs trying to free her trapped ticklish feet from their deserved fate. She is such a silly girl. I almost feel sorry for her… almost.
Up and down, I spider and rake my fingers into her most sensitive spots. I tease her arches ruthlessly, the very centers of her feet mercilessly, the balls of her feet without ceasing, and the base of her toes endlessly. I can think of nothing but how much I am aroused by the mad dance of wiggling that her feet are doing with their ankles trapped in my torturous deadlock. Years of waiting, anticipating, hoping, and dreaming were all merging into this moment. This moment when…
“I’m sorry Sarah, I think I used the wrong TICKLE pattern that time… don’t worry though, I WILL DO IT AGAIN… hahaha” I get lost in a trance, fixated with the sheer HAVIC and PANIC that I am causing in my precious beauty and it gives me joy to no end.
I finally pry myself away from her beautiful squirming feet. It only seems like seconds, but the clock on the dresser says it has been slightly more than 15 minutes since I started tormenting her feet. Time really flies when you are having FUN.
I look up at my delicious beauty. As I pull down her jeans, I am reminded of my own desperate arousal. The constant throbbing reminds me that this experience is real. I look up at my sweet, so disheveled from her ordeal. I can only imagine what she must be feeling. I can see her erect nipples straining against her bra. They heave up and down as she takes in her breath desperately. She should savor ever bit of air for it is the last that I can give. I pull her jeans around her ankle to reveal the lacy wrapping of my greatest treasure: a pearl that is reserved for only one. I can see from the moistness of her womanhood that it has long sense hardened and ripened from the excitement of her delicious torment.
As I look upon her beautiful face, accented by her long fiery hair plastered to her forehead from all her futile thrashing, her glasses now lying on the side of the bed. I can not help but envy the content smile as she lay exhausted. Soon I will be able to take her, take her to the place she ahs been so afraid to go that she even pushes me away with her harsh words and cold exterior. Now they provide the fuel and inspiration for my sweetest cruelty that will lead to her most torturous pleasure.
I finally throw her jeans to the ground. I crawl up the bed to meet my beauty. I lay each leg to one side of me and sit patiently between her wide legs, gazing at her vulnerable womanhood. Her breath now renewed she begins to stir once more. Her erotic trance broken slightly and she can again interact in the world of the living, even though part of her is in a MUCH better place.
She watches intently as I unclasp her bra. I finally free her large breasts that have been straining against their prison this whole time. Her cherry tipped peaks calling to me yearning to be teased. Her breath catches as she sees my hands approach her mounds. She holds her breath until I make contact. She closes her eyes once more, tighter than ever when I begin my cruel massage. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes inside her. She lets out an earthy moan as I continue to fondle her breasts. I pay close attention not to tease her nipples just yet.
“Does that feel good Sarah?”
“Yesssssssssssssssss!”
“Am I doing anything wrongggggggg?”
“No no…..mmmmmmm please don’t stop”
She is mine. Finally, she is all mine.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stop?”
“Yessssss”
“Then you have to do something for me…”
“Anything, just please don’t stop!”
“Tell me that you like it, Sarah!”
“Ohhhhhh I like it, please, rub them just a littttttttle harder!”
I relished her desperation. “Not that silly, we know you like this, I want you to tell me that you like to be tickled, Tickled until you are a helpless little girl.”
“Ohhhhhhhhhhh I can’t. I can’t Jim, Please don’t make me say it.” Psychology teaches me everything I need to know. There is still a part of her that hasn’t admitted it. As long as she doesn’t say it, then it is somehow less true. She can still hide from it. Not today.
“Fine, have it your way!” I pick up the two makeup brushes that are lying on her night stand. This is unfair. Under normal circumstances, nipples are almost too sensitive to be tickled. Now she is tied down, exhausted, and she has been teased and stimulated for almost 2 hours. The electric stimulating will feel so good that it will be excruciating. This is wrong, This is cruel, This is torture, but as I said SHE DESERVES IT.
I bring the twirling brushes gently to her puffy areolas. The giggles are subdued by her desperate moaning, although they peak through from time to time. She is writhing madly against me, not for escape, but for my evil brushes to give her a final act of malice and torment her turgid nipples.
“Oh my God, Oh My GOD” her desperation grows and grows with every second that my brushes don’t contact her yearning nipples, just as I had planned.
“Now Sarah, I have told you, HE CAN’T HELP YOU. IT’S JUST YOU AND ME” I don’t know if she could hear me. She looked lost in a sea of sensation. With her sanity already teetering on the breaking point, I can’t say for sure that my verbal teasing was the cause… but it surely wasn’t helping >.
“Tell me you like it!” I punctuated my command by dipping my brushes over her aching nipples. You’d think she was electrocuted. Her back arched violently to meet my evil tools. As my words faded I resumed my teasing of her breasts.
“I CAN’T” the tears streaming down her face letting me know that she was close to her release. Not just of the body, but of the mind.
“SARAH, TELL ME THAT YOU LIKE IT.” I let my brushes linger a little longer her back arching so painfully to meet and press against my evil tools. It was so evil, but she deserved it.
She sucked in all the air she could violently for her last will and testament. “I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE IT!” The tears were flowing freely now. She was almost there.
I stopped my cruel tickling of her sensitized nipples and came close to her cheek.
“You like what?”
“I love it when you tickle me; I always have, especially when you make it TORTURE… I love it when you make me feel so helpless. That no matter what I do, you will give me what I want… what I need…” that was her final release, her biggest confession, her darkest secret, her most desperate wish in the entire world. Now it was my most precious treasure, I would remember it always, even though I am sure she will remind me constantly.
It is time fro her reward. My hand trails slowly over her navel down to the waistline of her panties and slips in. I have never heard her gasp the way that she did when my hand first touched her delicate lips. Her mouth stayed open, breathing becoming sporadic. I lightly teased her glistening lips. I can tell that she has enjoyed her little punishment as much as I have enjoyed giving it. Then I find it. I caress her ripe pearl with my thumb and forefinger. I trace the tip of my finger over the tip of it SLOWLY and gently. Her entire body shudders from the gentle caress. She’s already so close. I massage her pearl lightly; driving her closer and closer to the edge she craves so deeply, the edge that she was so afraid to tell me about, the edge that I am finally brave enough to send her crashing over.
I lovingly kiss and nibble on her earlobe. My warm breath starts bringing her home. She is safe here with me. She can trust me with her deepest pleasure. I respect love all of her and this burden is NOT too much to carry.
I whisper gently in her ear as I massage her precious pearl “This is not a dream.” The weight of reality along with my knowing hand is all it takes. She is at her edge. She asks without being told.
“Please…” This word is uncommon to her expansive vocabulary. This word represents a request so basic it borders on absurdity. As her true giver of pleasure there is only one plausible response.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOO”
Her scream of frustration is delicious. Her renewed sense of panic is exquisite. My Power over her is complete. I have within my hands the keys to her deepest pleasure, and they are mine to play with as I wish. It’s cruel to the point of madness, evil to the point of insanity. As I said… SHE FUCKING DESERVES IT.
Still recovering from her shock I lustfully purge her lips. I am the eternal dualist. This holds her head still, lost in lustful frustration. My hand skitters up her collarbone (with only one destination in mind). She dare not break the kiss, for fear of further frustration, but she has to know what’s coming.
My hand lightly and deliberately dances around the sensitive skin under her chin and around her neck. The burst of laughter filling her mouth and mine as our breath becomes one is magnificent. The rush of power racing through me is stronger than it has ever been. It’s not enough that she confess, it’s not enough that she break down, she has to be sorry. SHE WILL BE SORRY.
Her hands for the first time are alive and straining desperately to free themselves from her simple bondage, but the knots hold her tight. My hand terrorizing one of her most sensitive destinations causing her to SCREAM INTO ME and it makes me sick with POWER. I own every bit of her. I have paid the price, and earned my prize of her deepest desperation. Through it all she only kisses me harder. She has wanted this for so long. She has wanted to be made naked, emotionally naked. She has wanted to be PUNISHED for pushing me away, and making me feel less than I truly am, for being so mean when she didn’t have to be. Even She KNOWS SHE DESERVES IT.
Her essence firmly in my hand, and my dominance proven I brake the kiss. The smile that returns to her face is not from the tickling, but from the pure bliss of having her last barrier forcefully taken from her and ready to receive all the pleasure I have to give.
I pull her panties down, exposing her perfection. My tongue starts at her navel and she knows where it’s going. I don’t want to hide it. She has earned it. She has surrendered everything to me, and she is hiding nothing. Now I will give her everything she has wanted and things she never dreamt of.
My tongue finds its final destination. My pearl tastes so sweet. Her moan is immediate. Her pelvis grinds desperately against my face. My hands each find a turgid nipple to roll between eager fingers. All these years waiting and hoping to see her in her greatest ecstasy and the moment has finally arrived. Her back fully arched, her soles digging into the bed, her pearl hard, and dripping with her desperate excitement.
The only thing that can break my kiss with her perfection is to answer her only request.
“Pleassssssssssssse?????????????????????????? ” she has no breath left in her now, only gasping, and grunting as her perfection grinds against me.
“Yes” taking her pearl deep inside my mouth, sucking so gently, lightly flicking the tip of her pearl with my tongue she exploded in my mouth, over and over again.
“Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo” was the only sound she could make as her juices ran desperately down my face. She ground her perfection into me faster and faster taking wave after wave of insane pleasure as it crashed over her like a wave over a tiny boat. Every sweet bit of her that dripped from her perfection was licked up cleanly. As the final wave subsided she lay there exhausted. That was her pleasure, for release from years of suppression.
Now, it was time for mine. She had her glorious explosion in peace, comfort and release. That’s not enough. She still doesn’t fully understand the frustration that she caused me. The pain inside that each subtle rejection caused. The wounds that are only now starting to heal in this moment when…
I pick up the makeup brush. She is lost in a sea of her own ecstasy. She has no idea what she has gotten herself into. She has no idea the evil that she has awakened in me.
In her bliss she begins to stir again… smiling her gentle smile. I can see no pretense, this is her happy. She has finally been able to let it all go, but I want MORE.
Time is short; I have to move while she is still sensitive. I position her right leg against my hardness between my strong thighs. I am not trying to hide it. After all, we aren’t just friends anymore. I press her left leg against the mattress. I smile so evilly at her that it makes her uneasy.
She senses something is wrong, that her plight might not be over, and the strangest thing. The smile on her face just grows wider and wider.
“Who is you’re Master Sarah” I say teasingly, she can see the brush now.
She sees how her legs are pinned. She feels how sensitive she is. She sees the brush. She hears the question with no right answer. She has to make a choice, a really fucked up choice. She can’t think, all she has is her instincts. BAD FOR HER.
In her respite she gained the free breath for four words to determine the rest of her life…
“I don’t have one...” In my greatest hour of lustful need, she came through with her greatest act of selflessness. She issued one final challenge to push me closer to the edge.
“Really,” I dip the brush in her damp pubic hairs. They are all the perfect length. All she can do is throw her head back and laugh. Her entire body alive once again with desperate thrashing. It is so unfair, so cruel, but as I said, She deserves it.
I move the evil makeup brush to her exposed pearl. I wish I could record the screams. It was a wonderful mixture of hysterical laughter, pre orgasmic bliss, sheer panic, and sheer desperation. It was the final symphony to take me home. Her head was thrashing from side to side, her eyes closed tight, her entire body writhing and bucking like a mad woman, there was nothing left. She just gave me what she knew I wanted. Her most unbridled reactions were mine to play with.
An ancillary benefit to her suffering her trapped leg was gyrating and squirming right against my hardness. The building throbbing from the spasmodic struggling is too much to articulate. Nothing FEELS THAT GOOD. To be brought to orgasm by the desperate helpless struggles of the girl you have dreamed of. Such sweet simplicity should only be reserved for dreams. The reality was invading every nerve in my body as my own explosion was minutes away, but I feared it would not preempt the second volcano of my SCREAMING BEAUTY.
Her screams were desperate. I made sure to be very slow and deliberate torturing her with my make up brush, slowly twirling it over her pearl, lightly and lazily dragging it back and forth. Her delicate ripe clitoris had never been teased, tickled, and tortured this ruthlessly before. I’m sure that there are parts of her that NEVER wants it to end.
She had to know. I had to tell her why she was being tortured like this… “This is what happens to MEAN GIRLS SARAH. YOU KNOW YOU LOVE BEING A MEAN GIRL, SARAH. THIS IS FOR EVERY SMART ASS COMMENT, EVERY TIME THAT YOU DISMISSED ONE OF MY IDEAS, EVERY TIME YOU THOUGHT THAT YOU WERE SMARTER THAN ME, AND EVERY TIME THAT YOU TREATED ME LIKE A CHILD SARAH. YOU HAVE BEEN A VERY NAUGHTY GIRL SARAH, AND YOU HAVE TO BE PUNNISHED!!!” My erotic revenge was making me drunk in euphoric passion.
Her torture complete she uttered the only two words that would give her respite in the midst of her musical delirious screaming… “PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE…..MASTERRRRRRRRRRRRR RRRRRR?”
AS I made the brush do one more cruel dance over her tortured clitoris I uttered four words, that would unlock her world. “CUM FOR ME SARAH!!!” Boy, did she CUM!!!
With that the world we knew ended. It was lost somewhere in her passionate screams and desperate gyrations as her second orgasm ravaged every muscle in her tortured frame. The melody of her delicious torment in this moment to end all moments will haunt me until the day I die, and never leave my closest thoughts. She let it ALL GO, every emotion, every secret, every fear, she gave it to me in this desperate moment when…
Her second eruption was far greater than the first. The torturous tickling, my hardness pressed against her, her list of evil deeds. They all melted together somewhere deep inside her to make a symphony of sensation the likes of which I had never seen and she had never felt.
Her pelvis was now gyrating against the brush, hoping for every ounce of pressure to force wave after delicious wave of torturous pleasure from her drained body. Watching her in her bliss and feeling her toned thigh massage against me ended my years of sorrow and I finally released all the frustration of or friendship as spasm after delicious spasm consumed all that I am, all that I was and shaped all that I will be.
Finally coming down off her man made (and man controlled) roller coaster of emotions and sensations she collapsed into the pillow, completely exhausted. I have never seen Sarah so content. It is almost like she found a lost puppy that she never knew she had.
Just then the ding went off. 2:30 minutes of torture and one done beef roast. Can an evening be more perfect? I had an idea that Sarah wouldn’t be in any condition to take the roast out of the oven so I let her rest there lost in her own blissful land of fulfillment.
I walked to the kitchen, pants ruined, tie stretched to the point of ruin, years of frustration washed away and I have never been happier in my life, even in my dreams.
I open the oven to take out the roast. I think to myself how Parallel. Something that Sarah starts that I have to finish for her. That’s just like her quest for me to take her to her deepest point of ecstasy. I put the roast on top of the stove, and wrap it in aluminum foil. Sarah hates when I let things get cold.
I take off the oven mitt and look at the edge of the pan. Promise not to tell anyone but I let my fingertip lightly touch the hot surface. I needed some reminder that this was all really happening. A small burn was no price to pay for bringing my greatest day crashing further into my reality.
I walk back into my bedroom. My beautiful Sarah is laying their like a tortured angel. She looks more peaceful and content than I have ever seen her. Her eyes are still shut but I can see her react to my sound as I enter the room. I lay gently next to her as I untie her wrists. Her pale skin slightly bruised as her own validity of our experience. She still has her eyes closed, so tight. I run my lips against her earlobes.
“It’s okay, I promise I will never let you wake up!”
She turns to me. She can not put into words her excitement over my promise. The promise I made the first day that I met her, that I am now brave enough to keep; that I will make this life into her dream. The promise that no matter how harsh she can be at times, or whatever happens-I will never abandon her.
All she can do is smile at me, and I have a simple question.
“Is that one of your REAL smiles?” The tears in her eyes validate my absurdity and her precious lips are mine again. This is a kiss of thanksgiving, of gratitude, of APPROVAL. I have longed for such a kiss all the days of my life.
She pulls gently away from me, a quizzical look on her face, “How could you keep doing that. Keep giving me pleasures I didn’t know that I wanted so badly, how could you be so selfless?” It’s fair question. It takes a lot to connect with someone, a lot more than fancy quotes from a far off book. She wants to know how I can boldly fulfill her deepest desires for her, not just myself. To give to her what she herself could not admit that she wanted.
I run my fingers through her hair and gently nibble on her ear as I prepare my summation on how I could bring myself to give her what she truly needed. “You deserved it!”
She melted into my arms and her lips into mine for a final time. So many years thinking that because of her boldness that she did not deserve happiness. Only seconds to have that idea invalidated and forcing her to rewrite her entire belief system.
As we held each other in this embrace one last time before her gentle slumber, I spidered my fingers up her side one last time to feel her giggle fill my mouth as we shared our breath, and she went quietly into her well earned rest.
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She’s been asleep for about an hour now. I can’t bring myself to tear away from her beauty. She is so angelic when she sleeps. I don’t know what it will be like when she awakes. I know that we will have to have “the talk”. Realistically nothing is the same. So many boundaries have been melted away, so many lines willingly and enthusiastically crossed. I know we will have to talk about how to move forward, but in all the years we have known each other, neither one of us has had a meaningful relationship. I think we found a deeper level of companionship in each other, so how much has really changed.
I know that something happened. I don’t know when it happened exactly. It could have been when I first noticed how cute she looked in her glasses. It could have been the first smell of her perfume. It could have been when she LOVINGLY insulted my well prepared tragedy (she’s turned me into such a glutton for punishment, it’s sick). It could have been when our ecstasies merged in her bedroom. I don’t know right now, and I am not worried about it. I will figure it out someday. I am not going to lay next to the woman I have dreamed of for so long after the best day of our lives and worry about some obscure detail. That was the old me. That was the me before this long moment. The moment when… our friendship died.
FIN
FOR NOW HAHAHA
shock: Oh... my goodness. For the most of it, I thought you were writing a story about me it was seemingly so accurate! You're crazy in your amazing descriptions and writing styles!! 
