Sweet Passion - A Story Submitted by a Tickle Fan
Sweet Passion - A Story Submitted by a Tickle FanPosted on Aug 13, 2010 by Goddess Sonya
I first became obsessed with being tickled the summer I was eighteen. I had just exhausted all efforts to avoid going to summer school and was not looking forward to spending eight weeks of the thirteen week summer vacation in a two hour a day history class. After spending so much time ditching the class during the regular school year, this was to be my penance.
The night before I was to begin summer classes, I sat up most of the night watching television and feeling sorry for myself. There was an old John Wayne movie called "North to Alaska" on the late show. I wasn't paying much attention as I was sulking over the near incarceration I would soon be enduring. I was about to turn the television off when one of the men in the movie turned to the female actress playing the lead and told her to laugh. When she was unable to comply with his command, he grabbed her ankle, threw off her shoe and tickled her foot. She began to scream and laugh hysterically. I was surprised by how aroused I got from the brief scene. I watched intently until Big John came in and broke up the scene with his usual violent nature. I watched the movie until the end hoping there would be more tickling. There was none.
I went to the bathroom during the closing credits. I sat on the throne crying over my lost vacation. I finally decided to make the best of the situation and accept the lesson learned. Skipping classes would never again be an activity I would participate in no matter what my so called friends had planned.
When I went in to turn off the television, I found myself looking at the beginning of a film the t.v. guide listed as "The Brothers Karamosov" or something like that. Right at the beginning, Lee J. Cobb bound a hysterical young woman to a table and began tickling her foot with a feather. Once again I watched with great interest feeling that warmth in my middle the John Wayne film had brought on earlier. Despite the brevity of this and the first scene, I couldn't get either one out of my head the entire night. I imagined myself as the victim of both actors; being tickled beyond my control and loving every second of it. I masturbated several times with those fantasies playing in my mind. Afterward, I slept like a baby. This would become a regular part of my fantasies.
I arrived at the school the next morning in plenty of time for my eight o'clock class. I was pleased to find the instructor was from some other school and would therefore have no knowledge of me and my record for missing classes. I was sure I would be able to get on his good side and possibly acquire some kind of early release form the two month ordeal in front of me. I tried to get a seat up front, but this was one of those 'seat according to name" types which put me all the way in the back of the room with no one on either side of me and a guy sitting in front of me who looked like he wasn't even old enough to be in college. I would learn later that he was a twenty year old genius taking some of his high school classes in the summer so he could possibly graduate by the time he was twenty one. I had a feeling he would be trouble for me.
The first day, our teacher told us the rules. The first half hour of class would be a study period. Those who had failed to do their homework the night before would have the opportunity to do so from eight to eight thirty. The next hour would be spent going over the homework and reviewing material from the assigned reading. The last half hour would be another study period. Anyone taking just the one class, like me, would be excused early if they turned in their assignments for the day and had been able to participate in the discussion of the assigned reading material. This was all the motivation I needed to have my assignments ready each and every morning.
The first week went fairly well. I was ready with my work everyday and was therefore allowed to leave at nine thirty each day. Monday of the second week, the faculty agreed to allow students to dress very casually since the summer heat would be harder to bare if we were forced to adhere to the regular dress code. I showed up in class the next day in shorts, a mid-drift top, and sandals. Most of the other girls in the school were dressed similarly, so I wasn't at all out of place.
I walked in the classroom at five to eight and, as usual, Brian, was already in his seat reviewing his work. Since he was such a brain, I decided to compare my work with his just to be certain I hadn't made any mistakes. I stood next to his desk looking down at his work and was pleased to find I had all my answers listed properly. I was about to ask him about the reading assignment when I noticed he was not looking at his work. He was looking down at my feet. Normally, I would have thought him a little weird, but the vision of those women being tickled leaped into my head.
"Brian!" His head snapped up and looked at me. "What are you looking at?" I could see he was embarrassed.
"Nothing." he said and opened his history book.
"Were you staring at my feet?" Now he was really embarrassed. I thought he would pop a blood vessel he turned so red in the face.
"I'm sorry, Barbara." he said in almost a whimper. "I was just noticing how ... how pretty they are. I didn't mean anything."
I wanted to embarrass him some more. After all, this is what we did to younger men. But his compliment had gotten to me, so I let him off the hook. I took my seat when the teacher came in and sat looking at the back of Brian's head wondering what was going through his mind in regards to my feet. My "pretty feet."
During the half hour study period, I decided to have some fun. Since there was no one sitting opposite me, I slipped off my right sandal and put it on the back of Brian's desk. He sat straight up when he felt my toes wiggling on his back. He turned around and looked at me. It was a look that said I should stop before we got into trouble. I did. This was the first time I saw him have any kind of trouble in class. When he was asked about the influence of Eleanor Roosevelt, Brian told the teacher she had her feet deep in the politics of the day. (he meant hands.) He gave me a harsh look when I giggled at his comment.
I wore my sandals again the next day, only this time, I didn't stop wiggling my toes in Brian's back. I kept it up most of the half hour. When I was leaving at nine thirty, I looked down at Brian. He quickly placed his notebook over his lap, but not before I saw the wet spot in the crotch of his pants. I tried to pretend I hadn't seen it, but he knew from the look on my face that I had.
Because of my plans for the rest of the day, I wore sneakers to class on Wednesday. I was surprised when Brian refused to let me compare our homework. The next day, I wore sandals again and Brian was more than willing to share his answers with me. Then, just before I sat down, he said, "I'm ready for you today." I had no idea what he meant, but feeling challenged, I again slipped off the shoe and started playing with his back with my toes. As soon as I began, Brian reached back with his left hand and tickled my foot. It caught me completely off guard. I snatched my foot away immediately. He turned and looked at me with a winning grin. I spent a minute or two considering what had happened and then decided to do it again. Once again, Brian reached back and tickled my foot. This time I just giggled as quietly as I could and left it on his seat. Brian reached back with both hands. He used one to hold my ankle and the other he used on my soft sole, wiggling his fingers wildly. I squealed loud enough for the teacher to hear. When he looked in my direction, I faked a very believable sneeze. It was convincing enough. The teacher went back to what ever busy work he was involved with.
I leaned forward in my desk and whispered to Brian, "Not so hard." He turned and looked at me with a look of utter surprised. When I returned my foot to the back of his seat, he returned to his one handed method and slowly, but thoroughly, tickled my sensitive foot. I giggled just loud enough for him to know he was getting the desired affect. This went on until eight thirty.
I was amazed at how wet the minor tickling had gotten me. I was tempted to excuse myself, go to the rest room and masturbate in the stall. Since this would mean possibly missing something important during class, I chose not to do it. However, when I got home, I went straight to my room, locked the door, and got myself off three times before feeling satisfied.
I was instantly addicted to the treatment. For the next six and a half weeks, every day, from eight to half past, I was treated to Brian's fingers dancing on my bare feet. Each day, he and I would compare our homework without saying a word about our extra curricular activity. Each day, I would go home and play with myself while reliving the joy I felt when this young boy made me giggle and laugh by tickling my feet.
During the last week of classes, Brian built up the nerve to ask if we could meet after school. When I told him he was entirely too young for me to date, he said, "I don't really want a date. I just want a chance to ... to do, you know, that to your feet without having the whole class around restricting us." He looked very hurt when I told him it wasn't a good idea. I fully expected him to deny me my desired pleasure that morning, but sure enough, as soon as my foot touched his back, he was at it again with the same gentleness as before.
Knowing he had another class to attend, I wrote Brian a note which I handed him as I left the class at nine thirty. The note said he should come straight to my house after his second class and that he was to tell no one we were meeting. At the bottom I put my address.
Just the idea of what I was planning made me desperate to play with myself. The idea of his adept little fingers all over my feet was enough of a fantasy to get me off three, four, maybe even five times. But I resisted my regular routine and waited the three long hours it would take for Brian to get out of school and make it over to my house.
I decided to take a shower while I waited, but the rush of the warm water nearly broke my resolve. I was on the verge of sitting down in the tub and playing with myself anyway. Without thinking twice, I turned off the hot water and stood under the cold shower until I had control again.
I had just slipped into my shorts and a halter top when the doorbell rang. I jumped into my big, fuzzy, Tweety Bird house shoes and went to the door. I found a very anxious teenager on my porch.
I laid out the ground rules before I closed the door behind Brian. "Look," I said sternly. "I don't know what you're expecting, but I am still a virgin and I will be one when you leave here. So if you think anything like that is going to happen, you can go home right now."
Brian looked at me surprised and very convincingly said, "No. No. I didn't think anything like that. I just wanted to .... you know." I found his inability to say the word tickle cute and decided it could be the source of some more fun.
"No I don't know, Brian." I said seriously. "Tell me what it is you have in mind."
He looked totally flustered. "You know." he said sheepishly. "Like in class."
"You want to go over our homework." It was all I could do not to bust out laughing. "Is that what you want to do?"
"No." he said a little frustrated. "You know. The other thing."
"Brian." I said barely containing myself, "If you can't say the words, you can't do what ever it is you want to do." I pulled the door open wide as if asking him to leave.
Brian looked around nervously and then said, "I want to tickle your feet some more. I want tickle your beautiful feet while I can look at you and watch you giggle and laugh." Hearing him say it had more of an impact on me than I had expected. I closed the door and took him up to my room.
I started to take off my house shoes, but decided it might be nice to have him do that. I sat down on the bed while he just stood by the bed looking at me. When I slid back so my feet were the only thing hanging off the bed, he came forward. He reached down and removed both shoes at once. The air hit my feet and warmed me all over. I was certain he had no idea how turned on I was.
"You really do have pretty feet, Barbara." Once again his words added to my level of arousal.
Brian got down on his knees and stated caressing my feet. It felt so good I wanted to slide my hand into my shorts and get off right away. Before I could get a good hold on the idea, Brian started sliding one finger up and down the sole of my left foot. I squealed out loud and watched the delight my reaction brought to his face. When he repeated the action on my right foot, I straightened my legs and locked my knees. This time I giggled like I had in class, only now I was able to let it all the way out.
Brian continued with one finger until he was sure he had gotten as much out of me that one finger could get. When he began his ten finger assault, it was more than I could handle, so I pulled away from his dancing digits. Brian stood up and climbed onto the bed, standing on his knees. I extended my legs to give him full access to my receptive feet. He pinned the right leg down with his knee, grabbed the left ankle and proceeded to lightly sprinkle his finger tips over the left foot. I struggled to get free, but he was much stronger than he looked. I was at his mercy.
I was howling with laughter in no time at all. He was giving my sole the workout I had fantasized about since the beginning of the summer. He discovered how much more responsive I was in the arch and spent a few minutes concentrating on that part of my foot. I was lost in the moment, laughing out loud and struggling to breath. When it was obvious to both of us that I was completely out of breath, he stopped, but he did not let go. As soon as I caught my breath, Brian started on the toes of the same foot and watched with excitement as I wiggled all over the bed and squealed and hollered with uncontrollable laughter. Again, he stopped when he felt I was just about out of breath. While I gasped for air, Brian switched, pinning my left foot and making the right available to himself. He repeated the treatment on the other foot and got the same reaction as before, me writhing on the bed hysterical. I was out of breath a lot sooner, so he made the attack twice on the right foot.
When he finally stopped and let me up, I realized I was soaked in perspiration, my top clinging to my torso. Down below, I was so wet from the arousal of his tickling that I wanted him to hurry up and leave so I could do what I needed to satisfy myself. However, Brian just sat on the bed and waited for me to regain my composure.
"It turns you on, doesn't it?" Brian asked.
"What." I said as if I had no idea what he meant.
"Tickling." he said. "You like it and it turns you on. Right?"
"What would you know about something like that?" I asked surprised he had any idea what it did for me.
"Well," he said sounding a lot older than he ever had, "I've seen my brother tickle his wife a lot of times. Right after, she always wants to go somewhere and be alone. He told me it turns her on and they have sex after he tickles her."
"I told you .." I started, but he cut me off.
"I don't expect to have sex." he said quickly. "I was just wondering if you like it the way my sister-in-law does."
I looked at this young man and for the first time saw a real man. A man with more smarts than some of the older guys at school and more maturity. "Yes." I said confirming his suspicion. "I don't know why, but it does have that affect on me. That's why I think you should leave now."
"Wait." he said in a pleading tone. "Can we try one other thing first. If you like it, you know, being tickled, I know you'll like this."
"Like what?" I asked not really sure if I cared what it was. I was so aroused I would have given him my virginity if he had promised to tickle me some more.
Brian looked away from me and said in a whisper, "I'd like to tie your ankles together." I heard him and was instantly enthralled. The vision of Lee J. Cobb tying up that girl in the movie filled my head. The idea excited me beyond measure.
"And then what?" I asked as if he had said something wrong.
Brian looked at me with a big smile and said, "Then I'll tickle you to death." I smiled at him and laid back on the bed indicating I had accepted his challenge.
He looked around the room and spotted an old pair of panty hose next to my trash can. He used them to firmly but gently secure my ankles together. He surprised me by sitting across my calves so I was almost completely immobilized. In a matter of seconds, his fingers were dancing over both my feet simultaneously making me crazy with hysterics. I was begging for mercy through my laughter and tears of joy. He showed me no mercy and continued to work over my feet with his strong little boy fingers. I was shocked when I felt the surges of an orgasm building in my loins. I was panting so heavily, even I thought I would pass out from a lack of oxygen. When he started to slow his attack, I screamed "Don't stop! Please don't stop!" I wanted the orgasm I felt building up inside me.
Brian increased the intensity if his attack and ignored my labored breathing. All I could do as the orgasm pulsed through me was bang my fist on the bed and scream "Yes! Yes! Oh please, yes!!!"
Brian stopped when my orgasm ended. It was as if he knew exactly what had happened to me. From what I had learned about him that afternoon, I wouldn't have been surprised if he did.
That was the beginning of my tickling obsession. Ever since then, I do anything and everything I can to get someone to tickle me. Even total strangers. In freshman year of college, I attended a renaissance festival and discovered a set of stocks used in medieval times to punish criminals.) Pretending to be unaware of their purpose, I agreed to have my feet placed in the wooden binders by one of the actors participating in the festival. Once I was secured in the stocks, my sneakers and socks were removed and several other participants took turns torturing my vulnerable tootsies with feathers, brushes, and even ice. I screamed so loud that I drew a crowd. Soon there was a line of people waiting to have a turn at my poor feet. I spent more than a half an hour there and, despite my protest, enjoyed every moment. Since the festival was an annual affair, this ordeal became a yearly routine for me.
I was also a sorority pledge. When my big sisters decided to tickle me until I nearly peed on myself during hell week, I held out until I had at least three orgasms. The following year, before the pledges were put to the same torture, I was volunteered to demonstrate what they could expect.
By the time I reached my junior year in college, I was dating as much as any of the other girls, including the ones that were known for "putting out" easily. I was twenty one and had still managed to hold onto my virginity, however, among all the tickle freaks on campus, I was the girl most wanted. My affection for tickling wasn't common knowledge, but I was able to solicit interested tickle freaks with a number of innocent, public displays. I could remove my shoes in class and watch to see which guys seemed to take exceptional notice. Propping up my bare feet in a lunch room chair or on a table was always good for attracting the attention of a few good foot fetishist. Shoe dangling in the library was the most effective. Pushed back from a table in an open area near the entrance with my shoe barely hanging onto the toes had a provocative affect on several of my fellow students - male and female. I got so much tickle action, it became imperative for me to restrict some of my activity just to maintain my 'B+' average.
My only problem came with my increasing popularity as a "fun date". Some guys had expectations that went beyond tickling. I learned to handle them by developing the ability to give good hand and good head.
My most memorable night came during my senior year and I didn't even leave my dorm room. My roommate, who was also a sorority sister, was well aware of my love of being tickled. Just before finals began, she organized a little surprise for me. I came in from the library to find her in the room with her boyfriend and one of his buddies. They were both jocks on athletic scholarships. Since I was dressed in my usual warm weather attire - sandals, shorts, and halter top - I was already prepared for what they had in mind.
Before I had a chance to say hello, my roommate shouted "Surprise." The next thing I knew, her oversized boyfriend came up behind me and grabbed my wrist and lifted my arms over my head. With my feet barely touching the floor, she charged forward and started using her fingers to roughly tickle my arm pits and ribs. I was struggling frantically and laughing uncontrollably. Two minutes later she stopped leading me to believe the assault was over. I knew differently when the boyfriend didn't release me. Instead, he stepped up onto a chair and lifted me up by wrist so my feet were dangling below me. My roommate and her boyfriend's buddy each grabbed an ankle, removed my shoes, and went to work on my feet. I was begging for mercy through tears and laughter. I was silently praying the boyfriend's strength would give out before I pissed my pants. It worked out exactly that way.
I pretended to resist their command to lie across the bed, but did so willingly knowing that more of the same was to follow. They took turns with two of them holding me down by my arms and legs while the third tickled me senseless. The whole ordeal lasted about forty minutes, but the multiple, simultaneous attackers was so new and different, it made me cum three or four times before it was over.
All things considered, graduation was a bitter sweet day for me.
I secured a really good job with an airline advertising department right out of college and I'm still with the company to this day. It pays well and allows me to travel extensively for little or no money. I once took advantage of this perk by taking a few days r&r at a resort in the Caribbean. After a couple of days of looking for a good tickler without success, I had just about given up on the idea. Late one evening, I was relaxing in one of the hot tubs all alone. I kept my feet close to one of the intake jets so the rushing water could soothe my unattended feet. I was surprised when I heard a male voice say "I bet that feels good." I opened my eyes to find a somewhat attractive middle aged man climbing into the tub with me. He sat across from me blocking the jet that was massaging my feet.
"I was using that water jet!" I said without sounding angry. Hopefully, he would move and let me continue or do something himself to make my feet ... comfortable. Lucky for me he chose the later.
"I can give your little feet a better massage than that water." he said with a sly smile. With that, he reached into the water and started caressing my feet. It felt very nice, but fell short of what I really craved. After a minute or two, I was desperate to feel his fingers walking on my feet.
"I have to warn you," I said in a sultry tone, "My feet are very sensitive." Not sure he got my meaning, I added, "I tickle very very easily." This must have been what he wanted to hear because he started tickling me under the water sending me into a giggle fit that would soon turn into complete hysterics. Just as I felt the beginnings of an orgasm, we were interrupted ... by the man's wife.
"Enjoying yourself, Bobby?" Her voice stopped him abruptly and left me hanging. He immediately began apologizing and making excuses. She didn't seem to hear him. She was too busy giving me the evil eye to pay much attention to what "Bobby" was saying. I was disappointed with the outcome, but glad I had finally gotten some attention for my needy feet, how ever limited.
Bobby was still pleading his case to his oversized ball and chain when I got out of the water and headed back to my room. I must have been in the hot tub longer than usual because I was really feeling drained. I was still planning to play with myself before going to sleep, but decided to just relax for a few minutes before getting started. I got out of my wet bikini, slipped into one of my favorite nighties, and sat in a big comfortable chair I had positioned to look out at the ocean. Once I was comfortable, I allowed my mind to drift back to the feelings I got when old Bob was giving my feet the work over they so desperately craved. I was thinking about the feel of the warm water between my thighs as his finger dance pushed me toward climax. It would have been a new experience to orgasm while in the tub and I hoped to get a chance to take it all the way before I left.
I had my mind set and was just about ready to start pleasuring myself when a knock came to the door. I hadn't checked the bathroom when I came in, but I assumed that once again housekeeping was making a late towel delivery. Without checking, I pulled the door open and was immediately knocked back from it by the charge of four middle aged women coming in. I immediately recognized the heaviest one in the group as Bobby's wife. She had gotten reinforcements and had come, I assumed, to take revenge on me for getting so familiar with her man.
I quickly regained my footing and began to retreat toward the bed. I figured if I could get to my purse, I could get out my mace and protect myself from whatever form of retaliation they had in mind. I started looking over the build of each woman trying to determine how hard I would have to fight to stop them. Of the four, Mrs. Bobby was the most stout. Not very tall, but she looked strong. Factor in her position as the "injured party" and it was plain to see she would be my most formidable opponent. Two of the other women were just as short as the Mrs., but they were scrawny in size. I was pretty sure I could take them out quickly. The fourth woman was tall and lean. She looked liked she spent a lot of time in the gym doing more than jazzercise. I was sure she could bench press Mrs. Bobby if she wanted.
As I inched closer to my purse, I tried to reason with them. "I don't know what your problem is, ladies, but I really haven't done anything to deserve this attack!" I pointed to Mrs. Bobby. "Her husband approached me and all he did was rub my feet a little. That's all!"
"I was there, honey," Mrs. Bobby said calmly, " And he did more than just rub your feet. When I got there you were nearly hysterical. What was that, huh?!"
"It was nothing!" I felt the edge of the bed against my leg. A few more steps and I would be at my purse.
"What are you," the tall one spoke up forcefully, "Some kind of tickle tramp?"
"That's exactly what she is!" Mrs. Bobby snapped before I could respond.
"She's kind of young to be such a ... specialist." the tall one said calmly."
"They learn early these days." Mrs. Bobby replied, then said sharply, "I think we should teach her a lesson!"
Up until that point, all four women had come into the room, but none of them had moved any closer to me once they had closed and dead bolted the door. But as if Mrs. Bobby's suggestion of "teaching me a lesson" was a signal, the tall one leaped forward and was on me in a flash. I got to my purse, but had no chance to get to my mace. She had her arms around me holding down my arms. She was very strong. I was caught and I knew it. What ever they had in mind was about to take place. Now I was really scared.
I guess Mrs. Bobby could see the fear in my face because she came forward and brushed my hair from my face. "Here's the deal, honey." she said in a whisper with a surprising warm smile. "If you really are an innocent victim of circumstance, this will prove to be a very uncomfortable event in your life. However, if you enjoy tickling as much as I think you do, you are going to look back on this evening as one of the most fun and exciting you have ever had." With that she smiled and beckoned one of the other women forward. She produced a back pack which she dumped out on the bed. Out fell several lengths of soft cotton rope, various sized make up brushes, and a bunch of feathers.
I knew what was going on now and she was right. I was excited. They were planning to tickle me. All four of them were smiling at the materials on the bed, looking at it and me back and forth. My only hope was that this was all they had in mind.
While the tall woman continued to hold me, (not as firmly as at first) Mrs. Bobby directed one of her friends to tie my hands together with one piece of rope. At the same time, the other woman moved the material on the bed to the night stand. Mrs. Bobby continued to direct the others as I was securely bound across the width of the bed. The tall one let me go, after my hands were tied, and then pushed me onto the bed on my back. My hands were bound to the side rail. I was pulled across the bed so my feet hung over the opposite side. Then, each foot had a length of rope tied to them. My legs were lifted and the ropes on my ankles were tied high on the post at the head and foot of the bed so not only were my feet fully available to my captors, my legs were spread wide open leaving my vagina and anus vulnerable to attack.
Through the whole process, I pretended to resist and protest. The fact was, I was in a hurry to get the ordeal started. If tickling was all I was going to endure, fine. If they had other forms of torture in mind, I wanted it over with as soon as possible.
"Well now," Mrs. Bobby said after all the binds were in place and I was practically hanging by my feet with my arms secured back over my head, "Doesn't she look lovely." Then she spoke directly to me. "My dear, you have placed yourself in a position of our victim. Our tickle victim. You may have already figured out that this is something we have done before. Many times before. Actually, we rarely find a victim outside of our little group here. Tonight was to be my turn to play the role of victim, but when Bobby told me how you practically offered him your sensitive feet, I told my friends here and we agreed to delay my turn until another time. And before you get to nervous I want you to know that all we will do here tonight is tickle you. But we will tickle you more intensely than you could ever imagine. If what I saw in the Jacuzzi is any indication, we are really going to enjoy making you scream. And by the way, thank you for taking a room so far away from the rest of the resort guest. We are pretty sure no one is within earshot of all the hysterics that will take place here."
Each woman took a make up brush in hand and positioned themselves around me and the bed. The two smaller women stood at each foot. The tall one got on her knees on the bed directly between my outstretched legs. Mrs. Bobby stood over my face looking down on me with a sinister smile. She pointed to the tall one who started rubbing her brush up and down my torso from the naval to my neck. It felt wonderful because it tickled terribly.
Knowing there was more to come kept my reaction to the one woman attack small. She started by circling the soft bristles around my naval then sliding it straight up my belly to the middle of my chest. She then circled my breast moving closer and closer to my nipple with each turn. She slid the brush back down my stomach causing my abdominal muscles to contract from the tingle. When she got back to my naval, she pushed the brush right in and spun it in a circle causing me to squeal loudly and then giggle a little harder than before. When she moved back up to my breast again, she allowed the brush to brush my nipples causing them to harden and stand up.
Satisfied with my reaction, Mrs. Bobby signaled the other two women. They began to slowly slide their brushes up and down my feet. My body stiffened from the electric sensation this caused, but I found that this only made the ropes cut into my flesh. So I had to relax myself while at the same time being tickled so thoroughly I could hardly bare it. One woman was focusing on the arch of my left foot while the other one concentrated on the toes of the right. There were times when I couldn't tell what was being done to which foot. I did know that it was driving me crazy because I was laughing harder than I ever had in my life.
Just when I started to adjust to the three way assault, I looked up at Mrs.. Bobby and found she had a brush in each hand. I watched in horror as she reached down to apply them to each of my arm pits at the same time. "Noooooo!!!" I screamed, but that only made her more determined to continue. The feeling not only sent shock waves through my body, it seemed to intensify the affect of the other women. I screamed until I was out of breath. When I managed to inhale a little, I found that all the laughter I had experienced before was just a snicker compared to what was coming out of my mouth now. Through laughter, screams and tears, I begged and pleaded for mercy, but the quartet went about their business quietly yet smiling brightly to show how much they were enjoying the attack on me.
After the longest ten minutes of my life, they stopped and gave me time to compose myself. At first I thought they might be finished, but then I remembered the bunch of feathers and was sure there was more to come.
The woman who had been working my left foot collected the brushes from the others. I thought she would pass out the feather next, but she didn't. I watched as the tall one got back into position between my legs. She leaned forward with her arms outstretched and began to tickle my under arms violently. When I opened my mouth to scream nothing came out. I took another deep breath and then screamed with the laughter that this cruel women intended. Once she was satisfied with this, her hands slid down my sweat covered body to my ribs where she spent another few minutes driving me mad with her strong fingers. She found my stomach and waist less reactive to her attention, so she gave each of her fingers a dip into my naval sending me into another gale of giggles.
When she started to slide back on the bed, I was certain she was through for now. But she stopped and started her fingers dancing on my inner thighs. This was something I could not take. "Please don't!!" I shouted. "I can't take that!!! Not there!! Oh please not there!!!" The more I begged, the more she worked up and down my inner thighs. She ended the torture and got off the bed. I was panting and gasping for breath for the next minute or so.
When my breathing evened out, I craned my head up in time to see the two small women were again taking up positions at my feet. With their hands empty, I knew their fingers would soon be working where they had before used the soft brushes. Working in concert, the two women started at my toes, running their fingers over the base and in between each digit. They moved down to the balls of my feet and gradually worked their way to the arches where they lingered the longest. When they moved to the heels, I could feel the perspiration dripping over my face and into my eyes, mixing with the tears their assault had brought.
During this whole foot tickling ordeal, I was laughing and gasping out loud. Inside, I was loving every second, feeling the first surges of the impending orgasm I always enjoyed when my feet were attended to so completely. They must have realized what I was feeling because they increased their attack and began running their fingers up and down my wiggling feet driving me closer to the climax I was looking forward to.
Just before I went over the top, they stopped. Abruptly. I wanted to beg them to continue, but I remembered what my pleas had gotten me before, so I held back.
Mrs. Bobby passed out the feathers and all four women got on their knees on the bed all around me. I started taking deep breaths to prepare for the moment, I was sure was soon to come, when I would have trouble breathing. The two smaller women worked the area from my feet to my knees, stroking the feathers up and down slowly and deliberately. Individually, the sensation was moderately affective. The simultaneous contact increased the level ten times it seemed.
Mrs. Bobby and her tall assistant knelt near my waist and worked their feathers from my under arms to my naval, alternating their direction - one moving up while the other moved down. It was like a cattle proud sending electric shocks through me, making me quiver, quake, and squeal with laughter. I was losing my mind but, I was in tickle heaven.
Mrs. Bobby again directing the activity signaled for everyone to stop. She was smiling that sinister smile again. I was still hoping to have them work my feet some more. I wanted the orgasm that to, that point, had been denied me. little did I know that I would get my wish in way I had not expected and had never before experienced.
"Ladies, I think its time we reward our little victim for being such a good tickle subject." Mrs. bobby said. I had no idea what they were planning.
One of the small women reached down and spread my ass cheeks while the other one applied her feather to my exposed anus. The sensation was wonderful - a slight tickle with strong arousal. As good as it felt, I knew it would not be enough to take me over the edge. Before I could get into what was being done to my ass hole, Mrs. Bobby and the tall woman started rubbing their feathers on my pussy lips. I went crazy. I could feel my clit growing and knew if they kept it up, the feathers would make contact with my swelling clit and that would send me over the top. The tall woman reached down and spread my pussy lips exposing my clit even more. Now, with both feathers working my clit and the one on my anus, the orgasm I craved started racing through me as a warm, then hot feeling that soon found its way to its pinnacle and escaped making me scream dramatically. "Oh yessss, I'mmmmm cummminnnnnng!!! Oh yesssss!!!" I screamed as the most massive climax I had ever experienced poured through me. It went on for what seemed like forever. I was crying and groaning until I was almost hoarse. Tears were still streaming over my face when it subsided.
As the women untied me, Mrs. Bobby told me that they came to the resort every year at that time and spent the entire week tickling each other nightly and looking for new victims during the day. In the five years they had been conducting this retreat, I was only the third outside party to be victimized by them. I made it a point to mark the day on my calendar when I got back home.
The small island the resort was on had an equally small airport that could only handle small commuter planes. Consequently, the little, two engine prop plane I had to take back to the mainland had no first class section. Hell, it only had about twenty seats - about eight rows of single seats on the left side and six rows of double seats on the right. Still, I was able to make myself comfortable because there were only about eight or nine other people on the flight.
I took the double seated side all the way in the back. Figuring to have it to myself, I was sure I would be able to put my feet up on the empty seat and sleep the ninety minutes the flight would take. You can imagine my dismay when some flirty man decided he wanted to sit right next to me.
I had seen him in the small terminal checking in ahead of me. He was tall, rather attractive, and appeared to be fairly well off. He could have been my age or a little younger. As is usual for me, I found myself wondering how it would feel to have him playing with my feet for the duration of the flight. I noticed his hands first. They were perfect. Not to large or small and well manicured. I was fantasizing about them running up and down the soles of my feet when one of the clerks called me to the counter to check in. I lost sight of him and really didn't think about him any more until I saw him standing over me at the back of the plane.
My feet were already in the seat and I had my eyes closed to get a head start on my short nap. I felt something lightly tickling my arch through an opening in my high heel sandals. I opened my eyes and there he was. Despite how much sexier he was up close, I thought it rather bold of him to touch me in such a familiar manner when we had never even met.
I moved my feet and allowed him to sit. I peaked over the back of the seat in front of me to see if the plane had some how filled up. It had not. This made me suspicious. I didn't know what he was hoping for, but I thought it best to keep my eyes open.
"Feel free to put your feet back up." he said after he got settled into his seat. I thought this not only bold but very strange.
"I wouldn't want to get your pants dirty." I said pretending his comment had been in jest.
"Then take off your shoes.' he said nonchalantly. "Or do you plan to leave that for me to do?" Now I was baffled. This guy was talking to me calmly and somewhat intimately as if we had been friends for a long time. When I looked at him sharply, then turned away, he said wryly, "Fine by me. I just thought such pretty feet deserved a little attention."
If I was baffled before, I was completely confused now. His words of familiarity struck a nervous chord in me. I started trying to figure out who he was and how he seemed to know such intimate things about me. I considered the possibility he might be related to one of the women at the resort who had captured and tickled me so thoroughly. They could have told him about me making him feel he knew me ... just a little. Since I was certain we had never met before and all other possibilities seemed unlikely, this was the most logical conclusion I could come to.
Five minutes after take off, I fell asleep. I forgot he was there because about half way through the flight, I did in fact put my feet back up on the seat. however, by then, I had already removed my shoes. I felt his finger sliding up and down the bottom of my foot. I opened my eyes and looked at him. He was not aware of me staring. He was too busy looking down and admiring my high maintenance feet. I always kept them soft and well kept so any interested party would have something to play with that they could enjoy.
I started to pull away and tell him he had some nerve, but what he was doing did feel very good to me. So, I closed my eyes and pretended to still be sleep. A few minutes later, he went from the light, one foot, one finger tickle to a two feet, four finger mode. It was hard for me to continue to feign sleep, but I managed to make my light giggles sound like I was dreaming. I was grateful when final approached was announced because I was at the point where he would either have to stop or increase his attention and get me off.
"Enjoy your nap?" he said as we both adjusted ourselves in preparation for landing.
"Oh yes. Very much." I said as if he had nothing to do with that enjoyment. Then I said, "Thank you." As in thanks for asking. He knew better. He looked at me and smiled a knowing smile.
He was off the plane and out of sight before I knew what had happened. I wanted to look for him in the terminal, but by the time I got through immigration and customs, I had just enough time to make my flight home. Imagine my surprise when I stepped into the almost empty first class section and found him there putting his carry-ons into the overhead bin.
When he offered me the window seat next to his aisle seat, I smiled and accepted. He handed me a pillow and a blanket as if he knew how I would be conducting myself for the flight. We barely chatted before take off and once in the air, I had my shoes off and in his lap again. This time we had a lot more room and since there were flight attendants moving past almost constantly, he used the blanket to cover my feet so no one could see what he was doing.
This time he started by massaging my feet. It felt heavenly and I let him know it my purring sensually while he did it. Five minutes of this and he started tickling again. I was still in heaven, but I was having trouble holding it down to a level the flight attendants wouldn't here. When it seemed to become to much, he would go back to massaging again until I calmed down.
When the movie started, we were both happy to see it was a comedy. I have no idea how funny the film was, but I laughed out loud several times when he let his fingers go momentarily mad on my feet. He handled it so well, no one was the wiser. Like I said, I was in heaven.
A three and a half hour flight and I spent just about all of it with my feet in the lap of a man whose name I didn't even know, having my feet tickled as well as they ever had been ... by one person. As we prepared to land, I thanked him for the attention and was about to introduce myself when he said something that stopped me cold.
"It would have been better if your ankles had been tied together with an old pair of panty hose." He said this looking at me and smiling brightly.
In all my tickle experiences, I had been tied several times with a variety of fetters. But only once in my life had I ever had my ankles bound by an old pair of pantyhose. I looked at him in utter shock and asked, "Brian." He smiled even brighter. "Brian from summer school history class."
"How have you been, Barbara?" he said putting his arm around my shoulder and giving me a nice little hug.
"I can't believe this!" I said still shocked. "What has it been, 4 years?"
"Five." he said smiling. "I was seventeen back then. I'm twenty two now."
We deplaned arm in arm and walked through the terminal talking. He had graduated college at nineteen, had a masters in computer science, was running his own software company as well as consulting for more than a few Fortune 500 companies. I thought he was well off, but that was putting it mildly. He had exceeded any one's expectations for him.
He offered me a ride home, but I had to tell him my car was in the employee parking lot. He asked if he could see me, but he said it as if he expected to be rejected. I smiled at him.
"Do you want to get together for a date, or is there something else on your mind?" I asked being a little mischievous.
"I'll tell you something, Barbara." He suddenly sounded very serious and looked very sexy. "I have spent the last nine years holding every girl I met to an impossible standard. My model for that standard has been you. When I saw you in the airport, well, I felt it was fate." He smiled. "I would love to take you to dinner, tonight if possible, talk about everything we've been doing since that fateful summer, maybe even talk about that summer, and just ... get acquainted."
When Brian picked me up that evening, I decided to surprise him by wearing my new Tweety Bird house slippers to the door. Before he let me finish getting ready for our date, he pushed me onto the couch, pulled off my slippers and tickled my feet just like he had that first time so long ago. It was wonderful but even though I very easily could have orgasmed from his expert fingers wiggling all over my soles, I wanted to save it until later. Brian agreed happily.
He tickled me in the car on the way to the restaurant. He tickled me in the restaurant. He tickled me on the way to night club and in the night club. Being with him was so perfect, I knew he was the one to finally deflower me. I told him this just before we left the club. "I don't know what you're expecting," I whispered in his ear seductively, "But I am still a virgin, but I don't hope to be after tonight. So if you have any ideas about that ... we can leave now." Brian looked at me and laughed. He stood up and led me out of the club to his car.
We married a year later and he tickles me every night until I lose my mind. I couldn't be happier.