| "I can't, aahh, be so, eeaa, so hot, gggnnn, hot from arggggg,
arguing with yyyaaahhh, you.... oh god yes" he was gently tickling
the lips of her pussy with his fingers. He had a fine view now of
her luscious slender legs, which were stretching out to point the
toes in pulsing motions. "ggnnnnggoooood, oooohhh mooorre"
So I
smiled and said, "I'm just happy to be here with you" and changed
the mood by tickling you. You moved convulsively and we banged
foreheads. I said, "OK, OK, I swear -- no more tickling, ever, on
pain of, well, pain." You gave an exaggerated sigh of relief and
bent back into the kiss. At the same moment, our hands started
moving on each other's bodies, caressing. My nipples were getting
harder against your chest and I could feel your cock hardening
against my leg. I took it into my hands, then my mouth. My tongue
probed into the opening, then ran up and down the shaft. I sucked
your cock, then your balls. When you were hard, I opened a
condom and rolled it down your rod. I looked back in your eyes and
said, "We have all night for foreplay and after play and in-between
play. Right now I want you inside of me." You smiled and said, "I
want to be there." So I rolled onto my back and pulled you into the
missionary position. You grumbled about that, saying, "Missionary
work is against my religion", but you went along and pulled me into
a deep kiss at the moment your first thrust entered me.
 "Ok. If that's what you want." She said, pulling something out
from underneath the bed. She turned to face me and held the object
behind her back. I knew something was up by her knowing grin. After
a few seconds of
staring at each other, I unconsciously squirmed. Her eyes and her
smile grew, as she drew the peacock feather out from behind her
back! "Revenge for all of those tickle fights! Revenge!" My meek
laughing "no. ." was lost as the onslaught continued. Again she
ticked my feet and my armpits until I couldn't stand it! Luckily she
ignored my protests and CONTINUED tickling me! Finally she was done.
She bent down and gave me a hug. We passionately kissed. I whispered
"I love you." "Marc, I love you too." she replied. We kissed again.
Except for the weight that was now supported by her hands on my
shoulders, my entire weight was now on my
crotch, driving me deeper inside of her. She started to squeeze me
with her sex. Her pinkies slipped from my shoulders into my armpits.
I'm QUITE ticklish there, and it made me squirm. No matter HOW I
squirmed, it drove me deeper and deeper inside of her. And she kept
on squeezing me, then releasing me. Then a squeeze, and a release.
My eyes glazed over. The tickling continued, and I couldn't stop
squirming, wriggling my penis deeper and deeper. . .
"Mistress?" I managed to squeak out, "May I have your permission to
come?" "You may, slave! You may!" She said delighted. She heard the footsteps walk away from her. She had stopped
screaming now since her voice has starting to give and it was really
doing no good whatsoever. After being strapped like this for what
seemed like an eternity, she felt a delicate set of hands start to
caress her back and buttocks. The hands went to either side of her
chest and start playing with her breasts, tickling slightly. They
moved slowly down her back and all the way down her legs, only to
run lightly up the inside of her thighs and finally find her gaping
pussy. Joni was so wet now she didn't care what was happening to her
anymore, she just wanted release. "Please play with my clit and lick
my pussy..."
I put on a black garter belt (still the best way to frame my
"surprise"), and rose up a pair of sheer black
stockings, slipping them up my tan,
smooth legs and then fastening the hooks mid-thigh.
It seemed every cab in the city had passed her by. In fact, some
had probably circled around just to really piss her off, she thought
to herself. The relentless rain poured down. The water-logged copy
of the evening news was a miserable substitute for her umbrella.
That had been turned inside out by a gust of wind, like a pair of
laundered socks, and she had dumped it ungraciously in the nearest
trash can. Her raincoat was virtually worthless. Damn that dry
cleaner! He promised it wouldn't hurt the waterproofing. God damn
it! î Her silk blouse adhered to her skin like a child's
soak-and-peel tattoo. The wind skittered around the bottom of her
coat, tickling her calves and drawing any body heat off through her
sodden stockings. In that moment, she couldn't remember ever being
any more uncomfortable. |
