Tickling Diane

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WARNING! This is adult oriented fiction of a strong sexual nature. If you are under 18 years of age or easily offended by such material, then click your browser's back button now. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on any website without obtaining the author's permission first.

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Tickling Diane

by Night Owl

(Story Content:  MF/f, Bondage, Tickling)

My wife, Elise, and I were finally awarded the opportunity to meet with our new partner after several weeks of corresponding with her over the Internet. Her name was Diane Decker - a nineteen year old, brown haired beauty, just starting her first semester at the local community college near her home. She accepted our proposition to spend the evening with us for two reasons. First, she needed the extra money we offered her to cover for books and other expenses. Second, and most important, she had long wanted to explore a life-long obsession, so personal and so unusual for her, that she couldn't bring herself to even discuss it with her closest friends. That obsession was tickling.

We understood Diane's feelings about the subject, being ticklers ourselves. But the one thing Elise and I have learned, is that life is too short for secrets and that, ultimately, there are very few things that warrant secrecy. We began tickling each other when we were dating, and since then, our relationship has been filled with some of the most erotic and fulfilling adventures I have ever known. We experimented with bondage techniques as a means of intensifying the sensations, and came up with all sorts of role-playing scenarios. We even discussed inviting a third person into our sessions to spice things up a bit, and just recently, decided to finally give it a try.

We both agreed that our new partner should be a woman, the submissive type, both young and innocent-looking, yet open-minded enough to seriously consider what we had in mind. Most importantly, she had to be a true novice when it came to tickling, so we would be assured that her laughter was genuine and not just an act. In short, and at the risk of sounding elitist, Elise and I saw ourselves as true artists when it came to tickling, and we were in need of a blank canvas on which to practice our skills.

We found Diane on a local blog, called The Magic Touch. She lived in Littleton, which is a suburb just south of Denver, where we lived. At the time of our meeting she had just graduated from high school, and saw herself as a normal teenager, somewhat straight-laced, with just one quirk of deviancy. Tickling. Ever since she could remember, Diane would do anything to be tickled. She often teased the boys on the playground and challenged them to tickle fights. Her behavior seemed innocent at the time, but then as she reached puberty, it grew into a powerful obsession. What she couldn't get in reality (which really wasn't much due to her shy nature), she got through fantasy. She described it as a type of drug, to which she was so thoroughly and irreversibly addicted, that she felt she had no free will left.

For months, the three of us shared our thoughts and fantasies on the subject. We got to know each other personally, exchanged photos, and shared favorite stories about tickling. My wife and I tried to convince Diane that her obsession would only get worse unless she found an outlet for it. We also told her that if she ever decided to give tickling a try, she might be better off in the hands of two experts, meaning ourselves, and forgo any embarrassment of revealing this secret to any of her friends. We even offered to pay her for the trouble driving across town to our home. I could almost hear the nervous laughter from Diane on the other end, but she seemed very receptive, and even typed,

"We'll just have to try this some time because I think it would appeal to my masochistic urges!"

We continued our devotion in building a relationship with this girl, until finally, she agreed to meet with us in person.

That evening, both Elise and I had been waiting anxiously for her arrival, and as I answered the door, I was greeted with a sight that I could only picture in my imagination. The photo Diane sent us certainly didn't justify her appearance in person. She stood there under our porch light, trying to compose herself. Her large, brown 'doe' eyes and nervous smile made her look almost virginal. Her skin was smooth and fair, her dark brown hair fell just over her shoulders in loose, feathered curls. She had on a light jacket, with an Arapahoe Warriors logo stitched on the right chest - the name of her old high school.

Elise joined us at the door and we introduced ourselves. I felt her hand trembling a little as I shook it. I could tell she was hesitant, wondering what we were really like in person.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Diane," my wife greeted her warmly. "Please come in."

We stood aside and ushered her into the room, letting our eyes roam up and down her body as she took off her jacket. We had asked our guest to wear something provocative, but tasteful, and Diane didn't disappoint us. Her white sweater halter top was secure around her neck and across her lower back, leaving the arms, shoulders, upper back, and lower midriff bare. She had no bra on underneath, so we could see the tips of her breasts pointing softly through the light wool material. Her black shorts rode very high on her thighs, making her long legs appear even more so, and her leather sandals showed off her perfect bare feet. The outfit was simple, sexy, and most importantly, didn't detract from her innocence, making a delectable combination over all.

Just by studying her mannerisms, I could tell Diane wasn't used to showing off so much of herself, not to mention the butterflies she must have been feeling just in knowing what she was about to submit to. Elise and I were also filled with anticipation and eager to allay any fears that our guest might have.

We lead her to the couch and poured some wine, then chatted awhile about other things - her school, our marriage, and so on. When Diane realized that we were just as nervous as she was about this meeting, her own fears began to melt away. The topic eventually turned to our favorite subject, and the question was asked,

"So where are you the most ticklish?"

Diane blushed furiously as she hesitated to answer. Discussing each others' fantasies seemed so easy over the Internet, but in person she suddenly grew shy.

"It's all right," I said. "The time has come for us to find out for ourselves, with your permission, of course."

Diane nodded.

We sat to each side of her on the sofa and began to gently run our fingers over those exposed parts of her body while noting what made her squirm and giggle. Fingertips softly glided around her neck, down her arms, and around her belly. She could feel gentle prods and pokes along her ribs and under her arms. Elise removed her sandals and explored the soles and bridges of her bare feet with light fingernail touches. Diane giggled and squirmed against me as I continued with my own explorations of her upper body. She was becoming very excited (as was I) from this subtle torture. We decided to move to the next level.

I opened and drawer in the end table and withdraw several different colored silk scarves, then I turned toward Diane and asked,

"Are you ready to try these out for size?"

She stared at the scarves for several seconds, as if gathering her courage, then replied quietly,

"Yes."

I took her right hand and ran one of the silk scarves across her tiny wrist. Her doe eyes grew wider with anticipation as I slowly wrapped the scarf around twice and tied it off, while Elise did the same with her other wrist. Then we guided her upstairs to our bedroom.

Diane gave us a curious look as we passed the bed and ushered her toward the master bathroom. She was about to ask why we were going there, when she saw the two large hooks in the ceiling above. I moved her into position, facing away from the tub so she could see herself in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. She watched helplessly as I raised her arms high and secured each bound wrist to a hook.

Elise was standing in the doorway and taking this all in. She had elected to watch for awhile, to savor the situation before taking an active role. Her face was flushed with excitement, and an evil little smile graced her lips as she leaned against the door frame, letting her gaze travel up and down this young woman's helpless body.

I too, was feeling very anxious. The top Diane wore had a loose knit pattern to it, and I could see teasing little circles of her smooth, pink flesh peeking through the fabric. Underneath, her nipples were really struggling now to reveal themselves. I gently pulled her shorts down and slipped them off her feet. Her white silk panties showed off quite a bit of thigh and 'cheek.' With just one downward swipe of my hand, I could have easily removed them, exposing her treasures underneath, but I elected to leave them on for now, as well as the top.

I pulled out another scarf and tied her ankles together, then stepped back to gaze at our victim's reflection in the mirror. She was quite a sight standing there almost on her toes, unable to do more than squirm and sway a little. Her arms looked especially vulnerable, raised high as they were like a V with her naked pits stretched wide open for us. Below the halter top, her bare tummy dipped slightly inward under her jutting ribs.

Standing behind her, I touched her wrists and ran my hands lightly down her arms. Diane closed her eyes tight and pressed her lips together. She was trying desperately to suppress the laughter that would inevitably burst from her lungs. I wiggled my fingers into her armpits and savored the feel of those warm, deep, silky-smooth curves. Diane moaned and squirmed. She tried to bring her arms down to protect herself by twisting them against the restraints. A wasted effort, but nonetheless, fun to watch. I turned my attention to her breasts next, and couldn't resist playing with her nipples for a few moments through the sweater. I could feel them harden under my touch, as she sighed and began to rub herself against my body.

My hands then dropped to her waist, and for a moment, I held them there and stared into the reflection of her eyes in the mirror. I watched her breasts rise and fall underneath the top with each nervous breath, as the anxiety of knowing what was to come next welled up inside her.

I moved my hands away from her skin until just the tips of my fingers made contact, then I began to slowly flutter them around her waist and belly. I could feel her stomach muscles jump under my touches. She began to writhe around, trying to elude them, arms twisting again. She made little squealing sounds under her breath, but she still seemed very determined to hold her laughter in for as long as possible. I was just as determined that I would have this girl screaming for mercy, so I wrapped one arm around her upper body to keep her completely still, while I used my free hand to tickle her ribs. Elise decided it was time to join in on the play, and moving in beside me, dug her long, red fingernails into Diane's open armpits.

Finally, we were rewarded as her composure broke, and she began to giggle out loud. I released my arms from her waist and thrust my fingers up her sweater to tickle her ribs there. My wife continued the assault on her underarms. We watched Diane in the mirror, her face contorted with tortured laughter, her body thrashing and twisting in the restraints, trying to fend off the unmerciful onslaught of two expert ticklers. Her ass was really grinding against me now, and Elise noted with a tease how much I was enjoying it when she saw my hard-on straining against my pants. We tickled Diane non-stop for ten more minutes, leaving her breathless before stepping back to give her a break.

As she stood there trembling, trying to regain her regain her senses, we launched our second attack. Elise tickled her behind the knees, then ran her long nails up her legs, around her tush, and between her thighs, while I focused on her upper body again.

It must have been exasperating, being attacked so relentlessly by two sets of hands, twenty fingers in all, wiggling, scratching and poking her from all sides. I grasped the bottom of her sweater and pushed it upward, a couple of inches at a time, pausing in between to give her quick little tickles and caresses on her newly bared flesh. She jumped and giggled each time my fingers made contact. All pretenses of resisting were gone now. The sweater rose inch by inch up her ribs, up to her nipples, then she gasped as her naked breasts finally sprang free.

Meanwhile, Elise was working her talented fingers over her belly. She teasingly traced the outline of her silk panties, then gently tugged them downward, again inch by inch, exposing her dark pubes and the upper furrow between her smooth, round buttocks. I brushed my fingers lightly over her nipples until they became as hard as bullets and swelled to twice their original size. Diane's struggles became violent, yet my wife still managed to remove the panties and was now wiggling her fingers around the poor girl's privates while she twisted and squirmed to try and get away from them.

By the time we allowed Diane a second break, she was a wreck. She hung limply by her wrists, almost panting from laughter, with her top still bunched up over her breasts and her panties draped uselessly around her ankles. She was really sweating too. Moisture glistened from under her arms, as though beckoning us touch them again, but for the moment, we resisted.

We decided that we had kept her standing there long enough, and that it was time to move on to something different. Elise removed the rest of her clothing while I untied her, then we guided her out of the bathroom to the king-sized bed.

We stretched her naked body out on the plush bedding, secured her arms and legs to each corner with silk scarves. We stepped back for a moment to drink in the sight of our victim now spread-eagled, bound tightly, and awaiting our pleasure. Our devious, ticklish minds were almost overwhelmed with new possibilities.

Diane watched wide-eyed as I reached into a black bag and withdraw several feathers of various colors and textures. Elise and I each selected two feathers, and taking one in each of our hands, we began to glide them over her body. Elise chose to begin on her breasts, swirling the tips around and around the outer edges before lightly teasing her nipples. I moved to the end of the bed, and begin stroking the soles of her lovely feet. Not surprisingly, Diane was bucking and squirming, and rewarding us with screams of tortured laughter, all at the same time.

The feeling of power, the intensity of it, was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Numerous times I had tied my wife and tickled her, but it wasn't the same, probably because Elise always knew what to expect, while Diane had no idea what she was getting herself into. She was totally helpless and completely at our mercy. Her firm, young body was ours now, for as long as we wanted it, and there was no way of her knowing when this torture would stop.

I tickled the base of her toes before sliding the feathers around her arches and up over the tops of her feet, while Elise let hers glide into her armpits, then up and down her sides. Feathers were pulled between each of her toes, and dipped into her belly button. I worked my way up her legs, pausing to give the backs of her knees a few swipes. The smooth muscles inside her thighs twitched as I tickled them too.

We gave Diane another break, but only long enough for me to wrap a length of black cloth around her eyes, plunging her into darkness, and leaving her helpless to experience any sensory input except what we chose to give her. Throughout our session, she had begged and pleaded for us to stop, as much as she could, between her sudden fits of forced laughter. Now her power of speech had deteriorated into mindless babble. I wondered how much tickling a woman could take before losing her mind completely, and if that did happen, would her sanity would ever return again. Well . . . the three of us had all evening to find out.

After giving Diane's upper body the full treatment, Elise put her feathers away and pulled out two fude brushes made of soft horse hair. I decided to join her. While I used my brushes to tickle the girl's feet again, my wife gave her armpits another long dose of tickling. First she drew imaginary circles around them, then dipped her brushes into both ticklish hollows. With each thumb and index finger she twirled the brush handles. Tears flowed out of Diane's eyes, and she was laughing so hard I thought her lungs would burst. I dragged my brushes up her legs and tickled her ribs, while my wife moved to her breasts and teased both nipples with soft swipes and strokes at least 15 minutes.

We must have covered nearly every square inch of the girl's flesh with the brushes. Only the V of her body remained untouched. By then, Diane was moaning and begging us in her own mindless way to touch her there. Instead, we set our brushes down and tickled her body again with our fingers -- the deep, intense kind of tickling that drove our helpless victim into fits of silent laughter, her body thrashing violently against the restraints.

We gave her another break, but Diane could hardly remain still. Every nerve in her body so charged up now, that all it took was just one touch to set her off again, so we decided it was time to move in for the final kill. Diane tried to ready herself for what was next. With the blindfold on, she couldn't tell what we were planning, or if we were still even in the room for that matter. Then she moaned when she realized we were tickling her with our tongues. More giggles followed as we lapped at her armpits, then left moist trails down her ribs, around her thighs and back up to her breasts. Finally, I decided to stand back and watch my wife finish her off.

Lying on the bed between Diane's splayed legs, Elise took the fude brush again, and began softly and insistently stroking her pussy. Using brushes has always been my wife's specialty when it came to tickling. She had the patience and timing, and knew just where and how to use them. I remember being tied to the bed once, and begging for mercy while she teased my cock and balls with the damn things for almost an hour.

Now it was Diane's turn. The first touch made her giggle in nervous, delighted confusion. I could tell she had never touched like that down there. Elise dragged the wispy horse hairs around and around the girl's swollen labia, then up between. When the brush reached her clit, Diane nearly had an orgasm. Knowing she had little time left, Elise set the brush aside and continued the teasing of Diane's clit, only this time with her tongue.

The things my wife has done to me that wonderful appendage are mind-boggling, and now she was using it to stimulate this girl in ways that she had probably never experienced in her young life. I grew envious of Diane, and for the first time, really began to take notice the growing, aching feeling in my pants. I thought about masturbating, but resisted the urge, in the hope that Elise and Diane would soon be finished.

Thankfully, the wait had not been long, as my wife's skillful tongue was enough to finally push Diane over the edge. While the orgasm washed over her, we began to furiously tickle her belly and ribs again with our fingers. The combination of the tickling and her orgasm caused her to cry out with pleasure, and she nearly fainted from the intensity.

Afterward, we decided to give our new partner a long, deserved rest. We left her tied to the bed while I took Elise by the hand and led her into the next room. It was our turn to play now, and when we were finished, we would be back for another round of tickling. Needless to say, Diane was in for very a long night!

End ;-)