"Bring it." I said, giving my hair a haughty toss. "After the amount you've tickled me -well, it only proves that by now I've got endurance. You don't stand a chance here."
"We'll just see about that, Little Miss Ticklish." Said Aimee, resting one hand on her hip. The other rummaged in her bag and retrieved her phone, flicking quickly to the stop-watch option. "So, here's how it will work: You lie back, and don't try to cover up or try to stop me from tickling you. You can say whatever you want or laugh as much as you want, but when you say 'uncle', then I'll stop and we'll switch. Whoever hangs on the longest, wins. Fair?" She held out her arm.
"Fair!" I shook on it, and as I leaned closer, thought I noticed a familiar sly look in her eyes. She must have been confident about this contest. But I would show her! Without so much as a prompt, I leaned back on the sand, crossing my arms supportively behind my head and stretching out invitingly. "Do your worst!" I taunted.
The sand was charmingly warm and soft under my bare skin, a lovely contrast with the cool sea-breeze playing over my skin. It scrunched as Aimee wobbled up to me on her knees, glancing up and down my offered body slyly.
"Are you trying to cheat?" She asked, frowning as her fingers flicked at one trailing hem of my light shirt. I trembled as her fingertip lightly grazed over my belly; maybe coincidence, maybe not. But damn -I kept forgetting just how ticklish I was. "I don't get a shirt- that top has got to come off. And, since you tried to cheat that way..." I pouted, but sat up and swept off the offensive garment in question without hesitation. "...I think you might try to move or cheat some other way. Why don't I wrap your shirt around your arms? To keep you from moving?"
"Fine, fine. Just hurry up." I flashed a grin. "It's going to take you hours to break me anyways -we might as well hurry." Aimee grabbed my shirt, guiding my complaint arms behind my head to where she could wrap it snugly around my fore-limbs, before cinching it snugly in a surprisingly intricate knot. As I gave the crude bind an experimental tug, I released that I also kept forgetting how well this girl knew her knots. My arms weren't coming down until she let them. In the meantime, my half-naked body was her defenceless toy. Well, I could take anything she could dish out, and I still had a safe-word of a kind.
But as I reclined once more on the beach, I felt my stomach quiver, this time with misgivings as well as a passing draught of fresh air. Aimee loomed over me, surveying me head-to-toe with a critical eye as her hands slowly rose to hover over me. I smirked right back, causally puffing a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. Her fingers wiggled, gradually sinking lower and lower, preparing to land on my bared and helpless abdomen. I watched them sink with rising trepidation, stomach sucking in to avoid the teasing fingertips, squirming a little as if it could somehow delay the glacial onslaught of tickles.
She just had to start on my belly, didn't she? My poor, poor belly; it seemed that no one was prepared to ever leave it alone. Least of all Aimee. I was so ticklish there... Just the sight of those diabolic hands about to make contact, wriggling like worms over my abdomen -I couldn't stop myself from giggling.
"Laughing already, Miss Ticklish?" Aimee inquired smugly. "I haven't even started tickling you yet- and that means I haven't even started the timer." I bit my lip as that sank in, hips writhing back and fourth with nervous energy. Was this really a good idea? Could I really handle this? How badly did I want to tickle Aimee, anyway? Surreptitiously, the timer beeped.
I gasped in shock as Aimee brought the Blitz, hands smashing into my hips, squeezing right at the curves on my figure, thumbs blazing deep on the insides of my hips-bones. Between one explosion of tickling sensation and the next, that gasp became a scream, as I laughed and bucked, sitting up so hard that sand flew out behind me. My legs kicked in mid-air as I yelled with laughter, flopping back on the sand, biceps straining against the shirt holding them tight. I felt electrified with tickling energy, like I was simply going to over-heat and melt right there in the sand. I have absolutely no shame in admitting that I almost screamed 'uncle' then and there; I am rather more embarrassed to say that the only thing stopping me was that I was too incoherent with shocked laughter, as opposed to any organized effort of my tattered will.
"Tickle tickle, bitch!" Teased Aimee, leaning in her full weight, leering like a wolf over an injured elk, determined to savage every last morsel of ticklish screams and struggles out of me. In retrospect, I must admit she was very good at it; there were quite a few for her to savour. I scrunched forward in a crunch, smacked back upon the sand, drummed my feet- anything to release the waves of power flooding through me. My lungs strained and heaved, breasts bouncing as Eyes squeezed shut, hair flopping and bouncing on my head, I belted out laughter crazily. Even in our secluded location, it was a petty miracle that no one heard and decided to investigate then and there.
But, after a few seconds, though my discordant private symphony of cacophonic guffaws and shrieks never dropped an octave, the shock wore off. Muscles aching, nerves sizzling, I began to rally. I could do this! I had taken longer and more arduous tickle-sessions than anything she could dish out more times than I could count. I just had to keep it together and... not... think about... that word!.... Holy Molly, it tickled! My stomach trembled and shook as Aimee branched out from my hips, squeezing and kneading enthusiastically everywhere she could think to target. I bucked and thrashed side to side, anything to secure some kind of succour from the pursuing fingers that teased and stimulated all over my helpless form. I thrashed like a wild-girl at the feeling of those devious fingers pinch and dig deep into my sides and belly, tracing over my upper pelvis, once even groping my ass for a laugh! Why, oh why, had I worn such a paltry bikini? Would a one-piece have killed me?! I couldn't do it! No-one could take this!
Eventually, Aimee slid one leg under my lower back, other limb making a triangle over my thighs, squeezing tight to secure me under her fingers. Impressively, she never stopped or even slowed tickling me for a moment, smile flashing in the sun as she watched me go to pieces under her touch, savouring every step of the long climb down to insanity. She curled her knuckles into claws on each hand, digging deep into my belly, right on the curves around my navel. I screamed, I squealed, helpless in her grip. But for all my pleas and protests, it tingled at my chest and nether-regions, a hot gem of pleasure in a frigid mire of torturous sensation.
"Face it, Little Miss Ticklish," Aimee drawled cheerfully, heedless of my squalling laughter as she explored every minute millimetre of my exposed tummy. "You've had this coming for a while. Always trying to tickle me..." She kneaded the base of my ribs rhythmically, sending me plummeting into every-greater depths of ticklish hell. Or was that ecstasy? "...Well, if you weren't such a tickle-prone klutz, I don't know what I'd do. Still, I've got to admire you're ability to endure." She checked my face; flaming red and contorted with involuntary merriment. No sensate reaction. "You're doing great -I'll admit that I would never hold on this long. But you know what?" All of a sudden, the hands froze, tickling seeming to reverberate through me like a gong-blast.
Aimee began tracing hands behind me sensually, kneading my back as I slumped back, giggling, panting, trying to remember what the word was... She rolled over me, lying atop me, impishly excited face inches from my blushed, lolling one. My chest heaved, breasts bumping against hers with every breath ....as she gently unlatched my bra strap. I only found out that part as she flicked my bra over my head, hand instantly going to pin my arms firmly to the ground, as the other
brought up something for me to inspect.
"Aimee! What the hell- don't undo my top!" I bucked against her weight in a violated panic, feeling her auburn locks brushing my cheeks. For all me protests, my breasts felt tumescent; alert and craving stimulation. "Put my bra back! Aimee! Get off me or I'll- I'll- I'lll... Is that a feather?" I stared as if transfixed at the innocuous little device in her hand, held tantalizing inches from my stark naked bust. My feet were maddeningly feather ticklish. My belly was even worse. My tits... I don't know how she found out, but suddenly 'Pride' and 'Dignity' were expenditures I could ill afford.
"Uncle! Uncleuncleuncle!" I pleaded, rustling my shoulders back and forth against her oppressive body-weight, staring pleadingly into Aimee's eyes as my tits swayed under her in unintended invitation.
"Sorry; Little Miss Ticklish," She said primly, looking deep into my eyes as she forced my arms into the ground. "But you've had this coming for too long..."
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author