You spot your next target to torment whilst Sam croaks and coughs as if she very recently scampered an unabridged 40 km marathon. Glimpsing at her abdomen, you can't help but admire its tempting bleached shape and voluptuous curves that merely entails your full attention. Her flustered face now revolves towards you as the intégrue expects your anteceding gesticulation. Whilst she'd utterly deny it, you can evidently tell that the maiden is fairly enjoying the amount of anguish that you inflict upon her with the look on her eyes that command you to resume.
"Boy...I don't know about you, but it's getting exceptionally warm in here," you voice - breaking the quietude that inaugurated shortly after the first round. "You must be hot as well, let me assist you with that." As you conclude your sentence, you seize the rim of her shirt and slowly hoist it up. The piece of garment slides on her skin, which elicits your excitement as you witness more of her exquisite integument. The bottom of her top presently hovers on her middle ribcage and Sam grows more embarrassed by the second - developing a surpassing crimson on her facial expression. Her hips sweave like a professional dancer from the precipitous exposure, yet you ignore that little rebellious act and rise the fabric at the highest point. Now, the selvage resides underneath her melons and you impede at that height; you're already spectating enough and you don't want to proceed any further. Her large bosom will have to come later, as you plainly wish to focus on the sensuous organ below. Her paunch is unequivocally flat and moderately toned, not a single trace of baby fat. Her belly button possesses the form of an oval due to the extension, and her ribs are quite defined by virtue of the same interpretation. Her gaze switches angle; Sam refuses to look you in the oculus, potentially because of awkwardness and humiliation.
"Y-you bastard...what are you doing?" her stuttering tone echoed through the understructure. You don't automatically respond at first. Instead, your hands speak in your place; you serenely plant your shaker on the monotonous apparent of her incurvate midriff and start scraping soothingly. Sam's peepers extemporaneously shut themselves tightly as you savour the satisfying sensation of her abdominal muscles contracting under your contact. "(Squeal) St-stooooopp...You've had your fun, so let me go you pervert!" she demands frustratedly, but you have no intention of doing so. You replace your light brushes with enticing pokes that randomly prods regions of her breadbasket. Her constituent quivers and spasms with each touch and the lassie gasps as she ventures to withstand the gruesome experience.
"Wow, you're more ticklish than I believed," you commented whilst dragging your digits from one edge to another in a horizontal line. "Your stomach is just too cute for me to stop. Now, I want you to beg me to tickle your tummy. Go on, say it."
"N-no, stop it! Y-you're hahe ehehe ehhoehoe oheehhe ieheie heheheheheh crazy! I'm not gonna beg for that, you assholehehehehehehhee!" her insults doesn't constrain you that much. In fact, you solely fancy the way that she bounces around, desperately trying to avoid your deadly fingers. Her hair tosses in the air constantly and splatters her in the features. The demeanor is entertaining to observe whilst you playfully spider tickle her frontal intestines and occasionally pinch her flanks - provoking a spasmodic revolt typically. Sequently, you jam your forefingers on her sides and make your path up to her ribs, before strolling down to her lower margins. Sam's ocular entities seem to pop out of their socket as she acknowledges a newfound stratagem that propels her to the realm of insanity, turning her belly away from your grasp. Sadly, it doesn't accomplish any positive repercussions as you unambiguously mimic her fluctuation and knead the brinks of her luscious navel.
"Come on, I know you want to say it," you jeer mockingly through the operation, grabbing as much flesh as possible and teasing her hypersensitive girth. The dame strives to pronounce phrases, but she does not have the power to do so; the titillation was terribly overwhelming that she lost the capability to communicate from lack of energy. As Sam fought to reply, you utilize the 'Pacman' artistry - spreading your phalanges and squeezing the abundance of pigmentation disposed at your mercy. Tears transcended from her lachryma during your arousal and her mouth hung low, releasing all the guffaws that she deliberately suppressed. Eventually, her cackling diminished and the woman embarked silent laughter. You then interlude once again, since you truly covet her beautiful sniggers - hushed chortling doesn't suit your style.
"(cough) Huff...huff...I can't....believe....you're making me...do this..." the exhausted personage uttered in-between inspiration. "Fine...please tickle...my tummy." she finally concedes while you beam sinisterly.
"Of course, your wish is my command!" you enthusiastically riposte as you thrust your fingertips on her unwrinkled guts and generate vibrations by shaking your metacarpus exceedingly. Her endearing organism trembles and jiggles - creating irresistible sentiments on her nerve endings. Her gorgeous hysterics inundates the environs and her limbs convulse. "Coochie coochie coo! This wittle tummy is so ticklish and squirmy, and my fingers are hungry for young woman skin! Oh, how can we forget about this sweet belly button too? It would be a crime not to tickle it as well. Tickle tickle tickle, Sam! Ohh..I'm planning on keeping you here forever!" you tease insistently, grazing the small dimple at the foundation of her umbilical cord. "Here comes the raspberries! PFFFFFFT! PPPPPPPFFFFFFFT! Wow, you even taste delicious! Coochie coochie coo! Coochie coochie coo!"
"AHAHA HAHAAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHOEH EHEIEHEEH EEHEHEHIE EIH EIEAAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAH STOOOOP! STOOOOP! STTOOOOPAHA HAHA AAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHA! I'M GONNA DIE HEHE EEHEHE AHAHOhoaAHAOOAHAHA AAHAHAHAH!" Minutes and even hours flew by so quickly. Her midriff converted into a pinkish color from all the pesterings and scribbles. At this point, Sam might as well have lost her sanity. She's a complete mess, shivering even though you weren't palpating her anymore. However, you aren't fully contented and you still long to uphold your tickle fetish. There are still many places to go for and plenty of time to discover her susceptible spots.
The question is; what do you do?
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