Tienteaser : 05 - Another Time with Sandy and Susan (FF/m)
Posted: Tue Oct 27, 2020 2:54 am
Tienteaser's stories
05 - Another Time with Sandy and Susan
Story index at the bottom
By Tienteaser
Tuesday, January 17th 2006 - 11:58:06 PM
Sandy & Susan, Part 3 (FF/m)
It has been quite a while since I last posted a story here. For those who don't remember or never saw them, you might want to read them first for some background. They're here:
Tie-up: Sandy and Me
Sandy and Susan Again
The quickie version: I discovered my lifelong love of tickling very young, beginning with watching raptly as heroines were bound and gagged on TV and in movies. When I was 7 years old I stepped into the real-life tickling world thanks to two college coeds who were renting rooms from my family at the time. Barbara, Sandy, and Susan were our boarders, and it was Sandy and Susan who uncovered, somewhat to their surprise, my love of bondage and tickle-play.
My responses to tickling and to being tickled were formed very early on. As a result, my stories from that time may have a sexual edge to them that will make some readers uncomfortable. I'm going to try to stay within the rules of Canuck's site while still remaining true to the events as they happened, but be warned as you read ahead in this story and others.
This story took place several days after the last one in this series - a week, perhaps two (details of timing are fuzzy after nearly 40 years). I know that it was early in 1968, because I didn't begin my explorations with Sandy and Susan until they had returned to class after Christmas break, and it was before Spring break. There was still snow outside, though it had begun its Spring retreat, so call it mid to late February, 1968. Things had pretty much gone back to their normal routine after the events of my last story. I certainly hadn't forgotten though.
I've always been a night-owl, even then. I was the exasperation of my parents with my nocturnal ways, because even on school nights I'd often wake after everyone else was asleep and look for something to occupy my busy mind. I shared a room with my younger brother, so while I could listen to my radio with the sound turned way down, I couldn't turn on a light to read or play with my toys. Robert was a sound sleeper, but that would often wake him. I liked watching late-show monster movies on TV, but that frequently woke my parents, which was no fun for anyone. So after Sandy started rooming with us my favorite late-night pastime was padding quietly out of my room and into hers, which was right next door. If I wasn't up just ridiculously late Sandy would often be awake studying, and she never seemed to mind me asking questions about her classes or just chatting a bit. Inevitably I would nod off again before too long, and Sandy would carry me back to my own bed when she was ready to sleep.
Tonight was one of those nights. My eyes popped open at some indecent post-midnight hour, and I knew right away that I wouldn't be getting back to sleep soon. Carefully I climbed down from the top bunk of the beds I shared with my brother, and tucked my feet into slippers against the cold of the hardwood floors. I had learned to use buttons just a year or so earlier and I wore two-piece button-top pajamas as a point of pride, disdaining the one-piece style that my little brother still wore. So, stealthed in Winnie-the-Pooh flannel, I crept out of my room.
I was happy to see the glow of lamplight through Sandy's partly open door. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed wearing a souvenier Denver Broncos jersey at least two sizes too large for her. Her blanket was tucked up over her bare legs and her straight brown hair hung in a pony-tail in back. As I pushed her door open she looked up from the book in her lap and gave me a lop-sided, tolerant grin.
She shook her head knowingly and patted the bed next to her, inviting me to climb up. As I joined her on the bed she said, "You're gonna do great in college, squirt. You've got the schedule down already."
"What are you reading?" I asked. I was always curious about that.
She looked wryly at her textbook. "The history of the Roman Empire," she said. "Dull, dull, dull."
"Tell me about it?"
So Sandy began telling me about Romulus and Remus and the founding of the City of the Seven Hills. I listened intently, chirping a question now and then, until ancient Roman history became a bedtime story. I curled up on the bed next to Sandy, and somewhere between Hannibal and Julius Caesar, I fell asleep.
The next thing I heard was a whispered conversation. "Sandy, I can not believe you did that!" It sounded like Susan's voice, somewhere between awe and worry.
"I know," Sandy whispered back. "But you should've seen him sleeping there. And you KNOW he likes it! You would have done the same thing."
As I came back to the waking world I realized that I couldn't move. My arms were stretched together over my head, reaching for one corner of Sandy's double bed, and my ankles were tied apart to the top side of what looked like a piece of wood cut from a broom handle. My body lay diagonally across the bed, with my wrists tied to the wooden headboard next to the wall and my left foot near the outer edge. I couldn't see what my wrists were bound with, but my ankles were lashed to the broom handle with strips cut from an old bedsheet, and my wrist bonds felt like the same thing. Sandy and Susan were standing next to the bed, Sandy still in her Broncos jersey while Susan wore a soft cotton houserobe belted at the waist.
Even as I was taking all this in, the whispering stopped, and Sandy sat next to me on the bed. "Are you OK?" she asked? She looked flushed, a little nervous.
"I'm OK," I replied. "But I'm tied up," I added, completely unnecessarily.
"Yeah, I tied you up after you fell asleep." We were masters of the obvious tonight. "Do you want me to let you go?"
"No," I said firmly. I was pulling experimentally at my bonds. My wrists were going nowhere. I could move my legs a little, one at a time, but they were tied about as far apart as I could comfortably get them, and the broomstick didn't allow much play. I found I liked the feeling. "Are you going to tickle me like you do Susan?"
I heard Susan take a deep breath. Sandy spoke carefully. "I was thinking about it. Both of us were." She sent Susan a look. "Would you like that?"
"Yes," I said, in my most solemn 7-year-old-voice. "I'll try to be quiet."
Susan hid a smile behind her hand. The look Sandy gave me reminded me of my mother when I brought her a dandelion bouquet. She ruffled my hair fondly.
"I know you would, squirt. But what fun would that be?" She knelt beside her bed, rummaged beneath it a little, and brought out a white "flour sack" towel like we used to dry dishes in the kitchen. Holding it by diagonal corners she twirled it quickly into a tight roll, then said, "Open wide." I opened my mouth obediently and Sandy seated the middle of the towel between my teeth. Even rolled tight the towel was thick and soft, and barely fit my small mouth. Sandy beckoned Susan over and with a look almost like wonder, Susan lifted my head while Sandy tied the towel snugly at the back of my neck.
"There," she said. "Now you can make as much noise as you want." She grinned down at me. "Or at least, as much as you can."
"Do you still want to do this?" Susan asked. Her voice had a quiver.
I was getting nervous, but excited. I nodded.
Susan and Sandy settled on opposite sides of me. "First things first, then," Sandy said. She unbuttoned my pajama top. I think her hands were shaking just a little. When my top was open and I was essentially bare to the waist, Sandy started tickling lightly with one hand all over my upper body. Muffled giggles and wiggles were her reward. She grinned and her hand started moving faster, making me twist and laugh, but the roll of cotton in my mouth turned my laughter into soft squeaks.
Even with the broomstick on my ankles, Sandy was inspiring me to twist almost onto my side. Susan had been watching us, almost entranced, but now Sandy gestured toward my feet with her head and a smile. Susan's eyes widened a bit, but she moved to kneel on the floor next to the bed and gripped the broomstick to keep it from moving. Sandy said "Now you're in trouble," and began wiggling her fingernails in my underarms as Susan removed my slippers and started tickling my feet.
I'd been tickled before, even by all three girls at once, but never anything like this. Always before, when the girls had ganged up on me, one had held me while the other(s) tickled me. And even then I could usually twist and curl up to protect my most vulnerable areas. Not this time. Sandy had both hands free and tickling my tummy, waist, and sides. Then Susan put a pillow atop the broomstick and set one knee on it to pin my ankles immovably to the bed, putting all ten fingernails to work on my feet. Stretched out on the bed there was nothing I could do about any of it. This was tickling in the big leagues.
I loved it and hated it at the same time. It felt like it would never end, and I was divided in how I felt about that. Were it not for the gag I surely would have been begging, but I might not have been clear about what I was begging for.
After an eternal five minutes the girls stopped to let me breathe. Their eyes were shining. Even Susan had shed her nervousness and looked as excited as I would with a new toy. Sandy was smiling wickedly. I'm not sure what I looked like, but I felt like I'd been on the best roller coaster in the world. My chest was heaving, but I could feel my wind coming back.
As I caught my breath, Sandy caught my eye and held it. She wet the tip of her index finger with her tongue, and with great deliberation began circling that fingertip around and over my right nipple. I jumped in my bonds. Sandy's smile widened and she leaned over to blow cool air on the damp skin. My nipple stiffened immediately and I felt goosebumps racing down my arms. Sandy wet her fingertip again and began tickling my nipple with quick, short strokes. That was another sort of tickling altogether. As I squirmed and squeaked with laughter and not-quite-laughter, Sandy kept teasing my right nipple even as she repeated the wet-blow-tickle trick on my left. My wiggles doubled, then doubled again as Susan began finding the tickle-spots on my knees and hips. Then as Sandy alternated between my nipples and my underarms, I was back on the roller coaster again.
I'm sure to this day that this second tickle-session was twice the length of the first. But I couldn't swear to it: eternity doubled is still eternity. At some point though I became aware that tickling had given way to soft hands petting my head and chest gently. Sandy was murmuring comfort, and I became aware also that there was a new sense of tightness across the front of my pajama bottoms. It wasn't the very first time that had happened to me, but I still wasn't quite sure what it meant. The girls were sure though, and Susan whispered, "Oh, wow."
The roller coaster still had my head in a whirl, as I felt one or perhaps two pairs of hands untying me. Sandy bundled me up in her arms and both girls cuddled me between them. I was incredibly happy, but totally wrung out. I felt Sandy pick me up to take me to bed, but I never felt her tuck me in.
Tienteaser
tienteaser@gmail.com
California, USA
__________________________________________________________________________
Tienteaser's stories
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section
05 - Another Time with Sandy and Susan
Story index at the bottom
By Tienteaser
Tuesday, January 17th 2006 - 11:58:06 PM
Sandy & Susan, Part 3 (FF/m)
It has been quite a while since I last posted a story here. For those who don't remember or never saw them, you might want to read them first for some background. They're here:
Tie-up: Sandy and Me
Sandy and Susan Again
The quickie version: I discovered my lifelong love of tickling very young, beginning with watching raptly as heroines were bound and gagged on TV and in movies. When I was 7 years old I stepped into the real-life tickling world thanks to two college coeds who were renting rooms from my family at the time. Barbara, Sandy, and Susan were our boarders, and it was Sandy and Susan who uncovered, somewhat to their surprise, my love of bondage and tickle-play.
My responses to tickling and to being tickled were formed very early on. As a result, my stories from that time may have a sexual edge to them that will make some readers uncomfortable. I'm going to try to stay within the rules of Canuck's site while still remaining true to the events as they happened, but be warned as you read ahead in this story and others.
This story took place several days after the last one in this series - a week, perhaps two (details of timing are fuzzy after nearly 40 years). I know that it was early in 1968, because I didn't begin my explorations with Sandy and Susan until they had returned to class after Christmas break, and it was before Spring break. There was still snow outside, though it had begun its Spring retreat, so call it mid to late February, 1968. Things had pretty much gone back to their normal routine after the events of my last story. I certainly hadn't forgotten though.
I've always been a night-owl, even then. I was the exasperation of my parents with my nocturnal ways, because even on school nights I'd often wake after everyone else was asleep and look for something to occupy my busy mind. I shared a room with my younger brother, so while I could listen to my radio with the sound turned way down, I couldn't turn on a light to read or play with my toys. Robert was a sound sleeper, but that would often wake him. I liked watching late-show monster movies on TV, but that frequently woke my parents, which was no fun for anyone. So after Sandy started rooming with us my favorite late-night pastime was padding quietly out of my room and into hers, which was right next door. If I wasn't up just ridiculously late Sandy would often be awake studying, and she never seemed to mind me asking questions about her classes or just chatting a bit. Inevitably I would nod off again before too long, and Sandy would carry me back to my own bed when she was ready to sleep.
Tonight was one of those nights. My eyes popped open at some indecent post-midnight hour, and I knew right away that I wouldn't be getting back to sleep soon. Carefully I climbed down from the top bunk of the beds I shared with my brother, and tucked my feet into slippers against the cold of the hardwood floors. I had learned to use buttons just a year or so earlier and I wore two-piece button-top pajamas as a point of pride, disdaining the one-piece style that my little brother still wore. So, stealthed in Winnie-the-Pooh flannel, I crept out of my room.
I was happy to see the glow of lamplight through Sandy's partly open door. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed wearing a souvenier Denver Broncos jersey at least two sizes too large for her. Her blanket was tucked up over her bare legs and her straight brown hair hung in a pony-tail in back. As I pushed her door open she looked up from the book in her lap and gave me a lop-sided, tolerant grin.
She shook her head knowingly and patted the bed next to her, inviting me to climb up. As I joined her on the bed she said, "You're gonna do great in college, squirt. You've got the schedule down already."
"What are you reading?" I asked. I was always curious about that.
She looked wryly at her textbook. "The history of the Roman Empire," she said. "Dull, dull, dull."
"Tell me about it?"
So Sandy began telling me about Romulus and Remus and the founding of the City of the Seven Hills. I listened intently, chirping a question now and then, until ancient Roman history became a bedtime story. I curled up on the bed next to Sandy, and somewhere between Hannibal and Julius Caesar, I fell asleep.
The next thing I heard was a whispered conversation. "Sandy, I can not believe you did that!" It sounded like Susan's voice, somewhere between awe and worry.
"I know," Sandy whispered back. "But you should've seen him sleeping there. And you KNOW he likes it! You would have done the same thing."
As I came back to the waking world I realized that I couldn't move. My arms were stretched together over my head, reaching for one corner of Sandy's double bed, and my ankles were tied apart to the top side of what looked like a piece of wood cut from a broom handle. My body lay diagonally across the bed, with my wrists tied to the wooden headboard next to the wall and my left foot near the outer edge. I couldn't see what my wrists were bound with, but my ankles were lashed to the broom handle with strips cut from an old bedsheet, and my wrist bonds felt like the same thing. Sandy and Susan were standing next to the bed, Sandy still in her Broncos jersey while Susan wore a soft cotton houserobe belted at the waist.
Even as I was taking all this in, the whispering stopped, and Sandy sat next to me on the bed. "Are you OK?" she asked? She looked flushed, a little nervous.
"I'm OK," I replied. "But I'm tied up," I added, completely unnecessarily.
"Yeah, I tied you up after you fell asleep." We were masters of the obvious tonight. "Do you want me to let you go?"
"No," I said firmly. I was pulling experimentally at my bonds. My wrists were going nowhere. I could move my legs a little, one at a time, but they were tied about as far apart as I could comfortably get them, and the broomstick didn't allow much play. I found I liked the feeling. "Are you going to tickle me like you do Susan?"
I heard Susan take a deep breath. Sandy spoke carefully. "I was thinking about it. Both of us were." She sent Susan a look. "Would you like that?"
"Yes," I said, in my most solemn 7-year-old-voice. "I'll try to be quiet."
Susan hid a smile behind her hand. The look Sandy gave me reminded me of my mother when I brought her a dandelion bouquet. She ruffled my hair fondly.
"I know you would, squirt. But what fun would that be?" She knelt beside her bed, rummaged beneath it a little, and brought out a white "flour sack" towel like we used to dry dishes in the kitchen. Holding it by diagonal corners she twirled it quickly into a tight roll, then said, "Open wide." I opened my mouth obediently and Sandy seated the middle of the towel between my teeth. Even rolled tight the towel was thick and soft, and barely fit my small mouth. Sandy beckoned Susan over and with a look almost like wonder, Susan lifted my head while Sandy tied the towel snugly at the back of my neck.
"There," she said. "Now you can make as much noise as you want." She grinned down at me. "Or at least, as much as you can."
"Do you still want to do this?" Susan asked. Her voice had a quiver.
I was getting nervous, but excited. I nodded.
Susan and Sandy settled on opposite sides of me. "First things first, then," Sandy said. She unbuttoned my pajama top. I think her hands were shaking just a little. When my top was open and I was essentially bare to the waist, Sandy started tickling lightly with one hand all over my upper body. Muffled giggles and wiggles were her reward. She grinned and her hand started moving faster, making me twist and laugh, but the roll of cotton in my mouth turned my laughter into soft squeaks.
Even with the broomstick on my ankles, Sandy was inspiring me to twist almost onto my side. Susan had been watching us, almost entranced, but now Sandy gestured toward my feet with her head and a smile. Susan's eyes widened a bit, but she moved to kneel on the floor next to the bed and gripped the broomstick to keep it from moving. Sandy said "Now you're in trouble," and began wiggling her fingernails in my underarms as Susan removed my slippers and started tickling my feet.
I'd been tickled before, even by all three girls at once, but never anything like this. Always before, when the girls had ganged up on me, one had held me while the other(s) tickled me. And even then I could usually twist and curl up to protect my most vulnerable areas. Not this time. Sandy had both hands free and tickling my tummy, waist, and sides. Then Susan put a pillow atop the broomstick and set one knee on it to pin my ankles immovably to the bed, putting all ten fingernails to work on my feet. Stretched out on the bed there was nothing I could do about any of it. This was tickling in the big leagues.
I loved it and hated it at the same time. It felt like it would never end, and I was divided in how I felt about that. Were it not for the gag I surely would have been begging, but I might not have been clear about what I was begging for.
After an eternal five minutes the girls stopped to let me breathe. Their eyes were shining. Even Susan had shed her nervousness and looked as excited as I would with a new toy. Sandy was smiling wickedly. I'm not sure what I looked like, but I felt like I'd been on the best roller coaster in the world. My chest was heaving, but I could feel my wind coming back.
As I caught my breath, Sandy caught my eye and held it. She wet the tip of her index finger with her tongue, and with great deliberation began circling that fingertip around and over my right nipple. I jumped in my bonds. Sandy's smile widened and she leaned over to blow cool air on the damp skin. My nipple stiffened immediately and I felt goosebumps racing down my arms. Sandy wet her fingertip again and began tickling my nipple with quick, short strokes. That was another sort of tickling altogether. As I squirmed and squeaked with laughter and not-quite-laughter, Sandy kept teasing my right nipple even as she repeated the wet-blow-tickle trick on my left. My wiggles doubled, then doubled again as Susan began finding the tickle-spots on my knees and hips. Then as Sandy alternated between my nipples and my underarms, I was back on the roller coaster again.
I'm sure to this day that this second tickle-session was twice the length of the first. But I couldn't swear to it: eternity doubled is still eternity. At some point though I became aware that tickling had given way to soft hands petting my head and chest gently. Sandy was murmuring comfort, and I became aware also that there was a new sense of tightness across the front of my pajama bottoms. It wasn't the very first time that had happened to me, but I still wasn't quite sure what it meant. The girls were sure though, and Susan whispered, "Oh, wow."
The roller coaster still had my head in a whirl, as I felt one or perhaps two pairs of hands untying me. Sandy bundled me up in her arms and both girls cuddled me between them. I was incredibly happy, but totally wrung out. I felt Sandy pick me up to take me to bed, but I never felt her tuck me in.
Tienteaser
tienteaser@gmail.com
California, USA
__________________________________________________________________________
Tienteaser's stories
- 01 - Bondage Tutorials - Wrap & Cinch (tutorial)
- 02 - First Tie-up: Sandy and me (F/F, Fm/F)
- 03 - Sandy and Susan Again (FF/m)
- 04 - Bondage Notes - Anatomy and Bondage (tutorial)
- 05 - Another Time with Sandy and Susan (FF/m)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section