Chapter Five: The Compulsive Tickler
Maureen let the young male force her back onto the divan as his hands slipped to her breasts to caress and fondle the nipples through the thin blouse. She could feel the rock-hard organ wedging up against her thighs and she was happy her skirt was so short. She wiggled her hips so that the skirt hiked up higher permitting his penis to press even more intimately against her rayon-clad crotch.
Her fingers stole to his neck, and she played with his hair. He shivered at her gentle touches, and she could feel the skin rising under the tips of her fingers. She let her hands rove down under his open collar and, to her delight, this action brought great shudders from his powerful young body.
"Christ!" he gasped. "You're tickling me silly!" He reacted by holding her tighter to his frame as he kissed hungrily at her lips and mouth. He shivered more as Maureen increased her feathering, tickling play on his back and shoulders. He ventured his tongue-tip between her lips, and Maureen quickly seized this gesture. She hungrily drew it up into her mouth to rouse him further. He tightened his hold, and she shivered with anticipatory desire. His mouth glued itself to hers and she could feel his strong young body vibrating with lust as he undulated up and down. His hands were squeezing her breasts and searching into the tight confines of her bra.
"Let's take all our clothes off," Maureen whispered throatily, as she freed her lips from his. He was too aroused to question her suggestion and quickly got up off the couch to start disrobing with an eagerness that would have been amusing to her under other conditions. At this stage, there was nothing humorous about any of his actions. She began undressing with even more swiftness, and in moments both were naked. The boy stood transfixed for one moment, drinking in the rich curves of her body.
"What do you think?" Maureen posed for him. Her full young breasts were pointing upward as in supplication.
"Beautiful." He choked as he spoke. With good cause. She was amazingly well developed for a seventeen-year-old girl. Her hips we full and smooth. Her waist was slim, and the skin of her belly glistened like golden cream in a bowl. The whiteness ended dramatically at her crotch where thick, black pubic hair protected her womanhood. His startled eyes feasted on even; detail before him and then he could stand it no more. He began walking toward her as she waited with welcoming arms.
Maureen's eyes were fastened on his sexual organ which was up full and hard; it looked immense to her, and she yearned to feel its throbbing strength. Eagerly, the two locked in a fierce, tight embrace and their lips sought and found each other. She gently undulated her hips to further heighten the contact between them. His great, hard penis began to hammer at her hot crotch, and she spread her loins wider to make it easier for him. At the same time, she fastened her lips hungrily upon his chest and neck to suck, kiss, and taste his maleness.
Then, to her dismay, she felt the surge of warm semen spattering against her hairy loins and she realized that he had attained his orgasm. She was keenly disappointed, but she continued to tickle and kiss at his hot skin even as he spent his passion uselessly. He shuddered and whimpered as he clutched her to his body. Finally, he managed to speak.
"Gee, Maureen, I didn't mean to come so fast. It's just that you're so smooth and all, I couldn't hold back one second longer."
She stood, letting him hold her young naked form even as his trembling began to subside slowly. She continued to tickle and nuzzle at his neck and throat. Her tongue flicked out to lick his male goodness, and she felt her passion building higher. Maureen dropped her hand down to tantalize his firm flesh, which now began to grow soft and flaccid.
"It'll get up again in a little while, you'll see," he whispered sheepishly.
"Sure it will," Maureen said. She lowered her mouth to his nipple and began sucking and tickling the sharp hard flesh. She felt him quivering under her ministrations and this drove her to further action. She forced him back down on the couch as savage passion rose and clamored in her loins anew. She became completely lost and her orality touched his entire upper area. Her hot wet mouth tickled across the smooth flesh of his chest and she roved restlessly. Her eager lips moved to his armpit and she hungrily tongued, tasted, and tickled at his hot cavity. He stiffened under this unusual action and tried to pull away, but Maureen refused to permit this. Faster and faster, her tongue flicked into his armpit as she absorbed his maleness.
She clung harder to him as he struggled to draw free of the savage young girl. He liked what she was doing to him, but his instinct warned him that it wasn't entirely proper. Like all nice young American boys he had been taught that armpits were not polite areas of the body and were best treated as if they didn't exist.
Maureen didn't care what he thought. His muskiness was fanning her higher and higher. She was too aroused by now to worry about mundane things. Her tongue and lips drove on and on as she sought to absorb every drop of his lubrication. She felt a special type of ecstatic pleasure surging within her loins. The first stirrings of a massive orgasm began rumbling deep inside her body, and she felt the rising, soaring torrent that would transport her into the realm of sheer ecstasy. Maureen throbbed, twitched, as brutal onslaughts of commanding sexuality pervaded her every fiber.
"You-you're killing me," he gasped as her hungry lips nibbled, gnawed, and tickled at his naked skin. She didn't answer him simply because she was too carried away by her lust to be aware of such matters. Her demanding mouth found its way down to his crotch and eagerly she sucked his hardening length between her teeth. Now, she began tickling her strong white teeth over the very tip of his organ and he gasped with surprise at her action. As he quivered under this act, Maureen changed tactics. Now, she began sucking with incredible force. The boy was big and long where it counted, but she absorbed all his length into her oral cavity. Her head began bobbing up and down to better capture his manhood.
"Now! Now!" He suddenly managed to pull clear of her. Maureen was loath to lose the delightful contact and tried to draw his organ back into her mouth, but he struggled to assume the dominant role in the wild relationship. He was positioning his body atop hers to take her charms the "normal" way. Maureen decided to settle for what she could get. Her lips eagerly clamped upon his neck to tickle busily away at his hot skin even as she spread her thighs to let him penetrate. She felt the burning hardness of his penis head seeking her vaginal opening, and then she felt something else. Once more, his fiery semen spurted forth before he could get inside her womanhood, and her crotch was deluged with his seed. He moaned and groaned as he hammered futilely away at the lovely naked girl beneath him. But it was a forlorn effort. Finally, he slumped, depleted and exhausted, on top of her as the last drops of his orgasm dribbled out onto her thighs.
"Gosh ... " Again he was all apologies. "I just couldn't stop myself. And I was close to getting it all the way into you, too!"
Maureen murmured something in answer. But even as she murmured, her insatiable lips were still tickling, kissing, nibbling, and playing at his chest and nipples. Maureen was getting her own kicks in her own strange way. Who was she to complain at this stage?
Maureen T. was married-happily, she declared-to a good husband who earned a better-than-average living. At the time of the interviews with her psychiatrist, Maureen was just past her thirty-first birthday.
Maureen J. was an oral-tickler. As a result of her tickling, she reduced her husband to near-hysteria with the outcries and yells that such actions brought on. Her fetish was not in the usual mold. Oral lovers were plentiful, oral ticklers not nearly so.
It is difficult to picture a fairly sedate, attractive young woman as being a devotee of the ancient art of tickling. However, introspection reveals that all human beings are slightly different in many ways, both physical and mental. What might be considered as a purely normal sexual impulse by one person, might well be adjudged as abnormal or perverted by another being. As Dr. John Somers, in his book Sick Sex, pointed out:
... The blunt truth about perversions and so-called sex crimes is that there is not now, nor ever has been, any uniformly accepted code or unanimity of opinion as to what is right and what is wrong. Sexual conduct which may be excoriated in one part of the world as being perverted and criminal, may in some other land, be accepted and approved as a medium of sexual expression quite in conformity with statute and custom.
If we are in doubt as to who first defined perversion, and who had the authority to interpret a non-violent sexual act between two compatible persons as a crime, we are not in doubt as to who enforces the laws against these "crimes." Ironically enough, the legislators, judges, police and prosecuting attorneys who have the responsibility for enforcing the statutes, do so in many cases with "tongue in cheek" because not only have they themselves indulged in the same act many times before but most of them are still in the habit of practicing it.
The term nonviolent, of course, is all vital. And in the case of Maureen T. there was a certain fine line to be trodden. She was a compulsive tickler. And tickling can often be a tremendously arousing factor. There have been actual instances in which some helpless human being was tickled to death! Not often, it is true, but still is has happened.
It is an accepted belief that the female is more neurotic than the male. Maureen was proof of this. "Her eyes glistened," the psychiatrist noted, "as she boasted of her ability to reduce her husband to near weakness with her tickling actions." Maureen was close to the borderline of sadism with her absorption in the art of tickling. Female sadists do exist, but in far lower proportion than males.
Also, sadism in the true deviate is double-edged. A dedicated sadist not only secures sexual gratification by inflicting pain upon the partner, but can experience sexual excitement, even climax, in witnessing the sufferings and punishment endured by others. In some cases, such indignities can also be mental.
In Maureen's case, this was not so. There was no true malice in her tickling propensities. Nor was she concerned with reducing her husband, or partner, as might be the case, to humiliation or mental anguish. Maureen T. had no evil intent under any circumstances. All she sought in her tickling was pure sexual release. Release both for her mate and for herself.
As a historian (she is a history teacher), Maureen related, she did a bit of research on the art of tickling. She learned that it had been part and parcel of humanity since the earliest beginnings. Certain cultures indulged in it to a form of near-artistry. For instance, the Chinese perfected it far beyond finger-to-erogenous zone instances. They utilized peacock feathers, delicate silk ribbons, and human hair to arouse and titillate willing partners in the subtle pastime.
But Maureen found her answer in oral tickling.
Maureen was a mild example of a fetishist. All fetish-afflicted beings suffer from a form of psychosexual infantilism. This infantilism is expressed in many ways. Some masturbate. Others lean toward exhibitionism or voyeurism. A few turn to kleptomania or certain impulsive acts. Certainly, Maureen's little fetish of tickling was far more acceptable to society than the acts mentioned.
By no means did Maureen qualify as a true fetishist. The latter, whether male or female, can dispense altogether with a sexual partner and gratify erotic urges with a symbol. This symbol may be a piece of clothing or undergarment, a portion of the "partner's" body (preferably pubic hair, nails, or head hair). It may be an object used by the other party, such as a douche bag, brush, handkerchief, cosmetic applier or anything personal. The predominant practice is to place the symbol in contact with the genitals and then indulge in masturbation.
Maureen had no such complications. She attained her sexual release with a partner. She relied heavily on oral love to bring about the desired goal, the stimulus of tickling being essential in her case.
"An orgasm without tickling to me is like a steak sandwich without the steak," she told the psychiatrist. "Oh, sure, I could bring myself to a climax without it, I know. I've done that on rare occasions. But I always feel cheated. And I have a strong feeling that Tim [her husband] feels cheated, too. I know down deep inside that he digs my oral subtleties just as much as I do."
Maureen related how a night of her lovemaking went.
"I set a real mood. First, it begins with a good dinner. Not the regular quickie that most working wives prepare. As a matter of fact, the elaborate and fancy meal was a clue to Tim that I was turned on for action. I had snowy linen, candlelight, soft music, wine-the works. I made it a point to wear my most revealing dress, too. No bra. I've got breasts that need little support. I also used a subtle perfume. By the time dinner was over, Tim was up like a bull.
"But I never permitted rushing at this stage. The build-up was the best part. I let him catch glimpses of my thighs as I moved around to serve him coffee and brandy. And when I bent over to pour the coffee, I made sure my flimsily covered breasts were right under his nose. He always tried to pull me down to him, but I held it to a gentle kiss at this stage-well, gentle in one way and not so gentle in another. I tickled his lips with my tongue even as I flicked my fingers tenderly around his head and hair. That always steamed Tim even higher. By this stage he was ready to take me to bed, but I knew that the anticipation was half of it and I refused to let him rush things.
"I insisted on a little dance right there in our own living room. Despite the thick carpeting on the floor, we circled the area in comparative ease. Tim would pull me up tightly to his body and his penis would be up like a rock. I played my part well. I always resisted his passionate move by pulling away even as I encouraged him with tender glances and little squeezes of the hand.
"I would start more of my tickling action by caressing the back of his neck and shoulders with one hand. I went this move one better by making certain my lightly fluttering fingers strayed far down toward his waist and just above his buttocks. There, I swiftly described light, sensitive arcs over the hard cleft of his cheeks. But not too presumptuous, even at this point. Merely the hint of things to come.
"I made my man feel as if it were our wedding night every time we had intercourse! I made a little ritual of taking off my clothes-rather, I let Tim make a ritual of it. I played my part with restraint. That very withholding sent him blazing with passion. By the time he had me stripped, he was fully aroused. Then, it was my turn. I took off his garments. And we both did something that was out of the normal pattern. Instead of placing our things neatly on chairs or whatever, we let them fall and stay on the carpet so that a small trail of intimate garb followed us on our way to the bathroom.
"Our bathroom is no ordinary one. It's twenty feet long and almost that wide. The floor is thickly carpeted in pale yellow wool. It's so luxurious you could easily sleep on it. Most bathrooms have bright lights. Ours has only a faint and subtle shade of golden glow emanating from the indirect source along the ceiling edge. And the ceiling! Ah! Fully mirrored. Only our mirror wasn't the regular type. It was tinted a light shade of mauve to lend the illusion that the entire room was bathed in golden sunlight. Even the most ordinary of bodies looked entrancing under the flattering illumination thrown over it.
"Oh, yes! Before I forget. One other key thing. The air ventilator in our bath could be reversed. The faint whisper of air that played from it in this reversal was something to further arouse sexual desires. I had placed a small vial of my most intimate perfume up there so that the atmosphere was soon laden with my scent. It not only fanned Tim to the highest points of lust but it served to inflame my own desires.
"Tim and I would hold each other tightly. Then, we would sway as our roving fingers lightly played over the sensitive skin areas that denoted sexuality. Tim did his best to match my tickling action, but I must admit that he was far below my tremendous skill. It's not too easy for a male, anyhow. Their sense of touch is so much more muscular. When they think they're being truly delicate, they're still a touch too heavy. I have tickling down to a fine art. My fingertips barely skim the aroused skin without ever really leaving contact. And my tongue is even more sensitive. I can flick it over any portion of a man's anatomy in subtle strokes that are barely discernible. Then, for contrast, I can suddenly lash with it to startle the man into near-defensive withdrawal. But that's only to be done sparingly. The tongue loses much of its effectiveness when wielded with force. Anyway, I lightly and tenderly played my fingers over Tim's naked back and buttocks. Meanwhile, my tongue was carrying on its role in more exciting patterns. I tickled Tim's lips, his cheeks, his chin, his eyelids, his ears, and even his nostrils. I delicately let the tip flick into these available apertures and then dart away. I slowly slipped to my knees onto the thick carpeting of the bathroom, drawing his body down with me.
"All during this prelude, we basked in the golden glow of the reflected light and the shade of yellow exuding from the thick upholstery beneath us. Our bodies shimmered and shone as we quivered under the delicious contacts we were establishing.
"Now, came the part that I like the best. I let Tim position me on my back. This way I could look up easily at the mirrored ceiling and see all the wonderful action we were engaged in. Then I would work us around so that we were in the sixty-nine form. Now, I could tickle at my husband's vital area with my trained tongue. I would diddle my mouth and tongue from Tim's scrotum to his rectum. I liked to think of this as my journey to joy. I would be in sheer ecstasy as I tickled, licked, probed, and kissed this entire area.
"And Tim returned my orality in spades. He nuzzled my hairy apex with his mouth, and he knew how to use his tongue. He couldn't tickle with the sensitivity I displayed. He used the bludgeon attack instead. And it wasn't bad! He glued his tongue and lips to my vagina so hard I almost bounced him off my body. He reacted by wedging his tongue way up inside my fiery maw and began hammering his tongue in and out just like a male would employ his penis.
"It brought the strangest compulsion over me. I wanted to hit back at his sex organs with as much force as he was utilizing. Yet, another hidden voice warned me that this was not the best method with him. My instinct told me that the delicate tickling tongue would bring far greater rewards to both of us. So, I restrained my urge to thrust my tongue fiercely at his sexual parts and, instead, I resorted to gentle, tender little flickings of the tongue-tip to send him into greater frenzy.
"He chewed away at my receptive vaginal tract for what must have been a good half hour. He tried to pressure his mouth onto my clitoris, but I balked here. I made him understand one thing. The clitoris was to be saved for the very last. I knew that when he began to work on that, I would be aroused to the greatest climax. Everything would be downhill after that plateau. So, I convinced him that he must be patient in reaching the clitoris. It wasn't easy for him. Under the tremendous passion generated between us, he had to fight to keep from taking it.
"It may seem that I make the clitoris sound like a great treat. It's true that it's nothing more than a small button. But no button in the world ever triggered such emotion as the clitoris. It was like an atomic explosion when he mouthed it. And, knowing how stimulating the little button could be to me, Tim found great sexual joy in lavishing his oral love on it. After all, in sex, a great deal of the excitement comes in knowing that one is able to create such tremendous reactions in the partner's body.
"And I learned a man has a little button just under the seam of his testicles. Not as large as the clitoris, perhaps, but still there. At least, Tim has it, and so did the other men I engaged in love bouts with earlier before our marriage. Of course, it is nothing at all in sensitivity to the female clitoris. It is slightly more than an added fold of skin at the joining of the rectal opening and the base of the testicles, but it turned my Tim on with intensity when I gave it the old once-over with my tongue.
"Anyway, Tim knew he was not to work at my clitoris until the last moments of our wonderful sex matches. I knew the value of stimulating him by playing my oral skill in the area of his rectum. I would tickle and caress his anal opening with my tongue. But I restrained from driving it up and into the sensitized region until I had my man moaning and groaning with lust.
"Then, with subtle, feather-light flicks, I would tantalize Tim to near frenzy as I played my flexible tongue in and out of the immediate opening. I liked to picture my tongue as flashes of summer lightning, but lightning that did not find its target instantly.
"Another factor that served, to speed me on my journey of joy was the wonderful thrill of being able to look up from between Tim's thighs as I tickled and kissed his balls and rectum with my demanding oral powers to the scene that was captured overhead on the mirrored ceiling. I loved that sight: Tim spread over my naked body ... with the contrast of my creamy whiteness against the dark tan of his well-developed form ... my arms locked about his waist or buttocks-giving me a feeling of total ownership, dominance, as it were.
"I don't know if I wanted to master him. I wanted him to know that I was his equal, certainly, in the art of love. I didn't want to harm him physically, or anything off-beat like that.
"I guess perhaps I am being a bit contradictory. Let me put it this way. I wanted him to be my own. Sexually. I didn't want any other woman to ever be able to thrill him the way I was doing. Mind you, I didn't even get up tight over the fact that some other female would make out with him. That was okay. What I didn't want was for Tim to feel that there was any other woman in the whole world who could make him get as excited as I could with my tongue and lips.
"As I watched our bodies gyrating in the soft yellow glow of the mirrored ceiling, I nearly lost my mind. It's hard to describe the sensations that tore through my naked, writhing form. I found my valley of love foaming with lust as he buried his strong face in my seething crotch. I wanted him to suck at me so strongly that he would rip me apart. Yet, I knew that it was better for both of us to delay reaching the maximum of passion so early.
"I managed to break away from under him and, despite his efforts to hold me, rearranged our positions so that we were in the so-termed 'normal' coitus pose. I sucked his lips to mine and then began tickling him with my sensitive tongue and lips. I nuzzled and tantalized him to near frenzy with this action even as I guided his long thick penis along my soft moist thighs with one free hand. With the other hand, I tickled his smooth skin along the tender area of his buttocks.
"I could feel the hard hot tip of his massive organ pushing at my hairy moist entry. It wasn't the heady thrill, of course, that his orality produced down there, but it wasn't exactly platonic, if you know what I mean! He wedged it in with one mighty shove, and I felt the devastating force of his manhood slithering far up into my vagina. I knew I had control of him now. A bit too much pressuring from me, and he would climax. So, I eased off. I did not let up on my tickling of his features, however. I worked my willing tongue and lips over and around his mouth, chin, and into his cavern of oral joy.
"Tim tried to hump into me with more force to attain the release he wanted-and yet, didn't want. That's the paradox of love. Both the male and female hammer and pound their sex organs at each other to gain orgasm. But the fulfillment of this very climax deprives them of the real thrill. Who was it who said the most terrible joke nature ever played on man was sex? Voltaire? So, I wisely did my best in all our sexual sessions to delay Tim's climax as much as I could. I played my vagina against his great engorged penis just as a concert violinist plays the bow across the tender, sobbing strings of his Stradivarius. But no Stradivarius ever created could engender the symphony Tim's mighty organ could!
"Again, in this position, I could peek up past his head to spy on our convulsive moves in the mirror overhead. I loved the way he surged his dark buttocks upward and then downward at my willing frame. Every time he reared up to gain more momentum I could see the entrancing opening of his rectal passage. The dark hole stimulated my thoughts even more. I engaged in weird fantasies as I pictured my entire body being sucked up into the whirlpool of that small orifice.
"I liked to entwine his buttocks with my silky legs to pull him deeper within me. Again, the exciting contrast of my creamy thighs against the background of his darker, hairy back and limbs was nearly too much. I flicked and lashed my tongue at his features to tickle him into convulsive acts. He would pound his huge penis savagely into my willing loins to offset the tremendous emotion my tickling orality produced in him. I had to be extremely careful at this stage. His organ was throbbing with pent-up passion and I knew that even the slightest erotic deviation could well trigger his climax. That, I had to avoid-at least at this particular point! Past experience had shown me that once Tim creamed, he was pretty well finished with truly exciting love-play for some time. We women are different about sexual play. Even after we attain the maximum orgasm, we're still ready for more. We hate to lose any of the precious physical contact we're experiencing. Now, males are something else. Once they've shot their load, they're completely disinterested-at least, for another half hour or so. All they want to do at this stage is get away or go to sleep.
"When I realized that Tim's penis was due to explode, I quickly reversed positions again. I deftly captured his head between my smooth muscular thighs and, at the same moment, began tickling his testicles with my hot breath to arouse him just another notch higher, but not too much so!
"Tim was so aroused he adopted a semi-kneeling pose so I could get at his genitals with my relentlessly probing and tickling mouth and tongue. He hungrily buried his lips into my blazing cavern of womanhood, and his tongue sought out the very apex of my love machine. I felt the intensely powerful contractions of his oral muscles as they functioned upon my vagina. My sobs and gasps of joy escaped as I alternated between tickling his great organ with my own mouth and crying out in the wilderness of love. I tightened my thighs more powerfully upon Tim's head to suck as much of him into my body as I could. I began reacting like a crazed beast. I lurched my body, twisting so that, suddenly, I was on top and Tim was beneath me. I was the aggressor in every sense now. I reared my naked, gyrating body almost up to a seated position with only my lashing tongue establishing contact between Tim's immensely long organ and my oral gifts.
"Neither of us missed one precious stroke with our all-conquering tongues. I thought Tim's appendage was into my cavity so far that he had substituted an electric eel for it. He rotated his exciting tongue all across the walls of my hot, moist inner flesh. And he was sucking so viciously that I feared he might vacuum my very insides into his ravenous mouth.
"Then, my greatest moment arrived. Now, I was ready for it. As if by a prearranged signal, his tongue retreated just far enough to envelop my precious clitoris. He bit on it very gently, taking it between his front teeth. Now, his all-knowing tongue began to flit across my dynamite button. I thought my entire body would explode into a thousand units of atomic energy. I felt as if no part of my quivering body was real except my throbbing vagina and my sensitized clitoris. My target area down there actually expanded to take over my entire being much as an amoeba which devours all it encounters and builds, builds, builds to enormous size. Then, the world seemed to spin and revolve in dizzying cycles as my loins poured forth my love in enormous orgasms."
Subsequent interviews with Maureen confirmed the psychiatrist's theories. She was a fairly well-adjusted woman with few neuroses. Her life, except for a few extramarital encounters, was free of compromises with conventional morality. She was unduly addicted to oral tickling acts. There was no doubt that she attributed far more importance to her oral fetish than it deserved. Maureen, it was apparent, submerged other equally rewarding sex acts to concentrate on tickling. Too much of any one thing eventually becomes wearying. The psychiatrist felt that ultimately Maureen would discover her intense fascination with oral tickling to become a trifle routine and would be forced to turn to other forms of sexual release.