“What do you mean you don’t know if you’re ticklish or not? You’re
18 years old!” Bob had been dating Angela for about 2 months. She was
perfect – 5′5″, classic Italian looks, great body, great personality.
She was also the only child of a very wealthy car dealer in town, so she
was spoiled rotten, but had also been lonely most of her life.

“I just said nobody had ever tickled me, so I don’t know what it is
like,” she replied. “I’ve often wondered.”

“Your mother or father never tickled you as a child? Or anytime?” Bob
wondered. “No, they aren’t real touching people, so how could I have been?”

They were sitting on the side of Angela’s swimming pool. Boy, she
looked great in that blue bikini! Nobody else was home, so Bob had a great
idea. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll find out if you’re ticklish or not!”

Angela actually seemed sort of excited by the thought, and she jumped
right up and ran in the house. “Where should we go?” she asked. Bob thought
for a moment, then said “You have a four-poster bed, right?” She nodded.
“Go to your bedroom and pull the covers off of the bed, and I’ll be in in a
minute.” She ran off.

Bob went into the living room and found what he was looking for — a large
basket with long, stiff peacock feathers — and selected two of them. He
started upstairs, but then thought of something else and made a quick detour.

As Bob walked into the room holding the feathers in one hand, Angela
smiled, then asked, “Why is your other hand behind your back?” He answered,
“Well, since we don’t know if you’re ticklish, or how ticklish you are, I
thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make sure I didn’t accidentally get hit or
kicked if you started jerking around.” He pulled out the neckties he had found
in her father’s closet and said, “So, can I tie your hands and feet, just in
case?”

Angela looked a little unsure for a minute, but then agreed. “But if I
don’t like it, when I say STOP, I mean STOP. O.K.?” Bob also agreed.

Having Angela lay down on the bed, Bob tied one end of the necktie to her
right wrist and pulled her arm over her head to secure it to the bedpost. Going
to her left side, he did the same with her left wrist. He then repeated this
with both of her feet, leaving her bound spread-eagle and absolutely helpless.

Bob sat down on the bed next to her and said, “Are you sure you want to
do this?” She nodded her head, not quite sure what she may be in for. “O.K.!
Here goes!!!”

Taking one of the feathers, he started at her left wrist and began slowly
sliding it down her arm. She did nothing. He got closer and closer to her
underarm, until she should have been writhing in agony. She didn’t flinch. He
picked up the other feather and used both of them on her armpits, sides, and
stomach. Nothing. Not even a smile.

Now sort of disappointed, he moved down a little and ran the feathers up
and down her soft inner thighs. Her eyes widened, and she started to wiggle a
bit. “What is that?” she asked amazedly. “That, my dear, is the start of your
ticklishness.” He continued stroking her legs, and was rewarded with more
squirming and some laughter.

Tiring of this after 15 minutes, he dropped the feathers and gently took
a knee in each hand and began tweaking them. She jumped around a little, but
not much. Then he reached underneath her to grab the backs of her legs, and
did the same thing. Now, she went wild! While she laughed uncontrollably and
tried to pull out of the ties, he tickled her for another 10 minutes.

When he finished, she was panting and sweating and looked at him and said,
“I don’t think I care for being tickled. Untie me please.”

With a devilish look in his eye, he innocently commented, “But I haven’t
gotten to your feet yet!” She didn’t even want to try though, insisting he
release her.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Angie, but I can’t. I wouldn’t feel I had
fulfilled my duty to you if I didn’t help you find out if your feet were
ticklish or not!”

Pulling a chair up to the end of the bed, Bob sat down at Angela’s feet.
“You promised you would stop when I said to!” Angela screamed. “Sorry,”
was his only answer.

Taking a feather in each hand again, he began lightly running them up and
down the tops of Angela’s feet. Starting to get a smug grin back on her face,
Angela laughed and said, “Ha! Doesn’t do a thing. Now untie me!” Instead of
replying, Bob switched the feathers to the bottoms of her feet. Immediately
she regretted being smart-mouthed, and began giggling. “Please, stop. I can’t
take any more!” “No, we have to make sure you are really ticklish on your feet!
This is just the beginning!”

Taking the pencil-like tips of the feathers, he attacked her insteps and
heels without mercy, continuing for 15 minutes this way. NOW, she was begging
for him to stop. But still no relief.

Now he ran both ends of the feathers between her toes, creating a new wave
of chuckling and pleading.

Trying a new tactic, he found a ball-point pen and wrote ‘Bob loves Angela’
one each sole 5 times. “Oh, look. Your feet are dirty! I’ll have to wash
them for you!”

Going into her bathroom, he half-filled a bucket with warm, soapy water and
found a soft scrub brush. As he sat down, she realized what would happen, and
pulled even harder on the neckties, but he had tied her well.

Nearly in tears from the previous torture, she looked at him with puppy
dog eyes and said, “I beg you not to do this. Please?” He almost relented,
but something said “Why not?” So it began.

Dipping the brush into the water, he then brought it to the sole of her
right foot. “Still say ‘Doesn’t do a thing?’” he taunted. Holding the top of
her foot with one hand he scrubbed lightly but firmly across the arch, instep,
heel and under the toes of the foot, soaping it up good, but not removing much
ink. “This brush isn’t doing much good (although she had almost passed out from
being tickled so much) maybe I’ll try this nice sponge.” Thoroughly wetting the
sponge, he then applied that to her bare sole, again making her writhe and
scream.

Now he transferred his attentions to her left foot, with the same results.
She was getting tired, and crying from laughing so hard, so she just lay there,
occasionally jerking of jumping, but still unable to escape.

Her feet were now clean, and he produced a nice, fluffy towel to dry them
on. He then kissed each foot on the sole, each knee, each thigh, her tummy,
and gently licked and kissed each underarm (with the licking making her squirm
around and hoarsely whisper “PLEASE STOP”). Then he kissed her hard and long
on the lips and asked, “Are you mad at me for not untying you? ‘Cause if you
are, I can ask your feet instead!”

With a look of near-terror in her eyes, she vigorously shook her head and
said, “NO, I’m not mad!” Being bound and tickled for 2 hours left her limply
lying there when he untied her. He lay down next to her and began to caress
her face. “I think it’s time I help you find out if you’re ticklish, buddy!”
she exclaimed. He did decided it was only fair, and allowed her to tie his
wrists and ankles. He’d tell her later that he wasn’t ticklish!!!!

Kristin apparently has also of late been thinking a lot about Dianne.
The signs are obvious — daily phone calls, visits to her apartment, her name
being brought up in our conversation, etc. Last week, Dianne and Kristin went
backpacking by themselves to the local wilderness area while I kept our two
kids at home (it is important for my wife, a financial planner, to get away
from the daily grind and enjoy her friends apart from me)….

Last Friday, Dianne called me up and wanted me to meet her for lunch at
our favorite restaurant. After a light lunch with some equally light but
strangely forced conversation, Dianne looked into my eyes with a look that
I’ve never seen before, a look of fear combined with a look of desire, and
asked, “Mark, it is difficult for me to say this, but I have fallen in love
with both you and Kristin.”

I didn’t know how to respond to this. On the one hand, my sexual desire
for her was burning bright, and I got excited about what was soon to
transpire, yet her simultaneous love for my wife confused, scared, and
intrigued me. What could I say? I looked at her for a moment, and without
thinking I said, “Does Kristin know your feelings for her? As far as I know,
Kristin is straight, and has never in our relationship stated anything to the
contrary. All I know is that my desire for you is very strong, and that I
have wanted for several weeks to make love to you.”

“I know about your feelings for me,” Dianne replied, “I could see it in
your actions, in your words, and in your eyes. And my feelings for you are
just as strong. Kristin knows about my love for her and for you, and she is
in love with me as she is in love with you. It was during our backpacking
trip that we expressed our love for one another.”

I didn’t know what to think, I was really confused by my feelings. “But
why are you telling me this? What do you want from me if you and Kristin are
lovers?” I asked.

Dianne replied, “Kristin wanted me to tell you these things if I felt
from our conversation that it would not damage your marriage relationship –
she wants me to tell you that she still loves you deeply. She has known for
awhile that you were infatuated with me. You know, women can see these
things. I desire you so much and I want to make love to you. Let’s go back
to my apartment and there we can enjoy one another and talk more about this
crazy situation.”

Making love to Dianne that afternoon was heavenly. Her body, though
short, was well proportioned, more like a 21 year old rather than her real age
of 35. Her breasts were not large, and not small, but were of the right size,
firm and did not sag one bit — taking her brassiere off, which was a low-cut
front snap design, was an experience I’ll never forget. When I cupped her
breasts in my smallish hands, I wished that I could become her brassiere so I
could cup her breasts all day. And Dianne was sexually free, boy, was she
free. She was even more open about her sexuality than Kristin, and Kristin
has always been a tiger in bed.

What was even more surprising to me was that my sexual excitement was
greatest whenever I fantasized my wife Kristin making love to Dianne while I
was watching. In these fantasies, Kristin and Dianne totally shared their
bodies — there was no inhibition of any kind. The number 69 appeared often
in my mind. And I imagined my throbbing, erect penis being inside Dianne’s
vagina from the rear, while Kristin, my beautiful wife, was in front massaging
Dianne’s clitoris and sucking on her breasts, and that Dianne was massaging
Kristin’s swollen clitoris. And I imagined that we all came to orgasm at the
same time this way. What a fantasy!

After one hour of sheer erotic sex (I have never made love to a woman
who could have several strong orgasms in a row like Dianne could), we lay
together exhausted. I asked Dianne, “When did you and Kristin first make
love?”

She said, “During our backpacking trip. It was cold, and we were close
to each other in our sleeping bags. And we just talked, and slowly we got
closer, more intimate, touched each other more, and finally we were making
love. Kristin said to me afterwards that that was the first time she ever had
sex with a woman. She never consciously realized before that she was
bisexual, although she said that she recalled having strong feelings for other
women before. Her greatest fear was that you would reject her for being
bisexual and for making love to me.”

I said, “If she made love to a man, I would have been jealous and a
little angry — I’m sounding a little hypocritical here — but the thought of
her making love to another woman, especially you, excites me, and I don’t know
why. Maybe most men would be turned off and very angry if they were faced
with this situation, but I’m not. I really would like to watch you and
Kristin make love and I want to share in your lovemaking, for I want Kristin
to be happy and I know that you and I can sexually fulfill her in ways that I
cannot alone.” Dianne smiled, hugged me, gave me a dreamy kiss, and said, “I
would like that. I love you. And tell Kristin when you see her that I love
her, too.”

When I came home in the evening, it was, suffice to say, a very unusual
conversation. I told Kristin that I was with Dianne that afternoon, that we
made love, that I knew about Kristin’s love affair with Dianne, that I am not
angry or jealous, that I loved both of you, and that I would like all three of
us to make love to one another. Kristin was quite taken aback by what I said,
but she quickly recovered with a look of anticipation and desire that I have
never seen in her before. Kristin then said, “Let’s send the kids to my
mother’s for the weekend, I’ll think of a good excuse, and invite Dianne to
stay with us.” I agreed to this, we called Dianne, she readily agreed and we
were all excited. Needless to say Kristin and I made passionate love that
evening and we later talked very openly about the different ways we could make
love together with Dianne.

….Watching two passionate women, who love each other, mutually gratify
their sexual desires is something that every man should see — and I’m not
talking about those loveless scenes one sees in most X-rated films. Men can
learn an awful lot about how to please a woman sexually by watching how a
woman does it to another woman. After all, who knows more about a woman than
another woman?…

Kristin and Dianne were obviously very much in love with each other.
You could feel the passionate heat they generated even before they touched
each other. They made me sit in a chair while I watched them in bed. They
each wore a negligee, and I could see the outlines of their breasts and of
their black triangle of hair where female sexuality resides. They obviously
loved the way they were dressed, since they looked at each other just as I was
looking at them. They started with slow kisses, which became more passionate
as time went on — it seemed like an eternity. Their hands, which started out
being fixed on each others back, became more and more mobile. There was no
part of their bodies that their hands did not touch. Kristin, my beautiful
wife, was gasping at every caress given by Dianne. Dianne, being very turned
on by now, loosened Kristin’s negligee and took it off, gloriously revealing
Kristin’s body to both of us. “Your breasts are so beautiful,” Dianne said,
“please let me kiss them.” Kristin pulled Dianne’s head to her breasts and
moaned “more” as Dianne eagerly yet tenderly licked them.

Dianne then broke the kisses, got on her back, and told Kristin, who was
sitting upright on her knees, to move forward until her vulva was near
Dianne’s mouth, as she has done for me several times. Dianne eagerly thrust
out her tongue to Kristin’s moist clitoris, and licked and kissed and sucked
it in a way I’ve never done for Kristin before. You could see Kristin’s body
slowly swaying, like a pendulum, which started to speed up as Dianne speeded
up her tongue motion. Then, in a frantic way that I have never heard Kristin
say, she said, “Please… more.” At that moment, Dianne inserted one finger
into Kristin’s vagina and another finger from the other hand into her anus and
began to earnestly and rhythmically bring her down the home stretch with her
tongue and lips and fingers. Kristin exploded into a orgasm that I have never
seen in any woman before, even Dianne on Friday. She gasped and fell limp on
the bed, exhausted, and content. I was in awe.

As Dianne was slowly caressing Kristin during her short time of
recovery, my passion arose to a height I’ve never felt before. I walked over
to the bed, took my clothes off (so I could relieve the pressure of my
super-erect penis) and got on the bed next to Dianne and started to kiss her.
I helped Dianne take off her negligee, revealing her beautiful breasts with
very hard and erect nipples; I could feel the animal heat emanate from her
vagina, begging for satisfaction. She then took hold of my very hard penis
and began to rub it firmly, and then went down on me and began to lick and
suck it. I could feel the moistness around her mouth, no doubt from Kristin’s
vaginal juices. Dianne then completely inserted my penis into her mouth as
far as it could go and really began to suck. It was a beautiful experience.
As I approached an explosive orgasm, but before it was too late, she let go of
my penis, leaned back on the bed, with her beautiful breasts pointing
majestically upward, and begged Kristin to come down on her.

Kristin, whose passion was beginning to come back again, got on her
hands and knees and began to lick Dianne’s clitoris with her tongue. Kristin,
being very flexible, had no trouble with this position. Kristin’s
super-swollen vulva revealed itself to me in all its splendor in this
position, which I could not resist; I entered Kristin from the rear, reached
around her to massage her swollen and moist clitoris and her erect nipples.
When I did this, my wife began to moan, and increased her tempo on Dianne.
Dianne began to moan wildly, too, and Kristin reached up to cup Dianne’s
breast and knead them vigorously. For one minute this went on, and as I
approached ejaculation, Kristin sensed that, quickened the pace, and brought
Dianne closer to ecstasy. We all reached climax at about the same time. My
orgasm was the most intense I have ever experienced. I felt as if I filled
Kristin up to the brim.

This did not end here. Kristin continued her oral caress on Dianne’s
clitoris in the most loving, tender, and yet vigorous manner, and from this
very delicious stimulus, Dianne had four more orgasms in the next few minutes;
each orgasm was more intense than the previous one. Her last orgasm was so
intense and obviously so pleasurable that Kristin broke down and cried for
Dianne in happiness. We all then fell into a long and dreamy sleep, snuggling
close together, to recharge for another round several hours later (I’ll spare
you the details of our subsequent lovemaking, except that it was even better).

Many would say that nothing good could ever result from a bisexual
menage a trois such as ours; however, Kristin’s and my love for each other was
enhanced by this experience (which, by the way, never happened again with
Dianne, for reasons that will remain unsaid to the outside world). I also
learned how to become a better lover to Kristin, since my teachers were two
beautiful women who passionately loved one another and understood one another
in ways that men can never fathom.

–

Archive-name: 3plus/2grlfant.txt
Archive-author: Mark O. Zorro
Archive-title: A Man’s Fantasy about Two Women