Tickled by Sharon and Her Husband (My Intense Tickling Threesome): A BDSM Explicit Erotica Story

I was definitely turned on when the professor talked about lesbian culture. Later, Sharon asked me if I’d ever been with a woman, and I admitted that I often thought about it. Before I knew it, I was agreeing to sleep with her and even letting her tie me up for kinky stuff! I had no idea that the kinky stuff she was talking about was absolutely merciless tickling. It was utter torment on its own, and then her husband joined in. I giggled and laughed and begged and shrieked, and I moaned a lot, too. Mostly, I wondered if they’d ever stop tickling me!

Warning: This ebook contains very explicit descriptions of sexual activity and includes tickling, bondage, BDSM, ffm ménage a trois, first lesbian sex, rough sex, and more. Only mature adults who won’t find that offensive should read this story.

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Straightening up, she said in a low purr, “I’m going to make you laugh and scream and shriek and beg.”
It was then that she used that single finger to touch me. She slid it up over my knee, glided it along the curve of my thigh, and then skimmed it through the crease of my hip. It was then that things changed. When she reached the hem of my shirt, she no longer just traced her one finger over me. Instead, she suddenly stretched all her fingers and fluttered her fingertips along the skin just above my waistline. I immediately started giggling from the unexpected ticklish sensations that ran over me. I had no idea if I was just really, really ticklish or if her fingertips were just extraordinarily skilled. She rolled them over my sides and then skittered them around my belly before moving right up to the crease underneath my breasts and applying a little more pressure.
I cried out with wailing laughter the entire time, but that only seemed to spur her on. She continued journeying upwards with her torturous fingers until she reached the hollows of my underarms, and there was nothing I could do to rescue myself or encourage her to cease her torment. I squirmed from left to right, but there was no escape; I was tied down and allowed just a few inches of wiggle room in either direction. I couldn’t catch my breath long enough to shriek for her to stop. All I could do was laugh, and, judging by the look on her face, it was clear that she wouldn’t have stopped whether or not I was able to ask her. There was something terrible, and something absolutely arousing, about that thought.