Armpit Tickle Novels & Stories

Like a dog, I licked his armpit. "Ohhhhh. Yeah. Ahhhhh. Love that, Honey?" He asked. "Ohnmmpp. Uhmmmp," moan was my answer as my head bobbed. I pushed closer my head to his armpit. I want to dive into it. I want my face to brush to his armpit and to feel every hair of it. The aroma and the scent makes me do it. "Ohhhhh. Ahhhhh. You're hungry for my armpit," he chuckled. Jacob then teases me by pulling slightly away from me his armpit. It sucks every time he does that. But I'm left without a choice but to chase for it.

Deep in heavenly slumber snuggled in the arms of my hot blooded mate. I couldn’t think of anywhere else I would rather be right now. Snuggling in closer to Johnny’s chest my foot twitches annoyingly and I bring my leg further up the bed snuggling deeper. Drifting off again and there it is yet again a twitch and an unbearable tickle, my leg shakes and I can’t help moan annoyingly. The tickle is now becoming relentless to the point Johnny even moans at me to stop wiggling.

Her braless boobs jiggle against my arm distracting me from her next move. "Are you still ticklish?" she asks playfully while using her sizeable chest to pin my arm against my body. Her left hand keeps grabbing for the remote as her right hand goes straight to my ribcage. I start laughing and squirming which only serves to rub my arm up and down against her nipples. I can feel them hardening through the thin material.

My hips lift as your fingers slide inside of me, curling back, finding my sensitive g-spot, causing me to gasp and shudder. Up and down my hips writhe, your fingers curving inside of me, your palm flat as it glides over my welcoming clit on the out-stroke. My body is an instrument, and you play it with the deft skill of a master. Shudders wrack my body, setting my breasts trembling, as the scent of my musk, my nectar fills the air. I raise my arm above me, to stretch and grab the headboard. With wicked intention you lean into me. I cry out in surprise as you kiss my armpit. I look up to see the sly grin on your face.

For example it was still far too effective for Mina to simply place all five fingertips on Nadine's heel and then slowly drag them out and back in again in continuous pulses, maybe switching it up from time to time by rotating them. As with most things Mina did, the tickling itself wasn't that bad, or at least not compared to actual tickle torture. But it was a constant fluttery sensation that was always on Nadine's mind, didn't allow her any rest and pushed her willpower beyond its limits as her attempts to control her reactions became increasingly futile.

"Well ...... remember ......" Hermosa's nxpples tickled. But touching alone didn't seem to relieve the itch, so she untutoredly grabbed the palm-wide band around her chest and let the frilly fabric rub back and forth against the soft nub of her breast. It was soon strangled red there. "Ha, ha ah ...... still tickles ...... sir ...... it tickles here too... ..."

I looked at it, closed my eye, decided it was a dream but I couldn't sleep back because I felt rumbling and soft laughter held behind a screen. I opened my eyes again and realized I was actually staring at Min's armpit and he was laughing. I stood up and looked at him sternly. "This isn't funny Min," I groaned. "Your breathing was tickling me, I neve meant to wake you up," He explained. "Your armpit was in my fae," I accused.

Her lush body felt incredible as I held her there in my bedroom. "God, you smell so good," I murmured. I didn't mean to tickle her that time. My arms were wrapped completely around her, and it left my fingertips in contact with her sensitive sides. That first light touch made her flinch in my grasp and her eyes went wide. As soon as she started to struggle and giggle, I could not help myself. I tickled her lightly with my arms still wrapped around her back, and she was in no position to defend herself. Annette pulled her arms down from around my neck and pushed at my upper chest as she wriggled in my grasp.

Through my teeth. The radiator clanks once and stops. Tinsley's breathing in the top bunk goes shallow but doesn't break. The digital clock glows red: 12:00. "That's not a wolf," I whisper, my throat scraping dry. "That's not any wolf I've ever heard." My skin is damp despite the freezing room. My left wrist itches. Not on top. Deep under the flesh, pushing outward like something trying to surface. I lift my arm into the red glow.

He hissed, pulling his hand back as if he’d been burned. "What was that?" Arung asked, his eyes narrowing, his hand drifting instinctively toward the grip of the sidearm holstered at his hip. "Just... a spark. The air is thick with something," Rangga muttered, rubbing his thumb over the jagged silver scar that ran from his wrist to his elbow. He froze. The scar was vibrating. It wasn't just the ambient temperature or the humidity of the cave; it was as if the skin itself was resonating with a frequency he could feel in his teeth.