JIMMY'S OBSESSION

By Max Speer © 2000

He had tried porno magazines and videos but the only way he gained any sexual gratification was by imagining that the women were being tickled. Just contemplating that a woman was ticklish would excite him. Just seeing how a woman bares certain ticklish parts of her body during the warm Spring and Summer leads him to an almost Einsteinian inner dialogue about tickling and women.

Women shave under their arms, he would contemplate. Why? They would do it to remove all the hair and make their armpits beautiful. Again, he would wonder, why? But that's not all, he would ponder. They wear clothing that is sleeveless, like these dresses he sees walking by. Nothing else is revealed. Why are the arms just bared? They want you to look under their arms. Furthermore, a highly ticklish part of a woman is on her armpits. Perhaps they want to tease you into tickling them there. This kind of twisted logic is what drove Jimmy. He became obsessed with not only tickling a woman under her arms, but simply seeing a woman's smooth underarms and imagining that he walked up to them and tickled them there.

Sometimes, on days like this one, he would see them walking down the street, swinging their bare arms as they walked as if it were a slow-motion movie. His eye would catch that little glimpse of her underarm as her arm swung forward and back and he would imagine slipping his fingertips into that warm and sensitive spot and tickling her. After all, she deserved to be tickled because of the dress she wore and the way she moved her arm to reveal this sexy spot. But his obsession didn't stop there.

As he looked down at their feet in sexy pumps or, better yet, strapped sandals, he would contemplate the hours they would spend pampering their feet and toes. He wondered about the salons that offered pedicures and wondered how a person could have a bare, ticklish foot in their hands and NOT tickle it.

Still, women would endure hours in a salon while their calluses were scraped off and just the soft, sensitive skin remained. Their toenails would be sculpted and painted in order to beautify their feet. Again, he would wonder. Why? Why do they want us to look at their feet? Surely feet are not something that "normal" people look at. No, he thought.

Women want to tease us into looking at their feet. Fortunately, their feet are another one of those highly ticklish spots on a woman. Therefore, they want us to be tempted into tickling them.

Jimmy's twisted reasoning was that, deep down, women wanted to be tickled and that is why they took extra care into beautifying the ticklish parts of their body. His logic wouldn't stop at the armpits and feet (although they were his favorite places to tickle). His logic would go off into other areas such as their belly button and their ribs and their hips and many other areas that a woman can be ticklish. His mind was constantly developing new principles of Tickle Science and the way it related to women.

Jimmy was not a good-looking man. He was an introvert. He worked in an office as a computer programmer and kept to himself. Sometimes pretty female office workers would pass his cubicle on their way to the coffee machine or the ladies room and giggle. Part of him thought it was because he was such a nerd. The other part of him 'knew' it was because they were teasing him with the giggle. He was convinced that they did it for the purpose of making him want to tickle them by showing him their giggle but teasing him because they were untouchable women. What would pretty women like they want with a despicable character like he? He was not tall and handsome and charming and rich. He lived alone in a one-room apartment. He spent his time sitting in the park and watching the pretty women walk by. Sometimes he would go to shopping malls and watch women shift threw racks of clothing. He would see as they reached up their arms, bared in their sleeveless clothes, and handle the hangers. He would stare at their armpits in a hypnotic trance as he memorized every inch of that smooth surface, imaging how it would feel on his fingers if he tickled them there. Sometimes they would see him staring and sneer at him.

"What are you staring at you freak!?"

One day, a couple of girls were shopping and one was reaching up to look at a dress on a high hook. She was talking to her friend when the friend indicated towards Jimmy with a point of her chin. Jimmy was transfixed on her smooth armpit and didn't see what was happening. "Why are you looking at my underarm?" the girl said. Her friend started to giggle and then the girl who spoke to him began to giggle. They were laughing at him. "Like, are you, like , INTO armpits or something?" Jimmy took off quickly, red with embarrassment. He felt like killing himself. He felt like a pervert. But later that night, the situation played in his head over and over. He saw her arm up and heard the giggling again. Then he heard the pretty girl say "underarm" and "armpit" over and over again in his mind and it caused him to have one of the most intense sexual experiences he had ever had. From that moment on, Jimmy knew that there was no turning back. He was ready to tickle a woman the way he wanted to. He knew that a pretty woman would never agree to come to his apartment by her own free will. She would have to be 'taken' there.

Another option Jimmy considered was going into the house of a pretty woman and tickling her. He could wear a mask perhaps. He could be the Masked Tickler. After all, it's only tickling. What could possibly happen? She might actually like the experience. After all, women 'want' to be tickled.

For weeks he obsessed on the thought until one night when he was walking through a neighborhood not too far from his own he saw a shadow on the wall of a bedroom. It was a female and she was slipping into a sexy nightgown. He looked around to make sure no one saw him and stood by a maple tree at the window. Suddenly, the woman appeared at the window. She was beautiful with long, blond hair. She reached up to pull the shade down and Jimmy's heart began to beat as he saw her raise her bare arm, revealed perfectly in her lacy, sleeveless nightgown. He stood there for over an hour with his fantasies running wild. He thought of every conceivable scenario where he comes into her bedroom and tickles her. His stomach began to churn and he felt sick. His heart was beating wildly. But he had to do it.

He waited. He waited until all the lights in the neighborhood were out. He waited until the last car was safely parked in its garage. He waited until his shirt was wet with sweat and he was nearly out of his mind.

The house, a single home had lots of windows. It was a warm night with a cool breeze and windows were open. He wiped his brow and circled the house until he found an open window he could climb in to.

The house was filled with scents of food and shampoo. She had eaten and showered. She would be clean and soft, he thought.

Walking very softly and carefully, he entered her bedroom and stood at the foot of the bed. She was even more gorgeous up close. She was tall and thin and had long, blond hair. One foot stuck out from the bottom of her covers and he sat on the floor, his face just inches from her soft, bare sole. The sight of this sole was horribly frustrating because he wanted to tickle it so badly. He thought about the consequences and realized that she would probably wake up and ruin his Grand Scheme.

Carefully, he searched her dresser until he found a small drawer containing nothing but scarves. Pulling out four, long scarves, he carefully walked to the head of the bed. It was too good to be true. She was sleeping with her arms over her head and his heart was pounding heavily in his chest as he saw her smooth armpits. He knew he had to be quick so he made a slip know on each of the scarves and placed them on the bed by her wrists and feet. Then he walked back to the head of the bed and carefully slipped the knotted scarf over her left hand. The woman stirred in her sleep and moved over to her right side, pulling the scarf with her. Damn it, he thought. This isn't going the way I want it to. He silently went back to the scarf drawer and pulled out a thicker scarf. Enough of this bullshit, he thought. I am going for it.

He took the thick scarf and slowly brought it around the front of her face and pulled it into her mouth. The woman woke up and started to thrash. He was losing his grip but managed to climb atop of her and wrestle the 'gag' into her mouth. She thrashed and tried beating at him with her fists. For a second she noticed the scarf around her wrist and tried to scream. Jimmy seized that moment and pulled the scarf quickly, causing her left arm to shoot upwards. Once it was up, he tied the scarf to her headboard and wrestled for her right hand. This was not as easy but he managed to slip the scarf over her wrist and pull her arm upward, tying it again,

The feet were very difficult because she was kicking, but he sat on her legs and managed to get each ankle tied down to the legs of the bed.

The woman stopped screaming into her gag and lay there panting.

Jimmy put a finger to his lips and whispered, "You don't have to worry. I'm not going to rape you. I swear it."

The woman laid there, eyes wide open and breathing heavily into the gag.

"I am not even going to hurt you," he continued. Really. So there's no reason for you to get all twisted. I won't hurt you or rape you or do anything bad to you. Okay?"

This did not calm the woman. She was puzzled however.

Jimmy walked through the house and closed all of the windows.

"Okay," he said as he sat on the bed. "I am going to remove the gag. If you scream, I will gag you again and I will NOT be happy. Remember, I am not going to hurt you or rob you. I just want to talk to you."

Jimmy reached up and removed the gag. Her lips were sweet and her eyes were big and green; brilliant, like wolf's eyes. She thought about screaming again. She thought about cursing at him but she was afraid that he would get angry and hurt her or kill her, so she tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths.

Jimmy stared down at her outstretched arms and marveled at the utter smoothness of her armpits.

"You did this for me, didn't you?" Jimmy said with a smile.

"Di-did what?" the woman said quietly.

"Made yourself so smooth under your arms."

The woman felt like crying. She didn't understand.

This was the moment of truth for Jimmy. He reached his finger up to her armpit and the woman pulled her body back, hollowing out her armpit.

"What are you going to do to me?" the woman said quickly. She knew that if he touched her there it would tickle and it was creepy to think that this guy was going to tickle her.

"I bet you are really ticklish here, huh?" Jimmy said. He was no longer nervous. He was excited.

"Don't tickle me. Please don't tickle me," the woman begged.

This was what Jimmy wanted to hear. He touched a finger to her left armpit and started to tickle her lightly. The woman's eyes opened wider than before. She winced and pulled her arm in and made the hollow deeper. It was her poor attempt at pulling away from the tickling finger.

"Does this tickle?" Jimmy said.

The woman was not relaxed enough to let go. The sensation was unnerving. Sure it tickled, but she didn't know how to react. If she let go and laughed then he might get excited and tickle her more and even rape her. If she didn't laugh he might get angry and hurt her.

All her questions were answered when Jimmy suddenly and unexpectedly grabbed her lower ribs with claw-like grips and squeezed the extremely ticklish spot as he said, "How about this?" The woman instinctively opened her mouth and squealed and screamed. Then, as Jimmy brought both hands up to tickle her two armpits, she started to laugh in spite of herself. She laughed and she laughed and she was out of control. She was very ticklish under her arms and, since he had already broken the 'dam', she lost her resistance. Meanwhile, Jimmy was grinning ear to ear as he felt the soft skin of her armpits. He had never felt an adult woman's armpits before. He used to tickle his cousin there and this woman was as smooth as she was. "Tickle tickle tickle," Jimmy repeated like a mantra, as his finger galloped on her ticklish underarms.

"Please…please stop," the woman pleaded. "I can't stand it! Oh please. You're driving me insane!!" She laughed hysterically between words as Jimmy tickled her non-stop.

The woman repeated her words but the intensity of her laughter was rising in pitch. She was out of control. Jimmy suddenly popped out of his trance to realize that he needed to let her rest a little bit.

"Sorry," he said as he brought his hands back. The woman stared at his hands in terror as she tried to catch her breath,

"Are you, are you finished tickling me?" she said breathing heavily.

Jimmy heard the woman say 'tickling' and it was an incredible thing. He loved the sound of her feminine voice saying his 'word'.

"Say it again," he said smiling.

"What?"

"Tickling."

The woman felt like crying again. She didn't know what to do with this man. She feared for her safety. "Tickling," the woman said softly.

Jimmy was thrilled. "What's you name?" he said.

"Angel," the woman said softly.

"Your name is Angel?" Jimmy said with excitement. "Really?"

"Yes."

"I like that. You're my Angel. Angel, can I ask you something?"

The woman had absolutely no idea what this guy wanted. "Yes."

Jimmy pulled the covers back a little bit. They had already been strewn about from all of her earlier thrashing, but some of it still remained on her midsection.

"Can I lift up your nightgown so I can see your tummy?" The woman started to stiffen. She didn't like where this was leading. Jimmy realized what she must be thinking and quickly tried to comfort her. "No no no," he said. "I won't do anything but look at your tummy. I won't look anywhere else."

The woman had no choice but nodded slightly and Jimmy pulled the last of the blankets away. Then, he took the hem of her short nightgown and lifted it slowly up to reveal her belly. He had promised not to look at anything else but he couldn't help look at her tiny panties, like a silken triangle covering her secret 'garden'. The tickling of her belly would be even more exciting with that area of her "watching".

"Oh no. Oh no," the woman said as Jimmy's fingers lifted and started to lower towards her bare belly, finger wiggling. She pulled in her stomach making a hollow of her abs. This was also very sexy as it caused the ridges of her ribs to protrude.

"Please don't tickle me anymore," the woman begged. It was of no use. Just saying the word "tickle" made him want to tickle her even more. His fingers started to dance on the ultra-smooth surface of her belly area. The woman squeezed her eyes shut and started to laugh a high-pitched giggling kind of laugh. His fingers swirled and 'skated' around her belly button in an ever tightening spiral until they settled on her soft belly button. She had a beautiful 'innie' and he let one finger poke and explore the sensitive spot. He made a mental note to ad midriff tops to his menu of Tickle Science contemplation. He had never considered it much before but Angel looked so damned cute with her belly button being tickled like that.

The woman was squirming and laughing, but she was also puzzled at the way he was treating her like a little girl. No man had ever talked to her like that as an adult. Angel was a bank executive. She lived a life of facts and figures and precision. There was very little time for fun. She had just purchased the house that she was being held prisoner in.

It's funny to think that she had any real thoughts while being tickled, but as soon as Jimmy stopped for a second she began to feel as if she had made herself a prisoner in her own house with a mortgage. She lived her life day in and day out the way she did, in order to create a feeling of security.

But now, she was being given a lesson on humility. She was unsure whether she would survive this ordeal. In a quick act of desperation, she asked the stranger a question.

"What's your name?"

Jimmy was caught off guard with the inquiry. "Jimmy."

"Jimmy," the woman said catching her breath. "Are you gonna stop tickling me soon? I can't stand it. Maybe you can come back another day and tickle me again. But I need a rest."

The nerdy guy was dumbfounded. Can I do that, he thought to himself. Can I come back every night and tickle this gorgeous woman? Angel. She's my angel. She must be.

But his fantasy was quickly gone. He knew that as soon as he left her house she would call the police. He didn't answer her. Instead, he brought his hands up to her lower ribs.

"No! No! No!!!!!" the woman said trying to stop the impending attack.

Jimmy's hands began tickling. He tickled her girlish ribs and made her squeal and scream. Those protruding ridges were extremely ticklish and she thrashed and pulled desperately at the scarves that held her wrists.

"This is torture. Torture!" the woman called out the best she could between laughs.

The feeling of her ribcage had Jimmy very fired up and he let his tickling fingers climb higher and higher under her nightgown, tickling and tapping her sensitive sides. Angel laughed and squirmed wildly. She felt as if she was getting more ticklish rather than any hopes of getting used to it.

Suddenly, Jimmy felt her soft breasts against the sides of his hands as he tickled her ribs and he stopped for a moment to reach around and cup her breasts in his palms. The degree of sexual excitement he was feeling was off the charts. He began to wonder what it would be like to tickle her while he made love to her.

Angel saw the look in his eyes and started to sob. "Please stop this," she cried softly. 'You're torturing me." She was careful this time, not to say the word 'tickle'. "I can't take it. I'm gonna die. I can't breathe. Don't hurt me. Please stop tickling me!" Then she began to cry more intensely.

Jimmy stared at her. Then he recalled that she just said "tickle" and it began to fire him up again. I stood up to clear his head and walked towards the doorway leading to the bathroom. Then he turned and looked down at this gorgeous creature tied to the bed. Instead of the lust, he began to feel a bit of compassion. She had tears running down her cheeks.

"If I stop tickling you, will you call the police?"

"No." the woman said a little too quickly. "I promise. I just want to go to sleep. I have an important sales call tomorrow and I need to get some sleep."

Jimmy began to soften. He decided to untie her. But then something caught his eye that changed everything. As Angel spoke to him his eye caught her left foot. She turned it and curled her toes as she spoke. It was so sexy that it began to fire him up again. As she was speaking he began to walk towards the foot of the bed as if in a trance.

"Yeah, okay," he mumbled as he knelt down.

"What are you doing?" Angel said a little frantically. She was beginning to believe she had convinced. "I can't see you. What are you going to do?"

Her last words were screamed out as Jimmy took his hands and stroked lightly down her bare soles from the base of her toes down to her heel. She wiggled her feet wildly and arched her back and began to plead as she laughed hysterically. His fingers formed claws and he scratched lightly over the tops of her feet as she curled her toes down to avoid the sole tickling. Her feet were over-the-top-ticklish. There was not a spot on her feet that weren't ticklish.

"Please" Angel begged between screams and laughs. "Please don't tickle my feet. I'll die. I swear it. Don't tickle me there!" Her feet were very pretty, long, size 9's, with slender toes and red toenail polish. He grabbed her left ankle with one hand and clawed his fingers as he placed them on the inner stems of her toes and tickled. She was very ticklish there and squealed in tickled laughter. Her blond hair whipped back and forth as her head darted. Her eyes were shut tightly and her mouth was agape as the musical laughter song from deep within her. It was torture for the poor woman. Never had she felt such intense sensation.

On the other hand, Jimmy was swimming in lust as he felt the soft skin of her bare feet beneath his tickling fingers. Again, recalling the foot-ticklings he gave to his cousin, he marveled that Angel's soles were as soft as the young girl's had been.

"Tickle tickle tickle, little Angel's ticklish feet," Jimmy sung as if he were talking to a child. "Cotchie cootchie cootchie coooooo!"

 

The blond was screaming and laughing as Jimmy grasped her other ankle and began the swirling, dancing, galloping finger tickling all over the soft surfaces of her ticklish soles.

"Look at this girly foot. You are all such teases!" he shouted to her. She was oblivious, lost in a world of tickling sensations, gasping for a breath, totally in the moment. It was fight or flight in its most classic. It was an assault to her senses. Tickling. Tickling a part of the body to the point where one would do anything to stop the sensations. A girl would do anything to stop the torture.

"Please," she cried. "Please stop. I'm going insane!"

Jimmy pulled her toes back and scratched the soft ticklish skin; up and down, back and forth. Then he grabbed her left foot with both hands and took the toes into his mouth, chewing on the base of the toes, tasting the shower gel mixed with musk.

While the toes were in his mouth, he tickled her sole and heel with his free hand. Her foot jerking threatened to pull his teeth out but he tickled and tickled.

Angel was screaming now and begging for him to stop. He was driven. He was driven like he had never been driven before. The blond felt as if she might pass out. She was starting to feel a warm numbness on her arms and her face.

Jimmy was out of his mind with lust as he cradled both ankles under one arm and tickled her soles with both hands. Her toes curled down in a hopeless attempt to shield her extremely ticklish feet from his fiendish fingers.

"Ticklish Angel!" he started to shout out. She was beginning to go away to a warm, gray place.

He stopped and her body shook and she was out. His heart pounded. His pants were slightly wet. Embarrassed and fearful, he got up quickly and walked to her, putting his ear to her heart. It was pounding. She was breathing. She had passed out.

He ran to her dresser and found a nail file and sawed quickly at the scarves until they were off. He saw the dents in her skin the scarves had left.

He was petrified. What have I done, he thought. In a flash, he was out of her window.

As he ran home he repeated over and over again, "I'm never gonna do that again. I'm never gonna do that again."

 

Jimmy looked up from the city bench where he sat and looked at the people walking by. He looked up at the people from his bench but all he saw were the women, dressed in their summer clothes. He saw the women, in their business suits, holding their jackets draped over their arms, revealing their conservative, sleeveless dresses. He looked down to see their shapely legs, hugged tightly in nylon and their tender feet slipped into conservative pumps. It had only been a day since the ordeal. He was wondering how Angel was doing when he spied a brunette in a clothing store window, dressing a mannequin. It was a woman's clothing store called Express and the brunette, wearing a sleeveless turtleneck and flip-flop sandals was reaching up to button the shirt of the mannequin. Her arms were up and he stared under her arms and saw the soft, ticklish skin. Up on her toes, her soles were up as her sandals were still on the ground. He saw her flawlessly smooth soles. Jimmy figured he could take the rest of the day off. He would wait until Ms. Express got out of work.