After playing tennis and frisbee for most of the afternoon, and cooking up a tasty stir-fry (enjoyed over a bottle of white zinfandel) for dinner, Jim and Janet decided to call it an early evening and went to sleep, having allowed their feelings of horniness to be displaced temporarily by feelings of fatigue. Overnight, the temperature dropped from warm-and-pleasant to goose-pimple-cold, an occurrence for which they were ill-prepared, having left the bedroom windows open, with a single sheet covering the two of them. In their respective dreams, their king-sized bed became a stretch of frozen tundra, complete with arctic winds cutting across the expanse.
What began as an overly-affectionate huddling together for warmth degenerated, as the cold slowly pulled them awake, into a nasty little tug-of-war, with the prize being a larger-than-fair portion of the cotton/polyester sheet. Having always been better at such games, Janet curled herself into a fetal position, clutched a double-handful of sheet to her chest, and gave a little, twisting *tug*. Pretty as you please, the last yard of sheet jumped away from Jim and settled neatly on Janet, leaving Jim's butt exposed to the elements. His eyes flew open just as a breeze blew up his backside. "Hey! I'm freezing! Gimme some back."
Janet purred a contented, sleepy little dismissal, "Jim, if you're cold, just get up and take a blanket out of the closet." Jim was ready to hoist himself out of bed when he realized that he'd just been snookered (and not for the first time!) into getting a blanket while Janet stayed in bed. His darling wife had suddenly been transformed, in his eyes, into an Evil Manipulator, and he decided to stand up for All Men, everywhere.
"If you want a blanket, Janet, *you* get it. Now give me some sheet!", and he proceeded to haul at the blanket like he was pulling in the main sail.
With more than half-serious indignation, Janet growled "You jerk! Pick on someone your own size!" and she did that little clutching move again, which rolled Jim over and recovered half of what he'd hauled away from her.
"Can't...there's no one else here." smirked Jim, and he pressed his (now frozen) toes up against her warm, heart-shaped bottom. She squeaked out a surprised little "Yelp!" and jumped away from him, letting go of the sheet.
"Aha!!" Jim grabbed the edge of the sheet and rolled back towards his side of the bed. "Loser!" he cried and, gripping the sheet tightly, he rolled over and away from Janet, spooling the entire sheet around himself. "*You* can get the blanket for a change, chump!" He rolled clear to the other side of the bed, and was quite pleased with himself, since he didn't get to outsmart his wife very often.
He had about half-a-heartbeat to gloat, and then Janet jumped on top of him, and glowered down at him with a frighteningly predatory look. "You know, Jim, I'll never understand how such a smart man can consistently get himself into such *dumb* predicaments!" He tried boosting himself up with his arms (all those workouts came in handy when he was wrestling with Janet who, although no pushover, was never able to beat him in a fair fight)...and he collapsed backwards! Quickly, he realized that he'd mummified himself inside the sheet. He thought hurriedly....king-sized sheet...must be eight or nine layers of cloth...his hands stuck by his hips, tangled up more than the rest of him...Janet sitting on his stomach with her knees on either side of his chest, using those cyclist's legs of hers to squeeze his arms against his sides. Oh, I'm meat, he thought, I'm hamburger fucking helper.
Janet was smiling down at him evilly. "You've got such an *endearing* look on your face, honey!" And then her expression changed to one of mock-concern: "Have you got enough of the sheet now, Jimmy?"
"Okay, heh, yeah, Janet...you got me, yep, that was pretty good...I'll go get the blanket..."
"Oh, baby, what's the hurry, you're not still cold are you? *I'm* the one who should be cold!" and reaching her arms behind her, she stretched her naked torso backwards and turned from side to side, the silhouette of her nipples sharply visible against the light from the bedroom window. He became acutely aware that he had a hard on, and he squirmed as it strained, like the rest of him, against the sheet. Janet brought her hands back down and ran them smoothly over her breasts. With a sudden surge of frustrated horniness, Jim bucked frantically and nearly threw his wife off of him.
Looking furious that Jim had the audacity to try taking advantage of her posing for him, she shifted her legs lower down Jim's body and fell forward onto him, hard, knocking the air out of him, and assumed a decidedly female-superior position. Now, it was Janet's turn to look surprised, as she felt Jim's erection pressing against her. For a second, Jim thought that she might let him loose so they could go at it...but Janet's expression shifted again, and became particularly merciless. "Poor baby!" she cooed, "there's something you want really bad, isn't there?" Wrapping her arms and legs tightly around Jim, she brought her face close and started giving him soft kisses on his cheeks, his temples, his forehead. A small moan of pleasure came from him, and he closed his eyes. She kissed his eyelids, and brought her mouth down to meet his. His tongue reached for her, and with no teasing Janet kissed him long and deeply.
"Oh, honey, I want you...please let me go."
She gazed at him tenderly, and said "I want you too, really bad, but some things are worth waiting for. Besides, I *know* you...you'll enjoy it more if I tease you senseless first."
"But you've already teased me senseless!" and, at this new development, he started struggling in earnest. But poised as she was, he could barely get enough leverage to rock her back and forth...rolling her away was utterly impossible. He strained fruitlessly for long seconds, and fell back exhausted.
"You call *this* teasing?" she chided, her face inches from his. "Darling, I haven't even *started* teasing you!" and she placed her hands on both sides of his face, keeping his head immobile. She brushed several feathery kisses against his lips and, as he strained for more, she unceremoniously licked his nose.
"*Bleck*!! Why, you bitch!! Gaaa!!!! I hate that!"
"Oh, so I'm a bitch? Well, what else am I supposed to do to you?" she asked innocently, while she wiped the saliva off his nose.
"I don't care...anything but that! That felt horrid!"
"But, Jim, I can only torture your face...the rest of you has gone undercover." She paused, smiling at her pun. "Except...except for...hmm..." Like a dervish, she jumped back and landed her bum on his stomach, then bounced off him and rolled him over another half turn, so he was face down, whereupon she grabbed onto the sheets wrapped around his ankles and pulled herself around. His first reaction (after "oof!") was that she was going to try smacking his bottom, and he tried getting his hands back to ward off the blows. A split second later, Janet was coming back down on top of him, making a "Hiiee-yA!" noise very much like Miss Piggy. He flattened himself so that the mattress would absorb the blow, but to his surprise Janet merely settled gently on top of him. "You're learning, boy! What is it they say about old dogs and new tricks?"
He was now face down, with his arms behind his back, hands pinned against his own butt, thanks to his thrashing around. His wife was lying face down on him, with her thighs again clamped around his chest. Her arms were hugging his legs tightly, while her right hand fumbled at the cloth by his ankles. Suddenly, he felt cold air, as Janet peeled back enough of the sheets that his right foot was free. He tried to kick, but his knees were still wrapped tightly together. Besides, what little maneuvering room his ankles had disappeared when Janet wound the excess sheet around his shins. His left foot was still bound in cloth, but his right foot was totally exposed.
"So, is this the naughty foot that stuck it's cold toes up my butt, hmmm?"
Jim started to babble, "No no it was the other one I swear it wasn't that one no..."
"I don't know, Jim, these toes feel *awfully* cold." she said, as she ran the tip of her index finger along the base of Jim's toes. "So were *you* the coldest toe? Or was it *you*?" she asked, punctuating each query with a little squeeze of each toe.
"(*giggle*) It wasn't any of them! (*snort*) Oh, God, please..." The gentle, almost loving touches underneath his toes made his foot twitch spasmodically, and Jim became frantic at the prospect that Janet was going to tickle him into hysteria. He didn't plead yet, though...he clung desperately to the ludicrous hope that, if he didn't beg her not to tickle him, then Janet wouldn't think of doing it.
"Oh, so I'm going to have to conduct an Inquisition, is that it? Well, since you like picking on people smaller than you," she said snidely, "I'll start with the littlest toe first...have you done anything that deserves punishment, hmmm?" And she started running her fingertips very lightly down the toe, along the outside edge of the foot, and then back up again.
Jim's initial, stifled laughs gave way to a steady stream of giggles, like water falling. "No honest I-swear-to-god I haven't!" he gasped.
"You know, you've got a beautiful giggle, Jim, even if that wonderful baritone voice of yours sounds more like a schoolgirl's now! It's too bad I don't hear you giggle more often. So, how about Toe Number 2? Do *you* have any confessions to make?" She started tracing her maddening fingertips in a straight line along the second toe, up and down across the sole of Jim's foot. That tickled *much* worse than the edge of his foot did, and Jim dropped all pretense of not begging.
"Please Janet plee-hee-hee-heeze (*gasp*), don't tickle me-he-hee-HA! HA! oh God (*giggle*) like this it's-sss-it's(*sputter*) HA HA not fair hah HAH!!"
"Oh, and I suppose that what you did to me last week on the couch was fair, right? Remember, you brute? When we were smootching, and you started kissing my neck, and when I laughed, you pinned my arms over my head and started nuzzling me under my arms until I nearly wet myself? Do you remember that, hmmm?" She shifted over to the third toe, so that her fingertips were sliding up and down the very center of his foot, taking little digressions to follow the curves along the arch and heel.
Jim was out-and-out laughing now, and gasping for breath. He'd always been a tickle fiend, but that was when *he* was doing the tickling. The only time he'd gotten it back badly was when he was was 12 and staying with relatives before a wedding. His cousin Karen (how old was she then? 15? 16?) caught him peeking when she was trying on her bridesmaid's outfit. He ran, but she caught him in about three strides and pinned him down, and while she said "I'll bet you thought that was funny, huh?" over and over, she proceeded to slowly and methodically tickle him half to death. He didn't even remember her stopping...just him catching his breath afterwards. That was 20 years ago, and he wasn't sure if he could stand it if it happened again. He managed to blurt out "Yes-I-did-it-I-did-it-I'm-sorry-oh-God" in one breath.
"Finally, a confession! Very well!" she said as she stopped her tickling, and she drew herself up haughtily. "It's the judgement of this court that, given your offense, the punishment should fit the crime. You are hereby sentenced to the poetic justice of being tickled on the bottom of your right foot until you go completely insane, said sentence to be carried out immediately. Does the condemned care to make a final statement?" Red faced, sweating, and panting, Jim gasped in a breath and started to open his mouth when Janet chirped "Time's up!" and began very lightly and rapidly dragging the fingertips of both hands over the sole of Jim's foot. She alternated left and right hands, using all of her fingers and touching very lightly, scraping as gently and as rapidly as she could.
If Jim thought that he'd ever been tickled before, he was wrong. His voice jumped from hyperactive giggles to full-bodied guffaws and back again as his tortured nerves tried desperately to reach some sort of equilibrium, but Janet was a cruel, relentless, and very talented tickler, and she altered her touch just enough to keep Jim from adapting to the torment. He felt electric currents searing across his feet, racing up the backs of his legs to his groin, and shooting out along his spinal cord. He howled...he shrieked...he positively *screamed* with forced laughter, while his body thrashed like a wild animal. "Kootchie, kootchie!" tormented Janet. "Tickle toes!" and she dug into the sensitive skin under Jim's toes. "Tickle here! Tickle there!" she teased, as she frantically scratched at one sensitive spot, then another. "Tickle tickle tickle!!" she teased, ruthlessly, while Jim prayed to God, to any god, to whatever god feels sorry for people being tickled beyond human endurance, that she'd stop.
Then Jim's sense of time disappeared...he was in the Hell of Eternal Tickling.
"Jim!! JIM!!! Are you okay???" He realized that his wife was shouting at his face while he was still being tickled senseless...no wait, he was still laughing, but he could see her hands and neither one was tickling him. Janet was staring straight at him, and looked scared witless. He started to get a grip on himself, but he realized that he could still *feel* it, and he collapsed laughing once more.
"I'm okay...oh God...HA!!!"
The look of concern partially drained away from Janet's face. "Um...I was actually going to commute your sentence to 10 minutes of eating me, but when I stopped you just kept on *laughing*." Her eyes got wide again, and she tried loosening the sheet from around her husband. "Are you *sure* you're alright?"
Jim tried to sit up and blurted out, "Ten minutes of head? How can I give you head (*gasp*) when I can't even breathe??" and he collapsed backwards roaring with laughter, like this was the funniest joke in the world.
"Jesus...let me get you out of this...sit up." The windings had loosened a bit, and with a struggle (in no way helped by her husband's continuing hysteria), she finally worked Jim's arms free and peeled the sweat-soaked sheet away from his chest. "I've got to close the windows...you'll catch pneumonia." While she closed them, Jim had flopped back onto the bed, and she returned to the task of freeing him, trying to tug the sheet past his hips.
"Ow! Watch it!" Jim opened his eyes wide, and looked coherent for the first time. He scooted around on the bed, and wiggled his hips while he carefully worked the sheets past an...um...obstruction.
"Oh my!" gasped Janet, eyes riveted at his crotch, "Maybe you won't have to give me head after all!"
He glanced down. "Geez...I guess not." He looked at Janet, hungrily, and grinned. "But this time," he paused while he backed his wife back down onto the bed and lowered himself on top of her, "*I* get to be on top."