Stepsiblings Tickling: Stepbrother Tickles Stepsister Playfully
Summary:
Julianne is sitting in the living room when her stepbrother joins her. He teases her briefly, then picks her up over his shoulder and carries her to the bedroom. There, he tickles the young woman extensively.
Stepbrother Tickles Stepsister in the Living Room
It was a quiet afternoon, and I was lounging comfortably on the couch.
My stepbrother Marc was at the other end, seemingly absorbed in a book, but I could feel his gaze wandering to me repeatedly.
I was wearing just a pair of loose shorts and a plain T-shirt, my feet clad in soft, pastel-colored socks.
Nothing special—but somehow, his attention made me nervous, in a way that made my heart beat faster.
“What are you reading?” I finally asked, more to break the tension than out of genuine curiosity.
“Nothing that would interest you,” he said with a sly grin, setting the book aside. His eyes gleamed mischievously. I should have stood up and walked away when he suddenly said, “Tell me, are you ticklish?”
Before I could even react, he had leaned over to me, and his hands found my belly.
I squealed and tried to wriggle away, but Marc was much quicker.
His fingers skillfully slid over my waist, finding the most sensitive spots at my sides. And I laughed uncontrollably.
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“Marc, stop!” I gasped between bouts of laughter, but he was relentless.
“Oh, I’m not giving up that easily,” he said, letting his hands wander lower until they were dangerously close to my thighs.
It was a game for him, but for me, it was… something else. I could feel my cheeks heat up, not just from laughter.
Young Man Throws Stepsister Over His Shoulder
Suddenly, everything changed.
With a single tug, he pulled me to my feet. Then he grabbed me by the waist, and before I fully understood what was happening, he had already thrown me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Marc! What are you doing?” I cried out, half startled, half amused, as he carried me upstairs.
My fists pounded against his back, but it was useless.
“Naughty little girls get punished,” he said in a tone that instantly made me fall silent. I didn’t even know what he meant, but it thrilled me endlessly.
His arm held me firmly as he opened the door to his room. The scent of his cologne was strong and somehow intoxicating.
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He tossed me onto his bed with a single motion, the mattress bouncing beneath me.
I tried to get up, but he was faster. His hands grabbed my wrists, pulling them over my head.
With a skillful knot, he tied them together using a scarf that had been lying on the nightstand.
He repeated the same with my ankles, this time with an actual rope.
My heart was racing wildly in my chest. I squirmed in my bonds, but deep down, I knew I had no chance—neither against the knots nor against Marc. He was stronger, and he knew it.
“Stay nice and still, little mouse,” he whispered, taking another cloth and blindfolding me. Now I was truly at his mercy. And I loved it more than I wanted to admit.
Feet Tickling: Naughty Stepbrother Teases Young Woman
I heard him sit down next to me, and then I felt it: his fingers on my feet. They glided over the soles of my socks, slow, almost like a feather.
The touch was so light that I immediately flinched. “No, Marc! Not my feet!” I cried, but it was useless. My begging only seemed to encourage him further.
“Oh, yes. Your feet are so sensitive, aren’t they?” He chuckled softly, and I felt him slowly pulling off my socks, sliding them over my toes.
The breeze made me shiver, and I instinctively curled my toes. But Marc held my ankle firmly and began crawling his fingers over my bare sole.
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It was torture. Pure torture! I burst out laughing and squirmed instantly. Every movement was futile because of the bonds.
His touches were light but precise—aimed directly at the spots that drove me insane.
I laughed so hard I could barely breathe. My whole body thrashed, but it was all in vain.
“Marc, please! I can’t take it anymore!” I begged, but he only seemed to enjoy it more.
“Well, what a squirmy little thing you are,” he said with a grin in his voice. His fingers found the arch of my sole, gliding over my heels and then to the delicate spots under my toes.
It was unbearable, and yet… somehow, it felt so intense that I almost didn’t want him to stop. But this wasn’t the end. Oh no, it only got worse.
Tickling Stepsiblings: Rubbing Feet with Oil and Tickling them
I was lying there trying to catch my breath. Suddenly I heard a soft thump – oil.
“Oh no,” I moaned as I felt him pouring the viscous liquid over my soles.
His hands now glided over my skin much more easily, more quickly, more intensely. And he exploited this shamelessly.
Every touch tickled so much that I could hardly stand it. “Marc, please! I’ll do anything you want!”
“Anything? I like that,” he said, but instead of stopping, his fingertips just crawled faster and more mercilessly over my feet until I hardly knew which way was up and which way was down.
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When he finally stopped and let go of my feet, I was completely exhausted. My body was shaking and my skin was tingling all over. Even between my legs. Or rather: especially there!
But Marc wasn’t finished yet. He turned me onto my stomach. Then his hands slowly moved up my legs, over my thighs, until they reached my bottom. He stroked my buttocks. First gently, almost tenderly, then he began to knead them.
“Such a cute little bottom,” he murmured and I felt myself blushing again. His hands were strong and I was at a loss for words. Something that usually never happened.
He reached for my briefs and I held my breath. Shortly afterwards, he pulled my panties down and exposed my bare bottom.
“Marc…” I began, but he put a finger to my lips. “Shh. Little girls don’t talk when the big guy’s in charge.”
Pure Orgasm: Brought to Climax with Words and Fingers
His hands continued to glide over my bare bottom, caressing the curves, kneading them until I could hardly think straight. It was a mixture of shame and pure desire that completely overwhelmed me.
I bit my lower lip to keep from moaning too loudly and clearly. As difficult as it was for me.
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Just the thought of what he could see of me made an intense tingle creep over my back and the rest of my body. I wanted more, much more. Everything.
When he pressed his lips to my skin and kissed my cheeks while his fingers kept sliding over the most sensitive areas, I was lost.
He continued to talk to me quietly, calling me “little mouse” and “his little girl” and finally stroked my labia.
That was the last straw for me.
I shivered, screamed his name and knew that I could never think about that afternoon again without my body shuddering at the memory.
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