dragster8787

Another one~ I Straddle your waist, smirking down at you. My knees are against your hips, keeping you nice and still for me, and Place my hands on your sides, without tickling. I notice the squirming already, and giggle, drawling out "Awwww, Darling!~ I haven't even started yet!~" . Of course, I start right after saying this~. I swipe one finger against one side, seeing you flinch to the other side, and do the same thing to the other side. Smirking and seeing this repeat itself 4 more times, before I start to use all of my fingers. My fingers skitter lightly up and down your sides, like a claw machine, then like a tickly spider, Then sliding around like multiple elegant dancers. I switch up Strategies enough for you to never get used to it, keeping my fingers light, slow, then gradually increasing speed at time goes on. I smirk wider, saying softly "Sensitive sides, right?~ Good~", And suddenly starting to add pressure. My Hands start Pinching, pulling the tiniest bit, then

“Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead! It’s me!” Your eyes open, still bleary. You’re in bed, it’s the middle of the night; your head spins. Your feet feel cold. It’s dark, and you try to rub your eyes, but something’s happened to your hands. You blink slowly, eyes squeezing shut before opening. You live alone; what’s going on? Above you, face uncomfortably close to your own, is a woman you’ve never met. I’m positively beaming down at you, unblinking gaze tracing every inch of your face with a bright, slightly unnerving smile. Long, messy red hair spills in waves down towards you, tumbling locks that bounce a little wildly as I giggle sweetly at you. “Don’t recognise me? It’s okay, my little muffin – I just had to make a couple of teeny little adjustments so you’d behave!” My voice is light, tinkling; a little higher-pitched and oddly musical. Deep brown eyes twinkling with mischief, I slide off your bed, stepping towards the other end. And rest a pale, dainty hand on the set of thick, heavy

“Woah…that looks amazing! What does it do?” I’ll admit it: It’s not your invention I’ve come to check out. It’s the science fair today, and while my project is clearly superior to whatever your hunk of junk is meant to be, you just look so cute when you talk about your clever science-y things. I smile and nod, twirling a lock of hair idly round my fingertip as I listen to you enthusiastically describe every flashing light, every spinning pulley…my gaze barely leaving you the entire time. We’re alone in the next room over from the stage, getting ready with some final preparations. We have to dress smart today, so I’m in a smooth, white blouse and black trousers, but they nonetheless show off my slim, athletic figure and enviable chest…maybe one day you’ll actually notice. My long, soft red hair is washed and shiny, flowing loose down to my waist in several soft curls that bounce when I walk, and I’ve even bent the rules slightly with some cherry-red lipstick…not that any teacher would