Or maybe I end up laid out across his lap, my stomach stretched and my shirt ever so slightly lifted, showing the tiniest bit of my stomach. He lightly grazes the sliver of skin that’s revealed and I don’t protest. My stomach twitches but I lay there and let him lightly tickle me, slowly being driven a little crazy by the constant sensation. He eventually lifts the shirt a little and plays around with my bellybutton, lazily. I’m squirming a tad but it isn’t enough for me to want to actually stop him, though I playfully reach my hands out to grab his.

There’s something really peaceful about letting someone have access to me and trusting that they won’t betray the quietness of the moment. That we can just lay there and be in a zen state with a smile plastered on my face and a giggle slipping out or an occasional flinch, but continuing to let a ler have whatever access they want.

“Aw that sounds like it tickles so bad Angel. Does it? Tell me how bad it is”

“Oh you can’t take anymore? You sure? It looks like you’re taking it so well”

“Poor baby, you can’t even speak when I do this can you? Just use your words for me”

“ Not this spot, you say? Awww but sweetheart, that’s my favorite spot. I know you just want me to be happy right?”

“Stop?? But I’m not ready to stop playing with my favorite toy just yet”