Tempting Ler’s Blog

My hips thrusting beneath your hands, your fingertips sinking into me.

My wiggling feet brushing up against your firm hands, your possessive grip clasping my ankle tighter and tighter.

My tummy arching into yours, my squirms rubbing against your body.

Your skin feeling the shivers and goosebumps on mine as you bury your head in my neck, the breathy gasps in your ear.

Your knees feeling the way I desperately grind against them.

Your hands perfectly shaped to grope and squeeze every curve.

broken. absolutely broken. there is nothing else to do but to just let it all out. you cant even control it. so go ahead, yell. scream. cry like a baby. you used your fake tears for your one and only time out. now you dont get any more.

See this? This is what I call death note for myself.

When she’s been a naughty girl she gets spanked, but when she’s been really bad she gets strapped down and tickle tortured for an hour or two

and the poor girl has the most deathly ticklish ribs 💔

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.