Now Tim knows I'm really ticklish on the soles of my feet; he's tickled me before almost into hysterics. What he doesn't know is that I really get tur...ed on by tickling, it really makes me horny.So, as the others play pinball, Tim starts ticking my feet. Now I make a half-hearted (well, maybe quarter-hearted) attempt to make him stop but he gets me to the point that I almost pee in my pants. And, yes, very wet in the pants, but not from pee.As I lay there gasping, Tim says, "Anyone who beats. He pushes the hair back away from my face. Holding each other close, I can feel how safe I am in his arms. As we lay there cuddling each other, his hands are exploring my body. As he reaches down between my thighs, I can feel his fingers tracing the outside of my pussy. Parting the lips he finds my clit protruding from the hood. He uses a finger and begins to caress it, causing me to moan and twitch a little. I can feel his erection coming to life again on my side. I struggle to pull away from. I love being of use to my owner, in any way that she sees fit."Freya seemed appeased with that answer. She pulled his thong down until it was halfway around his thighs, and swivelled around on her feet so that she was facing the couch. "It's not just my feet that are dirty," Freya said slyly as she provocatively slid her sports bra up over her head, "all morning I've felt sweat trickling down every inch of my body." She tossed the bra carelessly aside and peered over her shoulder suggestively.. You think you can manage that?” he asked once we were outside. I nodded. Carpenter’s Walk was notoriously crowded with long wagons carrying everything from tree trunks to planks to finished furniture and the draft horses would be tired and bad-tempered, but I liked the smell of freshly cut wood and sawdust. The small market was open all week, one of the places where those living in the Craftsman’s Quarter could get fresh food. The monotonous “tock, tock” of our canes gave the walk something.