“Where’s the money, Flora?”  Sam demanded.

Sam and Flora stood about 5 feet apart in their bare, drafty loft apartment.  Money was a critical issue for them.  Sam sponged off Flora.

To the average observer, Flora was a quite pretty 18 year-old woman.  She certainly had an exotic look:  Flora’s father was Cuban and her mother was Indian.  With her dark skin, short black hair and beautiful features (her face looked like a fuller Jessica Alba), she was strikingly attractive. Her body, however, drew attention by itself.  Though only 5’4”, her measurements were 34-24-38, but with GG—sized breasts.  At 150 pounds, she presented a fascinating silhouette.

“I’m telling you, this is it!  There is no more, it’s all I made”.  Flora placed the $200 on the table.  Sam was her boyfriend of sorts.  Since Flora had left home, she had lived with him.  Sam’s only function was to provide her shelter and occasionally drugs.  Flora aspired to break into show business, but so far had only made it as an exotic dancer.  With her excellent features, however, she made quite a bit of money.

“200 is one of your worst nights”.  Sam was a bit angry, and more than a little suspicious as he eyeballed her from across the slightly run-down loft they shared.

Flora wore a tight black tank top and jeans.  As Flora shifted her weight to sit next to Sam on the dirty green sofa, her tank top rode slightly over her midriff, exposing her slightly plump sides.  She knew she had taken $1000 from a customer and placed it in a bank account for safe-keeping.

“Well, I guess that means our recreation is a bit limited”.  Sam patted her on the knee as he stood up.  Flora waited expectedly.  She knew he usually returned with some illegal drug after her dance nights.  This time, Sam returned with what looked like a scuba tank and regulator.

“Gas?”, she said with her slight accent.  “Never tried it.”

“You’ll like it.  It’s a bit of a wild high”.

Flora breathed the nitrous oxide gas, and soon found herself giggling like she was a 10 year old at the dentist!

“Funny isn’t it, Flora”.

She held her breath just long enough to suppress the laughter.  Flora still had a huge smile on her pretty face.

“I know what else makes you laugh”.  Sam poked Flora just beneath her ribs on her left side.  Flora’s eyes became as wide as car headlights as she shrieked from the quick but potent tickle.

“EEEEE!”  As she jumped, her bosom bounced.  Sam saw her cleavage ripple where exposed outside the tight tank top.

“Now tell me, Flora, how much money did you make?”  He poked her side again.  Sam knew just how ticklish Flora was and where.  He sometimes used tickling coercively.  This was one of those times, especially with her resistance lessened by the gas.

Flora knew what was coming and would ordinarily run away or fight back.  But now all she really could do was smile, even as she saw the wiggling fingers approach her belly.

“No Sam!  Ple-hee-heese don’t tickle…AH HAH HAHAHAHAHAH!”  Sam went right to Flora’s belly, one of her worst spots.  She was a larger girl, but certainly firm.  As Sam massaged her middle, he enjoyed the firm resistance her abdominal muscles provided him.

Flora fell back on the sofa as the tickling started and Sam went right on top of her.  Flora’s hands tried to restrain Sam, but she could not do it.  Buckets of ticklish laughter enhanced by the gas escaped from her mouth as Sam massaged her meaty, brown belly.


“Where’s the money, Flora?”  Sam kept tickling, this time going for her armpits.  The tank top made for easy access, though he had to reach around her jiggling cantaloupe-sized breasts.  Breasts that were beating energetically as Flora jiggled and screamed from the tickling.


“Give it up or I’ll keep tickling you!  Cootchie cootchie coo!” He knew she could not stop laughing once tickled and he knew the gas only heightened the effect.  As Sam rubbed her upper ribs, he could not help but cause her bust to jiggle more forcefully as his hands brushed the sides of her plump breasts.  Flora kept laughing as her head rocked left and right.  The gas maximized her weakness.


Sweat glistened across Flora’s face, neck and cleavage.  The well-proportioned beauty raised her head, but found her vision slightly blurred from the gas.  The fingers wiggling into her delicate underarms and upper ribs was ticklishly agonizing.  Usually her stomach would start to hurt from the laughter, but the gas reduced her sensitivity to the pain.  She desperately did not want to give up the money, but she knew he would not stop tickling her.

“Are you going to tell me Flora?”  Flora shook her head, partially in protest to the tickling and partially in defiance.  Even though her brain told her she was being tortured with the one thing she could not resist, she could not stop smiling.  Her gorgeous, brown face was now a shade of umber.

Sam shifted his focus to her wide hips.  He remembered how wildly she bucked when tickled there.  His thumbs dug into the ticklish area to the inside of each hip-bone.


Flora screamed and convulsed.  It was like bolts of electricity shooting through her body.  Her contraction was so strong she sat right up then fell backwards again several times, sending her bosom into a jiggly flight.  She shook her head madly and pounded the sofa with her fists.  She’d forgotten what hip-tickling was like.  The room seemed to spin around her, a dizzying effect of the gas.  Still, she could not stop laughing.

“Poor ticklish Flora!  Hiding the money!  Oh, you’re so ticklish!  Don’t you want to give up?  You’re so ticklish!”

Normally Flora would start crying by now, but she not help but feel a lack of restraint even though the tickling was torturous.  Her tank top hiked above her belly as she writhed, giving Sam a great view of her brown, slightly fleshy middle as she contracted and convulsed.  He admired her body, and seeing it in motion, listening to her wild laughter was quite an erotic experience for him.  He still tweaked her hips, but occasionally he would give her belly a quick poke.


Flora shook and whirled ferociously.  She felt her bra break under its weighty strain. She hated and feared being tickled.  When younger, her mother, her sisters, her father, her classmates and boyfriends always tickled her.  But once she blossomed, or rather exploded, into a beautiful girl with breasts larger than cantaloupes, she got tickled almost every day.  Her incredibly sensitive skin and voluptuous body (both inherited from her mother – an older, very ticklish, busty lady) made her a prime target.  Once anybody found out that Flora could be made into a quivering, bosomy mess with just a single finger-stroke, she was routinely tickled to death.

Flora was weakened.  Sam went for her feet.  He held her right foot with his left hand and quickly removed her shoe.  Flora giggled without control, and even the fear she felt was muted from her gas.  If she hadn’t been gassed, she’d have cried.  Instead, she caved in.  The fear of having her feet tickled was overwhelming.


Flora went to the club to work the day shift.  There were only a few people attending, mainly the lunch crowd from a local tech firm.  Little did she know that the lap dance she was about to provide would turn into another tickling experience….