My fingers moved slowly over her shoulders under her arms, down over the round curves of her breasts. She giggled, as I touched her. My fingers traced further down along the curves into her waist, as her hips wriggled when my touch tickled her. She moaned short little yelps. I trailed my fingers around the front of her stomach, as I tickled her more. She laughed, until my fingers touched the mounds of her breasts. She stopped laughing, but continued with moans and groans of pleasure. Her breasts rose and fell faster at my touch. She stopped nibbling my ear and in a stern husky voice cooed, “Please don't tickle me. I want to feel the sensations rising in my body, as you move your hands over me. Trailing your fingers tingles my body and drives me mad with desire. I want you to keep doing that over my breasts and nipples.” I did as she asked and trailed my fingers softly over, across, under and around her heaving breasts. Her nipples strained to grow larger jutting from her breasts.. "Home" was a medium to large sized two story home with a basement in the wooded hills to the east of Lake Washington and Seattle. There were eight rooms that could be called bedrooms, although only six were currently set up for that purpose. One was John's office, and another was being used as a hobby room where they could all work on projects from sewing to model making and many others. John was more than moderately successful in his own business as a software engineer, consulting to many of the big guys, including Microsoft, of whom he was a former employee. This success allowed him to buy some land, forty five acres of trees, that he had an area in the middle of that was cleared for his home. Enough land was cleared that he was able to put in a small pool, hot tub, and a garden big enough to provide much of their fresh fruit and vegetables during the summer months. They canned or froze what they could to last them though the rest of the year. He was thinking of adding some.
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