A Ticklish Pickle
Cinnamon started to stir from her sleep in response to the familiar hand that gently stroked her bare back. God, how she loved his touch. Craved it, even.
As she noticeably stirred, he brushed a gentle kiss to the back of her neck and pressed his body against hers. She could feel his arousal against her backside.
Clearly, Rollin wanted to pick up where they had left off the night before. He and Cinnamon had spent the previous night making passionate love to one another . . . again.
She sighed. This wasn=t going to be easy. His touch sent delightful shivers that started deep from within her core and vibrated outward. She wanted him, too.
"Rollin, no" she said, stifling her desire. AYou promised to practice with the jacket some more before we have to meet Dan and the others, she said without turning over or opening her eyes.
She was right. He had promised. But, he had done so last night only to placate her. She had expressed such concern for him. She knew that this mission would put him, more than anyone else, in harm's way, again. It was certain the he would be captured by the enemy, confined in a strait jacket, and exposed to high doses of dangerous psychotic and narcotic drugs. The success of the mission, his very life, would require him to navigate in and out of the strait jacket. She worried that distractions, their growing preoccupation with one another, had kept him from focusing on the mission.
Hoping to ease her mind and to distract her just a little longer, Rollin bragged, "I told you, I'm ready." "Come on," he pleaded. He tried to coax her with a trail of gentle kisses down her back. He then slipped his arm around her, and began to caress her breast. Her nipple tightened in arousal.
This definitely wasn't going to be easy, Cinnamon thought.
Marshaling her control, Cinnamon took Rollin's hand in hers as she turned over and looked up at him.
"Good morning, beautiful." He smiled.
His grin, as always, was too much for her. Still, she couldn't give into his erotic charm just now.
"So, you're ready, huh?" She challenged.
"For anything." His mind was on her.
"Prove it." She remained resolute.
"Gladly." He leaned his head, and his lips took hers in a gentle kiss. Her breath teased his and encouraged his unquenched need.
"Un, uh." Stifling her own desire again, she placed her hands on his bare chest and pushed him back. Her mind had to be elsewhere.
"Here." She reached for the strait jacket that lay on Rollin's bag on her floor.
"Sit up on your knees. Arms out."
Intrigued, Rollin did as he was told.
Without taking her eyes from his, Cinnamon slowly fed his outstretched arms into the jacket. As she moved the jacket over his bare shoulders, she leaned in and teased him with a kiss. 'Yes, this is going to be fun,' she thought.
"Now, don't move," she commanded. Rollin watched as Cinnamon moved behind him on the bed. There, she nibbled his ear and neck while she fastened the back leather straps of the jacket. Her touch sent quivers through his body. Still, Rollin couldn't help but notice that the jacket was now beginning to feel truly tight.
"How you doing?" She whispered in his ear in a sultry voice.
More intrigued by her suggestive tone than his developing predicament with the jacket, Rollin started to turn to look at Cinnamon behind him. He didn't get far. Cinnamon grabbed the leather straps of the jacket arms and jerked them tight so that Rollin's arms were constricted across his chest. Her movement stopped his and, at the same time, wiped the grin off of his face.
"I told you not to move," she seductively reprimanded in his other ear.
The smile returned to his face.
"Now, where is that last strap?" Cinnamon pretended. "It should be here, somewhere." She placed her cheek against Rollin's covered shoulder blade as her hands searched between his legs. Her touch began to arouse him.
"Oh, what's this?" She feigned innocence as she began to caress his balls and cock from behind him. She was driving him crazy, now.
Rollin was at a loss aroused by her touch and her tone, but also confused by her persistence with the jacket.
"Cinnamon," he cried.
"Nope, that's not it. Too big." She teased, releasing his member.
"Oh, here it is." She grabbed the leather strap and pulled it up between Rollin=s legs, latching it to the back of the jacket.
"Okay. I think that does it." She observed her handy work for a brief moment. "You're on your own now, fella." She patted his bare butt and kissed his neck, then moved around in front of him to lie on the bed and watch the show. Settling herself, she just barely covered herself with the sheet.
"Hmmm. Now, that's an interesting look for you." Rollin's member hung with the leather strap between his legs. He looked down to consider his predicament for himself.
"Well? Let's see you get out of it." She smiled smugly.
Rollin looked up and watched her for a moment. This wasn't turning out like he had hoped. Yet, he wasn't about to lose this challenge. He'd show her, then he wouldn't let her deny his desire for her.
Without another word, he began to wiggle his arms and shoulders in an effort to remove the jacket. He struggled for a short while without success. Propped on one elbow, Cinnamon watched with delight.
He couldn't get sufficient leverage or support on the bed and, more importantly, every time he moved, the leather strap rubbed him raw in all the wrong places.
'What a sight,' Cinnamon thought. It was everything she could do to suppress her laughter.
Rollin continued to struggle until frustrated, sweaty, and sore, he finally gave up. With a deep sigh, he looked down to examine the possible damage caused by the dangling leather strap.
At this, Cinnamon started to giggle. Rollin looked up and glared at her. She continued to giggle, burying her face in the blankets in an effort to suppress the sound of her laughter.
Realizing how silly he must look, Rollin's glare slowly turned into her favorite smile.
"Ha, ha. You won't be laughing if I'm seriously hurt." He chastised, referring to his manhood.
Cinnamon stopped laughing abruptly, bolted up in the bed, and blurted, "That's my point, Rollin!" She was referring to the mission.
Her serious tone was not lost on him, nor was the worry for him he saw in her eyes.
Rollin loved that she cared for him, but hated that he had caused her such apparent concern.
"You're right," he said sincerely. "Let me out of this. I'll practice some more . . . under conditions more consistent with the mission."
"You promise?" He could still hear the worry in her voice.
"Yeah, I promise," he resigned.
"Please, Rollin," she pleaded. Her concern had not subsided.
He felt guilty for having caused such trepidation in her.
"I promise, sweetheart." He meant it.
She knew he meant it. She could see it in his eyes, now.
Cinnamon smiled. "Thank you." She brushed her lips against his, then sat back and stared at him for a moment.
She would hold him to his promise. Still, . . . he did look extremely cute and helpless, she thought.
"Well, . . . as long as you promise." She was feeling more certain about his focus on the mission.
She gave him a sly smile, then pushed Rollin over, off his knees and onto his back on the bed. She sat on top of him, her legs straddling him.
"Don't even think about it." he warned, looking up at her.
"Cinnamon," he scolded. He fully appreciated his weaker position.
"I think thou protest too much. I think you ARE ticklish."
"Cinnamon," he panicked.
With that, she attacked. She was merciless. With his movement completely constrained by the jacket, he had no chance against her.
Even through the jacket, his ribs were sensitive to her touch. He tied to squirm out from under her. He wasn't going any where, however. She had him. Cinnamon relentlessly ticked him. He was laughing so hard it hurt. Tears of laughter streamed down his face.
"Honey, please," he begged. "Stop . . . Please . . . Cinnamon . . . Please."
Cinnamon was loving every minute of his 'pain.' God, he sounded just like a little boy. She had never seen him look and sound so innocent, lost in the moment, carefree.
"Cinnamon," he gasped.
Having had her fun, she relented. He continued to laugh while trying to catch his breath.
'God, I love him,' she thought.
"Please let me out," he begged, still breathless.
She enjoyed him for a moment longer, then gave him a mischievous smile.
"Not yet," she teased. "You've been a good sport. I think you deserve a reward." She flirted.
"Honey, please, just let me out of this." He had had enough.
"Lie still. This isn't going to hurt one bit. I promise." Her voice was husky.
She leaned forward and kissed him deeply, then moved off of him.
"Cinnamon?" He started to protest but stopped himself as she began to stroke him.
Now, THIS was more like it, he thought.
He closed his eyes while she continued to stroke him, quickly becoming hard in her hands. It didn't take him long to become lost in the sensations she stirred in him. His passion throbbed as Cinnamon teased him with her tongue and teeth. She pleasured him, preparing him for even more.
When she finally took all of him in her mouth, he knew he couldn't take much more. He moaned, "Oh, Cinnamon, please . . . I'm gonna come, baby," he warned.
That's when she stopped, and just as quickly straddled him. He looked up at her in surprise and then wonder, taking in the full sight of her. She was all that he'd dreamed, all that he ever desired. Her breasts firm and full, nipples rosy and erect, her tiny waist flaring to seductive hips. Rollin had been with beautiful women before, but it was different with Cinnamon. She was so much more to him.
She stared at him provocatively, her eyes half closed and glazed with desire. He groaned and lay beneath her, wanting nothing more than to experience his full passion for her.
"Take me," he moaned.
His manhood was insistent, demanding, not to be denied. Poised above him, Cinnamon slowly slid his pulsing member into her throbbing heat, deeper and deeper until he was fully submerged in the fire within her. She pulled back, prolonging his maddening anticipation, then moved so that his member plunged again and again into her. Faster and faster.
His hips rose to meet hers and they moved together in a rhythm. He called her name over and over in a frenzy of pleasure and possession. As one, the forces that joined them drove them upward to a desperate pinnacle, fierce and intense, where their very souls seemed to merge.
With one powerful thrust, he drove deep within her. Cinnamon cried out, the passion in her exploding in waves of quaking ecstasy. At the same time, Rollin shuddered convulsively, releasing his own passion. Her name a breath on his lips.
"Cinnamon . . . Cin."
She collapsed on him. The both of them, spent.
She held him a while longer, gathering her strength. Finally, she pushed herself up on his chest and stared into his eyes. He smiled.
"See. That didn't hurt, did it?" She teased.
Rollin just continued to smile.
"Now, young man, you have some work to do. You promised." With that, Cinnamon leaned forward, kissed Rollin quickly on the lips, and moved off him and the bed, into the bathroom.
Rollin continued to lie on the bed, quite satisfied and reveling in the memory of the last several minutes. The sound of the shower finally awakened him from his daydream.
ADamn!@ Rollin realized he was still stuck in the strait jacket. Worse still, he couldn=t get up into a sitting position.
ACinnamon?@
No answer.
ACinnamon?@ He called a little louder this time.
Still, no answer.
ACinnamon?@ He was desperate now.
In the shower, Cinnamon heard his desperate plea. ACinnamon?@ She just smiled. AHe WILL be ready for the mission,@ she thought. AI=m gonna see to it.@ She smiled and continued with her shower.
Catherine Block
February 2002