Hot Blog: ISPYCAMELTOE I SPY CAMELTOE was just a boy of twelve or thirteen, my friend Donny Flagg told me the story of a time he had been playing with his two older sisters. They were at the beach, running in the sand, roughhousing and wrestling, when Hester, the oldest of the lot, pinned younger Emily flat on her back.
She told Donny to sit on her legs, and they proceeded to tickle the helpless girl without a hint of mercy. First it was just a short poke to the ribs, a quick assault under the arms, but as Emily's face grew redder and her laughter louder they lost all control and fingered her with abandon.
Being children, they paid little heed to Emily's situation, or to her increasingly emphatic appeals for release. Then, as Donny related the tale, when he started tickling along the top of her thighs a warm torrent of urine gushed through the rough fabric of Emily's bathing suit.
Rather than pausing, or releasing the poor girl, Donny and Hester actually increased the tempo of their prods and pinches, incited by the powerlessness of their victim. Donny said he dug his hands between her legs, to get her right where she was leaking, and he never failed to describe how hot her piss felt on his hands.
Even after she stopped peeing they kept right on going. As Donny told it, "Hester figured if you could tickle someone until she pissed herself, why stop there. Maybe there was more to come. After all, the three of us had a huge dinner the night before and a big breakfast early that morning. Emily hadn¡¦t had time to crap before we left for the beach, so we went on and on."
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