When I was in high school, my dad was working evenings, so if I didn't go out, we were generally the only ones at home. This was no big deal, as most afternoons I had basketball practice, and was out most evenings, either at my part-time job at a grocery store, or partying with friends. Once, when I came home from school, she was in the back yard, sunning herself. She didn't hear me approach, and I stood and watched her for a long time. She was wearing a white bikini, and had pulled the back up into the cheeks of her ass to eliminate as much tan line as possible. The straps of the bikini top were untied, as she was facing down, and appeared to be asleep. She stirred as I approached her from the front, lifting up slightly, exposing the tops and sides of her large, round breasts. "Oh, Bobby," she said, "I didn't know that you were home already." Appearing a little embarrassed, she tied her top securely, although as she was bent over, her heaving mounds still hung out of the bikini top.. As I turned back towards the girl, I saw her slowly waking. "Don't leave yet," she said. And for some reason, I listened. "Okay," I told her. Then, I got back under the blanket and laid on my side facing her. A smile crept to her face. Her hand graced my wrist as her fingers danced their way up my arm. I squirmed a little at the slight touch of her fingertips. "Are you ticklish?" she asked. Her green eyes met mine. "Yes, very ticklish." She took my words as an invitation. Her fingers found my ribs and she tickled me there, making me squirm and laugh and beg her to stop. Eventually, she did, so I asked her the same question. "Are you ticklish?" She looked away, then. "No," she said. But I knew it was a lie. So, I tickled her stomach and her sides and she squirmed under my touch. We began a tickle war, laughing and crying out as we went. I climbed on top of her and buried my head in her neck as I continued to tickle her. "Mercy! Mercy!" she cried, laughing. I sat up straight and quit.
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