By Keith Steeclif
I got to the dorms and found room 6. I tried the door. Although it was the middle of the night, the door was unlocked, just as I expected. Opening it as quietly as I could, I snuck into the suite room and shut and locked the door.
The bedroom door was opened just a crack and I carefully opened it enough to creep into the room.
Logan was asleep on his twin bed, laying on his stomach. Covered only with a sheet from waist to ankles, I could easily make out his muscular torso in the glow of the nightstand light that was left on. Looking down, I got my first glimpse as his bare feet.
Logan and I had been chatting online for a few weeks. He had refused to send me a photo, claiming he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. And I wasn’t disappointed. He was devastatingly handsome and very well built.
And while tonight was about his greatest fantasy, he’d made me work for it. Telling me where to find my first clue and then following one note after the next until I was led to the dorm, and then to his room with the last note with nothing but the number 6 written on it.
Kneeling on the floor at the end of the bed, I spent several minutes just admiring Logan’s bare soles as they pointed up at me. Laying on his stomach, his toes were curled so cutely and his soles were deliciously wrinkled. I truly hoped they would be as sensitive as he claimed they were.
Putting on the mask that Logan asked me to wear, I placed my index finger on his right heel and slowly drew it downward. Logan’s foot twitched and his toes wiggled. I stroked his left sole and had the same effect. I started to slowly roll my fingertips up and down Logan’s bare soles.
To my utter astonishment and delight, Logan’s feet started to wiggle and he started to giggle, but he didn’t wake up. Maybe he was faking it, but if he was he was doing a very good job. For several minutes, I lightly tickled his bare feet, making him laugh in his sleep.
But I couldn’t stop there. I started scratching his warm, soft soles more vigorously. With a start, Logan woke up. I stopped tickling.
Not realizing why he woke up, Logan rolled over onto his back, eyes still closed. I ran my fingers up the soles of his bare feet. Logan opened his eyes and saw me at the end of his bed.
“What’s going on?” he shouted in surprise.
I jumped up to sit on the bed and wrapped my left arm around his ankles. Holding his feet up in the air, I started tickling his feet in earnest. Logan burst out laughing, rolling back and forth on the bed.
“Hee hee hee! What are you doing? Haa haa haa!”
“I’m the Masked Tickler,” I said as he’d instructed, “I’m here to tickle your adorable bare feet silly.”
“Hey, no, hee hee hee, stop that!”
“Oh, but your feet are so cute and so ticklish. Don’t you like my tickles? Kitchy, kitchy, koo.”
“No, don’t, please stop!”
“Oh, no, my friend, I’m going to tickle your feet for hours. You like the idea of your feet getting tickled all night, don’t you? How about I tickle your bare soles with my feather?”
I showed him the long stiff feather.
“Oh, no, not that,” Logan pleaded, but it was falling on deaf ears. I started stroking his bare soles and wiggling toes with the feather. Logan’s feet were extremely ticklish and the feather was most effective in driving him into hysterics.
Logan was crazy with laughter as I tickled his helpless bare feet with the feather for many minutes and then returned to tickling his soles with my fingers. He wiggled and squirmed and managed to roll back onto his stomach, but I kept a firm grip on his ankles, tickle torturing his defenseless, ultra-ticklish feet.
As Logan wiggled and writhed on the bed, I sensed the change in him. Despite his hysterical laughter, I knew something more was going on. I continued tickling his feet with gusto, not giving his poor ticklish soles a moment’s reprieve. But somehow, I knew Logan didn’t mind.
Sure enough, after a few more minutes Logan’s body went stiff and he let out a mighty groan. His toes splayed and for a moment he stopped laughing.
Then it was over and I returned to Logan’s ticklish feet. Having just spent himself, his feet were even more sensitive and he laughed hysterically, begging me to stop.
“So, the Masked Tickler strikes again. It appears you liked my foot tickling after all.” I stopped tickling and let Logan go.
Exhausted, he rolled onto his back panting.
“Look,” Logan said, “That’s never happened to me before. I don’t know who you are, but please don’t tell anyone about this. I’d die if people found out.”
“Don’t worry, Logan,” I said, “Your ticklish secret is safe with me.”
“Logan? My name’s not Logan.”
“You’re not?” I said, shocked, “This is room 6 isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I’m not Logan, I’m Eric. There’s a Logan that lives down the hall, in room 9.”
“Oops,” I said, “Sorry, looks like I got the wrong guy. If you’ll excuse me, I better find Logan. He’s waiting for the Masked Tickler. Loved your feet by the way, big, soft, and extremely ticklish, just the way I like them. You’d better watch out because, some day, the Masked Tickler will have those feet again.”
As I started to leave, I heard Eric mutter, “Any time.” Finding Logan asleep in room 9, equally as gorgeous, with big beautiful feet that wiggled and squirmed as I glided my feather across his bare soles, I donned my mask again. I had another hot guy to tickle silly. And Logan would really get it for sending me on that hunt that led me to the wrong room. But as Logan awoke and started to laugh as I tickled his defenseless bare soles, I realized the Masked Tickler would be visiting this dormitory a lot.