By Mecrob
Episode 1
It’s been debated about whether offering a guy cash for tickling him is right or wrong depending on the situation. It makes it a lot easier when the ticklee makes the offer, especially when it is awful for them. That is my case and the following story is 100% true:
Randy and I were room-mates and best friends for about 4 years. We partied a lot, probably too much, and during one drunkin’ night it all started. I knew randy was straight and he only knew I was a mystery since I never dated guys or girls and always avoided the sex-talks and situations. We had a rare night that nobody came by to party so we were getting bombed by ourselves playing “Extreme Yahtzee” (extreme yahtzee has nothing to do with tickling!). I was losing and pretending to be all-pissed, hurling obscenities, he was laughing and said “oh cheer up or I’ll tickle you” and reached out and squeezed my kneecap which is the worst for me. That fact coupled with it being a hot straight guy and was totally unexpected sent me flying into stunned yelping laughter. I looked at him as I shot back in my chair, “holy crap dude, NEVER tickle me, I HATE THAT!” He was laughing and said “Cool, now I got an advantage cuz I’m only ticklish in one spot.
Now I knew I had the opening I had been waiting for and I could keep the topic of tickling alive, plus I was buzzing it good and lets face it.. He started it!. I told him. “I already know where your one spot is…. It’s your feet.” He was grinning at me. “Maybe..” he said. I slapped my lap with my hands, “put ’em up here if there not” and that’s when he spilled his guts. He shook his head, no way, while grinning the whole time he told me “I’m so hyper-sensitive on the bottoms of my feet, I cant even walk on dry grass barefoot cuz it tickles so much, plus, I don’t know if this is why, but I got flat feet.”
I of course knew this about him the first 2 seconds I saw him barefoot for the first time. “Really?” I said peering down at his foot as if I had just noticed he had feet. “Maybe if you got tickled on the soles of your feet more an arch would develop.” We both laughed. “No, cuz I got tickled all the time as a kid and believe me I would have high arches by now.” He shared with me a few evil babysitter stories and we talked a bit more on it. I went to bed that night with tons of visions of him getting tickled, but thinking chances would be slim with the fact that it was torture for him.
In the days that followed, he did take advantage of tickling me a lot. He was stronger and could hold me down easy, (not like I was fighting back TOO hard, but that’s our secret) and at times I think he was enjoying it. It finally paid-off when he had a bit of a cash emergency. I would have loaned it to him, but thought I would try my luck. “You gotta earn it instead, I get to pay you back for tickling me all the time.” I totally expected him to say no way and start begging for a loan, but instead he sez “I don’t know if I can sit still for that.” He was giggling and suddenly started removing his shoes.
I was amazed when he got up, tossed his shoes in his room and said, “I’m gonna wash my feet first, I been in shoes all day.” and went into the bathroom. I kept thinking he was bullshitting me, there was no way he was gonna allow this, but I prepared anyway. I went to the kitchen and got a fork from the drawer, and some plastic zip-ties. I sat on the couch and tucked my weapons out of sight. He came out of the bathroom and sat at the other end of the couch, put his towel down and dried-off his feet more while saying “I don’t know why I washed them for ya, I should have made it just as bad for you.” He laid back tossed his towel at my face, and propped his bare feet on my lap mumbling “I can’t believe I’m gonna let you do this.” Yet he was still grinning.
This was a dream come true and I was gonna savor it. I placed one finger on the heel of his foot and started the time when my finger slowly started moving up his foot. Well, as I hit that magic spot where the heel becomes the sole, his foot spasmed away and it was obvious I could not hold his foot down worth a damn. We decided he would lay on his stomach and I would sit across the back of his legs. I was still amazed this was happening as I took my across the back of his knees to prevent him from kicking his legs at all.
I asked him if he was ready while staring at the huge flat-soled feet, helplessly prone to me at last. I repeated the same heel into sole strokes only little lighter and on both feet. I would stop midway up the soles and back down to the heel watching his feet spasm as much as they could and listening to him try to stifle his laughter into a throw pillow. I then hit the spot just below the balls of his feet with spider-like fingers.
He lifted his head up yelling “Time….time.. Hang oh shit dude I didn’t think you were gonna do it all light like that…that’s horrible.” He gathered himself and I started in again. I pulled back the toes of his right foot and grazed the flat sole with the pointy tips of the zip-ties. If you get 4-5 of them together and slowly stroke the bottom of the foot, it’s torture. I could feel his toes fighting to curl under my other hand as his laughter peeled through the room. I was taunting him with ” Oh there’s a good spot…oh here to” letting the sharp tips of plastic slip into his foot lines like a fortune-tellers sharp nails. His head rocked back and forth as he yelled “What the hell is that…aaahhahahha…oohoohhoo shit!”
“It’s something that I use to tickle your feet with” I taunted “I don’t think it tickles as bad as this…” and with that I pulled out the fork and stroked it down the stretched sole. The screams of his laughter, tho drowned in the pillow again, could only be described as unstoppable hysteria. After another series of breaks I decided to invade the toes and surrounding areas.
“I think with the remaining time I’m gonna work on this area” I began
wiggling his big toes around and he chuckled again” OOh noo toes are bad”
I started working my fingers into the base of his curling toes as he erupted with giggles that soon became uncontrollable laughter. I worked between his toes with the zip-ties and sent him into convulsions when I struck between the smallest 2 toes. His misery was obvious as the 4 letter words shot from his mouth as quick as the laughter did. I wound up the session with some freestyle all over aggressive tickling that had him screaming for the torture to end.
When it finally did he vigorously rubbed his bare-tingling soles into the carpet saying they itched like crazy. I offered to scratch them for him but he said no way while laughing. I had figured he would never put himself through that experience again but we have repeated this a few times always at his request. He will call and instead of saying “I’m in a financial situation” he calls it a “ticklish” situation and I can always find a few spare dollars to bail him out.
Episode 2
First of all, thanks for all the positive feedback from everyone. These moments are truly the best times of my life, and I have always felt a little weird about posting them, for really no good reason. I guess cuz I’m kinda shy about it, and it’s cool to know other guys can feel comfortable about hearing these things that seem to be taboo in some ways. Heres another true story, but first, a little background on Randy:
I first met Randy in 94 when my sister joined the carousel of girlfriends he went through. He’s about 5’10 180 light brown hair, and if I had to give you a celebrity to match the face with, I would have to say, David Arquette, but a more on the ‘rough’ side. He rode motor-cross and worked some construction so was in shape but by no means a bodybuilder.
He was a troubled kid, in and out of juvie halls, and was tennis-balled back and forth to the divorced parents who had enough of his ways. He never had a problem staying anywhere cuz Randy was also a charmer who would have a girl move him in at his first request. Problem for him is he couldn’t be with one and would eventually get caught being a cheat. So after his shift with my sister was over, we remained friends and ended up getting an apt. together.
After he allowed the first tickling session that I had justified under the masquerade of ” paybacks” , I wondered if maybe this would prevent him from tickling me anymore. He seemed to take it all in good stride but what was he thinking now? I didn’t have to wonder for long.
I have the tendency of being a smart-ass and I was really pushing my luck. Randy and a friend of his, ‘Odie’ and I were sitting around drinkin’ rum-n-cokes listening to music. Like all good tickle-brawls, it started with an argument that still remains a hot-topic today. Who was the better Van Halen frontman DLR or Sammy Hagar? Well the answer is without a doubt DLR but nether of those drunkin breeders agreed and since the argument was more comical, as we are all HAPPY drunks, I decided to drop the facts and just verbally assault them as people. Using phrases like “Does it hurt to be that dumb?” and “You’re a lot smarter when you don’t say anything.” I had asked for, and was about to receive, what Odie referred to later as not a smack-down, but a tickle-down.
*quick Odie side-note, 3 mths. after this experience he started dating a lady in the same apt. complex, and tickled her son ’til he wet his pants. I know that belongs in another forum…but… I’m just saying…. It happened.
Randy looks over to me and says “You know, you’re about due for a smack-down, so I’d shut my trap if I were you.”
“If you were me you’d be smart enough to know I’m right, so if I were YOU, I’d shut my soup-cooler!” That one always cracked him up so he looks to Odie and says “Wanna watch someone freak-out?” gets up from his chair, and starts walking over to me who was on the far end of the couch, with Odie on the other. I could her Odie chuckle..”yea” as I instinctively went into a sitting-defensive mode putting my hands out in front of me as he approached.
Poking at my chest and ribs, trying to fake-out my blocking hands with his jabbing fingers, he sez, “He.. Hates…being..tickled.. Here!”, and spun around and sat on my lap. Both hands grabbed just above my knees as I exploded into hysterics, my lower half totally motionless against his weight. I only go about 145 soaking wet so I was helpless, and from a sitting position, without the benefit of his sides or armpits being ticklish to get him off me. He leaned back to trap me even further and it had gone from” cool… I’m gettin’ tickled ” too” holy crap..this really tickles!” He had gone from rapid-squeezing to just holding my knee-cap til I quitted only to get 2-3 more quick squeezes to work me back up again. Odie apparently found this whole ordeal funnier than a Bill O’Rielly meltdown on A Current Affair and was matching my laughter.
I somehow mustered up some National Enquirer like super-human strength and bucked him off enough for me to slide away toward the middle of the couch as randy stumbled off me and turned with a grin, “How’d ya like that?”
“You suck dude,” I said, between air-sucking gasps. “Oh man…that was horrible…and YOU…” I said looking to Odie, “Just sit there laughing, where’s the help?” He too was smiling still, “He didn’t look like he needed any help”
“You both suck then”
“OK, next time I’ll help him” he said looking at Randy, who suddenly approached me again. I quickly stood up, but didn’t have a chance of getting away. Randy grabbed me and wrestled me down. Odie was up and over in a flash and Randy told him to sit down on me. He straddled my stomach, put his knees over my arms and started digging into my sides, as Randy reunited himself with my knees, and was also throwing the underside of my knees into the mix. Odie’s tickling was unfortunately getting painful and after a few “Ow..OW F*k dude that hurts!” they let me go. I laid there for awhile gasping for air and pulled my shirt up to reveal bright red marks on my ribs, that if graded by an expert tickler would be circled in red pen with “this is too much..see me after class.” written next to them.
After Odie left, I was telling Randy about how that actually hurt more than tickled and he told me it was all a payback to me for tickling his feet. I asked how that could be when I was the one doing the paying back when I tickled him (following this?). He said ” Oh yeah, well I guess I’m up one” Yeah, I thought, til you need money again, which was a few days later.
While watching TV he was talking about money problems and later I realized he was hinting, he turns to me and says “So…you wanna get revenge from the other night?” and laid out a tickle him for money deal.
“Wait, you tickle me any time and I gotta PAY you to be tickled?”
“Until you get stronger than me, yeah.”
“OK, but that means I can use any objects I want” and off I went to find some tools. I came back with the standard plastic fork and this miniature xmas wreath from this god-awful rotating artificial tree. Randy was reclined back in the chair with his size 13 bare feet hanging off the edge off the chairs foot-rest. I sat down in front of him and said “you cant be kicking your feet or anything cuz I’m not gonna waste time trying to hold them still, so if you cant I’m gonna tie ’em down.”
“No way” he says” I’ll keep em still”
The timer begins and I start with a legitimate foot-rub, massaging those giant feet while he smiled in relief after anticipating a tickle-attack” Ohh..that actually feels good ” he sez, flexing his toes open and closed. I then went to the tops of his feet and started tickling above his toes and tracing the veins with my longest fingernail.
“Oh ho.. Ho man, that’s more ticklish than you would think on the tops of the feet,” he said with muffled chuckles interrupting the sentence. He was paddling his feet back and forth, but to his credit kept them within contact. I took the fork and started dragging it slowly around the top of his foot, “Oh sh-h-it” he let loose with a good laugh and I brought the fork tines to spasm central which was the tops and in between the toes. His foot kicked up so quick he almost had the fork embedded into the top of his foot. That brought on the first belt warning and he composed himself, “sorry..sorry but damn dude, that was bad!!!”
I just laughed and said “Lets try this out” and grabbed the wreath. The perfect circle of gaudy stiff artificial pine-needles slid over the toes and down his right foot til it settled comfortably over his quivering, convulsing sole like a foot-tickling hula-hoop. Now it didn’t matter how much his foot moved, as he had about 500 fake pine-needles in total contact over his foot. I put my arm over his ankles to hold them down as much as possible, and stroked the left sole while occasionally tapping or twirling the wreath around his right foot. His head rocked from side to side as he slammed on the armrests of the chair muffling his screams through clenched teeth. “OK, let’s try this on the other foot.” I started pulling the wreath off his foot as slow as humanly possible tapping it from the bottom watching the tips of the needles inch there way up the spasming foot.” Oh.. Ho you dick” he chuckled realizing my hesitant action. His chuckle erupted as the wreath encompasses toes that do there best turtle imitation and curl inward, but with no protective shell the thin needles work there way under and in between the defensive toes.
“Spread ’em open” I said, trying to play authority guy.
“I don’t think I can with that stupid thing around ’em” he giggled.
I pulled it off his foot and as his toes uncurled and he wiggled them a little. “That felt so weird, it was WAY ticklish in a real itchy way.” We laughed and checked the time seeing I had about 7 min. left. He groaned and got a drink calling this an official time out to collect himself. When he came back in he sat down and the feet went back up. I was so glad he didn’t call it off I kinda eased up the rest of the way…kinda.
” You can lose that f*n wreath thing anytime” he said giggling as I sat in front of his feet.
“I cant just do one foot so I’ll get this other foot than put it away.”
This time instead of plunging it over his foot, I metrodomed it back and forth over his tip-toes as they recoiled underneath. His laughter alternating from high-pitched “tee-hee’s” (I swear he was literally goin’ heee-heeheee)to Santa like bellows. I was teasing him saying” oops, cant get it over your foot…stop moving… Hold still” then finally plunged it over and down his foot causing him to writhe like a fish outta water on the chair. I yo-yo’d it up and down, sometimes stopping to spin it around slowly imitating the old-fashioned barber poles swirling upward to there resting spot in toe-ville before returning back down the archless foot that helplessly swayed away from the tickling circle that could not be avoided. I left it at the base of his foot and engulfed his right foot with both hands. I put all my weight over his ankle and lightly scratched his entire foot with 8 fingers and 2 thumbs exploring every spot of ticklish foot skin. Randy was in hysterics and had brought his wreath-encased foot to the ground trying to slide it off and stomping the floor with madness at the same time. I finally released his other foot and he pulled it back and pulled the wreath off his other foot throwing it across the room. He repeated the same process where he vigorously rubbed his feet on the carpet and jokingly cursed me out.
Now don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t straight through tickling. There was more than just that one break, lots more, but I don’t think he would do it if it was no stopping cuz, trust me, this is BAD for him.
Episode 3
There was a song in the 80’s that contained the line ” All artists are eventually the victims of there own desires.” That line repeats itself in my mind when I recall this story. Sensitive eyes beware, there is profanity.
Bigger, stronger, and crueller than me, Randy always had the advantage in tickling, and took it liberally. Smarter, faster, and slyer, I occasionally set myself up for a round of ” fun” tickling at his hands. But one hot muggy night in August I learn how a desire can become a nightmare.
It all starts with my fear of the water, as Randy and two friends, Alan and Kevin are making plans to go ‘skurfing’ , some odd form of surfing, on the lake tomorrow and are trying to convince me to go. My fear is genuine, as I cant swim and deep water paralyzes me with fear. Alan is semi-cute, 26, and talks nothing but cars, fixing cars, and racing cars. Kevin is 23, and I affectionately refer to him as “toast”, cuz he looks and talks like he’s stoned 24-7.All three are calling me “puss” and “chicken-shit”, as I slam the last of my rum-n-coke, I get up and face them. “You guys can shut your pie-holes anytime. I’m not going, deal with it, and when you can all make time….go fuck yerselves.” They laugh and I take a step toward the kitchen.
“Where you think your goin?” Randy says, getting up and smiling.
“Makin’ another drink, dumbshit” I say waving my glass containing only 2 half melted ice-cubes.” what are you writin’ a fuckin’ book?” …mistake. Randy slowly walks toward me with both hands in front of him clenching an unclenching the air between us.
“Sit your ass down.” I say, trying to sound serious as I ignore him and walk into the kitchen. But he lunges toward me and the yelp I let out sucks all the seriousness away. His clenching hands herd me against the counter as I set my glass down and squeeze myself like a freezing man covering up in winter. His fingers trying to probe and poke through my shielding arms, he suddenly stops and backs up a few steps.
“Run runner…” he says. We had watched Logan’s Run a few nights earlier, and had been saying that in general conversation for no reason at all and giggling like fools.
“Run runner…tickling begins in 5 seconds…1…2” He puts his hand up ala stop-sign, and drops the fingers in countdown. I waste no time and dart past him toward the open sliding glass door and into the warm darkness outside. I hear them laughing inside, commenting on my stealth-like speed as I look around and realize I wasn’t safe at all. A small, fenced in backyard told me I was not going to escape that easy.
Randy steps through the sliding door, looks around and sees me standing by the fence ,” 5″ he says coming at me. I attempt to start climbing the fence and feel his hands grab me and pull me back.
“No-no” he says,” get yer scrawny-ass back here” and easily pulls me to the ground. Alan and Kevin have made there way out to watch the show, but Randy likes audience participation.
“Someone tickle him” he says, pulling my hands way above me and sitting on them. He looks down at me and even though our faces are opposite, I can tell he’s grinning like a Cheshire cat. It’s Alan who comes to me first and stands over me, poking at me like it was the first time he tried to tickle someone. He was making a huge mistake by standing up….rookie…., as I could have nailed his nuts easily, but instead kicked him in the ass and he hoped away comically laughing and rubbing his butt over-dramatically.
“No, you gotta do it like this” Kevin sez in his dreary, wasteoid tone. He straddles me, kneeling down and sitting on my waist. He leans forward, and for a minute it looks like he’s gonna kiss me, puts his weight on his elbows and lightly begins scratching the hollows of my armpits randy had created for him. It was madness as his fingernails whirled around, spider-like out of armpit hollow, and to my upper-ribs. All I can feel is fingernails grazing me when the tickle-talk begins, and suddenly things are changing.
“Ohhh…. He’s..a…tickly..one” Kevin’s voice, filtered through molasses, drones softly. my head is rocking back-n-forth as Randy suddenly covers my mouth.
“Jeeze, the neighbors are gonna call the fuckin’ cops!” he says laughing, and I scream giggles under his hand. Kevin’s tickling is masterful, but it’s the talk that has affected me.
“Aaahhh.. Here’s..a tickly…spot..and here…” his burnout, dazed-n-confused voice whispering in torment, as he re-enters my stretched armpits and sends me into convulsions of laughter and starts me wondering if (all artists are…)
I’m gonna be able to take much more. Alan is now holding my flailing, kicking legs, but makes no attempt to tickle. my desperation takes hold of me and I do the only thing I can think of, I stick my tongue out and lick Randy’s hand.
“Gross.. He fuckin’ licked me!!” Randy says and gets up from my arms. Kevin and Alan take this as shows-over and head back inside laughing, as Randy wipes his hand on the grass. I sit up and begin collecting myself as Randy asks me ” So how was that?”
“Horrible…you guys suck” I say, getting up still chuckling.
“Run runner….” Grinning ear to ear he says ” tickling begins in 5 seconds….1….2″
“No dude, I’m done really…you guys tickled me enough”
“I didn’t tickle you at all, so now I get my turn…1..2”
I’m off again like a shot back inside, past the laughing fools in the front room and upstairs into my room looking for a place to hide like
(the victims of….) a frightened babysitter in a b-horror movie.
“Upstairs,” I hear them give me away to Randy who is bounding upstairs as I dive into the closet like an idiot. It gives me a second to reflect on the cool scene outside, but enough was enough, I wanted no more of (their own desires…) this torture tonight…too bad for me.
Randy slides open my closet door “Hiding from me…?..you lil’ shit” he says pulling me out of the closet and throwing me toward the bed.
“C’mon man….seriously, enough” I say trying not to smile with excitement I couldn’t control. Randy is deaf to my pleas and he pushes me, face-down on the bed. His weight pins me down and again his strong fingers poke my lower back and kidneys, sometimes stalling on the sides to press in and wiggle lightly. I free my arms from underneath me and try to reach back to stop his hands, but it wouldn’t matter, he had spun around and pulled my legs up onto the bed and was about to work over my worst spot. Each hand grabs the back of my knees and he begins squeezing like he’s picking out a piece of fruit. Laughter rings through the room as I hear” god, he’s killing him” from someone downstairs. My attempts to back-kick him failed miserably, as he then concentrated on just my right kneecap, top and bottom. My rapid-fire laughing was not that of someone having fun. This tickled FAR too much and my upper body writhed uncontrollably in limited spasms.
Moving to the left knee with both hands he says “Had enough..?..want me to stop…?
“Yes..yes.. oohhoohoo shit….stop..stop!!” he does, to my surprise, and I gasp in air with him still on me.
“Get off…get off me dude…” I say with no conviction or authority, but I did mean it. His reply is one word that invokes a shiver up my spine to this day.”feet,” he simply says.
He doesn’t yell it, he doesn’t sing it, he flatly says the word “feet” and grabs my right ankle pulling it up towards him. He arm-locks my ankle and aggressive tickling is applied to the helpless, prone bottom of my foot. I have officially become a madman, screaming into the bed with maniacal laughter. His fingers digging away, bolts of ticklish sensations race to my brain which is already reeling. It’s the tickling, the hot guy applying it, the situation with Kevin outside(Randy switches feet to be fair)the tickletalk, the everything that was so right, yet going horribly overboard as I am reaching a point where I’m laughed-out and starting to just gasp. Randy stops and gets off me “OK.o.k, I don’t want you to go pissin’ yerself,” he says exiting the room and heading downstairs.
“lil’ fucker was hiding from me in the closet”, he’s saying to Alan and Kevin as they laugh and say “that sounded mean dude.”
Still upstairs…. I collect myself and sit up on the bed reflecting on what had become torture and decided to tone-down my smart-ass ways. I heard someone downstairs mention the skurfing and Randy yells up “So does this mean your goin on the boat tomorrow?”
I cant help but smile as I think to myself “If I go, they’ll think it was because of the tickling, and it will probably get brought up and talked about.” Both cases were true, and I went on the boat and had fun even though I was still a lil’ scared.
Alan never tickled me again, but has admitted “that one night was so funny” when it was brought up again. Kevin briefly tickled me another time and would sometimes mime a threatening air-tickle across the room at me. Randy, of course, had other moments, but none as ruthless.
Next true-tale is a diversion from randy, to another ex-roomie who loved foot-rubs, wasn’t ticklish (crap), but helped me administer a tickle-session on my favorite ticklee type. An Asian tough guy who, as he and you will soon find out, can be reduced to a giggling child with the slightest contact.
Episode 4
My preferences have always been guys of color. Asian, Hispanic African American…you guys are my prime targets…. In a good way. The first time I saw Mike from “Laughing Asians” work I was in awe. The first video of him tickling Ricky has spawned into EASILY one of the hottest sites overall. If I would stop paying to tickle people I could buy his DVDs (just kidding there).thanks Mike and to ALL your cool victims, this true-tale is in honor of you guys.
Dean and I shared a worked/shared a house together for 2 years before he moved away. He was 24, acted like he was going on about 11 and looked the same with a cherub, baby-face and sandy brown hair. I can’t help but laugh to this day when I remember the first time I got in his car and he sez” Hey, do you like 9 inch nails?” sounding as if he were a kid from a Nickelodeon cartoon. I was laughing my ass off and he’s looking at me weird going “what?…?..would I say?” He was playful and we wrestled a lot, but he wasn’t ticklish at all.
I would give him foot-massages, and he knew I liked tickling and feet, and seemed almost sorry I couldn’t get him to laugh. Every once in awhile, when my fingers would catch-stride on the underside of his smallest toes, he would give out that “yeeessh” , inhale between his clenched teeth (you know the yeeeesh I’m talkin’ ’bout) but it may have been charity..no..fuck it.. It was genuine. After the first time he said “That would be cool if you did it every night” and even though he was semi-kidding, he could have also said “drink the poison now” and my response would have still been “OK.” During a foot-rub he had asked me if I could tickle ANY of our friends, who would it be. It took no time for my response.
“Heh-heh, ya know, Gary, that Filipino kid in shipping?”
“The trying-to-look-tough-while-your-pants–are-droopin’-down kid in shipping?”
“Yeah, that guy” I chuckled. I once asked Gary if when he bought pants, he held them to his waist or the bottoms of his butt-cheeks. He laughed and mock-punched me. “I think it would be so fun to see if the tough-guy can take it”
“Oh you know that’s an act”, Dean says. “I’ve seen Amish people with a meaner streak than him.” And he was right. Gary wasn’t as tough as he acted….but he played a good enough role. “Well maybe the god’s will smile on you and we can find out.” …sweet, a few weeks later…gods were smiling…
Gary worked with us and partied occasionally, drinking that god-awful Hennessey garbage that he seemed to think was a magical elixir. He had just tuned 21, and I told Dean I was gonna invite him over for a birthday drink. Dean smiled and said “Is that when we’re gonna TICKLE him?”, and when he says TICKLE, he jets his wriggling fingers into my stomach. I jump back, a stunned-giggle escapes, and I say “OH…YEAH”, imitating the group” Yello”, in Ferris-Bueler’s day-off and Twix cookie commercials (Jeeeeze, that was obscure).
At smoke-break, I’m in a small group talking sports, Gary in his customary, 1 hand on cig. 1 holding up the front of his pants, attempting to hackey-sack. He gives-up quickly and joins my small sports-talk group. The fact that he knows NOTHING about sports, but tries so hard to join in makes him even more endearing as I pull him aside and begin spinning a web that was easier than I ever imagined…
“So no party for your birthday?”
“Oh I had hella party last week with my cousins.”
“Well yeah, family, but we here at work didn’t do anything.”
“No..you jerks, you owe me a party.”
He’s of course kidding, but says it straight-faced, raising his cuteness level.
I laugh, “Well I don’t know about anyone else, but Dean and I want you to come over for a birthday drink and play some darts.”
His eyes widen “Noooo…you guys come MY apartment! We got pool table and I got Hennessey!”
“Oh, well I’ll mention it to Dean and see what he says.”
“Saturday..you guys come Saturday we get HELLA fucked-up!!”
I was excited that HE seemed so excited. But he had thrown me a curve-ball by calling an audible, and taking away my home-court advantage (sports cliches anyone?).Dean had the perfect response.
“Better yet” Dean smiles…”I bet he sticks to the ‘shoes-off’ policy…1 less layer to go through” This phrase engraves itself into my memory warehouse as I grin at Dean
“You wanna do this just as bad as I do…don’t you?”
“I doubt that” … He says chuckling. “But it’s gonna be fun.”
Saturday is rain-filled, as we show-up at Gary’s and grin at each other, removing our shoes as we enter, Dean has brought 2 beers (He’s driving…this is MY night), I’m shooting duck-pharts (mmmmmm duck-pharts) and Gary drinks(sigh) Hennessey. The pool-table is in a party room at his apt. complex, so we head down and play a few games but we’re a li’l buzzed and other people are showin’ up so we head-back early and walking back I know that soon it’s ‘game-on’. Our shoes removed upon entry, we’re in his living room, he channel surfs for sports, and idle talk, interrupted only by random shots by Gary and I, soon turns to Dean’s own web….
“So did you get birthday spankings yet?” Dean teases
“Hell no.. I kick ass of anyone try to spank on me!!!” he says. Tough-guy persona intact though he is smiling a li’l
“Nahh… I never liked the idea of birthday spankings, it’s kinda mean, I never did that to my little brother, I made sure he was happy on his birthday….by giving him tickles instead.” Dean says and looks at Gary.
“That’s even worse…” Gary laughs and his arms instinctively flinch upward defensively.
In the short amount of time before Dean lunges I have second thoughts. “What if he gets REALLY pissed-off and this is a mistake???..Don’t go to far…” that was my last rational thought for a while.
Dean on the far end of the couch, Gary sits, oddly, between the 2nd and 3rd cushion, I’m assuming for better access to the coffee table, and I’m in a la-z-boy (which I STILL threaten to steal to this day) across the room. Gary does his best to block him, but he’s no match for Dean who has easily worked his hands through the flailing arms, and have latched onto Gary’s midsection like a leech trying to squeeze blood through his skin.
“Help me out dude… Hold him”, Dean says as I head over to the fun. He pushes Gary towards me, as I sit on the couch “….Yeah…birthday tickles!!!”, My long arms weave through from behind, and as I lock my hands together, I have the perfect view over Gary’s shoulder of Dean pulling Gary’s legs to the couch and wrapping them into a modified figure-4 with Gary’s socked feet basically in Deans lap where the toes curled and uncurled with desperate motion. Gary was laughing hard before any tickling, and when he could form words, instead of the treats and obscenities I half expected, he surprisingly sez
“No….no man.. my.. Haaha… foot fuckin stink” he giggles out. Dean plays along like a con man, taking a BBIIIGG whiff of Gary’s foot and shows nothing.
“Hhhmmmm.. I don’t smell anything at all”, whiffs again “no..they don’t stink at all….oh wait… unless, yeah… I bet they’re scratch-n-sniff” .Dean takes an index finger and quickly scratches the sole of Gary’s foot, causing his head to shoot back and square into my chest….small price to pay. Gary barks laughter and Dean is taking another sniff.
“Nope….. all I smell is sock and dryer sheets. You don’t need ’em on anyway,” Dean says and the ankle short socks are gone in a flash, leaving the small, beautifully multi-tanned feet exposed to the elements. They are amazing, as I knew they would be, as I stare down at the tops of the of his feet, following the vein lines to the toes that continued clenching with no sock to comfort them.
“Aaww fuck..don’t you touch my fooooot!” Gary starts as Dean interrupts
“OK 21 years old, 21 seconds of tickling…when you say go..”
“I don’t.. Ha… Hah wanna do.. it.. I wont..aha.. say go” Gary’s chuckles are a good sign, taking this in stride as it seems, but it’s apparent he is NOT looking forward to it.
“Just get it over with, I’ll count kinda fast, and it’ll be all over. If you don’t, we’ll tickle you all night.” Dean looks to me then, smiling, as he watches me bask in the scenario he has skilfully played. I set my mind to record, I’m looking to Dean, to Gary back-n-forth, when I hear it sooo softly….distant..maybe from otherspace….” ….go….”
Dean’s left hand holds the top of Gary’s foot, preventing any pull-back as his right hand descends upon the lighter-skinned sole. Slowly, up the sole forehand, down the sole backhand, never pivoting his wrist, Dean stroked Gary into insanity
“1….2….3…..4…” each stroke representing a year as Gary wheezed laughter and rocked his head on my chest, thumping into it to try to get me to release him….nothing was gonna do that until Dean was done. He had got to the teens and had changed things up. His right hand covering his entire sole as he was barely moving his fingers.
I was hypnotized by Dean’s,” ……15…….16″ technique as Gary’s tiny foot squirmed and writhed under Deans slightly moving fingers.
” ….20…..21!!!!” The twenties are reserved for dean to grab the toes of both feet and shake them around in a matter that was more mockery than tickling. Dean stopped as Gary gasped in breath…”Aww.. fuck… you… guys..oh my…fooot.” Dean laughed, unsnaking Gary’s legs and makes his way to me saying “your turn”
“Nooo!! no ….way”
Protesting, but still chuckling he crosses his legs as Dean’s arms replace mine behind Gary and I uncross his legs. I wrap them up as I had seen a second ago and looked at Gary, smiling, ‘What’s the secret word?’, my smile asked, as I look at the barefeet before me I go to zombieville. Those awesome brown feet paddling lightly as sound has left otherspace and now coming from the edge of the macro-verse….”go” …..
I attack, more vigorous then Dean, digging between the toes, and hearing the tough-guy laughter reach a maniacal level. No sound he is making can be described, as he laughs hard, with no sound, then gets a breath and BWAH-HAHAHAHAH fades back to the hysterical nothingness. I count a bit faster than Dean, aggrieved at first, than a light spider-dance just above the heel that does invoke a hip-bucking spasm, and peals of squealing laughter. I reach 21 and Gary is spent, a ragdoll as Dean and I release him and laugh. Gary sits up quickly , planting his feet down saying “I’m not lifting my feet til you guys leave.” which we all laughed at, but I haven’t seen those soles since.
Gary didn’t work with us to much longer, we went out as a group a few times, he came to a few parties and we teased him and shared the story with others. It always embarrassed him, and he’d kinda shrug and shy away from the topic. At one party he came up behind me and grabbed my sides, doubling me over, but quickly letting go.
“Haha… I get you back a little.” he says…….so funny.