By Du
I like to tickle. I am a guy, a straight guy, but… I like tickling guys. I like to tickle them ‘stupid’. Tickled stupid? For the truly ticklish dude, getting tickled stupid means getting tickled so ‘bad’ that you are reduced to a drooling, slobbering, snot faced gibbering wreck. Got it? Hope so… don’t say I didn’t warn you when you proffer your ticklish feet to me…
So this story relates to my teen years, and a happy birthday present provided to me by a ticklish friend who had no idea what he was getting himself into. He wasn’t even a super close friend, but much more than an acquaintance. A number of us pal’d around during our school years. My closest bud knew that I was crazy for tickling… not being on the receiving end, crazy ticklish though I am… nope, for me, the fun was all about devastating some dude through his ticklishness. Not to hurt him. Not to be mean to him.
Just to fuck him up a little. Now my best bud was pretty strict what he would let me get away with in terms of tickling. Like, no tickling him in public, no talking about tickling him in public, keeping my hands to myself when he made it clear that he wasn’t in the mood to be tickled…. He was rarely in the mood to be tickled, sigh……. So… He’s pissed at me. I broke our non-tickle aggression pact. We are in the stairwell of the school, he’s yelling at me.
Likes to punch my shoulder when I get too uppity. Threatens to ‘out’ me to our group of friends as a ‘tickle pervert’ if I don’t back off. He bugs out… running up to the main floor, and out. I lag behind… give him time to make good his exit; no point in pissing him off any more than he already is. I start up the stairs, look up, and there stands Ben. Ben has got this ‘look’ on his face. Alarm bells go off in my head… shit, did Ben hear that whole exchange between Jack and myself.
“Hey!” Ben says politely. I nod. I wait. “Need company walking home?” Ben asks.
I shake my head… “Noooo… I’m cool… errrrh, thanks anyway.” “How about this… I need company, someone to talk too… will you tag along with me for a bit.” Ben counters. Shit.
Shit, shit, shit. He’s over heard us. I decide that I have to walk with him a bit, to find out how much he’s heard… and try to put my own spin on it. “Sure, why not?” I agree with him.
So…. We’re walking, walking…. “So, you like tickling dudes?” Ben just comes right out and asks…. no gently poking around, sliding stealthily up to the topic, Nope, the fucker just out and says it. Damn! “Du… don’t pretend you didn’t hear me man… I heard Jack ragging on you about tickling him. And its not like the first time either. I’ve heard him rag on you before… I’ve seen you tickle him before… hell, I’ve seen you grab other dude’s ribs before. So, just tell it to me straight…. do you like tickling dudes?” Ben presents his question in an unavoidable, non-dismissible way…
Shit! Shit, shit, shit. I mean, we are all past puberty… this kind of revelation can just fuck up a guy’s high school experience, maybe make him a social pariah. “Maybe.” I answer evasively.
Ben snorts. “Ask me if I’m ticklish.” Ben says to me. “Say what?” I ask back, a little shocked, this conversation, is getting, well, weird. “Ask-me-if-I-am-ticklish——ask-me.” Ben says very slowly as if talking to an imbecile.
My turn to sigh. Well, fuck-a-doodle-doo! OK, what the hell…. “Say Ben, are you ticklish man?” I ask.
“Yes I am Du, I am ticklish. Would you like to ask me more about my ticklishness?” Ben answers and asks gamely. “Sure, why the hell not, I don’t mind embarrassing the hell out of myself.” I grumble. I glance sideways at him, and to my amazement, he is walking next to me with his arms up over his head… he’s deliberately taunting me with his ribs and armpits. I shrug, well fuck him… drop my books, and grab his sides, my fingers tickling away.
Ben nearly buckles in two, laughing, but to his credit, stands upright, keeping his arms over his head and lets me keep tickling. This lasts for a few seconds, before he falls laughing to the ground, on someones front lawn. I’m on him like ugly on an ape! I get my fingers into his pits, and he squeals, reefing his arms down, trying to close off access. I keep my fingers going. It didn’t last long, Ben was able to buck me off, go turtle, and cover up his ribs and belly. “Uncle, uncle, uncle!” Ben shouts, punctuate by giggles.
I stand up, and offer him a hand up. Ben doesn’t even hesitate… accepts my hand, and jumps back to his feet. “Whoa, I’m pretty ticklish!” he exclaims. “Duh!” I say, then started laughing.
We start walking again, but neither of us really says anything more. We get to my turn-off for my neighbourhood, we part company with a nod, and off we go our separate ways. I am totally confused. But then, I am also a teenager, so, it will take me a bit to work this out… to understand not what just happened… but what it means.
Over the next couple of weeks, we see each other in the hallway and some classes we share. We nod at each other, exchange ‘Dude’ greetings…. as in… him to me: “Dude!” me back to him: “Dude!” He does not bring up tickling again… so, I have no opening to explore what it means.
My friend Jack, gave me the cold shoulder until the week-end, then gave me a shout to join him to watch a movie. I tell him what happened. Jack initially, says nothing. “You know he’s gay don’t you?” Jack finally says to me. “Uhhhmmmm, like No, I didn’t know that!” I stammered.
Jack just nodded and said nothing more. I hate it when he does that… it forces me to ask questions… questions about sexuality at that age… they are… difficult. I was still struggling with my prurient interest in tickling guys, but getting a boner while ogling certain girls. Jack smiled at me, at my discomfiture. “Don’t even think about tickling me Du.” Jack warned.
“Wanting to tickle guys isn’t about wanting to be with guys you know.” I said defensively. Jack just smiled again. “Fuck you!” I barked.
“Oh take a pill already… I’m just baiting you.” Jack replies good naturedly. “Then, Ben is not gay?” I say stupidly. Big sigh from Jack. “Yeah, Du; Ben is gay… he just hasn’t come out yet.”
I look at Jack. Another sigh from my long suffering friend… “Look… there’s nothing wrong with being gay… but, I think, realistically, it can make life a lot more difficult… not just being gay, but admitting to the world that you are gay. And if you are not a hundred percent sure… you explore your feelings a little. Ben likes you, I can see that. And by like, I mean, I think that he is attracted to you. And being attracted to you, he may be willing to cut you some slack in the tickling department… just to get you to touch him… I mean any touching that’s not hitting, not meant to be hurtful… well, its a good thing right?” Jack reasoned with me.
I thought about it a little. I was still a bit mixed up. I wasn’t mad at Ben. On the contrary, I lusted after his ticklishness. But, would his being gay put a different spin on the tickle thing. For him maybe. For me, a ticklish dude, was a ticklish dude.
“Maybe, you should talk privately to him?” Jack’s voice broke into my thoughts. “OK.” was all I said. “So… are we done talking about tickling today?” Jack asked.
“Uhmmmmm….” I looked at him mischievously… “Can I tickle you for a bit, or at least ask you about your ticklishness?” “Tickle slut!” Jack spat out at me, then laughed, “OK, one poke, waist up only, and one question.”
I positively burbled… Jack was in an expansive mood today! “Arms up please.” I request. Sighing, Jack dutifully rose his arms above his head, then interlacing his fingers, placed his hands behind his head…. “I’ll hold out for as long as I can… but once my arms are down, you gotta stop, got it?” “Got it!” I said.
I placed my finger tips on the bottom rim of his armpits. Jack sucked in a breath, held it, let it out, another breath, held it, let it out… On his fourth breath, he just held it, and nodded at me…. I wanted to tickle him for as long as possible… so instead of jabbing or poking too aggressively, I gently rotated and wiggled my fingers… sliding them side to side along the undersides of his arms…
Jack held his breath at first… then snorted… then snorted again and again… trying to stifle his giggles. Finally, he just gave in, giggling that is. Kept his hands behind his head… lunged forward, almost head butting me, then side to side, to escape my fingers. But, but… Jack gamely held out, letting me tickle him for several seconds more… he knew that I wanted to get to the centre of his pits… and bless him, he was trying to hold out long enough for me to get my tickle fix, and give him that ultimate tickle provocation by goosing one of his sweet spots…. I let my fingers climb into his pits… Jack was laughing outright now… He was going to crash… his arms would be coming down any moment now… and the tickling would have to stop! Shit!
I didn’t want it to stop… but a deal is a deal… and gosh knows that I wanted Jack to trust me, and I wanted to stay in his good graces…. Big Yipe from Jack! His pits are closed off, trapping my fingers. I immediately stop tickling… but I leave my fingers in place… hoping he’ll let me tickle a little longer. Like over ten seconds drags by… Jack, ever the athlete is not even breathing hard… “OK Du, I am lifting my arms, you get your fingers out of there… no goosing or poking…OR I won’t answer your question.” Jack says to me.
He lifts his arms, freeing my fingers. I withdraw my fingers quickly, not so quickly as to startle Jack into thinking I was doing a feint before plowing back in… but a very definite retreat. “Question?” I ask. “Go.” Jack says.
About your feet…” I start to ask. Jack cuts me off… “Nooo… no feet questions, feet are always off limits, you know that! Now ask your damn question.” I sigh. Jack had too many rules. sigh…..
***************************************************************************
So I look up Ben’s phone number, and call him… “Hey man, do you think we can talk… personally, confidentially, just between-us-kind-of-thing, either here on the phone, or in person?”
Silence on Ben’s end of the phone… “Ben?” I ask. “Want to come over to my house?” Ben asks.
***********************************************************
Half an hour lator, we are sitting in Ben’s back yard. Ben hands me a can of Pepsi that is icy cold… he has one of his own. “What’s up?” Ben asks.
“Are you gay?” I ask. Pepsi sprays out of Ben’s nose. Its pretty funny. “Being subtle not a strong point of yours!” Ben quips.
I shrug. “Why waste time… you asked me straight out if I were into tickling guys?” “Fair enough… yeh, I think I am gay.” Ben answers. “You got a crush on me?” I follow up right away.
“Damn!” Ben exclaims, laughing. “OK, you got me… now, turn about is fair play… same questions for you?” “Fair enough…” I answer, “I am not gay, at least I don’t think I am… and I’ll explain why. But your second question… do I have a crush on you… mmmmmmm.. yes and no, probably not in the way you would like.”
Ben’s face falls, but he quickly recovers. He motions me to carry on… “First, let me guess about reasons for your gayness…. guys turn you on, girls don’t… am I right?” I ask him. “Exactly!” Ben says.
“That’s why I believe that I am not gay, because girls turn me on plenty, and guys… not so much… my qualifier is, that the guy has to be ticklish, and then the only thing I want to do with him, is tickle him… but only in ‘G’ rated places… follow me so far?” I prompt… “I think so…” Ben allows. “I come from a big family…. mostly tickle freaks… mostly guy on guy tickling… like between my brothers and me, my male cousins and me my uncles and me… get the picture?” I explain.
Ben nods. “For me, tickling a dude bonkers is the ultimate power rush… I am the BOSS, he is my slave… he is helpless to my whims… and my whims are to tickle him bonkers!” Ben nods again. “Now back to your previous question… do I have a crush on you…. for tickling, sure as fuck I do…. you letting me tickle you the other day… what a rush! I want to do it again, make you into a blithering laughing fool…. I don’t want to hurt you, no pain, just tickles, I want you laughing, screaming laughing that is.” I stop, blush, and wait for Ben’s reaction.
“So…. a blow job is completely out of the question?” he says dryly. Ben laughs when he sees the stunned look on my face… “Kidding, just kidding Du… take a pill already!” Ben says placatingly.
I laugh nervously. “Shit… this has gotten too tense…. TICKLE MONSTER TIME!” Ben says, quietly at first, then ending with a shout. Ben launches himself out of his lawn chair at me. Pepsis go flying. I am laughing.
Hmmmmph, Ben’s no slouch at being the tickler! I am laughing my ass off. Ben keeps going….. he’s got me pinned, my right arm is pulled behind my head, exposing my right armpit, right side, ribs…. his free hand is roaming up and down… from my crazy ticklish hip bone, to my crazier ticklish armpit. I struggle, but its a no go for me… Ben has got me cold… its a tickl-thon, and my ass is grass, and Ben’s the lawn mower….. Ben explores further, his fingers underneath my t-shirt… tickling my belly now… I have just totally lost it. I am bugshit. Ben lets go of my right arm… freeing up his other hand… adding five more fingers to my tickle-damnation!
I am hooting! I am pretty breathless, completely helpless to stop Ben… Ben has got me on the run. He eases up just enough for me to get some breath for talking back. Make that breath for begging back! “So Du… tell me exactly, where on my body to you want tickle first?” Ben asks. Then the little demon revs up the tickling so I can’t answer.
“What’s that Du… couldn’t make that out… say again…” He tickles me for an eternity before he stops, lets me breath, lets me answer…. “Your feet… want to tickle… your feet…” I gasp. “Bare, or socked?” Ben asks.
“Definitely bare. Skin on skin, my bare fingertips, your bare soles… crazy tickling…. you barfing up a lung!” I get out intelligibly, my breath being back now. Ben gets off of me, but slides down to my feet, placing them in his lap as he sits cross legged. I raise myself up on my elbows to watch his next move. I am filled with tickle anticipation…. fuck, I hate having my feet tickled, but I really want him to do just that!
Ben smiles, easing one of my runners off, then the other. “Feet ticklish Du?” Ben asks me, sliding my socks off. I just nod. “Mine too!” Ben confesses.
“Lets compare.” Ben removes my feet from his lap, pulls off his own shoes and socks, and extends his bared feet towards my head. He wraps an arm around my ankles… nods at me to do the same to him. I am giggling like an idiot… but I comply… boy, do I comply. I am flat on my back, his bare feet on my chest, got my left arm holding them to my chest the best that I can. I place my finger tips on the sole of his right foot…. I look at him. Ben mouths the word ‘go’ and starts running his fingernails up and down my soles… jumping from one foot to the other.
I dig in, just beneath his toes, along the top of the ball of his right foot. We both spazz out, and start laughing… the tickle duel is on! Ben has got beautifully smooth soles, very soft… his feet are small, maybe a size seven. And ticklish? Wow! Crazy ticklish!
I scrape my fingernails along his right arch. Ben is howling with laughter. But so am I. Undaunted by the tickles that he is feeling, Ben is doing his best to overwhelm me. Something tells me to give in… I don’t know if I could have won, out lasted Ben… but, something told me to cave. Reluctantly, I let go of his ankles.
It took longer for me to let go of his feet… I mean, I stopped tickling… just held onto his feet, both of them; with my thumbs firmly planted in the middle of each foot… right along his high arches. Ben humored me by not yanking his feet away. He kept tickling me. I kept laughing. “Signal your surrender by letting go of my feet.” Ben commanded.
I was all tickled out… I had no choice… I yielded immediately. We rolled away from one another. Lay there awhile. Finally we sat up, collected our socks and shoes, putting them back on silently. “That was fun.” Ben whispered.
“That it was.” I agreed. We looked at each other. “Do you think this might happen again?” I ask him.
“Do you want it too?” Ben answered with a question. “It would be complicated… you may want more than I can ever give.” I answered honestly. “There is that.” Ben agreed.
We both sat quietly for awhile. Neither of us sure of what to say or do next. Ben suddenly extends his hand to me; “uhmmmm, friends, right?” I clasp his hand firmly, “Friends.” I reply firmly.
“Maybe, no more tickling for now… until we each are comfortable… I mean, I don’t want you to be my friend just because I am eight out of ten ticklish all over, and that is pretty much all you need me for… and I don’t want you to be my friend thinking I might win you over sexually…. we will both end up frustrated, feeling guilty, and maybe even hating each other.” Ben reasons. “Sounds sensible… but I will miss tickling those feet of yours… especially tickling them the way they need to be tickled, ought to be tickled…” I laugh
Ben laughs back. “I have a confession to make.” “What?” I ask. “I really don’t like being tickled… in fact, I think I kinda hate it… especially on my feet… it just feels worse when its happening on the feet, you know?” Ben explains…
“Why’d you let me do it then?” I ask. “I really like you Du… I am pretty sure I’d let you tickle me to death so long as it meant you were touching me… skin on skin… like you said. And there’s the problem… I’m a horny teenager… but we can never be that way can we?” “No, we can’t.” I said honestly, quietly.
“So, friends, but without touching?” Ben asks. “Well… maybe the occasion tickle would be alright…” I laugh I head home. Lots to think about.
************************************************************************** Time drags on. Its my birthday on the weekend. Ben gives me a shout about mid-week… needs to see me right away. “We’ll see each other at school.” I say.
“Not going to school today… and, I really have a big favour to ask you… come over, then you can go to school… you’ll just be late for the first class.” Ben cajoles me. There is an urgency in his voice. “OK” I answer. Ben’s house. No car in the driveway… his parents have gone to work, Ben’s an only child.
Ben opens the door before my finger gets onto the doorbell button. “Come in!” he says. Ben is wearing shorts, and nothing else. His skin is still pink from having just got out of the shower. His hair is dripping.
Ben leads me downstairs to the family room. Big projection tv down there. A ping pong table. Couch’s. Recliner chairs. Backyard lounger. Backyard lounger?
Ben has a bunch of towels draped across the lounger. He has them folded length ways… so that they are maybe not half a foot wide… but quite long. Terri-cloth towels. Good ones too… they look very soft. With them, are several rolls of ‘hockey’ tape. A cloth adhesive tape, about an inch wide. Near the end of the lounger, is a small, low table… a towel is covering the top of it… but you can tell that there is stuff under the towel.
“What’s up?” I ask. My mind is just a churning. My brother’s have used similar set ups to tie me down, (and each other down), preceding a tickle marathon. “Happy Birthday Man!” Ben exclaims, and high fives me.
Ben gets onto the lounger, his ankles just at the end, his heels just off the lounger mattress. I am stunned. I am blown away. I had no idea. I knew just what to do! I pick up one of the folded towels… it is folded in half length ways… I place it over Ben’s right ankle.
Next, I take the hockey tape… and snugging the towel up to Ben’s ankle as much as I can… I begin wrapping the cloth tape around the towel’s two ‘arms’. The towel is now secured around Ben’s right ankle… I take its tail ends, and thread them through the tubular metal frame of the lounger. Likewise, with the hockey tape again, I secure the tail ends snuggly to the frame. I look at Ben, and at his right foot, now bound to the lounger. Ben compliantly trys to move his foot around… not a lot of play for him… he can barely wriggle it. Good. Ben gives me a thumbs up sign.
I repeat the process on his left ankle. Then, his wrists… I secure them above his head to the top of the lounger. Ben is helpless. Utterly helpless. Completely defenceless. At my mercy.
Too bad. For Ben that is. I resist the temptation to dig into his pits as I finishing binding Ben’s hands above his head… but I stop to gawk… Ben has hairless armpits! I stare… “Yesssss?” Ben asks.
“Uhmmmm… your pits Ben… no armpit hair? I mean, you and I are well past puberty… what gives?” I ask. “I was thinking how much more it would tickle if there was no hair to slow your fingers down… so I shaved them for you… now say, gosh, thanks Ben, you’re a great guy!” I burst out laughing… again…”GOSH! Thank-YOU Ben… You are one GREAT guy!”
Two paces down, I’m at Ben’s feet… they are bare, bare, bare… so very bare… “My, what bare feet you have Ben.” I observe in my best three little bears story voice. “And what twitchy fingers you have Du?” Ben observed right back, getting into the spirit of things.
“All the better to tickle those bare bare soles with.” I said, sinking down to my haunches… my twitching fingers slowly edging up to Ben. “Happy Birthday to You Happy Birthday to You Happy Birthday, dear Du Happy Birthday to You… and Happy Birthday to You
Happy Birthday to You…” sings Ben I wait politely for him to finish… impatient though I am to get started… But he keeps on singing the birthday song over and over again… I wait some more… and realize he isn’t going to stop singing… “What gives Man… I get it, Happy Birthday to Me…” I ask… now I am holding on to the frame of the lounger on either side of Ben’s aforementioned bare bare, very bare feet… to stop myself from laying waste to his foot bottoms.
“If You want me to stop If You want me to stop Then blow out Your candles, And then I can stop… Happy Birthday to You Happy Birthday to You Happy Birthday dear Du
Happy Birthday to You and one more time… Happy Birthday to ……” Ben continued to belt out the birthday song at the top of his lungs. Not screaming it. Just singing real loud. Pretty good voice too.
Blow out the candles????? Blow out the candles…. oh… OHHHHHHH! Blow out his candles… I plant my thumbs into the centre of each of Ben’s bare arches, and grind them in.. pause, dig my thumb nail into the same spot and drag it up to the middle of the ball of each foot, then down to Ben’s heels…. and repeat… Ben’s singing abruptly ends on the ‘ooooooooo’ part of You…. “Youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu….”
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA….” Hey! Not only has Ben got a good singing voice.. he has got a phenominal laughing voice too… as in ticklish laughter. Ben just roared. He squealed. He howled at the moon. I nodded with appreciation, and continued my special work.
I traced concentric circles on the balls of his feet… starting at the outer edge, and spiraling inwards, and then back out again… good response… Ben kept right on laughing. I imagined for a moment, that I had Jack’s bare feet in front of me, and ‘neath my finger tips… well, someday, I hoped. I got my fingernails just beneath Ben’s toes… just where each one joined the upper edge of the ball of each foot. Pure Madness! Ben nearly came off the lounger. Pay dirt! Found me a sweet spot! Yummmmmmmmmmmmm!
Ben must have a great set of lungs.. cuz he wasn’t tiring out a bit… he kept laughing for all he was worth. And, he was worth plenty! My fingertips, my fingernails, my finger pads… roamed all over Ben’s beautifully bare smooth soles…. searching…. searching… searching….. Where are you guys… I know you’re hiding from me…
But I’m going to find you… Every single one of you… You sweet spots! You portals to Ben’s total discombobulation… I find another one just above the heel of his right foot… on his left… it is more towards the inside of his heel… that bump that comes out on the inside of his ankle… but not the bump itself. No…. if you trace a line, just past that inside bump, and follow the curve of his heel… just at the start of his left arch…. a veritable insanity button for Ben. His toes just spazzed and splayed when I stroked there, then they clenched, and he tried to rotate his ankles, tried turning his sweet spot away from me… But there was no escaping my finger of doom… I scrabbled away at Ben’s special spot until he was literally keening. It was breathtaking how sensitive Ben was there.
Then on both of his feet… along the inner most aspect of his arches, bordered by the outermost aspect of the sides of his feet…. a line of ticklish nerve endings that ran from the ball of each foot to the heels… more crazy making. Beautiful! and Simply Irresistible! Amazingly, the tops of Ben’s feet were very, very ticklish.
Not as ticklish as his soles… the undersides of his feet… the bottoms of his feet…. GOSH! How many ways can one describe that part of the foot in contact with the ground when you are walking… or in contact with some lunatic tickler’s fingers who is trying to unhinge your mind for you… Reluctantly, I take my fingers away. I stick my hands in my back jean’s pockets… the only way I can stop myself from continuing with the induction of complete and absolute hysteria on my newest best friend. Ben and I are both young. We are both sixteen… with me a few days away from being seventeen.
My point is… Ben gets his breath back quickly. “Cooler… behind you… ice water… drink… please…” Ben stammers. OK, OK, so it took a while for him to completely get his breath back. Jeeeez Louise!
I fetch him a drink, and hold it up to his mouth… Ben swallows the bottle in two or three gulps… and starts choking… some water went down the wrong pipe! The lounger backrest is in a semi-sitting posture… Ben is reclining at like, a forty-five degree angle. I pause…. let him recover. “You OK Ben?” I ask with real concern… partly altruistic… no way I want to hurt him or cause him pain; then again, partly selfish, I just did NOT want to stop tickling him… I wasn’t satiated by a long shot! “No!” Ben snaps at me… trying to control his coughing/choking fit.
Finally, he is quiet. “More water…. please.” Ben requests quietly… not meek, just quietly. I hold the bottle, and coach him to sip… not gulp… It goes better this time.
We sit for a little bit. “Not done playing with my feet are you Du?” Ben asks… again, not fearfully, not reproachfully… just asking. I smile broadly at him…”You have got brilliant feet Ben, simply brilliant!”
“Glad you like.” Ben replied, closing his eyes for a moment. “So….not to be pushy, but are you good to go?” I ask Ben, pushily! Ben snorts. “The table next to you… carefully lift the drape off of it.” He directs….
WOW! Tickle toys. I’m mesmerized. Fuck!!!!
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Just what will these bad boys do to Ben’s sanity? There is a plugged in hand vibrator with different attachments. One that looks particularily deadly… a rubber circle festooned with semi-rigid, softish little rubber fingers… each about half an inch long. Ooooooooooo… that’s a killer! Another with a series of concentric ridges… alternating from rough texture to smooth. Still another with a single rubber finger… when the vibrate is one, it whips about like a flagellum… the tail of microscopic creature. Cosmetic brushes from his Mom’s make up kit. Artist’s paint brushes… bristles of various rigidity or softness… brushes that are quite narrow, just a few hairs wide… to broader, much broader, for tickling larger swaths of Ben’s immobilized and helpless bare soles.
Felt markers to write ticklish messages on his feet. Plastic picnic forks. A feather with a solid shaft and sharp looking quill… a quill that will kill! Oh yes… lots of crazy making on this tray! Dental gum stimulators… soft little rubber pointy things on the end of a little brass stick. A plug in electric tooth brush. “Oh Ben, oh Ben, oh Ben….” I whisper.
Ben laughs at my reaction… my obvious pleasure at what he has arranged for getting himself royally fucked over. “I suppose you will want to try out each and every one?” I open my mouth to answer…. Ben stops me with this… “Rhetorical! Rhetorical question Du. No answer necessary.” I just smile… “You went to a lot of trouble Ben… I just want you to know how much I appreciate that… now, would you like to choose or suggest which of these deadly tools I start with?”
“Surprise me.” Ben says, and closes his eyes, lays his head back, and waits for me to get busy. Ben is taking slow breaths, prepping himself for the onslaught…. I survey the treasure in front of me…. Picking up a fine point felt marker… I uncap it, and start to mark out Ben’s sweet spots….
Ben starts snickering… trying to hold it in… that won’t last long… holding it in that is….. Across the ball of each foot, I write, with sweeping elaborate script… Ben is soooooo…. ticklish! Ben is giggling now. I put down the marker… pick up the electric toothbrush, toggle it on, and lower its vibrating bristles to the juncture of the arch and ball of Ben’s right foot. All semblance of toughing it out vanishes. Ben is laughing.
Gawd, what a fantastic laugh he has. I rock the vibrating bristles up and down, back and forth. As much fun as it is to see the skin of his soles puckering and unpuckering with the passage of those marvellous bristles… I move to his left foot, then back to his right without giving him a chance to get used to it. Ben is lost in his own screaming laughter. The artists brushes were pure murder for Ben.
His back arched, as he tried to yank his precious feet away… to no avail… Ben was sweating pretty bad at this point. I stopped to give him some more water. “Du, I’ve got to take a leak so baaaad!” Ben gasps as soon as he’s got the breath to talk. Shit!
I can’t let him piss himself can I. Making him piss himself would probably be worse! I freeze up. The ethics, the right thing to do… and what I want to do, namely keep on doing…. Shit! Shit, shit, shit… Ben knows where I’m at…
“Du… I’ll let you tie me down again… just.. please… don’t make me piss myself… please… you can still tickle… but after you let me up first! Du, Du… DU! Are you listening to me?” “I’ve got you taped up pretty good Ben… its gonna take a while to get you loose… can you hold it.. I mean not piss for awhile?” I ask him. Ben stifles a laugh. “Don’t have a lot of choice… look, see those bandage scissors on the tray there with all the tickle toys..”
I look… I see these scissors alright… kinda weird looking scissors… one of the blades has a blunt ‘tongue’… so you can slide along the skin without cutting, (the skin), while snipping at the bandage. I pick them up, and turn around to face him. “OK, just snip the hockey tape… then pull the towels apart enough for me to get my feet and hands out.” Ben instructs. I line the scissors up to his ankle bindings first… “Uhmmmmm… there’s another way out of this for me if you want…” Ben ventured, then stopped talking… waiting for me to give him my attention.
“There’s a big mason jar in the sink in the laundry room… I can piss into that.” Ben says. I leave the room before he can elaborate, and fetch the jar back… anything that leaves him tied up, and ready for more tickling is clearly the better way to go. I come back in, jar in hand… I look at the jar, then Ben, then the jar… “Now what?” I ask.
“Ahhhhhh… this might be the deal breaker for you… reach into my shorts.. pull me out, and put me in the jar… then just hold the jar until I’m done.” Ben says to me… a certain tone hopefulness in his voice. That dirty bugger. He wants to touch his dick! I look at him.
“I understand if you don’t want to touch it… this is not sexual… this is having to take a leak… and its not dirty… I showered before you got here… remember?” Ben’s voice is silky as it trys to reason with me. I actually think about for a second. Because the dude hates to be tickled… and yet, for my birthday, he lets me tie him up and do to him something that he really, really hates. How much more personal is this anyway. I mean, my hands have been all over his feet… carressing them fairly lovingly… he’s not asking me to play with his meat.. just pull it out so he can piss. Shit! Nope!
“Ben… I think we both know that me handling your tool is probably just plain wrong. Maybe me tying you up, even though you invited me, and tickling you fuck faced is wrong too then. Look, how be if I just let you go… you don’t have to let me retie you or tickle you anymore… I mean, I definitely want too… but… things will just get too weird if I am holding onto your Johnson… know what I mean… I mean… if our roles were reversed, and I was tied down needing a leak… I would just freak if you touched me there… that’s because your gay, and I’m not… and touching another guy there means something no matter how you try to rationalize it.” As I’m talking, I am cutting the hockey tape. Ben opens his mouth to reply… but then opts for silence. Last bit of tape is cut…I peel away the towel.
Ben is up like a shot, and I hear him in the bathroom a few steps away… he hasn’t bothered to close the door. The sound of his pee hitting the toilet water goes on for a long time… dude must have a huge bladder. “Be right back!” Ben sticks his head into the room and disappears again. I hear his bare feet pounding up the stairs…
I am feeling slightly weirded out by Ben’s ‘suggestion’ for relieving his bladder. I am kinda beating myself up…. I’m young… sexual identity is something I am still struggling with given my admittedly ‘unusual’ fixation on tickling only dudes… and dudes’ bare feet in particular vis a vis the horniness I feel towards girls… horniness that I don’t get with guys. Maybe I am over analyzing this… I should stick with what I know… tickling. Bn breezes back into the room. “Dude! That got a little intense… join me in a doobie?” “Excellent idea!” I heard myself saying.
Ben sits cross-legged on the lounger, opens up this little metal cash box that he brought with him… and rolls this honkin’ big jay. Ben looks at my eyes popping… laughs, and says.. “Go Big or Go home!” He fires it up, takes a long drag, and passes it to me.
Back and forth it goes. We don’t talk, just toke. I am feeling less tense. I’m a chillin’. We finish… Ben gets himself a cold beer, and one for me… but I decline it, opting for water instead. I ignore the irony in my interpretation of Buddhist ‘commandments’ that forbid intoxicants… where I wil smoke pot, but not drink alcohol. I am such a hypocrite!
“Are we OK Du?” Ben asks. I nod. Ben reaches under the lounger and pulls out a cardboard box with several more rolls of hockey tape. I laugh… the dude is aces in my book. Ben is not done… he pulls out this honkin’ big bottle of baby oil.
“I’m getting pretty sweaty… the baby oil should help your fingers slide around easier…” Ben started to explain… he stopped when I held my hand up. “You forget, that I am from a family of ticklers… very inventive ticklers… I know what to use oil for.” I say to him and then laugh. Ben stretches out again on the lounger.
Getting him helpless takes less time… our earlier ‘practise’ run helped familiarize me with the towels and hockey tape system… I pick up the bottle of baby oil… “For a dude who absolutely loathes getting tickled… you put a lot thought and preparation into this Ben.” I observe. “What I won’t do to get you to touch me, eh Du?” laughter… Ben replys.
“Want to choose where I go next?” I politely offer. “Anywhere but my feet please… pretty please with sugar on top..” Ben answers without hesitation. Snapping the cap of the baby oil open, I squirt into the hollows of Ben’s armpits… their concavities deep enough that the oil puddled forming small pools in each. Next, I squirted his belly button until it was overflowing onto his belly… then kept up the application as the oil drizzled across Ben’s tummy, left and right, and drizzled down the sides.
Squeezing the bottle all the more, I arc’d up from Ben’s navel to his throat… that little hollow above his breast bone, but below his adam’s apple… another pool formed, overflowed, flowing down both sides of his neck. Tracking back down, I made sure Ben’s nipples were glistening and slippery with oil. I put the bottle of baby oil down. Ben lifted his head… pointedly looking into his right, then his left armpit… careful not to disturb the puddles of oil there. I followed his gaze down to his navel. Ben shuddered, lay his head back and closed his eyes. “I’m a fucking goner!” he whispered… then started to take a number of deep breaths… probably figuring, and rightly I might add, that they might be the last full breaths he draws for awhile.
Dipping my fingers into the puddles of baby oil that nestled in each of Ben’s armpits, I swirled the oil around a bit before making contact with the skin beneath.. and we were off to the races…. Ben’s laughter started with with a high pitched squeal, settled down a few octaves, then roared on endlessly. Ben must have wanted me to know that this really tickled… cuz he was putting everything into his screaming laughter. I slid my fingers around and around the bowls of Ben’s armpits… he was just going wild… lunging left, then right.. trying to turn his body away. But his pits could not escape!
I noticed with each pass, Ben’s squealing changed… became higher pitched, more frenetic… I paid more attention to where my fingers were when he did that. Another sweet spot… the inside rim of his pits.. almost level to his collars bones… that’s with his arms stretched above his head of course. Rocking my fingers back and forth on this spot… Ben just got crazier and crazier… he could not say a single intelligible syllable. Wild thrashing, unbelievable sounds were coming from him… didn’t know a human could make those noises! I detoured suddenly away from Ben’s armpits and pinched his nipples, giving them little twists… not cruel mean hurtful twists, twists and gentle pulls that made his chest leap towards me…. he was screaming and screaming laughter.. so loud, I was damn near deafened. I grabbed Ben’s sides, and straddled his hips… rode him like he was a bucking bronco that needed to be broken. He managed to throw me off a couple, three times… wow this little dude had strength!
But, I was in for the long haul… I climbed back on, and goosed his sides again and again. Ben’s laughter was nothing short of infectious. I laughed and howled right along with him… encouraged to new vocal extremes as my fingernails continually raked his belly, grabbed at his sides, grinding my thumbs into another set of sweet spots, just along the crests of his pelvis. I slowed up a bit to let him grab some air… but kept going enough to keep him laughing at a good clip. Snot kept forming bubbles in his nose. Right along the waist line of his shorts, which were riding pretty low on his hips… I found virgin territory for Ben. He would lator tell me that he had never been tickled there before.
Must have been a good couple, three inches below his belly button… framed by his groin creases. Downey reddish tufts of pubic hair stuck out along the tickle line. The very top of Ben’s groin creases… his inguinal creases… were incredibly sensitive. The most sensitive yet… I would lator go back to his soles to compare, and confirm, that yes, Ben while insanely ticklish on his feet.. had even more to scream about in those creases. I paused at his pants waist line… I had a feeling, that buried gold, plantinum, pay dirt… lay below the belt line. As I wiggled my thumbs… I love using my thumbs… Ben strained to sit up… and kept a steady stream of hysterical laughter flying at me. His spittle and snot would hit me in the face… I had to wipe it away… and punish him for spitting by tickling him even more. It was around this point, I could no longer ignore another development in Ben’s responses and responsiveness to my tickling.
Ben was getting a chub on! I stopped altogether. Ben’s laughter eased off slowly, deteriorating to mindless giggles. Finally, he had some breath to make sense in his speech. “Why’d——you——-stop?” Ben gasped.
“Duh… maybe its this errection thingy you got going?” “Fuckkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!” Ben snapped angrily at me. “What, you want me to keep going?” I asked coyly… what a fucking tease I was!
“Yes, yes, yes…. fucking tickle me you little chink bastard… don’t fucking stop now!” “Well then, whatever Ben requests, Ben gets then!” I answered. “Thank-you, thank-you… THANK-YOU!” Ben got out without gasping this time.
I rolled off Ben’s hips, and scooted down to the end of the lounger, sitting down with my legs crossed, meditation style. “Where the fuck you going… you said you would keep tickling me?” “I am going too, I’m going too… jeeesh! talk about impatient!” I teased, then applied my fingernails to that sweet spot on each of his arches… and paused to let him react to me.
“You fucking little prick! Not there… not my feet… sweetjezzuuswhatthefuckareyoudoingtomeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee….” Ben’s rediculous question ended in a very long squeal. I wonder why that was. I shrugged, no matter… I kept tickling with one hand on his foot… while I used my other hand to grab the squeeze bottle of baby oil. I squirted between his toes, jamming my fingers in, spreading the toes apart forcefully, sliding my fingers in and out along his toe webbing… it made him so freakin’ maddddddd! I squirted more oil down his sole… then doused the other foot with a very liberal amount of oil.
I dropped the bottle, and resumed too handed, ten fingered tickling of those amazing soles. “What a mind fuck, eh Ben?” I yelled loudly over his hysterics. I just kept on roving all over his slippery bare soles. I gave him no quarter. Never once did I return to his groin creases. Oh, I knew he wanted me too.
But, this wasn’t about Ben having fun… it was about ME having fun! And for me to maximize my fun… I had to drive Ben stark raving mad…. well, at least temporarily.