"Hey, asshole, cut that out!" you challenge.
"Oh, yeah. We'll see just how long you cop that attitude, buddy," I answer matter-of-factly, confident that you'll be changing your tune soon enough. I reach up and pull the board supporting your back down so that it flips you over and you are now hanging suspended in air. I move quickly and snap cuffs on your wrists, pulling your arms down and taut, securing the other end of the chains to the base of the exercise unit so that you are held in place. You pull on the restraints to test your range of movement, which you find to be rather limiting.
"Don't worry, you ain't goin' anywhere," I offer. "In fact, let's give that a test." I reach up and begin spidering my fingernails through the hair lining your armpits, scraping my fingertips against your sensitive skin. You react immediately, pulling on the chains and twisting back and forth trying to avoid my touches. As I continue my attack, you begin grunting and gritting your teeth, becoming annoyed at my tickling.
"Goddamn it! Cut that I out I told you!" you protest, trying hard not to laugh.
"Well either I didn't hear you or I'm not listening," I replied, sliding my fingers up your sides and keeping up their rapid fingering motion. "Yeah, I'd say it's the latter of those."
"C'mon, man!" you protest, a little less forcefully, giggles starting to emit from your mouth, the chain clanking against the metal equipment as you struggle and twist wildly.
"What?" I protest, innocently, as I move my fingertips to your stomach, spidering all across your belly as it jumps reactively. You erupt into laughter, not able to hold back any longer. I keep it up for just a few more seconds.
"You know, I think you can move a little too much for my taste," I remark as I get up and grab some rope. Quickly, I tie your elbows together and pull them behind your head, securing the loose end to the metal frame of the workout equipment. Now as you test the restraints, you find your movement severely limited. I try tickling your armpits again and am sufficiently pleased as you try to twist away but find you can't and erupt into laughter almost immediately.
I proceed to explore every inch of your helpless and completely available body, suspended in air and at my mercy, finding every single ticklish spot. Your arms, your sides (now wonderfully available from behind, allowing me to wrap my fingers around your ribs and "play" them like a fine instrument), stomach, nipples, neck, dick, balls, ass, thighs, backs of the knees and of course feet. I alternate between fingers, feathers, brushes and all sorts of devilish implements as you roar with laughter. After an hour and a half, you are poring with sweat, your face from the blood rushing to your head. You are begging me to stop but I just can't seem to get enough.
Finally, I strip my pants and underwear off, my engorged cock popping loose. I drop to my knees, pull over a stool and climb on it in front of your body. I wench my powerful, hairy thighs around your head in a vise grip, holding it firmly in place. Placing my swollen dick head against your lips, you instantly obey and open your mouth, letting my pole slide into your moist cavity. As you begin to slurp up my manness, I begin to lightly dance my fingernails up and down your sides, across your belly and down to your armpits. You break into uncontrollable fits of giggling as you try to keep up with the task at hand. At times, you get so carried away with laughter that your mouth gets stuck open too far and I find you are not working diligently enough to service me. So I stop tickling and slap your sides or pinch your nipples to bring you back to reality and get you to focus on my aching cock. Finally, I can't stand it anymore, although I've tried to prolong it as long as possible, and explode, my jism spraying your face and chest as you hang before me.
Satisfied, I resume tickling you, eventually bringing a couple of feathers to your crotch, where I play and tease your aching cock and balls unmercifully, eventually adding just enough pressure to cause you to shoot your load. Exhausted and spent, you wait for me to untie you. But you are surprised when I don't. Instead, I begin to dance my fingertips up and down your body and you discover an awful fact--that after cumming, your body is infinitely more sensitive. You cry out and beg me to stop, but of course, I don't listen.
Instead, you are forced to endure another 30 minutes of non-stop tickling before I release your sweaty, exhausted body and allow you to take a shower...
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