The Talented Top



I met him at his hotel where we ordered some room service, chatted and got to know each other a bit better. It was obvious he wasn't a foot guy because I purposely put my feet in relatively vulnerable positions/close to him a couple of times while we sat there and he didn't seize the opportunity (I still had my shoes on).

Finally, after lunch, I took off my sweater (it was a tad warm in the room) leaving my cotton button down shirt on and jeans. I sat back, tucking my hands behind my head, teasing him a bit, propping my feet up on the bed, just a couple of feet from his chair. He bit and grabbed my leg, pulling it up on his lap. He had asked me a question which required a fairly long answer and then while I tried to answer him, he slipped my loafer off and began stroking his fingernails up and down my sole, "protected" only by sheer dress socks. My feet tend to be ultra sensitive when they: (a) first come out of a warm pair shoes; and, (b) when a sharp object (such as a fingernail) is stroked up and down my foot when I'm wearing sheer dress socks--the thin material acts like a lubricant.

Determined to be tough, I resisted laughing and tried intensely to ignore the killer sensations as I continued talking. But between the constant uncontrollable flexing and writhing of my sole and my period thought interruptions, I was giving away my sensitivity. He kept the interrogation and the stroking up until I was in agony, still trying to be tough but having to stop now periodically to catch my breath, let out a little laugh and close my eyes trying to regain composure.

Then he slid my sock off and began dancing his fingers up and down my tender bare foot sending electrical shocks throughout my body. Still I tried to ignore it and continue answering but was quickly losing it. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore and yanked on my ankle to try to regain control. He held firm with his grip and stepped up the tickling attack forcing me to really yank hard and desperate to stop him from tickling me.

He'd won the first round, and the right to place me at his mercy. But he was a tease. First, he had me stand in the middle of the room while he removed my shirt. He instructed me to place my hands on top of my head and not to remove them under any circumstance. Then he began rubbing his hands through the matte of soft, black hair coating my chest and stomach. His rubs soon turned to strokes as my torso became more and more sensitized to his strokes. Then he stopped and removed my jeans before continuing his slow, methodical exploration of my body, his finger tips lightly grazing every inch of my body as I twisted, jumped and closed my eyes trying hard not to think about the sensations driving me nuts. I was shocked at how intense the sensations were when he ever so lightly stroked his fingertips along the center of my back. I never even knew I was ticklish there! But he drove me nuts, forcing me to twist and squirm as he played my back like a cheap piano. No wonder his screen name on AOL is what it is!!

He particularly enjoyed stroking his fingertips along my swollen balls and ass. He insisted that I spread my legs wide to offer him ample access to these areas. I was hard in an instant, and giggling from the ticklish sensations. Soon he removed my underwear and really tormented my crotch and ass along with the rest of my body. He found it especially effective to stand behind me and lightly stroke his fingertips along my arms from my elbows down to my armpits and back up, eliciting gasps of air, giggles and twisting/flexing as I tried desperately to keep my arms in place despite my intense desire to pull them down and protect my sensitive skin from further attack. Not surprisingly, he also delighted in giving my unprotected rib cages a thorough inspection and massage which also drove me nuts.

Ready to notch the action up to the next level, he instructed me to lie down on the king-sized bed on my back. He quickly tied ropes to the four corner posts of the bed and attached thick leather straps around my wrists and ankles. He pulled the ropes quite tight, stretching my body out completely and leaving me totally out of control, without any movement that would allow me to reduce my vulnerability. Only once before had I ever been so tightly and thoroughly restrained. To add insult to injury, he slipped a leather blindfold around my head which sealed my eyes tight and left me with one less sense and the others even more acute, no doubt especially touch.

Then I was exposed to the true talent he possessed as a diabolical tickler. It was not a rough, aggressive tickling, but a light, teasing, tormenting exploration of my body. He used tools I couldn't even figure out from the touch alone--all I knew was they tickled like hell! (He later showed me the feathers and wicked brushes he used.) No spot was unsafe and he quickly discovered every one of my truly weak spots. He even discovered that my nipples are very sensitive and he played with them for what seemed like an eternity.

He quickly realized how sensitive my neck and ears are and came back repeatedly to tease me there. Of course all of the standards--sides, armpits, stomach, thighs and of course feet--were discovered and abused. He also teased my cock, balls and ass repeatedly with feathers and lethal soft brushes until I was in anguish and then he'd leave to tickle me somewhere else, only to return later.

He came to find that my greatest weak spot is my size 11 feet, a fact he really used against me, time and time again. At one point, he used some thin rope to tie my two big toes together. This successfully prevents much side to side twisting, leaving only the forward and backward thrusting to worry about.

He lubricated my soles with some sort of oil, pulled the rope attached to my toes toward my head so that it pulled my soles back and left them vulnerable. Under ordinary circumstances, this still would not entirely prevent me from twisting my feet forward and back completely, as he would struggle with the rope to hold them back. Only he chose to use an object that was very sharp (since I was blindfolded, I had no idea what it was) to scrape up and down my well-lubricated sole.

To scrape something sharp like that up and down a dry sole can actually be painful for the victim, and doesn't work well as a tickling method. But for me, the rules change completely when the sole is oiled and the object glides effortlessly across the sensitive skin. In a few words, it's fucking killer! That is probably the worst thing someone can do to me. He made it worse by pulling my foot back like that and having such good control over it.

My first instinct was to wriggle my sole to escape the torturous touches, but because he was pulling it back, the only place for it to go was forward. And he quickly reminded me that was not such a good idea since the object he was using was so damned sharp. A few little tests confirmed that pressing forward was not a good idea. So it left me with a dilemma--the only thing I could do to avoid pain was to carefully hold my foot still and resist the natural urge to flex it as he stroked up and down, back and forth across my very sensitive sole with this demonic object. The more still I held it, the more freedom he had to torment every inch of my ticklish skin. I had no choice but to "surrender" to him and allow him to torment my foot as he pleased.

Just that feeling of total surrender to the inevitable took all of my fight away from me, and I finally broke down completely and laughed hysterically, stopping any thrashing or "fighting" of my predicament and allowed him do what he so intensely wanted and what I so intensely hated--tickle the shit out of my foot while I lay helpless to stop him. It was an intense moment, and certainly memorable.

From that point on, he had the best of me. He'd broken me and I was totally at his mercy, or lack thereof. He seized on all of my most sensitive spots until I was howling with laughter and pulling wildly at the restraints holding me hostage. Finally, he went back to my cock, first using the little brushes and then oiling it and stroking it with his fingers and hands. The sensations were incredible--especially for someone unaccustomed to having their dick touched and manipulated by someone else, particularly a guy--a mix of tickling and extreme pleasure. He was also devilish enough to periodically reach out and tickle my foot or my side or my armpit, while still toying with my swollen cock. Being blindfolded, I never saw these sneak attacks coming and about jumped out of my skin with each one. After a few excruciating minutes, I could feel myself nearing the edge.

It was then that he told me that I couldn't cum without his permission. Naturally, it was denied when I immediately asked. I was in a fix--when I get that close, it tends to be hard for me to hold back. I asked again, throwing a "please?" in for good measure. He still refused. Soon I was begging to cum. I'm sure he delighted in seeing me so vulnerable and at his mercy and control. Finally, he asked if I would agree to massage his nipples while he jerked himself off after I came. First I refused, but in only seconds recanted and agreed if only I could cum. He stepped up the attention to my tingling cock and in a few moments, I exploded with a fury. Then the SOB, having been tipped off that my cock head is incredibly sensitive and I can't stand to have it rubbed, began doing just that and stroking my spent member. I was soon in agony, and begging him to stop. That's when he really went for broke.

"Say 'uncle'!" he insisted. Damn! That was cold. I had taunted him before I was tied up that he couldn't make me say "uncle." Of course, I meant from tickling, not this. I couldn't stand it and he kept cajoling me while stroking me until I blurted it out, repeatedly until he stopped.

Pretty intense, huh? The thing is, he was pressed for time because of our tight schedule AND I was under the weather imagine what you'll be in for if you ever get together with him under ideal conditions!


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