Finding the Ticklish Twin


Lyle Blake

Mark and Sam were identical twins and there was only one way to tell them apart.

Although they had just turned eighteen, they could easily have passed for fourteen or fifteen. Their marble-white, lightly freckled skin, mops of carroty red hair, and large midnight blue eyes gave them a striking look, but they were only 5'7" and on the thin side. Except for their armpits and crotches, their bodies were smooth and hairless, and they only had to shave every couple of months.

They lacked the hard edge shown by some of their fellow seniors and had somehow retained a boyish vulnerability that seemed to say, "Whatever you do, don't hurt me." Girls thought they were cute; boys didn't appear to notice them at all, although they got their fair share of covert looks from guys.

Somehow the word had gotten out on the high school grapevine that Sam was excruciatingly, unbearably, debilitatingly, blindingly ticklish, that he was so ticklish that he could not bear to be touched anywhere on his body. For some reason this seemed to amuse the school jocks, who were always quick to detect and exploit any weakness in another boy. The only problem was, which one was Sam?

One day at the end of gym class Mark and Sam were coming out of the shower when four of the guys on the baseball team grabbed them and pinned them to the floor. Each of the twins was spread-eagled, his arms and legs firmly and ruthlessly held down on the carpet, his armpits, sides, stomach, and feet open and vulnerable to whatever their tormentors wanted to do to them.

"Hey, guys," one of the baseball players drawled, "we hear that one of you is really ticklish. Is that true?"

Their eyes glazed with fear, the twins looked as if they were stoned. Both of them were obviously filled with terror--one of them was about to experience something he absolutely could not stand and the other was going to have to watch.

The baseball player who had spoken held up one hand, the fingers curled into claws, and waved it back and forth over the torso of the twin whose legs he was sitting on. "Is it you? Are you the one who's ticklish? Hmm? Ticklish? Maybe just a little bit?"

"Oh, god, please don't, you can't, please, I'll do anything, please, I'll do anything you want but don't tickle me," the victim moaned. He was almost crying.

The tormentor snickered and slowly started to rub the fingers of both hands through the red hair of the boy's armpits, teasing and tickling the damp curls there, and the twin instantly thrashed and jumped and screamed. The ticklish twin had been found.

Mark turned his face and watched his twin being tortured. "Don't!" he cried. "Don't tickle him! He really HATES it!"

The guy sitting on Sam's legs and working on his armpits, obviously the ringleader, snickered again. "Obviously. That's why this is so much fun, you dope." He nodded to the player who was kneeling on Sam's arms, keeping them pinned firmly above his head. The guy took over the armpit duty, leaving the ringleader free to attack Sam's sides and stomach.

Sam was in hysterics, banging his head up and down on the carpet, apparently trying to laugh his lungs out.

"Aaaauuugggh! Haaa, haaaa, stop it!" He was in convulsions. The ticklers laughed along with him, as if his ticklishness were contagious.

Since it was now known which twin was the unticklish one, the player holding down Mark's legs left him and moved over to Sam's feet, stroking his fingers rapidly up and down the wrinkling writhing soles and teasing the base of the toes, and if possible Sam's fit of laughter increased. "Someone stop them! C'mon, stop, I'll do anything!" Tears had started to run down his youthful face.

Mark was looking very upset. "I can't believe you guys are doing this. Ever since we've been little kids, it's been agony for Sam to be tickled. Our cousins used to hold him down and get him at the family reunion, and sometimes I thought he was going to die, he laughed so hard. This is really mean."

"It's free entertainment, kid," the ringleader sneered. "If we thought you were ticklish, we'd tickle you too."

"Hey! I wonder if he's ticklish in his belly button?" He reached down and slowly rubbed his fingertip around the soft smooth edges of Sam's belly button, then drilled it down inside, and Sam tried to levitate through the roof, screaming.

"NO! No, not there! Not the belly button, I can't stand it, it does funny things to my ..."

Suddenly everyone noticed that he was extremely hard and his cock was jumping and quivering. As the ringleader continued to probe his obviously sensitive belly button, Sam arched his back and opened his mouth as if to swallow the entire world and became a shooting volcano. He shook and jumped and went, "Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!" as if he were having a fit.

All the players' jaws had dropped, as this had not been in the cards. When Sam's orgasm had run out, the ringleader grinned fiendishly. "Hey. I hear that ticklish guys are even more ticklish after they come. Why don't we find out?"

But that's another story.

Lyle Blake

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