Finally, I am home alone. Everyone was gone for the weekend and the house was mine. I sat in my room and mused over this, listening to music. As usual, my writing instruments lay open before me, blank. Writer's block, is that what this is called? It has affected me for almost three years now. Nothing new, nothing original, not even any rewrites have made their way out of my head. Then it happened and the story began to unfold, with a simple knock upon my door...
I made my way to the far side of the house and peered out the window, at my intrusion. There, on the other side of the door, was my son's friend, Roger. Roger was quite a gorgeous young man. At the tender age of eighteen he had blonde hair, blue eyes and was merely five foot two in his stocking feet. I had known Roger for many years and he had spent many nights in my home. He was always a welcome guest. I answered the door and immediately informed the young boy that my son was not here. Roger, was obviously aware of this fact, having spoken with my son earlier that day. He asked if he could come in.
I ushered the boy inside the house and noticed he was carrying a duffel bag. I shut the door and motioned for him to sit upon the couch. He asked if we could go back into my room, instead, saying he was more comfortable there. Once in my room and situated, we began to talk.
Now, let me tell you a little bit about Roger. Roger was quite a knock out. He had shoulder length, blonde hair and a deep, bronze tan. He was sporting a green tank top and matching shorts. He was very cute and very ticklish. In fact, I made it a point to tickle him every time he had spent the night. Roger told me that some friends of his had dropped him off at the house and that his mother thought he was spending the weekend with them. I asked Roger why he was here and then the true story began.
"I am in love," he said, with a deep smile, "but do not know how to tell this person." Now, Roger appeared to be anything but the shy type to me, so, I still did not understand the problem.
"Well, then Roger, why not tell her?" As always, I was prepared with quick advice.
"It is not that easy. This person is much older than I am. I have known this person for years. I do not want to ruin the friendship that we have." Roger's face flushed red as he looked down at his shoes.
It was just about that time the bells started going off in my rusty, old brain. He kept saying, "this person." Was it possible that Roger was gay? I had always thought that he had acted a little feminine, but always assumed that it was part of his charm. He was constantly hitting on my two daughters whenever he was over, which was one of the main reasons I used to tickle him. So, my next question was obvious, "Roger is this person a guy?"
Roger's face flushed brighter red still as he stared down at his shoes and simply nodded, yes. Now, before I go on here, I must confess that I myself am gay and am not out to my children. My philosophy is this; "My love life is my concern and my concern alone." Now, I try to keep everything under lock and key, but living at home with my sister and niece I am sure it has been suspected. I have a lot more male visitors to my home than female. It was even surmised by my in-laws that it was the reason I broke up with my wife, but that is wholeheartedly not true. The devil himself couldn't have lived with that bitch!
"Roger, is this person gay?" I asked feeling sorry for the child, knowing all too well the down plight of falling in love with a straight man.
"I believe so, but I am not sure?" He responded sadly.
I began to feel for the boy and sat quietly for a moment as I racked my brain for some solution to his problem. "Perhaps, then you should speak with this man and tell him how you feel. It may work out and if not, hopefully, he will be understanding enough that it will not effect the friendship."
"Do you think you would be understanding enough, if I said this to you? The boy looked up at me with his big blue eyes.
"Well, of course I would..." Then his hand rested upon my leg. I was shocked and startled and did not quite know how to react. This was my son's friend. I did not truly know for sure if my son knew I was gay, nor how he would react to me being with his friend.
"Are you gay?"
The word, yes, escaped my lips before any coherent thought could take place. The young boy's face filled with relief as he smiled deeply at me. I smiled back at him and realized that it had already gone too far to turn back now and who was I to deprive me of this beautiful, young man. We talked for hours about how nervous he had been coming over here and how much fun he'd had over the years with me. He had secretly loved me for years and me him. We chatted for hours, then our chatting turned to play and when it did, as always, it turned to tickling.
Part Two: Camera!
After dinner we made our way to the couch to watch a movie. Dressed only in a white, silky pair of pajama bottoms and his white socks he looked good enough to eat. He propped his small feet on the coffee table next to mine. I placed my arm around him and began to lightly scratch his arm. Goose bumps began to instantly appear on his naked, upper torso.
As if to invite my hand to his back, Roger leaned forward. Wanting nothing more than to touch that delicate skin of his, I eagerly obliged. Every now and then he would jerk or giggle as I moved closer to a sensitive area. Goose bumps covered his entire back now as I softly moved my fingers around. He giggled a little more as I made my way towards his ticklish sides.
He leaned back to protect himself and look at me with a huge smiled plastered across his soft lips, "Would you tickle me, Tom?" That was the first time Roger had ever called me by my first name.
"Of course I would," and with that I cut loose with my fingers into his sides until he rolled off the couch laughing. I picked him up by an arm and leg and lifted his small body onto my lap and began to tickle his tummy. He screamed with laughter as his face turned red. He tried desperately to use his hands to thwart off my attacks, but it was no use: I was too strong for him...
It didn't take long for him to lose his clothing as we wrestled around on the floor. I tickled his whole body as he curled into a ball and giggled loudly. No longer able to defend himself against my attacks, Roger was forced to endure my tickling fingers. He roared helplessly as I dug my fingers into his tender sides and made my way up his ribs. Finally, after about fifteen minutes, Roger was lying on the floor, out of breath, with tears of laughter running down his face. I scooped him up in my arms and headed toward the bedroom.
Part Three: Action!
I laid Roger's lithe body upon the bed and began to smoother him with kisses. He giggled helplessly as my lips caressed his neck and chest. I raised his arms high above his head and began to plant tiny little kisses on his left arm. He started bucking madly beneath me as my mouth moved closer and closer to its destination, his ticklish armpits! He screamed and howled as I kissed his armpits. So soft were they to my lips and so ticklish were they to him. I then moved over to his right arm and began the same treatment. He was hysterical with laughter already knowing what torture he was about to sustain.
After a good ten minutes in his armpits I let him rest. I held his hands in mine and pulled him up to me. His face and hair were covered in sweat and tears. He looked at me longingly and then he wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed me. It was a long kiss. It was a sensuous kiss. Rockets went off in my head, stars exploded, and all was right with the world. We just sat there and stared at each other. I was in love.
"Let me tie you up?" I looked at him imploringly. He looked a bit apprehensive at first, but I assured him I would do nothing to hurt him and that he could trust me. Finally, he conceded.
I got up and went to the closet. As I opened the door, I spied my collection of bondage equipment. My eyes kept falling upon a set of stocks a friend had made for me. I longed to try them out on him, but thought that might be too much for him to endure. I quickly grabbed a unique invention that I had made some time ago, but had never used. I returned to the bed and showed Roger my toy.
"What is that?" The boy looked perplexed as he stared at the makeshift bondage apparatus. It was a t-bar that stared him in the face, the type you use to change a tire, with four padded cuffs attached to its ends.
"I don't have a name for it. I made it, but have never used it. Would you like to try it out?" I smiled deeply at him, waiting for his response.
"Sure, why not," he replied after a few hesitant seconds. I took his small hands into my own, guided them to each cuff and then clicked the cuffs closed. I then grabbed his ankles and did the same. I left Roger to ponder his helplessness as I went after some rope.
Upon returning I tied one of the ropes around his waist line, attaching him to the headboard of the brass bed. The next rope was tied securely to the center of the t-bar and then to the foot board of the bed. I pulled it taut in order to remove the slack. He was now completely helpless and at my mercy. Roger was slightly bent over to accommodate his bindings, his body looked so inviting, wanting to be caressed and tickled. Who was I to deny his body what it wanted, what it desired?
I sat at the foot of the bed and stared into his eyes. They smiled back at me and he nervously smiled along with them. I grabbed his big toe and began reciting, "This Little Piggie Went To Market." Roger began to giggle, more so because of the situation than because I was actually tickling him, but that was about to change. I began to slightly run my finger up and down the soft sole of his left foot. I then moved over to the right and did the same. He began to giggle much harder now as my finger slowly and methodically moved back and forth between his beautiful, bare feet.
I allowed my other hand the pleasure of joining in on the fun and proceeded to tickle both of his feet at the same time. Starting at his soft heels I worked my way slowly over his soles and up to the balls of his feet. There, I concentrated my efforts while he screeched with wild intoxicating laughter. I then moved up beneath his toes to his great dismay and his voice trailed off as his laughing surpassed his audible capabilities. He screamed. He laughed. His head shook from side to side. Tears ran down his face and I loved it. His face turned crimson red as I continued to torture his perfect little feet. I tickled him nonstop for twenty minutes before I finally let him rest.
The moment my tickling stopped his pleadings began. "Please, no more!" He giggled as he tried to calm down and catch his breath. "I can't take any more!"
"Sure you can my silly boy we have only just begun." I replied as I removed the rope from around his waist.
"Oh please Tom I can't take anymore." Roger giggled, as I slipped in behind him. He leaned his head back and pleaded to me with his eyes. His face was streaked with tears and red from laughing so hard. I had only just begun to have my fun and was not about to let him go. I had looked forward to this for years.
"Really, I can't take it. I am too ticklish. Don't do this anymore. Please let me go." Roger continued his pleas, but they now fell on deaf ears. I was too busy admiring his luscious body. He was so deeply tanned. His skin was so soft to the touch. An occasional freckle offered itself up to my lust and desires. I explored his back and arms with my eyes and then with my hands as I allowed him time to calm down.
Yet instead of calming down, he seemed to become increasingly overwrought with every passing moment. His begging and pleading were now almost constant, only halted by an occasional nervous giggle or yelp when my probing of his back would reach a particularly sensitive area.
I moved my hands to his naked sides and asked him if he was ready.
"No, no please..." Roger crumbled with hysterical laughter, as the tickling resumed. His head thrust back onto my shoulder as my hands explored his hyper ticklish sides. I moved my hands slowly up his ribs and was rewarded with the wondrous sounds of his delightful giggling. I moved in for the kill as my left index finger sought out his cute little navel. The sounds of his laughter disappeared into silent hysteria as my finger slipped inside. I swirled my finger around and around as tears streaked his face! I worked my fingers over his stomach, making sure not to miss one single inch. His giggles dissolved into outright laughter the closer I came to his armpits. My fingers slipped inside the soft core of his armpits and I thought he was going to die! His whole body quaked and shook with laughter as I tormented his most vulnerable spot. They dripped of sweet sweat as did the rest of his body and as his laughter rang on into the night I could not help thinking that I had died and gone to heaven!
ROGER II: A DAY IN THE STOCKS
It was a beautiful morning and was quickly turning into a beautiful day. I was in love. It was as simple as that. His name was Roger and he was the cutest little man I had ever seen. Five foot two, blonde hair and blue eyes made for quite a cute boy of eighteen and that was Roger. Roger was a great guy and we had a lot in common. He loved to shoot pool, listen to music, watch movies, all the things I loved. He also loves to be tickled and that I love the most.
Roger and I had been seeing each other for quite a while now, ever since that fateful weekend he had knocked upon my door and made my dreams come true. We had decided right then and there to be very discreet about our relationship. You see he was a friend of my son. We would see each other every chance we could and whenever we saw each other I would tickle Roger. He loved to be tickled almost as much as I liked tickling him or at least he thought he did. Once tied up Roger would beg and plead, much to my delight, to be let go. This time would be no different.
We had just finished breakfast and Roger was still naked. We met yesterday evening and took in a movie before coming over to my place for a little fun and frolic followed by a night of tickling and mad, passionate love. Roger was quite the lover he seemed to know exactly what to do. He was a remarkable young man.
About two weeks ago Roger was browsing through my bondage equipment and had run across the stocks I owned. It was a big and bulky piece of equipment, but not the work of a true craftsman. It did, however, serve its purpose quite well. Padding along each one of the holes protected the victim's wrists and ankles from splinters. There was padding on the stool that came with it along with a belt in which to strap in the victim. He was very curious about the item and had asked many questions about it. He was deeply intrigued by the piece and longed to make it a part of our tickling games. I wasn't about to argue, I had only used it once or twice in the past and I sure thought it made for a good time.
Roger walked into my room while I was setting up the stocks. He sat on the edge of my bed and watched me with loving eyes. His cute little dimples and sparkling blue eyes highlighted his boyish smile. I smiled back at him and continued my work. Once the stocks were properly restored and I was satisfied that all of the bolts were tightened I instructed Roger to sit upon the stool. I strapped his naked torso in place and then removed the two boards, exposing the slots for his ankles.
I carefully helped Roger place his ankles into the stocks and slid the first board back in place. The stocks were a little large for his ankles, but there was no way he was going to be able to free his feet from their imprisonment. His wrists, unfortunately, could almost easily slip in and out of the slots. Not a problem though, I simply tied his wrist together with rope. He wouldn't be able to free them now.
I kissed Roger's forehead and told him I would be right back. I returned to the room carrying a list of items; a glass filled with ice, an ice cold beer, an electric toothbrush, a feather and a fork. I placed my instruments of torture onto an end table. I moved a chair over in front of the stocks and sat down.
I reached for the beer first, but before opening it I decided to run it over Roger's highly sensitive bare feet. He instantly tried to pull his foot away as the cold can touched it, but found that to be impossible. He grimaced and inhaled deeply each time I ran the cold can over his feet. This did not make him laugh but it did awaken the nerve endings in the soles of his feet. Finally, I opened the beer, took a large drink and then I wrapped my lips around the big toe on his right foot before the coldness of the liquid vanished from my mouth. He tried to stifle a giggle but then my tongue was there sliding all along his toes and he was done! Chorus after chorus of musical laughter exploded from the boy, shattering the silence of the room! I took another hit from my beer and quickly moved onto his other foot swallowing all of his toes at once. His screams of joyous laughter were almost deafening! I spent the next ten minutes drinking my beer and then running my tongue all over his feet or sucking on his toes, listening to the sounds of my favorite music, Roger's unabated laughter!
When I was finished with my beer I looked up at Roger, "Are you having fun?"
He nodded yes, but was unable to reply because I was using my fingers to tickle the soles of his feet. He leaned his head back and laughed heartily as I tickled the soles of his soft feet with only my fingers! I do so love ticklish feet and I believe Roger has the most ticklish feet I have ever seen. His laughter never ceases! The minute I touch one of his feet he is almost driven to convulsive explosions of laughter! Five minutes later I stopped to allow him to recompose himself. I wiped his brow that was covered in sweat and kissed his forehead. He pants and giggles now and again as the tickling sensations disappear.
I leave the room and return moments later with another beer. Roger instantly began shaking his head no, but he was still too out of breath to easily form words! I tell him to relax and then offer him a drink. He eagerly reaches forward and takes a deep swallow from the can spilling a little down his chin. I reach into my pocket, remove a joint and fire it up.
Let me deviate from the story for just a moment. I don't know how many of you are aware of this but pot is probably one of the best tickling enhancements you will find. A person that is high becomes nervous and paranoid, thus intensifying his senses. This makes him quite a bit more ticklish.
Roger was flying high and almost giggling steadily after smoking the joint. His resistance to marijuana is almost nil. Roger's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree the moment he heard the motor of the electric toothbrush kick on. He began to feebly struggle, knowing only too well the feeling that would soon follow the noise! He tensed up for the attack and began to giggle and plead, but I made him suffer. He could not see his feet and so did not know where the toothbrush was or when it would strike. I simply let the motor run for a few moments and let him contemplate how defenseless he truly was. He began to plead in earnest and that is when I let him have it. I touched the brush softly to the heel of his right foot and his pleadings were instantly engulfed with laughter! Tears flowed freely from his eyes as I scrubbed his feet with that toothbrush. I must have spent fifteen minutes on each foot, as he screamed and begged for me to stop. Eventually I knew I would have to stop and so I did, but this time I did not let him come down completely. Instead of giving him his usual rest I sat upon the floor and began to plant tiny little kisses all over his feet! He giggled steadily but did manage to settle down as I spent the next fifteen minutes making love to his cute little feet with my lips.
I looked at my poor tickle boy when I once more returned to my chair. He was a wreck! His hair was plastered to his head and in total disarray, red streaks ran down his face from a steady flow of tears and his eyes were bloodshot red! He was out of breath and panting heavily. He was too weak to beg anymore. I knew I should take pity on him, but I still had a few toys left. I reached for the fork, he began to shake his head no, which was all he could muster.
I used the fork on the balls of his feet! Horse laughter, all he had left, passed his quivering lips as his head thrust from side to side once more. I reached for the feather and brushed it over the top of his foot while using the fork on his sole. He struggled and screamed in a high pitched laugh that almost sounded inhuman! Then he passed out! His shoulders slumped forward! I released him at once from his bounds and moved him to the bed. I dipped a towel in the now melted glass of ice water that I had forgotten about and softly mopped his forehead with it. I looked down at his young manhood and noticed the beautiful white cream that rolled down his leg. I kissed him deeply, his eyes fluttered and then he returned my kiss.