Greetings, all. Here's my first story for 2008: a sequel to "The Doctor is In." You may recall Dr. Priscilla Harper and her quest for the "characteristic male reaction." In this tale of kinky hilarity, she enlists a former test subject for a new experiment with a naughty twist. Enjoy!
UNCONTROLLED EXPERIMENT
by
T.T.Gore
***
From my first encounter with Dr. Priscilla Harper, I learned that there were aspects of my sexuality that I’d never suspected. I also earned twenty-five hundred dollars, but that was just the cherry on the hot fudge sundae of the clandestine relationship that developed between us. It wasn’t the difference in our ages—me twenty-two, she thirty-four—nor her position as director of Unknown University’s Center for Human Physical Endurance Studies that mandated secrecy. No, it was simply the fact that our after-hours trysts might have been regarded as illicit and even perverted by the narrow-minded prudes who controlled the grant money on which Dr. Priscilla depended.
So we made sure to conduct ourselves with discretion. And in an odd way, that added to the fun.
Behind the closed and locked door of her testing room, the svelte doctor and I spent many happy and hilarious hours together. She had discovered during our very first session that intense tickling combined with anal intrusion was the form of foreplay most certain to get a rise out of me. By the time that our relationship was a month old, I was well and truly addicted.
And perhaps that was precisely what Priscilla had intended all along.
She brought forth her proposal one Sunday afternoon. We were in naked in bed together at the time, I was kneeling naked with my arms were bound behind my back, and she kneeling behind me—holding my balls in one hand. You might say that she had me at a bit of a disadvantage. But after she’d whispered in my ear for five minutes, describing in detail a certain VERY kinky scenario, I didn’t require much persuasion.
Now they say that most men entertain homoerotic thoughts at some stage of their lives. For the most part, of course, these naughty notions are firmly repressed. But with Priscilla caressing me in a very intimate manner, I found myself confessing some half-forgotten desires of my own.
“Mmmm,” she purred. “So you fantasized about mutual masturbation?”
“Yes. . .” I gasped. “Oh, yes!”
“And you’d stroke your fantasy lover’s precious penis?”
“Ohmygod yes!”!
And he’d stroke YOUR joystick. . .like this?”
“Oh, SHIT, Priscilla—!” I moaned. “Oh, FUCK—!”
And what ELSE did you do with him—in your dreams?”
I told her. It made me blush and cringe, but I told her.
“Bad little BOY!” she chuckled when I was finished. “But you were too chicken to do anything about it, hmmm?”
“That’s right—I never—I mean I’m not really—”
“Not really that WAY, hmmm?” she finished for me.
“Shit! You’re gonna make me CUM—!”
“Oh, not quite yet,” she whispered, stilling her hand and leaning close, “But listen, perhaps I could help you make your fantasies a reality. Would you like that?”
“What do you mean?” I quavered, wiggling my hips in a futile attempt to make her resume her teasing ministrations.
“Just what I said.” She licked my ear. “Another human endurance study, sweetie. Using a straight male of your age as the test subject. To see if the characteristic male reaction can be obtained—and maintained—when stimulation is administered by another male.” She arched an eyebrow. “You, for instance.”
“Holy SHIT! Are you SERIOUS?!” Momentarily I forgot my helpless position. “You mean you want me to—he’d be on the frame and I’d—Priscilla, that is just SICK!”
“I’d be there, of course. To supervise.” She gave my cock a quick pat. “It’s all in the spirit of scientific inquiry, Greg. But if you’d rather not—”
“No—yes!” I protested. “That is, if you really think—”
“Oh, yes, I do think!” she whispered, snuggling close. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t really WANT to, Greg. I just thought that you might like to try something a bit more DARING, if you know what I mean.”
Oh, I knew what she meant, all right. Dr. Priscilla was suggesting that I tickle and tease some naked guy to involuntary orgasm. While she watched. And maybe helped.
“All right,” I agreed. “I’ll do it.”
“Are you SURE?” she whispered.
“Oh, yeah,” I whispered back. “I’m sure. I am SO fucking sure—!”
“Good!” She favored me with a big, bright smile. “I even have a candidate in mind. Tell me, Greg—is it REALLY true that gentleman prefer blondes?”
“So they say.”
“Well, we’ll soon find out,” she giggled. “Now, where were we. . .?
His name was Bobby. He was an Unknown University senior majoring in business. He played lacrosse. He was handsome, blonde, in shape—and broke. The twenty-five hundred dollars that Dr. Priscilla offered proved more than sufficient to suppress the doubts I knew he must have felt when she introduced him to her invention: a metal frame with leather straps in the corners. Just as I had, he tamely submitted Priscilla’s command to take off his clothes and assume the position. In no time at all she had him strapped and stretched. Then she showed him the most interesting part of her nefarious gadget.
“What the fuck is THAT?!” Bobby screamed.
“It’s colloquially known as a dildo,” she replied, still playing the disinterested scientist. “We’ll be using it stimulate your prostate gland. As you see, it’s designed to install on the frame. And it’s spring-mounted, so you can bear down on it without hurting yourself.”
“Hey. . .look. . .” Bobby stammered. He made a brief, futile effort to jerk his arms and legs free of the straps. “This isn’t. . .I mean, you can’t. . .”
“You DID sign a release,” Priscilla reminded him. “Didn’t you read the fine print? I’m doing a study on repressed homosexuality among college-age males.”
“But—but—”
I know what you’re going to say,” Priscilla cut him off. “You’re not gay, right? But Bobby, that’s the whole POINT! You could be the most homophobic straight guy on campus, but I’m confident that my technique will secure your compliance.”
“But I don’t WANT to!” he cried.
“Oh, I think perhaps we can change your mind about THAT!” my darling doctor replied with a sly smile. “Let me introduce you to my assistant.”
That was my cue. Bobby’s eyes just about bugged out of his head when I entered the testing room—which wasn’t surprising given the fact that I was bare-ass naked.
“This is Greg,” Priscilla told him. “He’ll be conducting the actual test while I observe.”
“What KIND of fucking test?!” Bobby screamed hysterically. “Help! Somebody HELP me!”
“The room’s soundproofed,” I informed him.
“What kind of test?” Priscilla smiled and for the first time her facade of professionalism slipped a bit. “Well, first we’ll insert the dildo. Then Greg will tickle you, which will make you struggle, which will cause you to repeatedly stimulate your prostate gland—which will, I have no doubt, produce the characteristic male reaction. Even though the person doing the tickling happens to be another male.”
Poor Bobby! He squirmed and wiggled and begged and pleaded and tensed his muscles in an attempt to frustrate Dr. Priscilla’s anal invasion—all in vain. And once the dildo was in, he couldn’t stop himself from bearing down on it. But the sensations that gripped his naked body at that point were but a prelude to the unbearably sweet, delightfully unendurable torments that he was about to undergo.
Been there, done that. Or had it done to me. Whatever.
And now it was Bobby’s turn. I stepped up to him, noticing that his cock was just beginning to exhibit the “characteristic male reaction.” For that matter, so was mine.
“All set, tickle boy?” I licked my lips. “Trust me—you’re going to HATE what happens next. Hate it and fucking LOVE it!”
And with that, I went to work on poor Bobby’s defenseless torso!
“YAAAAAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-HAR!!!” he screamed as my flexing fingers probed his ribs. “AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!”
“Aw, come on!” I snickered. “I think you LIKE it, tickle boy. I think you like it a LOT!”
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO!!!” Bobby howled. “LEEEE-HEE-HEE-VEEEE-HEE-MEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-ALO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO-HO-HONE!!!”
“Sorry but no can do,” I replied, dancing my fingers up to stroke his defenseless pits. “You took Dr. Priscilla’s MONEY, tickle boy. “So now you have to PERFORM for her!”
And Bobby did just that. He writhed and squealed, begged me to stop, got goose bumps all over—and humped the dildo.
I could tell that he hated what was happening to him, but poor Bobby simply couldn’t help himself. Just as I had, he responded to the relentless stimulation of his secret sweet spot. And it wasn’t long before our naked test subject managed to achieve a truly impressive erection—this despite his repeated protests that he wasn’t “that way.”
I could sympathize. I’d been there myself.
And now I found that it was very. . .interesting. . .to be on the other side of the experiment. Indeed, I soon was sporting a boner that fully matched Bobby’s “characteristic male reaction.” Tickling a naked, helpless guy was FUN—!
“How about your BELLY?” I inquired with a wicked grin. “Is it all SENSITIVE and stuff, tickle boy?”
“EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!” Bobby shrieked as I poked his drum-tight abdomen with stiff, demanding fingers. “EEEEEE-HEE-HEE!!! EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“Holy shit!” I exclaimed in mock surprise. “You’re just way too ticklish all OVER, aren’t you?”
“OH PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEEEESE!!!” he begged. “YOU’RE KILLING MEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“Don’t worry, Bobby,” Dr. Priscilla called from the sidelines. “This is a controlled experiment. I won’t let Greg push you TOO far!”
I tickled our test subject for another ten minutes, until the sweat was trickling down his torso and the first tiny drop of pre-cum was gleaming at the tip of his quivering cock.
“So, tickle boy, are you still going to tell me that you’re not ‘that way’—or are you ready to CUM?” I leaned close and stroked his tense thigh. “Would you like me to HELP you? I will if you ask me nice, tickle boy.”
“No—NO!” Bobby wailed. “You fucking CAN’T! I fucking WON’T!”
“Can and will, tickle boy,” I replied with a smirk. God it was so fucking SEXY to torture him this way while sweet Priscilla looked on! I stole a glance in her direction. The Doctor was definitely into this experiment! Her white lab coat was unbuttoned to reveal a generous portion of cleavage, her tongue was touching her upper lip and her eyes were gleaming with anticipation of Bobby’s impending climax. “Can and will,” I repeated, running my fingers through his blonde chest hair. “And you’re going to BEG me, tickle boy!”
“Don’t TOUCH me that way!” he cried.
“Fine, then how about THIS way?” And I dug my fingers into his exposed armpits!
“BWAAAAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” Bobby screamed, writhing all over and wiggling his bare behind with desperate energy. Needless to say, his struggles had the effect of repeatedly stimulating his sweet spot, which intensified his arousal and increased his production of pre-cum. Drop after delicate drop fell to the floor. “GAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” he bellowed in a perfect frenzy of orgiastic hilarity.
“Ready to CUM, tickle boy?” I whispered. “Want me to tickle your BALLS and stroke your precious PENIS?”
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!!” Bobby bellowed. “OH I DON’T WAAAANT TO!!! PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEESE DON’T MAY-HAY-HAY-HAY-HAKE MEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“Not to WORRY, tickle boy!” I snickered. “I wouldn’t DREAM of making you do ANYTHING that you don’t really WANT to do!”
“EEEEYAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” he screeched as my fingers scampered up and down his sides. “STOP!!! OH STOP!!! OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO!!!”
“Interesting,” said Dr, Priscilla, stepping forward. “Despite his physical state of arousal, the subject remains psychologically unable to accept the situation.”
“What should I do?”
“Continue the tickling,” she replied. “With my assistance.”
Still wearing her lab coat, Priscilla took position behind poor Bobby. “Get ready to use the feather on him,” she commanded me. I nodded eagerly, snatched it up from the lab table, and dropped to my knees, scooting slightly to one side. Feather poised, I awaited the signal to proceed.
“Now, Bobby,” Dr. Priscilla whispered, placing her hands on his ribcage and leaning close to whisper in his ear, “It’s time for you to come to terms with the true nature of your sexual proclivities.”
“What do you MEAN?!” he yelled. “I fucking TOLD you that I’m not that WAY!”
“Ah, but my handsome assistant’s ministrations have brought you to a state of full arousal.” She reached around and gave his tumid tool a squeeze. Bobby moaned and humped the dildo. “So I guess you ARE that way, Bobby.”
“Why are you DOING this?!” he sobbed.
“I’m a scientist,” Priscilla breathed. “Scientists perform experiments. Don’t YOU like to experiment, Bobby? I think you do. In fact, I think you HAVE. Isn’t that true, Bobby?”
“No—NO!” he screamed.
“Now don’t LIE to me, young man!” Priscilla giggled. “If you won’t TELL the truth, we’ll just have to TICKLE it out of you!”
And with that, she tensed her fingers and dug her well-honed nails into Bobby’s ribs!
“GAAAAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-GAAAAR-HAR-HAR-HAR!!!” he howled, writhing his torso to and fro in an utterly futile attempt to dodge Dr. Priscilla’s relentless, flexing fingers. His tense belly convulsed with each shriek that flew from his wide-open mouth.
“Somehow I suspect that you’re simply not being candid with us,” Priscilla observed as she stroked the sensitive area just above Bobby’s gyrating hips. “But I know the truth—you’ve been a naughty boy, haven’t you, hmmmm? Who WAS it, Bobby? A cousin? A roommate?”
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO!!!” Bobby bellowed.
“And what did you DO, hmmmm?” Priscilla stroked his belly with one hand and his bare behind with the other. “I bet you MASTURBATED together, didn’t you?”
Bobby swore it wasn’t true. But Priscilla didn’t believe him. And considering the poor bastard’s state of arousal, neither did I.
He held out for longer that I thought he would, but eventually Priscilla’s relentless, tickle-assisted questioning broke Bobby’s resistance. The story he gasped out was one of a summer’s tryst with a fey cousin between their freshman and sophomore years of college. When the relationship was poised to progress from mutual masturbation to fellatio, Bobby had freaked and backed out.
Listening to all this, I found it difficult to restrain a sudden urge to take up where Bobby’s cousin had left off.
Dr. Priscilla must have been reading my mind. “Let’s see if Greg can succeed where your cousin failed,” she said. “Would you like that Bobby? Would you like it if HE helped you to overcome your inhibitions?”
Apparently it hadn’t occurred to her that I might have a few inhibitions of my own. But to tell the truth, the thought of doing the nasty with Bobby while Priscilla watched had me feeling more than a little randy. I realized, in fact, that I’d probably do whatever she asked me to do. And as for Bobby. . .
“Oh SHIT!” he wailed, humping the dildo and leaking pre-cum. “Oh FUCK! Oh PLEASE—!”
Priscilla turned to me, smiled, and nodded.
A thrill of anticipation shot through my belly and balls as I brought the feather down and very, very gently stroked the underside of Bobby’s rigid, quivering cock!
“EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” he shrieked, arching his back and wiggling his ass in a heartfelt attempt to maintain contact between his joystick and my feather. I stroked again. And again. “HIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!” Bobby wailed. “IT TICK-HICK-EEEEEE-HICK-EEEEEE-HIIIIEEEE-HICK-HICKLES MEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“But in a NICE way—right?” I replied as I swirled the feather over the swollen head of his shaft.
“OH PLEEEEEEEESE!!!” he squealed. “DON’T FU-HUCK-UH-HUCK-UH-HUCK-HUCKING STOP!!!”
“Since you say PLEASE!” I giggled. Yes, I actually fucking GIGGLED! Priscilla, who was still tickling poor Bobby’s armpits and ribs, raised an eyebrow at that. Familiar by now with her little quirks, I could tell that she was enjoying this as much as I was.
In short order, our squirming test subject was covered with goose bumps that made the blonde hairs on his arms and legs stick up like miniscule quills. For some reason, I found this to be extremely sexy.
“Perhaps we should terminate this session,” Dr. Priscilla opined after another ten minutes of per-orgasmic hysteria. He’s just about tickled PINK, wouldn’t you say?”
That was no figure of speech. The stress associated with a long bout of nonstop laughter and sexual arousal had indeed turned Bobby’s squirming body a blushing shade of pink.
“I suppose you’re right,” I replied as our test subject humped the dildo in a fruitless effort to achieve the release he so ardently craved. “Okay, tickle boy! Ready or not, here you CUM!”
A bottle of baby oil was ready on the lab table. I snatched it up, poured some into the palm of my hand, and went to work. Bobby didn’t last long. Half a dozen strokes sufficed to make him empty his balls in a series of grunting, gasping muscular spasms.
And though it had been great fun to reduce our handsome test subject to his present state of loose-limbed docility, I found myself wishing that I’d been the one on the receiving end.
Ever perceptive, Dr. Priscilla picked up on my mood. “Poor Greg!” she whispered to me as we set about releasing Bobby from his restraints. “You had no fun at all today, did you?”
“Oh, I think my turn is coming up,” I whispered in reply. “How about it, tickle boy?” I patted Bobby’s bare behind. “Are you up for round two?”
“Yes,” he agreed, still trembling all over. “Omygod YES!”
“And I get to watch,” Priscilla added—a bit breathlessly, I thought. “If that’s all right with the two of you.”
Well, of course that was just fine with Bobby and me. In fact, our subsequent tryst was greatly enlivened by her comments and suggestions from the sidelines. But that, I’m afraid, is another story entirely.
UNCONTROLLED EXPERIMENT
by
T.T.Gore
***
From my first encounter with Dr. Priscilla Harper, I learned that there were aspects of my sexuality that I’d never suspected. I also earned twenty-five hundred dollars, but that was just the cherry on the hot fudge sundae of the clandestine relationship that developed between us. It wasn’t the difference in our ages—me twenty-two, she thirty-four—nor her position as director of Unknown University’s Center for Human Physical Endurance Studies that mandated secrecy. No, it was simply the fact that our after-hours trysts might have been regarded as illicit and even perverted by the narrow-minded prudes who controlled the grant money on which Dr. Priscilla depended.
So we made sure to conduct ourselves with discretion. And in an odd way, that added to the fun.
Behind the closed and locked door of her testing room, the svelte doctor and I spent many happy and hilarious hours together. She had discovered during our very first session that intense tickling combined with anal intrusion was the form of foreplay most certain to get a rise out of me. By the time that our relationship was a month old, I was well and truly addicted.
And perhaps that was precisely what Priscilla had intended all along.
She brought forth her proposal one Sunday afternoon. We were in naked in bed together at the time, I was kneeling naked with my arms were bound behind my back, and she kneeling behind me—holding my balls in one hand. You might say that she had me at a bit of a disadvantage. But after she’d whispered in my ear for five minutes, describing in detail a certain VERY kinky scenario, I didn’t require much persuasion.
Now they say that most men entertain homoerotic thoughts at some stage of their lives. For the most part, of course, these naughty notions are firmly repressed. But with Priscilla caressing me in a very intimate manner, I found myself confessing some half-forgotten desires of my own.
“Mmmm,” she purred. “So you fantasized about mutual masturbation?”
“Yes. . .” I gasped. “Oh, yes!”
“And you’d stroke your fantasy lover’s precious penis?”
“Ohmygod yes!”!
And he’d stroke YOUR joystick. . .like this?”
“Oh, SHIT, Priscilla—!” I moaned. “Oh, FUCK—!”
And what ELSE did you do with him—in your dreams?”
I told her. It made me blush and cringe, but I told her.
“Bad little BOY!” she chuckled when I was finished. “But you were too chicken to do anything about it, hmmm?”
“That’s right—I never—I mean I’m not really—”
“Not really that WAY, hmmm?” she finished for me.
“Shit! You’re gonna make me CUM—!”
“Oh, not quite yet,” she whispered, stilling her hand and leaning close, “But listen, perhaps I could help you make your fantasies a reality. Would you like that?”
“What do you mean?” I quavered, wiggling my hips in a futile attempt to make her resume her teasing ministrations.
“Just what I said.” She licked my ear. “Another human endurance study, sweetie. Using a straight male of your age as the test subject. To see if the characteristic male reaction can be obtained—and maintained—when stimulation is administered by another male.” She arched an eyebrow. “You, for instance.”
“Holy SHIT! Are you SERIOUS?!” Momentarily I forgot my helpless position. “You mean you want me to—he’d be on the frame and I’d—Priscilla, that is just SICK!”
“I’d be there, of course. To supervise.” She gave my cock a quick pat. “It’s all in the spirit of scientific inquiry, Greg. But if you’d rather not—”
“No—yes!” I protested. “That is, if you really think—”
“Oh, yes, I do think!” she whispered, snuggling close. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t really WANT to, Greg. I just thought that you might like to try something a bit more DARING, if you know what I mean.”
Oh, I knew what she meant, all right. Dr. Priscilla was suggesting that I tickle and tease some naked guy to involuntary orgasm. While she watched. And maybe helped.
“All right,” I agreed. “I’ll do it.”
“Are you SURE?” she whispered.
“Oh, yeah,” I whispered back. “I’m sure. I am SO fucking sure—!”
“Good!” She favored me with a big, bright smile. “I even have a candidate in mind. Tell me, Greg—is it REALLY true that gentleman prefer blondes?”
“So they say.”
“Well, we’ll soon find out,” she giggled. “Now, where were we. . .?
***
His name was Bobby. He was an Unknown University senior majoring in business. He played lacrosse. He was handsome, blonde, in shape—and broke. The twenty-five hundred dollars that Dr. Priscilla offered proved more than sufficient to suppress the doubts I knew he must have felt when she introduced him to her invention: a metal frame with leather straps in the corners. Just as I had, he tamely submitted Priscilla’s command to take off his clothes and assume the position. In no time at all she had him strapped and stretched. Then she showed him the most interesting part of her nefarious gadget.
“What the fuck is THAT?!” Bobby screamed.
“It’s colloquially known as a dildo,” she replied, still playing the disinterested scientist. “We’ll be using it stimulate your prostate gland. As you see, it’s designed to install on the frame. And it’s spring-mounted, so you can bear down on it without hurting yourself.”
“Hey. . .look. . .” Bobby stammered. He made a brief, futile effort to jerk his arms and legs free of the straps. “This isn’t. . .I mean, you can’t. . .”
“You DID sign a release,” Priscilla reminded him. “Didn’t you read the fine print? I’m doing a study on repressed homosexuality among college-age males.”
“But—but—”
I know what you’re going to say,” Priscilla cut him off. “You’re not gay, right? But Bobby, that’s the whole POINT! You could be the most homophobic straight guy on campus, but I’m confident that my technique will secure your compliance.”
“But I don’t WANT to!” he cried.
“Oh, I think perhaps we can change your mind about THAT!” my darling doctor replied with a sly smile. “Let me introduce you to my assistant.”
That was my cue. Bobby’s eyes just about bugged out of his head when I entered the testing room—which wasn’t surprising given the fact that I was bare-ass naked.
“This is Greg,” Priscilla told him. “He’ll be conducting the actual test while I observe.”
“What KIND of fucking test?!” Bobby screamed hysterically. “Help! Somebody HELP me!”
“The room’s soundproofed,” I informed him.
“What kind of test?” Priscilla smiled and for the first time her facade of professionalism slipped a bit. “Well, first we’ll insert the dildo. Then Greg will tickle you, which will make you struggle, which will cause you to repeatedly stimulate your prostate gland—which will, I have no doubt, produce the characteristic male reaction. Even though the person doing the tickling happens to be another male.”
Poor Bobby! He squirmed and wiggled and begged and pleaded and tensed his muscles in an attempt to frustrate Dr. Priscilla’s anal invasion—all in vain. And once the dildo was in, he couldn’t stop himself from bearing down on it. But the sensations that gripped his naked body at that point were but a prelude to the unbearably sweet, delightfully unendurable torments that he was about to undergo.
Been there, done that. Or had it done to me. Whatever.
And now it was Bobby’s turn. I stepped up to him, noticing that his cock was just beginning to exhibit the “characteristic male reaction.” For that matter, so was mine.
“All set, tickle boy?” I licked my lips. “Trust me—you’re going to HATE what happens next. Hate it and fucking LOVE it!”
And with that, I went to work on poor Bobby’s defenseless torso!
“YAAAAAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-HAR!!!” he screamed as my flexing fingers probed his ribs. “AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA!!!”
“Aw, come on!” I snickered. “I think you LIKE it, tickle boy. I think you like it a LOT!”
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO!!!” Bobby howled. “LEEEE-HEE-HEE-VEEEE-HEE-MEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-ALO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO-HO-HONE!!!”
“Sorry but no can do,” I replied, dancing my fingers up to stroke his defenseless pits. “You took Dr. Priscilla’s MONEY, tickle boy. “So now you have to PERFORM for her!”
And Bobby did just that. He writhed and squealed, begged me to stop, got goose bumps all over—and humped the dildo.
I could tell that he hated what was happening to him, but poor Bobby simply couldn’t help himself. Just as I had, he responded to the relentless stimulation of his secret sweet spot. And it wasn’t long before our naked test subject managed to achieve a truly impressive erection—this despite his repeated protests that he wasn’t “that way.”
I could sympathize. I’d been there myself.
And now I found that it was very. . .interesting. . .to be on the other side of the experiment. Indeed, I soon was sporting a boner that fully matched Bobby’s “characteristic male reaction.” Tickling a naked, helpless guy was FUN—!
“How about your BELLY?” I inquired with a wicked grin. “Is it all SENSITIVE and stuff, tickle boy?”
“EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!” Bobby shrieked as I poked his drum-tight abdomen with stiff, demanding fingers. “EEEEEE-HEE-HEE!!! EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“Holy shit!” I exclaimed in mock surprise. “You’re just way too ticklish all OVER, aren’t you?”
“OH PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEEEESE!!!” he begged. “YOU’RE KILLING MEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“Don’t worry, Bobby,” Dr. Priscilla called from the sidelines. “This is a controlled experiment. I won’t let Greg push you TOO far!”
I tickled our test subject for another ten minutes, until the sweat was trickling down his torso and the first tiny drop of pre-cum was gleaming at the tip of his quivering cock.
“So, tickle boy, are you still going to tell me that you’re not ‘that way’—or are you ready to CUM?” I leaned close and stroked his tense thigh. “Would you like me to HELP you? I will if you ask me nice, tickle boy.”
“No—NO!” Bobby wailed. “You fucking CAN’T! I fucking WON’T!”
“Can and will, tickle boy,” I replied with a smirk. God it was so fucking SEXY to torture him this way while sweet Priscilla looked on! I stole a glance in her direction. The Doctor was definitely into this experiment! Her white lab coat was unbuttoned to reveal a generous portion of cleavage, her tongue was touching her upper lip and her eyes were gleaming with anticipation of Bobby’s impending climax. “Can and will,” I repeated, running my fingers through his blonde chest hair. “And you’re going to BEG me, tickle boy!”
“Don’t TOUCH me that way!” he cried.
“Fine, then how about THIS way?” And I dug my fingers into his exposed armpits!
“BWAAAAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” Bobby screamed, writhing all over and wiggling his bare behind with desperate energy. Needless to say, his struggles had the effect of repeatedly stimulating his sweet spot, which intensified his arousal and increased his production of pre-cum. Drop after delicate drop fell to the floor. “GAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” he bellowed in a perfect frenzy of orgiastic hilarity.
“Ready to CUM, tickle boy?” I whispered. “Want me to tickle your BALLS and stroke your precious PENIS?”
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!!” Bobby bellowed. “OH I DON’T WAAAANT TO!!! PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEESE DON’T MAY-HAY-HAY-HAY-HAKE MEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“Not to WORRY, tickle boy!” I snickered. “I wouldn’t DREAM of making you do ANYTHING that you don’t really WANT to do!”
“EEEEYAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” he screeched as my fingers scampered up and down his sides. “STOP!!! OH STOP!!! OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO!!!”
“Interesting,” said Dr, Priscilla, stepping forward. “Despite his physical state of arousal, the subject remains psychologically unable to accept the situation.”
“What should I do?”
“Continue the tickling,” she replied. “With my assistance.”
Still wearing her lab coat, Priscilla took position behind poor Bobby. “Get ready to use the feather on him,” she commanded me. I nodded eagerly, snatched it up from the lab table, and dropped to my knees, scooting slightly to one side. Feather poised, I awaited the signal to proceed.
“Now, Bobby,” Dr. Priscilla whispered, placing her hands on his ribcage and leaning close to whisper in his ear, “It’s time for you to come to terms with the true nature of your sexual proclivities.”
“What do you MEAN?!” he yelled. “I fucking TOLD you that I’m not that WAY!”
“Ah, but my handsome assistant’s ministrations have brought you to a state of full arousal.” She reached around and gave his tumid tool a squeeze. Bobby moaned and humped the dildo. “So I guess you ARE that way, Bobby.”
“Why are you DOING this?!” he sobbed.
“I’m a scientist,” Priscilla breathed. “Scientists perform experiments. Don’t YOU like to experiment, Bobby? I think you do. In fact, I think you HAVE. Isn’t that true, Bobby?”
“No—NO!” he screamed.
“Now don’t LIE to me, young man!” Priscilla giggled. “If you won’t TELL the truth, we’ll just have to TICKLE it out of you!”
And with that, she tensed her fingers and dug her well-honed nails into Bobby’s ribs!
“GAAAAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-GAAAAR-HAR-HAR-HAR!!!” he howled, writhing his torso to and fro in an utterly futile attempt to dodge Dr. Priscilla’s relentless, flexing fingers. His tense belly convulsed with each shriek that flew from his wide-open mouth.
“Somehow I suspect that you’re simply not being candid with us,” Priscilla observed as she stroked the sensitive area just above Bobby’s gyrating hips. “But I know the truth—you’ve been a naughty boy, haven’t you, hmmmm? Who WAS it, Bobby? A cousin? A roommate?”
“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-OH-HO!!!” Bobby bellowed.
“And what did you DO, hmmmm?” Priscilla stroked his belly with one hand and his bare behind with the other. “I bet you MASTURBATED together, didn’t you?”
Bobby swore it wasn’t true. But Priscilla didn’t believe him. And considering the poor bastard’s state of arousal, neither did I.
He held out for longer that I thought he would, but eventually Priscilla’s relentless, tickle-assisted questioning broke Bobby’s resistance. The story he gasped out was one of a summer’s tryst with a fey cousin between their freshman and sophomore years of college. When the relationship was poised to progress from mutual masturbation to fellatio, Bobby had freaked and backed out.
Listening to all this, I found it difficult to restrain a sudden urge to take up where Bobby’s cousin had left off.
Dr. Priscilla must have been reading my mind. “Let’s see if Greg can succeed where your cousin failed,” she said. “Would you like that Bobby? Would you like it if HE helped you to overcome your inhibitions?”
Apparently it hadn’t occurred to her that I might have a few inhibitions of my own. But to tell the truth, the thought of doing the nasty with Bobby while Priscilla watched had me feeling more than a little randy. I realized, in fact, that I’d probably do whatever she asked me to do. And as for Bobby. . .
“Oh SHIT!” he wailed, humping the dildo and leaking pre-cum. “Oh FUCK! Oh PLEASE—!”
Priscilla turned to me, smiled, and nodded.
A thrill of anticipation shot through my belly and balls as I brought the feather down and very, very gently stroked the underside of Bobby’s rigid, quivering cock!
“EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” he shrieked, arching his back and wiggling his ass in a heartfelt attempt to maintain contact between his joystick and my feather. I stroked again. And again. “HIIIIIIEEEEEE!!!” Bobby wailed. “IT TICK-HICK-EEEEEE-HICK-EEEEEE-HIIIIEEEE-HICK-HICKLES MEE-HEE-EEE-HEE-HEE-HEE!!!”
“But in a NICE way—right?” I replied as I swirled the feather over the swollen head of his shaft.
“OH PLEEEEEEEESE!!!” he squealed. “DON’T FU-HUCK-UH-HUCK-UH-HUCK-HUCKING STOP!!!”
“Since you say PLEASE!” I giggled. Yes, I actually fucking GIGGLED! Priscilla, who was still tickling poor Bobby’s armpits and ribs, raised an eyebrow at that. Familiar by now with her little quirks, I could tell that she was enjoying this as much as I was.
In short order, our squirming test subject was covered with goose bumps that made the blonde hairs on his arms and legs stick up like miniscule quills. For some reason, I found this to be extremely sexy.
“Perhaps we should terminate this session,” Dr. Priscilla opined after another ten minutes of per-orgasmic hysteria. He’s just about tickled PINK, wouldn’t you say?”
That was no figure of speech. The stress associated with a long bout of nonstop laughter and sexual arousal had indeed turned Bobby’s squirming body a blushing shade of pink.
“I suppose you’re right,” I replied as our test subject humped the dildo in a fruitless effort to achieve the release he so ardently craved. “Okay, tickle boy! Ready or not, here you CUM!”
A bottle of baby oil was ready on the lab table. I snatched it up, poured some into the palm of my hand, and went to work. Bobby didn’t last long. Half a dozen strokes sufficed to make him empty his balls in a series of grunting, gasping muscular spasms.
And though it had been great fun to reduce our handsome test subject to his present state of loose-limbed docility, I found myself wishing that I’d been the one on the receiving end.
Ever perceptive, Dr. Priscilla picked up on my mood. “Poor Greg!” she whispered to me as we set about releasing Bobby from his restraints. “You had no fun at all today, did you?”
“Oh, I think my turn is coming up,” I whispered in reply. “How about it, tickle boy?” I patted Bobby’s bare behind. “Are you up for round two?”
“Yes,” he agreed, still trembling all over. “Omygod YES!”
“And I get to watch,” Priscilla added—a bit breathlessly, I thought. “If that’s all right with the two of you.”
Well, of course that was just fine with Bobby and me. In fact, our subsequent tryst was greatly enlivened by her comments and suggestions from the sidelines. But that, I’m afraid, is another story entirely.
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Keep up the good work!
