Seth needed it.
He sat in the dorm room, carefully replacing the magazine in thebottom drawer of the desk, disguising it with old notebooks, term papers, and paperbacks.The magazine was the latest issue of "Tickling Times". He had been in town the weekend before, wandering from place to placeand very bored, when he happened upon a small bookstore he hadn't seen before. In a back room, out of sight from the street, there were shelves and shelves of adult magazines. That's where he had found it, and it was changing his life. When Seth was small, his mother had tickled him . . . a lot. His father would join in, also, holding Seth's arms up above his head so that his mother could dig her fingers into his ribs, or holding Seth's legs while his bare feet were on his mother's lap. She used her nails to stroke his soles. When he was very little, he would panic and sometimes cry when they did this. As he got older, though, he began to enjoy it, and would ask for it.
By the time he was a teenager, the very thought of tickling someone, or of being tickled, was enough to give him an erection. He had girlfriends during this time, and he tickled them all, but none of them seemed to have the same infatuation for it that he did. By the time he reached college, he thought that he must be completely alone with his desire. He had never met or talked to anyone else who felt the same way that he did. Until this weekend, when he found the magazine.
He was stunned. Here were letters from people who talked about tying up their partners and tickling them mercilessly. Here were pictures of women, bound to beds or posts, with other women tickling their soles or underarms with feathers and brushes. He was in heaven! And he felt no longer alone. There were other people who liked tickling! He couldn't believe it.
The thought of it consumed nearly every waking minute, and when he was asleep . . . he dreamed. Oh, did he dream! He was in a roomful of ticklers. Beautiful women kept asking him to tickle their smooth bodies. That girl in his English class, the blonde, had him tied to a couch and was running her fingers up and down his sides . . . he woke up laughing.
By Friday, Seth was determined. He needed it, and somehow, someway . . . he was going to get it. Between classes one day the month before, he had been listening in on a conversation between two older students. They had been describing a house in town that they had visited. The house was stocked with prostitutes.
"Man, those chicks'll do anything you ask!" he had heard one of them say.
Seth had no idea where the house was. If they would truly do anything they were asked to do . . . his mind whirled with fantasies. He knew what he would ask them to do, no doubt about that. Despairing, after a long session on his bed with the magazine, Seth decided to walk over to the student union to get a bite to eat. As he walked in the door, a loud blast of music accompanied by the smell of old beer greeted him. He walked into the "drinking" area, hoping for a slice of pizza.
His hunger vanished. There, by the checkout line, was the same guy he had seen talking about the prostitutes. He just had to ask him . . . It took some courage to walk up to the man. He was big, muscled, loud. Seth did it anyway. He was willing to risk embarrassment to find out what he was looking for.
"Excuse me . . . ?" Seth said at his shoulder. "Could I talk to you . . . in private?"
The guy turned around and fixed Seth with a red-eyed, baleful glare. "Whadda you want?" he said. He was obviously halfway drunk. "You wanna fuck with me or something?"
Seth was about to give up in desperation. No, he thought to himself, see this through. It will be worth it. He whispered his request in the guy's ear.
A grin split the man's face. He turned to his friends at the table, which included two women. "Ha! Dude's horny. He wants to know where the cathouse is!"
Laughter.
The man stood, and drunkenly gave him directions.
Seth went to his room again. He gathered what he would need for the visit. Money . . . he'd just received a check from home . . . money was not going to be a problem. Would the whore let him tie her up? Would she tie him up? Should he take some rope or something? He finally took a couple of his dress ties and stuck them in the pocket of his jacket. He showered, shaved, and spent ten minutes fixing his hair just right in front of the mirror. He put on his favorite cologne, and dressed in clean, casual clothes.
Seth knew the basic location of the place; the bus to town should get him there easily. He rode in the back of the bus, fantasizing all the way. Seth found the house with no problem. It was a large rowhouse, set slightly back from the street. He knocked at the door. An older woman answered after a few moments. She didn't speak to him, she simply stepped aside so that he could pass.
"Straight ahead," she said, passing him and going into another part of the house.
At the other end of the hall, he saw the blue glow from a television screen. He headed in that direction. He entered a large room, darkened except for the glow from the TV. Two women were sitting on the floor, backs propped against the couch, watching the flickering screen.
The one closest to him turned. She was beautiful. Blonde, shapely . . . his attention strayed for a moment to her bare feet. His heart nearly stopped. God, she had gorgeous feet! High-arched, small . . . with the second toe just slightly longer than the big toe . . . he could see her delicate soles shining blue from the screen . . .
"Who the fuck are you?! How'd you get in here?!" She was standing now. When did she stand? He was mesmerized . . .
"It's one of those college boys," her friend said.
"Did Milly let you in?" the blonde woman asked, coming closer to him.
Seth explained what had happened. The blonde seemed calmer now. She moved up next to him and whispered in his ear. "Do you wanna take me to bed, handsome? Gimme fifty dollars right now."
"Um . . . " Seth hesitated for a second. Was he supposed to tell her now what he wanted? No, he'd wait . . . He dug for his wallet and took out three twenties. "I don't . . . I don't have anything smaller than these . . . will you take sixty dollars?"
"Sure," she grinned, and took the money out of his hand. "Just follow me, sweetie . . ."
"Have a good time, college boy!" the other woman called as they left the room.
Seth followed the blonde up a flight of stairs. She pushed open the door to a room. Seth entered the room and looked around. The bed was an old one, with wooden posts at the head and foot. Oh, Jesus, he thought, that bed is perfect . . .The blonde was already halfway out of her clothes.
"Wait! Wait a minute!" Seth said. "Can I talk to you for a minute first?"
She gave him a puzzled look, then sat on the bed and waited expectantly.
"Um . . . I don't . . . I don't want . . . " he stuttered. "What's your name?"
"Mary." She smiled at him. "I know what you want."
"You . . . do?" he replied.
"Yeah, I think so. You want something . . . out of the ordinary, don't you? What is it? You want me to whip you? You want me to lick whipped cream off your cock, or what? You don't want straight sex, I can tell."
Seth was suddenly embarrassed. The woman got right to the point with no preamble. He wasn't used to such frankness.
Yet, here he was . . . he might be able to make his dreams come true . . .
"I . . . I like . . . tickling," he said.
Mary's face changed. She now looked truly surprised. "Did you say tickling?" she replied, in a lower voice.
"You probably think I'm crazy . . . " Seth said.
"No! It's just . . . nobody's ever wanted that before . . . I'm a little surprised. You want to be tickled? Like on your feet, and on your ribs?"
"Under the arms, too, please," Seth grinned. "And my stomach, and my knees, and anywhere else you can find a ticklish spot . . . " She was looking at him in amazement now.
She began to cry.
Now Seth was amazed. He sat down beside her, and put his arms around her shoulders. Her body was shaking.
"Hey, you don't have to . . . if it's too weird, it's okay . . . we can do something else, I guess . . . " He felt terribly guilty. His request had made this woman cry!
"No, you don't understand . . . " Mary looked at him through the tears. "See, I've only been doing this for six months, and I hate it . . . but it makes money . . . "
"I know, I know . . . my request was just one strange thing too many . . . forget it, okay? We'll --"
"No!" she yelled. "You don't get it. After six months of this shit very few things get me turned on sexually. But I've had this thing for tickling ever since I was a little kid. It always gets me hot! I can't tickle you, or have you tickle me, without getting turned on! It's not professional! Oh, Jesus . . . "
She reached into her jeans pocket and withdrew the money. "Here, take this back and get out of here. I can't do this!"
Seth was shocked by her admission, his mind reeling and his tongue tied momentarily. "But . . . but if you like it . . . why. . . ?"
Mary looked at him. "I don't want to do this as a job! You're a nice looking guy, and I would love to tickle you . . . but not here, not now."
"Then when?" Seth said.
"Tomorrow," Mary replied. "Come and pick me up, take me out somewhere . . . then we can talk . . . and maybe . . . "
On the bus ride back to the campus, Seth thought and thought. He was optimistic; if Mary loved tickling, and didn't want to do it as a prostitute . . . that might mean that she would get to really like him . ..
The next night he dutifully showed up at the appointed time. The door lady - Milly, he guessed - called out Mary's name. She came down the stairs.
Mary looked different. She was dressed in a tank top and jeans, with flat sandals on her beautiful feet. It took him a moment to figure it out. . . but it finally dawned on him that she had been much more subtle in her application of make-up than the night before. She looked younger.
As they walked up the street, he asked her how old she was. She admitted that she was 22, and that she came from a small town about 200 miles north of where the college was. She had gotten pregnant, had an abortion . . . and her parents threw her out. She hadn't spoken to them for 5 years.
They stopped at an Italian restaurant and ate. The conversation worked its way around to tickling. Seth told her his story.
"When I was little," Mary said, "I had three big brothers. They would always hold me down and tickle me. There was one time that they did it - I was about 12 - when I realized that I was not only laughing like crazy, but it was getting me . . . excited. It's been that way ever since, but I never met anyone who got the same way."
"I had a boyfriend when I was seventeen," she continued. "He knew how to use tickling to get me going. He was the first guy I ever had sex with . . . and one night he tied me to the bed and tickled me for two hours, then he made love to me while I was still tied up. That's how I got pregnant . . . and I never saw the bastard again."
"That's quite a story . . . " Seth said. He was actually beginning to like this woman a lot. He knew she was a prostitute, and yet . . .
"Listen," he said. " I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. If you just want to tickle me, and not have me tickle you, that's fine. If you're afraid of being tied up again, I won't. If you don't want sex, then we won't have it . . . it's all up to you."
Mary's face flushed for a minute. She leaned over and whispered, "Seth, I want to tickle you until you're crazy. I want to tie you down and make you squirm by tickling every place on your body that I can find . . . that's what I want to do. You'll really let me?"
Just the thought of all this, the words she was using, was giving Seth a hard-on . . . "Y-yes, Mary. I'll let you. Definitely!"
Mary did not want to return to her house; she said that the memories of the things that she had done there could spoil the experience. They finally decided on a hotel room. They checked in, and found the room to be ideal. The bed was four-postered. They wasted no time in slipping out of their clothes.
Seth, always prepared now, had brought his old ties.
He sat in the dorm room, carefully replacing the magazine in thebottom drawer of the desk, disguising it with old notebooks, term papers, and paperbacks.The magazine was the latest issue of "Tickling Times". He had been in town the weekend before, wandering from place to placeand very bored, when he happened upon a small bookstore he hadn't seen before. In a back room, out of sight from the street, there were shelves and shelves of adult magazines. That's where he had found it, and it was changing his life. When Seth was small, his mother had tickled him . . . a lot. His father would join in, also, holding Seth's arms up above his head so that his mother could dig her fingers into his ribs, or holding Seth's legs while his bare feet were on his mother's lap. She used her nails to stroke his soles. When he was very little, he would panic and sometimes cry when they did this. As he got older, though, he began to enjoy it, and would ask for it.
By the time he was a teenager, the very thought of tickling someone, or of being tickled, was enough to give him an erection. He had girlfriends during this time, and he tickled them all, but none of them seemed to have the same infatuation for it that he did. By the time he reached college, he thought that he must be completely alone with his desire. He had never met or talked to anyone else who felt the same way that he did. Until this weekend, when he found the magazine.
He was stunned. Here were letters from people who talked about tying up their partners and tickling them mercilessly. Here were pictures of women, bound to beds or posts, with other women tickling their soles or underarms with feathers and brushes. He was in heaven! And he felt no longer alone. There were other people who liked tickling! He couldn't believe it.
The thought of it consumed nearly every waking minute, and when he was asleep . . . he dreamed. Oh, did he dream! He was in a roomful of ticklers. Beautiful women kept asking him to tickle their smooth bodies. That girl in his English class, the blonde, had him tied to a couch and was running her fingers up and down his sides . . . he woke up laughing.
By Friday, Seth was determined. He needed it, and somehow, someway . . . he was going to get it. Between classes one day the month before, he had been listening in on a conversation between two older students. They had been describing a house in town that they had visited. The house was stocked with prostitutes.
"Man, those chicks'll do anything you ask!" he had heard one of them say.
Seth had no idea where the house was. If they would truly do anything they were asked to do . . . his mind whirled with fantasies. He knew what he would ask them to do, no doubt about that. Despairing, after a long session on his bed with the magazine, Seth decided to walk over to the student union to get a bite to eat. As he walked in the door, a loud blast of music accompanied by the smell of old beer greeted him. He walked into the "drinking" area, hoping for a slice of pizza.
His hunger vanished. There, by the checkout line, was the same guy he had seen talking about the prostitutes. He just had to ask him . . . It took some courage to walk up to the man. He was big, muscled, loud. Seth did it anyway. He was willing to risk embarrassment to find out what he was looking for.
"Excuse me . . . ?" Seth said at his shoulder. "Could I talk to you . . . in private?"
The guy turned around and fixed Seth with a red-eyed, baleful glare. "Whadda you want?" he said. He was obviously halfway drunk. "You wanna fuck with me or something?"
Seth was about to give up in desperation. No, he thought to himself, see this through. It will be worth it. He whispered his request in the guy's ear.
A grin split the man's face. He turned to his friends at the table, which included two women. "Ha! Dude's horny. He wants to know where the cathouse is!"
Laughter.
The man stood, and drunkenly gave him directions.
Seth went to his room again. He gathered what he would need for the visit. Money . . . he'd just received a check from home . . . money was not going to be a problem. Would the whore let him tie her up? Would she tie him up? Should he take some rope or something? He finally took a couple of his dress ties and stuck them in the pocket of his jacket. He showered, shaved, and spent ten minutes fixing his hair just right in front of the mirror. He put on his favorite cologne, and dressed in clean, casual clothes.
Seth knew the basic location of the place; the bus to town should get him there easily. He rode in the back of the bus, fantasizing all the way. Seth found the house with no problem. It was a large rowhouse, set slightly back from the street. He knocked at the door. An older woman answered after a few moments. She didn't speak to him, she simply stepped aside so that he could pass.
"Straight ahead," she said, passing him and going into another part of the house.
At the other end of the hall, he saw the blue glow from a television screen. He headed in that direction. He entered a large room, darkened except for the glow from the TV. Two women were sitting on the floor, backs propped against the couch, watching the flickering screen.
The one closest to him turned. She was beautiful. Blonde, shapely . . . his attention strayed for a moment to her bare feet. His heart nearly stopped. God, she had gorgeous feet! High-arched, small . . . with the second toe just slightly longer than the big toe . . . he could see her delicate soles shining blue from the screen . . .
"Who the fuck are you?! How'd you get in here?!" She was standing now. When did she stand? He was mesmerized . . .
"It's one of those college boys," her friend said.
"Did Milly let you in?" the blonde woman asked, coming closer to him.
Seth explained what had happened. The blonde seemed calmer now. She moved up next to him and whispered in his ear. "Do you wanna take me to bed, handsome? Gimme fifty dollars right now."
"Um . . . " Seth hesitated for a second. Was he supposed to tell her now what he wanted? No, he'd wait . . . He dug for his wallet and took out three twenties. "I don't . . . I don't have anything smaller than these . . . will you take sixty dollars?"
"Sure," she grinned, and took the money out of his hand. "Just follow me, sweetie . . ."
"Have a good time, college boy!" the other woman called as they left the room.
Seth followed the blonde up a flight of stairs. She pushed open the door to a room. Seth entered the room and looked around. The bed was an old one, with wooden posts at the head and foot. Oh, Jesus, he thought, that bed is perfect . . .The blonde was already halfway out of her clothes.
"Wait! Wait a minute!" Seth said. "Can I talk to you for a minute first?"
She gave him a puzzled look, then sat on the bed and waited expectantly.
"Um . . . I don't . . . I don't want . . . " he stuttered. "What's your name?"
"Mary." She smiled at him. "I know what you want."
"You . . . do?" he replied.
"Yeah, I think so. You want something . . . out of the ordinary, don't you? What is it? You want me to whip you? You want me to lick whipped cream off your cock, or what? You don't want straight sex, I can tell."
Seth was suddenly embarrassed. The woman got right to the point with no preamble. He wasn't used to such frankness.
Yet, here he was . . . he might be able to make his dreams come true . . .
"I . . . I like . . . tickling," he said.
Mary's face changed. She now looked truly surprised. "Did you say tickling?" she replied, in a lower voice.
"You probably think I'm crazy . . . " Seth said.
"No! It's just . . . nobody's ever wanted that before . . . I'm a little surprised. You want to be tickled? Like on your feet, and on your ribs?"
"Under the arms, too, please," Seth grinned. "And my stomach, and my knees, and anywhere else you can find a ticklish spot . . . " She was looking at him in amazement now.
She began to cry.
Now Seth was amazed. He sat down beside her, and put his arms around her shoulders. Her body was shaking.
"Hey, you don't have to . . . if it's too weird, it's okay . . . we can do something else, I guess . . . " He felt terribly guilty. His request had made this woman cry!
"No, you don't understand . . . " Mary looked at him through the tears. "See, I've only been doing this for six months, and I hate it . . . but it makes money . . . "
"I know, I know . . . my request was just one strange thing too many . . . forget it, okay? We'll --"
"No!" she yelled. "You don't get it. After six months of this shit very few things get me turned on sexually. But I've had this thing for tickling ever since I was a little kid. It always gets me hot! I can't tickle you, or have you tickle me, without getting turned on! It's not professional! Oh, Jesus . . . "
She reached into her jeans pocket and withdrew the money. "Here, take this back and get out of here. I can't do this!"
Seth was shocked by her admission, his mind reeling and his tongue tied momentarily. "But . . . but if you like it . . . why. . . ?"
Mary looked at him. "I don't want to do this as a job! You're a nice looking guy, and I would love to tickle you . . . but not here, not now."
"Then when?" Seth said.
"Tomorrow," Mary replied. "Come and pick me up, take me out somewhere . . . then we can talk . . . and maybe . . . "
On the bus ride back to the campus, Seth thought and thought. He was optimistic; if Mary loved tickling, and didn't want to do it as a prostitute . . . that might mean that she would get to really like him . ..
The next night he dutifully showed up at the appointed time. The door lady - Milly, he guessed - called out Mary's name. She came down the stairs.
Mary looked different. She was dressed in a tank top and jeans, with flat sandals on her beautiful feet. It took him a moment to figure it out. . . but it finally dawned on him that she had been much more subtle in her application of make-up than the night before. She looked younger.
As they walked up the street, he asked her how old she was. She admitted that she was 22, and that she came from a small town about 200 miles north of where the college was. She had gotten pregnant, had an abortion . . . and her parents threw her out. She hadn't spoken to them for 5 years.
They stopped at an Italian restaurant and ate. The conversation worked its way around to tickling. Seth told her his story.
"When I was little," Mary said, "I had three big brothers. They would always hold me down and tickle me. There was one time that they did it - I was about 12 - when I realized that I was not only laughing like crazy, but it was getting me . . . excited. It's been that way ever since, but I never met anyone who got the same way."
"I had a boyfriend when I was seventeen," she continued. "He knew how to use tickling to get me going. He was the first guy I ever had sex with . . . and one night he tied me to the bed and tickled me for two hours, then he made love to me while I was still tied up. That's how I got pregnant . . . and I never saw the bastard again."
"That's quite a story . . . " Seth said. He was actually beginning to like this woman a lot. He knew she was a prostitute, and yet . . .
"Listen," he said. " I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. If you just want to tickle me, and not have me tickle you, that's fine. If you're afraid of being tied up again, I won't. If you don't want sex, then we won't have it . . . it's all up to you."
Mary's face flushed for a minute. She leaned over and whispered, "Seth, I want to tickle you until you're crazy. I want to tie you down and make you squirm by tickling every place on your body that I can find . . . that's what I want to do. You'll really let me?"
Just the thought of all this, the words she was using, was giving Seth a hard-on . . . "Y-yes, Mary. I'll let you. Definitely!"
Mary did not want to return to her house; she said that the memories of the things that she had done there could spoil the experience. They finally decided on a hotel room. They checked in, and found the room to be ideal. The bed was four-postered. They wasted no time in slipping out of their clothes.
Seth, always prepared now, had brought his old ties.
