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I am Curious (Pink) (M/M Intense)

ttgore

2nd Level Red Feather
Joined
Jan 23, 2004
Messages
1,330
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Hello, all. Perhaps you've heard it said that it pays to advertise. Well, read this tale of all-male tickling—and judge for yourself. Enjoy!

:jester:


I Am Curious (Pink)

by

T.T. Gore


***

ARE YOU BI-CURIOUS?
It’s time to live your fantasy! I’m slender, good-looking, experienced, seeking novice partner for M/M action. Prefer handsome, masculine type, 25-35. Your limits respected, your secret desires fulfilled. Send letter with details to Michael, Box 0609.

***​

I told myself that I was nuts to answer that ad, but something about it hinted to me that Michael, whoever he was, might be the one I’d been longing to meet—the one who’d understand the vague, shameful desires that had tortured me for as long as I could remember—the one whose sensitivity and understanding could help me turn my solitary late-night masturbation fantasies into reality. So I sent a letter, with details, to Michael at Box 0609.

If only I’d known then what I know now! But before I met Michael, I never suspected my true nature. Now there’s no going back. And to tell the truth, I don’t WANT to go back. . .

***​

“Oh SHIT!” I cried. “Oh FUCK! Oh NO—!”

“Did I hear you say NO?” Michael inquired. “Do you want me to STOP?”

“Yes!” I blubbered. “No! Oh PLEASE—!”

“Aren’t we POLITE!” he snickered.

In truth, I didn’t know WHAT the fuck I wanted! Having placed myself at slender, Michael’s mercy, I was discovering the rather large difference between being bi-curious and having that curiosity satisfied!

As agreed over the phone, I’d met him in a quiet bar and from there we’d driven out to the secluded farmhouse that his family owned on the edge of town. He led me to an upstairs bedroom. We took off our clothes. And he asked I’d like to be tied to the bed.

I let him do it. Once he’d suggested it, I actually WANTED him to do it. That was my first intimation of the true nature of my desires.

“I’ll stop anytime you say,” he whispered now. Michael was kneeling by the side of the bed. “I won’t break my promise, sweetie buns. I won’t make you do anything that you don’t really WANT to do!”

God, how I cringed when he called me sweetie buns! So why didn’t I tell him to stop? Why did I allow him to keep stroking and stroking my stiff, quivering COCK—?!

It wasn’t because Michael and I were bare-ass naked. It wasn’t because I was securely bound to the old brass bed—on my back, arms and legs stretched to the corners, wrists and ankles secured to the rails. Michael would have released me if I’d asked him to do so. And it wasn’t because I liked what he was doing to me. On the contrary—I absolutely HATED it! And he KNEW that I hated it! I could tell that he knew by the way he smiled as he ran his fingers through my dark chest hair. And he LIKED that I hated it—I could tell that, too!

But though I hated it, something prevented me from asking Michael to stop.

Perhaps it was Michael himself—sweet, slender Michael. He was heartbreakingly attractive, with dark blonde hair, hazel eyes, pouty lips, supple limbs and skin like silk. There was something almost girlishly sexy about him. But I had no doubt of the thoroughly masculine character of his intentions. He’d made that clear from the start.

“Oh, sweetie buns!” Michael whispered now. “You have absolutely no IDEA how long I’ve been waiting to meet a special friend like you! Someone I can teach—someone I can TRAIN—!”

As he whispered, Michael caressed my cock with maddening deliberation, using just his fingertips. I lifted my ass from the mattress and wiggled my hips in a mute demand for—what? What the fuck did I WANT? Oh, it was TORTURE—!

“Oh, yes, I know EXACTLY how you feel,” he whispered. “What a naughty, NAUGHTY boy you are, sweetie buns, letting me tie you up so I can play with your precious PENIS! Whatever were you THINKING, hmmm? You should be PUNISHED, shouldn’t you?”

“Oh PLEASE!” I whimpered, hardly conscious of what I was begging for. “Oh fucking PLEASE, Michael!”

“But HOW should you be punished?” Michael inquired as he continued to tease my tumid tool. “Any suggestions, sweetie buns? Would you like to be SPANKED?”

As a matter of fact, the idea of receiving a spanking from sexy Michael sent a thrill through my body. But after a moment’s deliberation, he shook his head.

“No, he giggled. “I have an even BETTER idea!” And with that, he moved from the side to the foot of the bed. “Tell, me, sweetie buns, have you ever had your FEET tickled?”

“What?!” I screamed. “No! No, you CAN’T—!”

“Can’t I?” He grabbed the big toe of my right foot and bent it back. “Well, pardon me sweetie buns, but it appears that you’re in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do. Unless, that is, you just want to stop now. Before we go any farther.”

I could have told him to stop then. But I didn’t.

“All right, then, sweetie buns, then let’s find out how ticklish your feet are, shall we?”

And with no more ado he ran his sharp-nailed finger down the bottom of my foot, from toes to heel!

“EEEEEEYAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” I shrieked as the first fierce thrills of ticklish torment shot up my quivering leg. “OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!! OH PLEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEESE DON’T TICK-HICK-EEEEEE-HIIIIEEEE-HICK-HICKLE MY FEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEEEEEET!!!”

“Awww, come ON, sweetie buns!” Michael giggled. “You KNOW you’re loving this!”

“GAAAAAAR-HAR-HAR-HAR-AAAAR-HAR-HAR-HAR-AAAAR-HAR-HAR-AAAAR-HAR-HAR!!!” I bellowed in reply. “AAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-AAR-HAR-HAR-HAR!!!”

“Well THIS foot is certainly ticklish!” he snickered. “Let’s try the other one!”

My hilarious howls rose to a crescendo of demented desperation as Michael transferred his attention to my left foot. This time he concentrated on the pads of my toes, and the resulting sensation of ticklish torment raised a crop of goose bumps that stiffened the dark hairs on my legs.

“So, sweetie buns, can you FEEL anything when I do this?” Michael inquired.

“OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-HO-HO-OH-HO-HO-OH-NO-OH-HO-HO-HO!!!” I screamed. Did I feel anything? Oh, yes, I felt something, all right! Whatever it was made my balls QUIVER and my asshole PUCKER and my guts CHURN—! “YAAAAAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-YAA-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!”

“How about when I do THIS?” he asked, stroking the ball of my foot.

“BWAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” I shrieked in reply. “HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!”

He’d been tickling my feet for less than five fucking MINUTES and already I was half out of my fucking MIND! I struggled like a fucking LUNATIC in a desperate attempt to free myself from the ropes that bound me to the bedrails. But it was no good—I was totally fucking HELPLESS! All I could do was writhe, wiggle, squirm and laugh my fucking ASS off—!

“Tickle, tickle, TICKLE!” Michael sang. “Who likes to be TICKLED—?”

“EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HIIIIEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!” I screeched. “MEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-EEEEEE-HEE-HEE-MEEEEEE-HEE-HEE!!!”

“Then I guess you want me to tickle you MORE!” he snickered.

“GAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!”

I don’t know how long that first bout of tickling lasted. It could have been five minutes—it could have been an hour. But by the time that Michael stopped stroking the soles of my feet, my laughter had faded to a feeble croak. My shivering body was covered with goose bumps and a cold, delicate sweat. My sides and belly ached like mad. And my cock was STILL rigidly erect—!

Michael lost little time in exploiting my all-too-obvious weakness. He moved from the foot to the side of the bed. He put a hand on my thigh. “Well, sweetie buns,” he whispered, “are you still CURIOUS?”

“Uh. . .uh. . .uh. . .” I panted. No more. . .on my. . .feet. . .”

“But I just LOVE to tickle the feet of big, strong, handsome guys like you!!” he replied with a lewd chuckle. “We’ve only just BEGUN, sweetie buns—and before the night is over, you’re going to be tickled SILLY!” His hand crept up to caress my tense balls. “Or would you prefer to call it quits now? We don’t HAVE to keep going if you really don’t WANT to.”

At that point, I could simply have told Michael to release me. I knew he’d do it. But I said nothing. Instead, I prayed silently that he’d move his hand from my balls to my cock. And somehow, he intuited my unspoken desire.

“Not yet, sweetie buns,” he whispered. “It’s WAY too early in the evening to make you CUM!” He gave my balls a squeeze. “And we haven’t even talked about MY needs yet!”

“Y-y-y-your needs. . .?” I stammered.

“That’s right, sweetie buns.” Michael’s hand moved to my throbbing joystick. He stroked it gently with the tips of his fingers. “I have many needs. Think you can guess what they are?”

When I didn’t reply, Michael smiled.

“Your silence is eloquent,” he whispered. “You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about, sweetie buns, don’t you?”

“Ohmygod, Michael, PLEASE—!” I moaned.

“There’s nothing I like better than to have a big, strong, handsome guy like you down on his hands and knees,” Michael continued. He squeezed my cock. “The truth is, sweetie buns, that I like being on top—in every sense of the term. And I absolutely LOVE to cum from behind, if you get what I mean.”

His words made me tremble.

“Ah!” he exclaimed with a lascivious leer. “I see that you DO get what I mean!” He teased the swollen head of my member with a probing fingertip. “And I just bet that the idea of a little rear-entry action make you all feel all SEXY and EXCITED!”

“Oh, SHIT, Michael!” I gulped. “Oh, please I just don’t KNOW—!”

“But of COURSE you don’t know, sweetie buns! First you must be rendered docile.” Michael smiled. “And the best way I know of doing THAT is to tickle you—to tickle you totally PINK!”

So saying, he climbed onto the bed to kneel between my wide-open legs. This enabled me to observe that Michael was sporting a truly impressive erection of his own. The sight of it made my guts twist and my asshole pucker anew! Unable to help myself, I arched my back in a mute plea for—what? Even at that point I wasn’t sure.

“Now, where to begin?” Michael whispered. “How about right HERE?!” And he darted his fingers into my exposed armpits!

‘BWAAAAAA-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-AAH-HAA-HAA-HAA!!!” I howled. The bed frame creaked as I struggled to free my wrists and bring my arms down—a futile waste of energy, of course. There was absolutely NOTHING I could do to defend myself against Michael’s excruciating onslaught! His fingers wiggled in my pits and it tickled like fucking CRAZY—!

“Come ON sweetie buns!” Michael urged. “You can laugh louder than THAT!”

And with Michael’s assistance, I most certainly did!

He tormented my helpless hollows until I was literally weeping with laughter—then he started on my fucking RIBS—!

“Oh, sweetie buns!” he exclaimed at one point. “I do love the way your belly gets all TENSE when you laugh for me!”

And so it went, for how long I do not know. After assaulting my ribs, Michael turned his attention to the backs of my legs. I begged him to stop—I begged him NOT to stop—I raised the fucking ROOF of the old farmhouse with my demands, entreaties and piercing shrieks of eye-popping, gut-busting horrible LAUGHTER—!

When finally I’d become too exhausted to respond to his ticklish attentions with anything more energetic than a feeble shiver and a rattling wheeze, Michael stopped! Oh, he fucking STOPPED and I sobbed with unutterable RELIEF—!

“I wish you could see yourself now, sweetie buns,” my sweet tormentor whispered as he slid off the bed to kneel at my side. Once more he ran his fingers though my chest hair, a gesture of intimacy with which I was destined to become very familiar. “You’re tickled absolutely PINK—and I’m not using the term as a figure of speech!”

And there was something else, something I didn’t realize until Michael drew my attention to it. I still had a fucking ERECTION! In fact, I now had a positively RECORD-breaking erection! Never in my fucking LIFE had I gotten it up so fucking HIGH—!

“Now, sweetie buns,” Michael giggled as his hand slipped down to grip my yearning member. “Are you curious about what happens NEXT?”

“Oh, Michael!” I gasped. “I’ll do anything you say! ANYTHING!”

“Will you?” He smiled. “Well, that’s fine, sweetie buns, because what I want you to do now is squirt all OVER yourself. Think you can do that—if I help by tickling your SHAFT?”

“Yes!” I cried, arching my back and wiggling my hips. “Oh, Michael, YES—!”

And with sweet Michael’s help, that’s exactly what I did. And I must confess that it happened rather QUICKLY that first time!

***​

Michael taught me many things that night—things that changed my life forever. And that night was only the beginning. Thanks to our further adventures together, I’m bi-curious no longer. That curiosity has been thoroughly and energetically satisfied in a manner whose details are perhaps best left to the reader’s imagination. Suffice to say that I have no more need of the late-night masturbation fantasies with which I used to torment myself.

In closing, I would add that I’m still tickled pink to be Michael’s special friend. And that’s no figure of speech—believe me!
 
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