It was a hot lazy summer afternoon. I pretty
much had the house to myself until my
younger brother, Travis, came home from
basketball practice. So I played video games
and munched on pizza for a couple hours
until I heard the front door open. I got up
and walked to the kitchen, because I knew
that would be Travis's first destination.
Sure enough, Trav was already raiding the
refrigerator, getting milk and bread and
peanut butter to stuff his face with. He was
shirtless, wearing his basketball shorts and
Nike Airs. His blond hair was matted with
sweat.
"Hey Nick," my brother said.
"Hey Trav, how was practice?"
"It was great! I'm getting to be one of the
best players on the team!"
Travis's affinity for basketball was
actually pretty humorous, mainly due to his
stature; he wasn't a very tall guy, but he
had strong leg muscles and big, well-arched
feet which enabled him to propel himself a
good distance in the air, making him a
formidable competitor to his taller team
mates. In fact, "Big Foot" was a nickname I
gave him.
After he ate, he plopped himself down on the
living room couch, next to a fan.
"I'm bored," he said.
"Well, what do you want to do?
"I dunno."
I sat on the couch for a couple minutes
until a deliciously devious scheme popped up
in my head.
"I've got an idea," I said. "We'll play a
game. In this game we take turns; one person
gets to do anything he wants to annoy the
other person, and the other person has to
lie still and endure it! Sound like fun?"
Travis looked like he was deliberating.
"You have to do something to annoy the other
person? Like what kinds of things? And what
happens if you can't lie still?"
The last question made me grin a little.
"Don't worry, I'll guide you along. Let's go
to my room."
When we got to my room, I told him to sit at
the foot of my bed.
"To be fair, we should flip a coin to
determine who will be the victim first."
I reached into my "miscellaneous" drawer and
pulled out a quarter I got from a novelty
store; both sides were heads. I concealed it
in the palm of my hand.
"Ok, I call heads. Is that OK with you,
Trav?"
"Sure man, tails never fails!"
I chuckled at that remark.
I flipped the coin, and it inevitably landed
heads up. I quickly snatched it up.
"Looks like you lose, bud," I said
tauntingly.
Travis started to look a little nervous, but
with a tinge of excitment and anticipation
as well.
"Ok, then.... Ummmm.... So... How do we
start?"
"Just lay down on the bed, with your hands
resting above your head."
He complied.
I reached under the bed and pulled out
several lengths of white braided nylon rope.
When Travis saw the rope, his eyes widened
and he sat bolt upright.
"What the hell are ya gonna do with THAT,
man?"
"Travis, you said yourself: "What if the
person can't lie still? This rope will make
sure that you stay right where you are!"
"Dude, are you gonna fuckin' TORTURE me, or
something?"
I laughed and said, "I'm not gonna torture
you, you big pussy! Now just lay down!"
After a moment of deliberation, Travis lied
down on the bed.
First, I used the soft rope to bind his
hands above his head, to the headboard. I
used tricky intricate knots that I learned
in the Boy Scouts. I didn't tie them too
tight, just snug enough that he couldn't
pull his hands out. Then I bound his feet
together, and tied the rope off to the frame
of the bed.
I stepped back and admired my handiwork.
There Travis was, bare chested and trussed
up on my bed. Travis looked really nervous
now, as he experimentally gave several firm
tugs at the ropes, with absolutely no luck.
I rubbed my hands together and said, "Well,
shall we get down to business?"
I reached under my bed and pulled out a very
large, fluffy ostrich feather. I waved the
huge feather tauntingly at Travis, but to my
surprise, he didn't struggle or pull at the
ropes at all; instead, a huge grin spread
across his face, as if the prospect of what
I was about to do to him pleased and excited
him. However, as soon as the soft fluffy
tendrils of the feather caressed his taut
belly, he gasped and tugged mightily at the
ropes. I swirled the feather in circular
motions over his belly and chest, and he
began to giggle like a lunatic.
"HEHEHEHEhehehe (gasp) OH GOD OH GOD! HA
haha!!"
He was pulling so hard at the ropes, that I
began to have my doubts that they would
hold; but they did. They held very well,
probably to Travis's dismay.
I began to stroke the feather torturously
along his bare sides, slowly, ever so
slowly, inching closer and closer to the
dark, downy crevices of his arm pits.
When the feather finally delved into his
pits, Travis quite literally shrieked:
"EEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH HAW HAW HAW HAW!!! OH
GOD NONONONONONOOOO hehehehHAHAHAA STOP OH
PLEASE STOOOOOOOP!!!"
He tugged at the ropes so vigorously that
his biceps bulged and his face got red. It
was quite amusing to watch Travis's fingers
wildly flailing about in a futile effort to
reach the knots that held him captive. But I
made sure (as every good rope-tier knows) to
keep the knots well out of the reach of
groping fingers. Poor Travis.
I set the feather aside and allowed poor
sweaty Travis to catch his breath, and
regain some of his sanity.
"OH MAN," Travis breathed, "that was
intense! I guess you gotta let me go now,
right?"
"Sorry Trav, we're not quite done."
I pulled a comfy chair over to the foot of
the bed, sat down, and I grasped the heels
of Travis's Nike Airs and I easily slipped
them both off in one fluid motion. Travis's
big bare feet were now exposed, and he
curled his toes in anticipation. Travis
never wore socks during summer because the
insoles of his Nikes were very padded and
cushy. In fact, if you looked inside the
shoes, you could see the imprints of his
heels and toes in the padding. Almost as
soon as his shoes came off, the smell of
foot perspiration reached my nostrils. I
recalled that human feet have about 500,000
sweat glands per foot; and playing sports
for several hours in the summer heat while
wearing cushy Nike shoes must mean that all
those sweat glands need to work overtime to
keep those feet cool.
I had always secretly admired my brother's
feet. I remember one summer when we were on
vacation at the beach. I remember staring at
his big feet as he ran along the
surf, the the sun-kissed ocean water licking at his feet.
When he sat down on a towel, the moistened
soles of his feet were lightly coated with a
thin layer of damp sand. I watched him wiggle his sandy toes, and i felt a strange rush between my legs, and an inexplicable bulge in my swim trunks, which I shamefully concealed with a towel. I now realize that the sensation was my member becoming engorged with blood.
I began to rub and knead his feet, massaging deep with my thumbs. I was blown away by
their softness. I recalled an old Chinese
saying that feet can become so soft that
they feel "boneless." I grinned at that
thought.
Here at my mercy was poor Travis, whom I likened to a young, beardless Greek god, like Apollo, with his flawless, divinely-formed feet.
I pulled out a long stiff feather, which might have been plucked off from the wings of Icarus. I waved it in front of his helpless feet, and he clenched his toes...
much had the house to myself until my
younger brother, Travis, came home from
basketball practice. So I played video games
and munched on pizza for a couple hours
until I heard the front door open. I got up
and walked to the kitchen, because I knew
that would be Travis's first destination.
Sure enough, Trav was already raiding the
refrigerator, getting milk and bread and
peanut butter to stuff his face with. He was
shirtless, wearing his basketball shorts and
Nike Airs. His blond hair was matted with
sweat.
"Hey Nick," my brother said.
"Hey Trav, how was practice?"
"It was great! I'm getting to be one of the
best players on the team!"
Travis's affinity for basketball was
actually pretty humorous, mainly due to his
stature; he wasn't a very tall guy, but he
had strong leg muscles and big, well-arched
feet which enabled him to propel himself a
good distance in the air, making him a
formidable competitor to his taller team
mates. In fact, "Big Foot" was a nickname I
gave him.
After he ate, he plopped himself down on the
living room couch, next to a fan.
"I'm bored," he said.
"Well, what do you want to do?
"I dunno."
I sat on the couch for a couple minutes
until a deliciously devious scheme popped up
in my head.
"I've got an idea," I said. "We'll play a
game. In this game we take turns; one person
gets to do anything he wants to annoy the
other person, and the other person has to
lie still and endure it! Sound like fun?"
Travis looked like he was deliberating.
"You have to do something to annoy the other
person? Like what kinds of things? And what
happens if you can't lie still?"
The last question made me grin a little.
"Don't worry, I'll guide you along. Let's go
to my room."
When we got to my room, I told him to sit at
the foot of my bed.
"To be fair, we should flip a coin to
determine who will be the victim first."
I reached into my "miscellaneous" drawer and
pulled out a quarter I got from a novelty
store; both sides were heads. I concealed it
in the palm of my hand.
"Ok, I call heads. Is that OK with you,
Trav?"
"Sure man, tails never fails!"
I chuckled at that remark.
I flipped the coin, and it inevitably landed
heads up. I quickly snatched it up.
"Looks like you lose, bud," I said
tauntingly.
Travis started to look a little nervous, but
with a tinge of excitment and anticipation
as well.
"Ok, then.... Ummmm.... So... How do we
start?"
"Just lay down on the bed, with your hands
resting above your head."
He complied.
I reached under the bed and pulled out
several lengths of white braided nylon rope.
When Travis saw the rope, his eyes widened
and he sat bolt upright.
"What the hell are ya gonna do with THAT,
man?"
"Travis, you said yourself: "What if the
person can't lie still? This rope will make
sure that you stay right where you are!"
"Dude, are you gonna fuckin' TORTURE me, or
something?"
I laughed and said, "I'm not gonna torture
you, you big pussy! Now just lay down!"
After a moment of deliberation, Travis lied
down on the bed.
First, I used the soft rope to bind his
hands above his head, to the headboard. I
used tricky intricate knots that I learned
in the Boy Scouts. I didn't tie them too
tight, just snug enough that he couldn't
pull his hands out. Then I bound his feet
together, and tied the rope off to the frame
of the bed.
I stepped back and admired my handiwork.
There Travis was, bare chested and trussed
up on my bed. Travis looked really nervous
now, as he experimentally gave several firm
tugs at the ropes, with absolutely no luck.
I rubbed my hands together and said, "Well,
shall we get down to business?"
I reached under my bed and pulled out a very
large, fluffy ostrich feather. I waved the
huge feather tauntingly at Travis, but to my
surprise, he didn't struggle or pull at the
ropes at all; instead, a huge grin spread
across his face, as if the prospect of what
I was about to do to him pleased and excited
him. However, as soon as the soft fluffy
tendrils of the feather caressed his taut
belly, he gasped and tugged mightily at the
ropes. I swirled the feather in circular
motions over his belly and chest, and he
began to giggle like a lunatic.
"HEHEHEHEhehehe (gasp) OH GOD OH GOD! HA
haha!!"
He was pulling so hard at the ropes, that I
began to have my doubts that they would
hold; but they did. They held very well,
probably to Travis's dismay.
I began to stroke the feather torturously
along his bare sides, slowly, ever so
slowly, inching closer and closer to the
dark, downy crevices of his arm pits.
When the feather finally delved into his
pits, Travis quite literally shrieked:
"EEEEEHHHHHHHHHHH HAW HAW HAW HAW!!! OH
GOD NONONONONONOOOO hehehehHAHAHAA STOP OH
PLEASE STOOOOOOOP!!!"
He tugged at the ropes so vigorously that
his biceps bulged and his face got red. It
was quite amusing to watch Travis's fingers
wildly flailing about in a futile effort to
reach the knots that held him captive. But I
made sure (as every good rope-tier knows) to
keep the knots well out of the reach of
groping fingers. Poor Travis.
I set the feather aside and allowed poor
sweaty Travis to catch his breath, and
regain some of his sanity.
"OH MAN," Travis breathed, "that was
intense! I guess you gotta let me go now,
right?"
"Sorry Trav, we're not quite done."
I pulled a comfy chair over to the foot of
the bed, sat down, and I grasped the heels
of Travis's Nike Airs and I easily slipped
them both off in one fluid motion. Travis's
big bare feet were now exposed, and he
curled his toes in anticipation. Travis
never wore socks during summer because the
insoles of his Nikes were very padded and
cushy. In fact, if you looked inside the
shoes, you could see the imprints of his
heels and toes in the padding. Almost as
soon as his shoes came off, the smell of
foot perspiration reached my nostrils. I
recalled that human feet have about 500,000
sweat glands per foot; and playing sports
for several hours in the summer heat while
wearing cushy Nike shoes must mean that all
those sweat glands need to work overtime to
keep those feet cool.
I had always secretly admired my brother's
feet. I remember one summer when we were on
vacation at the beach. I remember staring at
his big feet as he ran along the
surf, the the sun-kissed ocean water licking at his feet.
When he sat down on a towel, the moistened
soles of his feet were lightly coated with a
thin layer of damp sand. I watched him wiggle his sandy toes, and i felt a strange rush between my legs, and an inexplicable bulge in my swim trunks, which I shamefully concealed with a towel. I now realize that the sensation was my member becoming engorged with blood.
I began to rub and knead his feet, massaging deep with my thumbs. I was blown away by
their softness. I recalled an old Chinese
saying that feet can become so soft that
they feel "boneless." I grinned at that
thought.
Here at my mercy was poor Travis, whom I likened to a young, beardless Greek god, like Apollo, with his flawless, divinely-formed feet.
I pulled out a long stiff feather, which might have been plucked off from the wings of Icarus. I waved it in front of his helpless feet, and he clenched his toes...
