Morning Angel
TMF Expert
- Joined
- May 10, 2003
- Messages
- 339
- Points
- 0
Same event, different perspective. Hope y'all like it
The Gathering – My Memories
Since I first encountered the TMF over two years ago I have been seeing terms like 'gathering', 'play party' and 'NEST' thrown around almost constantly, and I admit at first I thought that a person would have to be crazy to want to check into a hotel for a weekend in order to tickle and be tickled by a bunch of total strangers. Tickling, for me, was associated with so many personal and private feelings that I couldn't imagine letting those feelings show to people I only vaguely knew through a keyboard and a screen. Gradually, though, I began to wonder what it would be like to physically meet people who shared my fetish, and the more I read and participated in discussions and chats on-line the more I wanted to know. I worked up the courage to meet one person and then to attend a small Munch, and was encouraged by how approachable people were. I was also surprised and strengthened by the growing ease with which I could talk about tickling to people within the community.
As months went by scenes of utter degradation, of masters and mistresses torturing victims, of gang-tickling, of being watched and watching others inflict this sweet torment started to fill my dreams. Now I felt that going to a gathering of some sort was something I had to do despite lingering embarrassment and awkwardness. Thanks to BOFH666 and the many hours we've spent playing and exploring, tickling had escaped from the confines of my mind, but I now located it in the privacy of the bedroom as something shared between he and I, and I wondered if I could (and if I should) expand its role in my life even further.
These thoughts fought their way in between fantasies and excitement as we walked up the cold West London street towards the flat that Diva had rented. She opens the door, looking every bit like the professional she is, complete with black corset and long bright red nails. Holy shit, this is real! I'm about to play with a professional tickler! Diva shows us around the apartment, and immediately cuts to the chase: “So, let's talk about tickling! How did you guys first discover the fetish?” Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. For a moment the word 'tickling' itself made me feel as helpless as if I were in an hour-long session with her. My heart is racing, my face flushed. I look over at BOFH and am almost relieved to find him taken aback too. I have to say something, so I explain the progression of my tickling fetish, and he does the same, and she tells us enthusiastically the origins of domination and submission and love of tickling within herself. First conversation out of the way; it's time for action.
Diva asks if we might indulge her for a bit of tickling, and although despite her openness and disarming manner I'm still nervous, I also feel the now-familiar tingle of anticipation that comes when I'm about to be tickled. I stretch my arms up, reaching for the top of the door frame, and brace myself. Diva does not disappoint, running her nails down my sides, wiggling just enough to make me twist and giggle. Oh, but it feels so good. It's like a dam breaking, freeing me, and from that moment on I am up for anything. I want more, I want to experience everything. Eagerly I watch as BOFH takes his place under the door frame and Diva's fingers trace all around his upper body. The display is so erotic that I'm mesmerised. Wanting to help her get a reaction from him, I add my fingers to hers, delighting, as I always do, in the feel of his body.
My fingers at home against his skin, gliding across that familiar terrain. I am certain that we will get to hear his gasps and watch him jerk and twitch under our every touch. After months of playing with him I know how very ticklish he is, and I go for all the spots that have never failed me... until now. The fates have decided to punish me for my arrogance and give BOFH the strength to hold still as we continue to knead his sides, chest, ribs, belly and back. Reluctantly we release him and prepare for a long night.
As the night goes on and the other guests arrive I take advantage of my new-found bravery and volunteer for demos with different forms of bondage. The most elaborate of these involves myself tied to the bed, wrists and ankles each bound to a corner with simple restraints provided by Jonmath. Once my holds are secure I have just enough time to wonder what exactly is going to happen before I feel myself at the mercy of Diva, gradually assisted by GrippedChimp and BOFH. Diva begins to torture my feet with her legendary nails, focusing her attention on my right foot after a few minutes. Chimp takes over at my left foot, massaging in Vaseline to soften and sensitise it. Then I see BOFH sit himself down at my side adding his expert knowledge of all the many ticklish points on my upper body to the arsenal, squeezing me, poking me, lovingly tormenting me.
At first I can handle it. It tickles, of course, but not so much that I'm completely out of control. I can just sit back, giggle, and enjoy the ride. Where is the challenge here? That question is answered as soon as BOFH and Diva switch places. He positions himself at my right foot and runs his knuckles up and down my sole and lightning speed. Damn, that always kills me! With my eyes shut tight against the sensations I can imagine the smug look on his face as he shows off for our audience. The Vaseline that Chimp has applied to my left foot is starting to have an effect on me, and that foot is twitching along with its twin. What pushes me over the edge, though, is Diva sitting at my right side running her long nails back and forth across my belly, ribs and sides, giggling wildly.
I remember the very moment that I surrendered control and gave in to the sensations sweeping over my body and overwhelming my mind. I felt each touch distinctly in that moment: Chimp's fingers gently sliding across my right sole, BOFH's rough knuckles hitting every nerve on my right sole, and Diva's unrestrained laughter as her nails scritched across my belly. It was all too much, and my laughter rose in volume, almost matching Diva's, before going silent. This pattern repeated over and over until I couldn't stand it any longer. Part of me didn't want to do it, as I was in a kind of breathless ecstasy, but I called out my safeword just as I was beginning to see spots.
I can't describe the comfort and relief I felt when BOFH stayed beside me as the others left the bedroom. He guided me back to reality, holding me and periodically asking if I was okay, and looking down at me with pride, concern and love. I couldn't speak coherently for some time afterwards, but I hope he could see the gratitude and love in my eyes as I looked back up at him.
Gradually I regained the strength to rejoin the group in the living room. More demos and conversation follows, and for a while I watch in a haze. The lovely Diva is on both the giving and the receiving end of various sweet tortures involving Chimp, Del, BOFH, myself, and Jonmath's vast array of bondage tools. BOFH's already told the story of his private session, and I'll only add that for a moment I did feel failure and frustration over being unable to break him, but it was nothing compared to the all-out fun of tickling him and how proud I was of his strength The three pictures of me on the floor are the result of a leglock with a towel (one of Jonmath's trade secrets). Diva was demonstrating the technique for Del and I was the lucky victim. It was torturous enough having her expert nails flying across my helpless soles, but when BOFH joined in and grabbed my sides I completely fell apart laughing and squirming and loving every second of it.
After we said our goodbyes we embarked on the long tube ride home. We had a good solid hour for reflection, and the time was not wasted. I had just lived out something I had spent the last few years both wanting and fearing, and the memories of it won't soon fade. I was riding the highs of meeting fellow ticklephiles who were good, friendly people, and of having the living daylights tickled out of me with the man I love looking on and participating. His arm around me was the perfect end to an incredible night.
The Gathering – My Memories
Since I first encountered the TMF over two years ago I have been seeing terms like 'gathering', 'play party' and 'NEST' thrown around almost constantly, and I admit at first I thought that a person would have to be crazy to want to check into a hotel for a weekend in order to tickle and be tickled by a bunch of total strangers. Tickling, for me, was associated with so many personal and private feelings that I couldn't imagine letting those feelings show to people I only vaguely knew through a keyboard and a screen. Gradually, though, I began to wonder what it would be like to physically meet people who shared my fetish, and the more I read and participated in discussions and chats on-line the more I wanted to know. I worked up the courage to meet one person and then to attend a small Munch, and was encouraged by how approachable people were. I was also surprised and strengthened by the growing ease with which I could talk about tickling to people within the community.
As months went by scenes of utter degradation, of masters and mistresses torturing victims, of gang-tickling, of being watched and watching others inflict this sweet torment started to fill my dreams. Now I felt that going to a gathering of some sort was something I had to do despite lingering embarrassment and awkwardness. Thanks to BOFH666 and the many hours we've spent playing and exploring, tickling had escaped from the confines of my mind, but I now located it in the privacy of the bedroom as something shared between he and I, and I wondered if I could (and if I should) expand its role in my life even further.
These thoughts fought their way in between fantasies and excitement as we walked up the cold West London street towards the flat that Diva had rented. She opens the door, looking every bit like the professional she is, complete with black corset and long bright red nails. Holy shit, this is real! I'm about to play with a professional tickler! Diva shows us around the apartment, and immediately cuts to the chase: “So, let's talk about tickling! How did you guys first discover the fetish?” Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god. For a moment the word 'tickling' itself made me feel as helpless as if I were in an hour-long session with her. My heart is racing, my face flushed. I look over at BOFH and am almost relieved to find him taken aback too. I have to say something, so I explain the progression of my tickling fetish, and he does the same, and she tells us enthusiastically the origins of domination and submission and love of tickling within herself. First conversation out of the way; it's time for action.
Diva asks if we might indulge her for a bit of tickling, and although despite her openness and disarming manner I'm still nervous, I also feel the now-familiar tingle of anticipation that comes when I'm about to be tickled. I stretch my arms up, reaching for the top of the door frame, and brace myself. Diva does not disappoint, running her nails down my sides, wiggling just enough to make me twist and giggle. Oh, but it feels so good. It's like a dam breaking, freeing me, and from that moment on I am up for anything. I want more, I want to experience everything. Eagerly I watch as BOFH takes his place under the door frame and Diva's fingers trace all around his upper body. The display is so erotic that I'm mesmerised. Wanting to help her get a reaction from him, I add my fingers to hers, delighting, as I always do, in the feel of his body.
My fingers at home against his skin, gliding across that familiar terrain. I am certain that we will get to hear his gasps and watch him jerk and twitch under our every touch. After months of playing with him I know how very ticklish he is, and I go for all the spots that have never failed me... until now. The fates have decided to punish me for my arrogance and give BOFH the strength to hold still as we continue to knead his sides, chest, ribs, belly and back. Reluctantly we release him and prepare for a long night.
As the night goes on and the other guests arrive I take advantage of my new-found bravery and volunteer for demos with different forms of bondage. The most elaborate of these involves myself tied to the bed, wrists and ankles each bound to a corner with simple restraints provided by Jonmath. Once my holds are secure I have just enough time to wonder what exactly is going to happen before I feel myself at the mercy of Diva, gradually assisted by GrippedChimp and BOFH. Diva begins to torture my feet with her legendary nails, focusing her attention on my right foot after a few minutes. Chimp takes over at my left foot, massaging in Vaseline to soften and sensitise it. Then I see BOFH sit himself down at my side adding his expert knowledge of all the many ticklish points on my upper body to the arsenal, squeezing me, poking me, lovingly tormenting me.
At first I can handle it. It tickles, of course, but not so much that I'm completely out of control. I can just sit back, giggle, and enjoy the ride. Where is the challenge here? That question is answered as soon as BOFH and Diva switch places. He positions himself at my right foot and runs his knuckles up and down my sole and lightning speed. Damn, that always kills me! With my eyes shut tight against the sensations I can imagine the smug look on his face as he shows off for our audience. The Vaseline that Chimp has applied to my left foot is starting to have an effect on me, and that foot is twitching along with its twin. What pushes me over the edge, though, is Diva sitting at my right side running her long nails back and forth across my belly, ribs and sides, giggling wildly.
I remember the very moment that I surrendered control and gave in to the sensations sweeping over my body and overwhelming my mind. I felt each touch distinctly in that moment: Chimp's fingers gently sliding across my right sole, BOFH's rough knuckles hitting every nerve on my right sole, and Diva's unrestrained laughter as her nails scritched across my belly. It was all too much, and my laughter rose in volume, almost matching Diva's, before going silent. This pattern repeated over and over until I couldn't stand it any longer. Part of me didn't want to do it, as I was in a kind of breathless ecstasy, but I called out my safeword just as I was beginning to see spots.
I can't describe the comfort and relief I felt when BOFH stayed beside me as the others left the bedroom. He guided me back to reality, holding me and periodically asking if I was okay, and looking down at me with pride, concern and love. I couldn't speak coherently for some time afterwards, but I hope he could see the gratitude and love in my eyes as I looked back up at him.
Gradually I regained the strength to rejoin the group in the living room. More demos and conversation follows, and for a while I watch in a haze. The lovely Diva is on both the giving and the receiving end of various sweet tortures involving Chimp, Del, BOFH, myself, and Jonmath's vast array of bondage tools. BOFH's already told the story of his private session, and I'll only add that for a moment I did feel failure and frustration over being unable to break him, but it was nothing compared to the all-out fun of tickling him and how proud I was of his strength The three pictures of me on the floor are the result of a leglock with a towel (one of Jonmath's trade secrets). Diva was demonstrating the technique for Del and I was the lucky victim. It was torturous enough having her expert nails flying across my helpless soles, but when BOFH joined in and grabbed my sides I completely fell apart laughing and squirming and loving every second of it.
After we said our goodbyes we embarked on the long tube ride home. We had a good solid hour for reflection, and the time was not wasted. I had just lived out something I had spent the last few years both wanting and fearing, and the memories of it won't soon fade. I was riding the highs of meeting fellow ticklephiles who were good, friendly people, and of having the living daylights tickled out of me with the man I love looking on and participating. His arm around me was the perfect end to an incredible night.
But now that you mention it, the trade-off for your Zen-ness (ie. "the embarrassment of the next day) was a lot of fun too. Dude here was off the charts ticklish for 2 days afterwards, and I couldn't accidentally touch his thigh or give him a hug without him jumping a mile in the air. Even now, a week later, I think his sensitivity is still heightened. Woohoo!
