pacificark
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An Agonizing Mistake M/M, A true story
One lazy warm Saturday afternoon I was lying on my bed in my house and beside me on the bed were the nylon straps I had just bought for tying down various things on my sailboat. The straps put ideas in my head about how it would feel to be tied up, and a little erotic idea of bondage began to stir in my brain. I have never been tied up before in my 22 years of life and I wondered what it would feel like to be helplessly stretched out on my back. I love bare feet and I always walked around barefoot or with Indian sandals. I took one of the straps and tied it around one ankle and to one post at the foot of the bed—it felt good. I tied the other foot to the other post, then slithered back to a full stretched position on my back and began to wrap another tie on my wrists. I did one wrist with a small towel underneath to make it more comfortable, then wrapped the balance of the long tie around the other wrist and pulled it tight with my teeth and threaded the end again through the loop a few times Then I took another tie with a loop in the end and put it between my tied wists and flung it through the air so it would go around between my wrists around the tie holding them together. I looped it around about three times and pulled it tight with my teeth, then threaded the long left-over end through the loop and pulled tight again. There was about a foot and a half left and I stretched my arms to the head of the bed of the bed as tight as I could, reaching the middle bar, and with my fingers wound the end of the tie around the bar a few wraps and tried passing the end under the wraps. Of course, I could manage to undo it any time I wanted. Meanwhile it did feel erotic and good, and when I pulled it would not give.
I layed there for about five minutes pondering my eroticism, when I heard a voice call in the front door which I must have left open when I came in the house.
“Alex, are you home?”
I panicked! It was my best friend, Steve, (who was a knockout—dead-spit gorgeous). I would be so embarrassed to be found self-tied and I worked desperately to quickly untie myself when he walked into the bedroom. I could have died from embarrassment! Before I had a chance to undo the simple loop-through knot he immediately went to the head of the bed, pulled the end tighter and tied it into a proper knot, and said at the same time, “What the hell are you doing tied up?” I cried out, “No Steve, don’t tie it, untie it.” I was pulled tight, I couldn’t move. He smiled at me and said: “How did you get tied up.” My face must have been beet red and I said, “I just wanted to see how it felt to be tied up, that’s all, please undo the knot.
Steve, as I said was gorgeous. He had an acrobatics body, being in phys-ed at university. He learned from me to go barefoot all the time, and I thought perhaps he also had the same fetish about feet as I did. (I was wrong, he soon after met a girl and got married and had kids.) But he was still a fun-loving guy at heart, very playful, and did know I was gay. He walked, smiling, to the foot of the bed and began to wiggle his fingers under my feet. I tugged hard at the bonds and squirmed about madly, curling down my toes and feeling extremely ticklish and through fits of laughter begged him to stop. He then reached his other arm over to the other foot and tickled both at once. He spent a while vigorously tickling my feet, then quickly got up, leapt onto the bed, straddled my thighs and tucked his bare feet under my legs (this felt good), and smiled wickedly. I panicked knowing that his long fingers were about to attack my ribs. I am more than extremely ticklish, and hated to be tickled. I’m not one who likes it even a bit. I even feel queasy at seeing others tied and tickled which I saw many times in the dorm at college, and was always ready to run if a group looked at me the wrong way.
Steve grinned at me and slowly lowered his wiggling fingers towards my ribs. I broke out laughing in a panic before they even touched and already couldn’t breathe, then they struck, sending me into a fit of uncontrollable, steady laughter and thrashing trying to turn over but without success. He must have tickled a good four or five minutes, and when he finally stopped, I pleaded and begged him not to tickle any more and to let me go. “Let’s go downstairs and work on the train set,” I said with a very hoarse voice, still breathing very heavily.
He replied, “No, Alan and Neil should be here any second, I was at their place and said let’s over to Alex’s and they said they’d come in their own car. They were getting ready to leave when I left.
I said, “Please untie me quickly, I don’t want especially Neil to see me like this.” (I had no shirt on, I was very vulnerable, and I was sure he would get the idea of tickling right away—he’s that kind of guy, so, so cute, playful, about 18, beautiful feet, slender fingers and I was already panicking in my mind at the thought of being tied up when he arrived.)
Steve replied, “No, I’m sure they’d both love to tickle you for a while.” I was almost crying at the thought and again begged Steve to untie me quickly. He just smiled evilly. Just when I was pleading I heard a car door slam shut, and heard the patter of barefeet coming down the hall (Alan and Neil also were always barefoot, which I did love.) My bonds tightened under my strain as Steve’s voice said, “We’re here, in the bedroom”. When they entered and saw my plight they both laughed and said, “What’s going on?” I immediately asked them to untie me, but Neil right away had a glint in his eye and smiled wickedly and without hesitation began to approach my bare feet.
“Please don’t, I begged.”
“Please don’t what?” he smiled back,
“Tickle me”, I said.
“OK, I’d love to, he answered back.
“No, haaaaaaaaa.”
He tickled my feet for only a couple of minutes, then jumped up onto my thighs and started playfully teasing me, poking a slender finger into my side. I went as far as the bonds would allow, which was not very far. He was slight, but all my twisting would not budge him. He was laughing more than I was and then he started with the fingers of both hands on my sides and ribs. I thought he would never stop: it seemed like an eternity. I was NOT enjoying this, I was extremely ticklish and was in excruciating anguish. When he did finally stop, Alan said: “My turn”. Again I protested and begged and pleaded, suggesting other things we could be doing. They all laughed and Steve said, “Alex, if you ask one more time to be untied, we’ll tickle you all evening.”
While Alan climbed up on me for his turn, Steve picked up the phone and after a second said: “Larry, we’re over at Alex’s, why don’t you come over?”
“No, no, no, please! Why did you do that?—not Larry—he’s worse than Neil! (Neil laughed.)
Larry was very special, I knew he was gay, and I had always thought he was the cutest thing on the planet. He was also a tease and very playful and we had many play-wresting matches where he occasionally prodded my ribs and sent electricity through my body, but I always managed to get away quickly. We must have all belonged to the “barefoot gang” because even he never had shoes on. His feet were very, very cute, about 9-1/2, soft, no callous on the heels and often his feet would make contact with mine sending shivers through my whole spine. And often I would grab his feet and give them a good tickling. And now the thought of him seeing me tied up would give him the revenge he always wanted!
The session with Alan was excruciating. He tickled my sides and ribs and abdomen relentlessly (my underarms are not ticklish) “I can’t stand any more,” I said to the guys on one of Alan’s short breaks, “Guys I can’t stand any more, I can’t stand being tickled.
Steve laughed in reply, “That’s the definition of tickling—of course you can’t stand it. But it’s so enjoyable for us—wait’ll Larry gets here—we won’t get a chance ourselves to tickle any more!” I almost cried.
When I threatened to scream so my neighbors would hear, Steve rolled up a cloth from my drawer into a ball and threatened to put it into my mouth, and it’s bad enough trying to breathe being tickled than to have your airway blocked by a gag, so I didn’t scream.
Finally they all decided to give me a break and went get some beer out of the fridge. Then it happened. Again there was a noise of a car door slamming shut and the patter of barefeet entering my house. Larry did knock, and then walked right in at the sound of his friends laughing in the kitchen. When he passed my bedroom door en route to the kitchen he looked in and saw my predicament. The guys called out: “Larry, we’re in the kitchen, but he entered the bedroom shocked and his mouth agape, and immediately tickled my bare feet. I said, “Larry please give me a break, these guys have been tickling me for an hour!”
The other guys came back to the bedroom offering Larry a beer, and he immediately held the cold beer against my bare stretched-out sides. What a shock!” They said, “Larry, we were giving him a little break, it’s your turn in about five minutes. He said, “I don’t know if I can withhold the temptation that long, he looks deliciously ticklish.”
“He is. I don’t think I’ve every tickled someone THAT ticklish before, often after a few minutes the ticklishness wears off, but not with Alex,” said Neil.”
In my very hoarse voice, I again told them all that enough was enough, please let me go and let’s work on the train set. “Oh, we’re having more fun here replied Alan, wiggling his fingers in the air. I love tickling you.”
“We’ll give Larry his turn with you, then each of us will have a brief turn again, then we’ll let you go, or maybe we’ll just leave you tied up while we go and get a bite to eat and return later to tickle some more” said Steve, and they all laughed.
Larry didn’t bother with my feet, or maybe he was saving them for later, but climbed up straddling my legs and smiled viciously. He said, “Alex remember the time about a year ago that you pinned me down and tickled me mercilessly? Finally my dream has come true, are you ready?” He didn’t hesitate, his soft yet strong fingers wiggled up and down my ribs and abdomen. I couldn’t scream, talk or breathe, I could only laugh and pull on the ties, my head cocked in the air, hoping he would stop soon. He didn’t; he went on and on, longer that the others, obviously enjoying every second saying things like, “Wow, so, so ticklish. He was also laughing almost as much as I was. He stopped for enough time to say, “Alex, while I tickle you some more, if you can say calmly: “Larry, would you please stop tickling me”, I’ll stop right away. I started to say it right away, but after “Larry, would you…”, he started all ten fingers wiggling on my ribs and of course when you’re as ticklish as I am you cannot speak , let alone speak calmly, you can only laugh.
Finally he stopped and shivered, “Alex, I didn’t know you were that ticklish. I’d love to tickle more, even forever, but I’ll give you a little break, maybe I’ll do your feet, I gotta tickle your feet. He climbed down and pulled back my toes, smiled into my eyes and got his fingers and nails into the instep then on the balls of my bare feet. My feet are very ticklish, but not as ticklish as my ribs, but I still was struggling and laughing and trying to get him to stop, then he started on both feet at the same time.
Neil said, “Guys I HAVE to tickle him some more, why don’t we go out to get a bite to eat and then come back, say, in an hour, maybe we can pick up Derek on the way back.
My chest was heaving trying to get my breath back after Larry’s turn. Then they smiled at me and leaving me tied, left the house. Larry teased on the way out: “maybe I could stay behind and work a little more on those ribs—naw, I’ll give you a break. “See you later”, they all teased, “don’t go away, ha,ha,ha”…
To be continued…
One lazy warm Saturday afternoon I was lying on my bed in my house and beside me on the bed were the nylon straps I had just bought for tying down various things on my sailboat. The straps put ideas in my head about how it would feel to be tied up, and a little erotic idea of bondage began to stir in my brain. I have never been tied up before in my 22 years of life and I wondered what it would feel like to be helplessly stretched out on my back. I love bare feet and I always walked around barefoot or with Indian sandals. I took one of the straps and tied it around one ankle and to one post at the foot of the bed—it felt good. I tied the other foot to the other post, then slithered back to a full stretched position on my back and began to wrap another tie on my wrists. I did one wrist with a small towel underneath to make it more comfortable, then wrapped the balance of the long tie around the other wrist and pulled it tight with my teeth and threaded the end again through the loop a few times Then I took another tie with a loop in the end and put it between my tied wists and flung it through the air so it would go around between my wrists around the tie holding them together. I looped it around about three times and pulled it tight with my teeth, then threaded the long left-over end through the loop and pulled tight again. There was about a foot and a half left and I stretched my arms to the head of the bed of the bed as tight as I could, reaching the middle bar, and with my fingers wound the end of the tie around the bar a few wraps and tried passing the end under the wraps. Of course, I could manage to undo it any time I wanted. Meanwhile it did feel erotic and good, and when I pulled it would not give.
I layed there for about five minutes pondering my eroticism, when I heard a voice call in the front door which I must have left open when I came in the house.
“Alex, are you home?”
I panicked! It was my best friend, Steve, (who was a knockout—dead-spit gorgeous). I would be so embarrassed to be found self-tied and I worked desperately to quickly untie myself when he walked into the bedroom. I could have died from embarrassment! Before I had a chance to undo the simple loop-through knot he immediately went to the head of the bed, pulled the end tighter and tied it into a proper knot, and said at the same time, “What the hell are you doing tied up?” I cried out, “No Steve, don’t tie it, untie it.” I was pulled tight, I couldn’t move. He smiled at me and said: “How did you get tied up.” My face must have been beet red and I said, “I just wanted to see how it felt to be tied up, that’s all, please undo the knot.
Steve, as I said was gorgeous. He had an acrobatics body, being in phys-ed at university. He learned from me to go barefoot all the time, and I thought perhaps he also had the same fetish about feet as I did. (I was wrong, he soon after met a girl and got married and had kids.) But he was still a fun-loving guy at heart, very playful, and did know I was gay. He walked, smiling, to the foot of the bed and began to wiggle his fingers under my feet. I tugged hard at the bonds and squirmed about madly, curling down my toes and feeling extremely ticklish and through fits of laughter begged him to stop. He then reached his other arm over to the other foot and tickled both at once. He spent a while vigorously tickling my feet, then quickly got up, leapt onto the bed, straddled my thighs and tucked his bare feet under my legs (this felt good), and smiled wickedly. I panicked knowing that his long fingers were about to attack my ribs. I am more than extremely ticklish, and hated to be tickled. I’m not one who likes it even a bit. I even feel queasy at seeing others tied and tickled which I saw many times in the dorm at college, and was always ready to run if a group looked at me the wrong way.
Steve grinned at me and slowly lowered his wiggling fingers towards my ribs. I broke out laughing in a panic before they even touched and already couldn’t breathe, then they struck, sending me into a fit of uncontrollable, steady laughter and thrashing trying to turn over but without success. He must have tickled a good four or five minutes, and when he finally stopped, I pleaded and begged him not to tickle any more and to let me go. “Let’s go downstairs and work on the train set,” I said with a very hoarse voice, still breathing very heavily.
He replied, “No, Alan and Neil should be here any second, I was at their place and said let’s over to Alex’s and they said they’d come in their own car. They were getting ready to leave when I left.
I said, “Please untie me quickly, I don’t want especially Neil to see me like this.” (I had no shirt on, I was very vulnerable, and I was sure he would get the idea of tickling right away—he’s that kind of guy, so, so cute, playful, about 18, beautiful feet, slender fingers and I was already panicking in my mind at the thought of being tied up when he arrived.)
Steve replied, “No, I’m sure they’d both love to tickle you for a while.” I was almost crying at the thought and again begged Steve to untie me quickly. He just smiled evilly. Just when I was pleading I heard a car door slam shut, and heard the patter of barefeet coming down the hall (Alan and Neil also were always barefoot, which I did love.) My bonds tightened under my strain as Steve’s voice said, “We’re here, in the bedroom”. When they entered and saw my plight they both laughed and said, “What’s going on?” I immediately asked them to untie me, but Neil right away had a glint in his eye and smiled wickedly and without hesitation began to approach my bare feet.
“Please don’t, I begged.”
“Please don’t what?” he smiled back,
“Tickle me”, I said.
“OK, I’d love to, he answered back.
“No, haaaaaaaaa.”
He tickled my feet for only a couple of minutes, then jumped up onto my thighs and started playfully teasing me, poking a slender finger into my side. I went as far as the bonds would allow, which was not very far. He was slight, but all my twisting would not budge him. He was laughing more than I was and then he started with the fingers of both hands on my sides and ribs. I thought he would never stop: it seemed like an eternity. I was NOT enjoying this, I was extremely ticklish and was in excruciating anguish. When he did finally stop, Alan said: “My turn”. Again I protested and begged and pleaded, suggesting other things we could be doing. They all laughed and Steve said, “Alex, if you ask one more time to be untied, we’ll tickle you all evening.”
While Alan climbed up on me for his turn, Steve picked up the phone and after a second said: “Larry, we’re over at Alex’s, why don’t you come over?”
“No, no, no, please! Why did you do that?—not Larry—he’s worse than Neil! (Neil laughed.)
Larry was very special, I knew he was gay, and I had always thought he was the cutest thing on the planet. He was also a tease and very playful and we had many play-wresting matches where he occasionally prodded my ribs and sent electricity through my body, but I always managed to get away quickly. We must have all belonged to the “barefoot gang” because even he never had shoes on. His feet were very, very cute, about 9-1/2, soft, no callous on the heels and often his feet would make contact with mine sending shivers through my whole spine. And often I would grab his feet and give them a good tickling. And now the thought of him seeing me tied up would give him the revenge he always wanted!
The session with Alan was excruciating. He tickled my sides and ribs and abdomen relentlessly (my underarms are not ticklish) “I can’t stand any more,” I said to the guys on one of Alan’s short breaks, “Guys I can’t stand any more, I can’t stand being tickled.
Steve laughed in reply, “That’s the definition of tickling—of course you can’t stand it. But it’s so enjoyable for us—wait’ll Larry gets here—we won’t get a chance ourselves to tickle any more!” I almost cried.
When I threatened to scream so my neighbors would hear, Steve rolled up a cloth from my drawer into a ball and threatened to put it into my mouth, and it’s bad enough trying to breathe being tickled than to have your airway blocked by a gag, so I didn’t scream.
Finally they all decided to give me a break and went get some beer out of the fridge. Then it happened. Again there was a noise of a car door slamming shut and the patter of barefeet entering my house. Larry did knock, and then walked right in at the sound of his friends laughing in the kitchen. When he passed my bedroom door en route to the kitchen he looked in and saw my predicament. The guys called out: “Larry, we’re in the kitchen, but he entered the bedroom shocked and his mouth agape, and immediately tickled my bare feet. I said, “Larry please give me a break, these guys have been tickling me for an hour!”
The other guys came back to the bedroom offering Larry a beer, and he immediately held the cold beer against my bare stretched-out sides. What a shock!” They said, “Larry, we were giving him a little break, it’s your turn in about five minutes. He said, “I don’t know if I can withhold the temptation that long, he looks deliciously ticklish.”
“He is. I don’t think I’ve every tickled someone THAT ticklish before, often after a few minutes the ticklishness wears off, but not with Alex,” said Neil.”
In my very hoarse voice, I again told them all that enough was enough, please let me go and let’s work on the train set. “Oh, we’re having more fun here replied Alan, wiggling his fingers in the air. I love tickling you.”
“We’ll give Larry his turn with you, then each of us will have a brief turn again, then we’ll let you go, or maybe we’ll just leave you tied up while we go and get a bite to eat and return later to tickle some more” said Steve, and they all laughed.
Larry didn’t bother with my feet, or maybe he was saving them for later, but climbed up straddling my legs and smiled viciously. He said, “Alex remember the time about a year ago that you pinned me down and tickled me mercilessly? Finally my dream has come true, are you ready?” He didn’t hesitate, his soft yet strong fingers wiggled up and down my ribs and abdomen. I couldn’t scream, talk or breathe, I could only laugh and pull on the ties, my head cocked in the air, hoping he would stop soon. He didn’t; he went on and on, longer that the others, obviously enjoying every second saying things like, “Wow, so, so ticklish. He was also laughing almost as much as I was. He stopped for enough time to say, “Alex, while I tickle you some more, if you can say calmly: “Larry, would you please stop tickling me”, I’ll stop right away. I started to say it right away, but after “Larry, would you…”, he started all ten fingers wiggling on my ribs and of course when you’re as ticklish as I am you cannot speak , let alone speak calmly, you can only laugh.
Finally he stopped and shivered, “Alex, I didn’t know you were that ticklish. I’d love to tickle more, even forever, but I’ll give you a little break, maybe I’ll do your feet, I gotta tickle your feet. He climbed down and pulled back my toes, smiled into my eyes and got his fingers and nails into the instep then on the balls of my bare feet. My feet are very ticklish, but not as ticklish as my ribs, but I still was struggling and laughing and trying to get him to stop, then he started on both feet at the same time.
Neil said, “Guys I HAVE to tickle him some more, why don’t we go out to get a bite to eat and then come back, say, in an hour, maybe we can pick up Derek on the way back.
My chest was heaving trying to get my breath back after Larry’s turn. Then they smiled at me and leaving me tied, left the house. Larry teased on the way out: “maybe I could stay behind and work a little more on those ribs—naw, I’ll give you a break. “See you later”, they all teased, “don’t go away, ha,ha,ha”…
To be continued…
