pacificark
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An Agonizing Mistake, Part II M/M – a true story
They were gone about an hour. In a way it seemed all too short a time. I did not feel any eroticism about being tied up while they were gone, I was almost in a panic situation the whole time, trying to find where the knot was that I could possibly undo and knowing that perhaps the worse was yet to come. I tried to think of emergency things to say, like, I really have to piss (and I did have to), but imagined that Steve would bring in a container and pull out my dick and say, “Go ahead”. Maybe “I have to go to mom’s for dinner, she’s expecting me, but Steve knows my mom well and would just phone her and say Alex says he can’t make it for a while. Obviously telling them I can’t stand any more would only prod them on to tickle longer!
I didn’t know any Derek; who the hell was this Derek that Neil said he’d pick up on the way back? I soon found out because I heard a car pull up and the doors slam shut—I was already pulling on the ties and my heart was almost pounding out of my chest. They were still all barefooted of course, and laughing together on the way in. Then I recognized Derek. I didn’t know him, but had seen him many times in the corner 7/11. He was cute, about 19 or 20 and every time I saw him he was barefooted (that’s why I always noticed him.) They obviously told him about my predicament because he didn’t seem shocked to see me tied up, rather he seemed a little shy and simply said “Hi”. Then he said I saw you many times in the 7/11 in your bare feet and wanted to say “Hi” to you and comment on your nice feet, but was too shy. Didn’t you ever notice me staring at your feet?”
I tried to be nice to him and ask him if he would untie my bonds. He knew that I had been tickled a lot before the guys went out to eat. Neil said, “Alex, Derek and I are good friends and I told him about coming back and tickling you some more. He said he loved to tickle cute guys, but was very embarrassed about tickling someone he didn’t even know, but I said you were such a great friend of us all, and that you loved barefoot guys and that he’d fit right in with the fun.
I quickly said that it was not fun, and they all laughed and said that it was more fun than I could imagine.
“Here’s our plan,” said Steve. Derek will tickle you for a while because he wasn’t with us this afternoon, then we’re all going to take turns (including Derek) tickling you to a song we’ll play from some of your records. We’ll be reasonable—Larry said he’d play your Paganni’s Concerto in D major, but even though that would be fun cause it’s so long and he’d get to tickle for 20 minutes, it wouldn’t be fair. An average song is 3 to 4 minutes and we’ll give you a break in-between. The one who gets the loudest laughter and reaction out of you wins and gets the prize of tickling you again at the end.
My nerves were frazzled at this “game”. How could I possible not die from all this? I protested to no avail, saying that you can kill someone from too much tickling.
“I doubt that, said Larry, anyway we’re going to give you a two minute break between song to catch your breath. So let’s see the order: Steve, then me, then Alan, then Larry, then Derek, then the winner. That will be about 15 or 20 minutes of actually tickling time plus the length of time the winner takes—it’s up to him—but he’ll be reasonable for sure.”
“OK, Derek, it’s your turn to get your initial tickle you missed by not being here earlier.”
Derek didn’t seem to want to do this. He didn’t really know me and felt that he wanted to be friends with me and was shy to do this. But his friend Neil and all of them pressured him and he finally gave in. He really did like my feet, he said, and wanted to start there. I was so tense that this cute stranger would be as good a tickler as the others, and I begged him to reconsider. He approached my feet and first put the bottom of his foot on mine, he said to see whose feet were bigger. It felt wonderfully strange and I started to form a tent in my jeans. But then all suddenly had an abrupt stop when he crouched down and started tickling my foot. The tickling was so intense, but I must admit I can’t tell one person from another—it’s all horrible. In the tickling of my feet I don’t become quite as breathless as when I’m tickled on the ribs or sides. I can get words out like, “wait”, “stop” “please”, “no” between my laughter, and it is very intollerable, but when my ribs are being tickled I can’t say anything, just laugh and squirm. He didn’t seem to be too long on my feet, and seemed a bit sheepish about crawling up to straddle my thighs. I assured him he didn’t have to do this.
“Derek, it’s ok, go ahead, tickle the hell out of him, he’ll be ok after with you.”
He rubbed his hands together, and then spread his fingers apart and started gently lowering the tips into my ribs. I wished the world would have ended right there. As always I was laughing in a panic anticipating the contact. He was as bad as the others, giggling, laughing himself, but I was in a panic laughter, wishing I could roll up into a ball. It lasted about 4 minutes were the words from Steven, four horrible panic-stricken minutes of trying to gulp for air and wishing I could grab is hands and push them away. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha-a-a-a-aaaaaaaaa ha ha haaaaaaaaaa ha ha haaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha ha, times 4 minutes!!! He bit his lip as he got off the bed then smiled gently at me almost hoping he didn’t offend me. Yet he must have enjoyed it, I know I would have if I was tickling someone like him.
Then the contest was to begin. It was no use protesting any more, but it was automatic, no matter what the warning was about going all evening. “Please, please stop, don’t tickle me anymore!” What else can one say who wants to rather die than be tickled.
They were all bad, but what made some worse was the teasing beforehand, especially by Larry and Neil, poking a finger here and there before the song started. I don’t know who tickled the best at the time. I think probably Larry, his fingers were soft yet firm and he dug in at exactly the worse places I was not expecting and changing to different areas and worming around while his wicked laughing expressions taunted me. Steve was a close second—he went right to it—his long nimble strong fingers doing the kneading in all the right (or wrong) places, sending me seemingly all over the bed though I couldn’t move much from the tight restraints and his body weight pushing me down, and me just laughing and laughing and laughing.
It seemed to last for hours, not just 20 minutes plus breaks (about 35 minutes in all).
I suppose it could have been much worse. Steve was the winner, he did make me laugh louder, they said, and squirm the most. But at least they didn’t say that there would have to be play-offs because Larry and Steve were even, or Derek and Neil were close. That would have been pure hell, it would have gone all evening.
Steve had no mercy collecting his winnings. He tickled my feet like a professional for five minutes, than taunted me for two minutes before beginning his five minute session on my abdomen and ribs, sending me into hysterics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Finally they reluctantly untied my bonds, and each one gave my trembling body a hug, telling me what a great sport I was through it all. I didn’t think so, I didn’t want any of this, but I guess it was my fault for not having the front door locked when I tied myself up.
This would never happen again, I would never tie myself up again—well, the only way it could happen again would be if they ganged up on me when we were all together. We stayed friends and still fooled around with play-wrestling, and I still got some “digs” in on a few feet and ribs. And best of all we still all went barefoot all summer long.
They were gone about an hour. In a way it seemed all too short a time. I did not feel any eroticism about being tied up while they were gone, I was almost in a panic situation the whole time, trying to find where the knot was that I could possibly undo and knowing that perhaps the worse was yet to come. I tried to think of emergency things to say, like, I really have to piss (and I did have to), but imagined that Steve would bring in a container and pull out my dick and say, “Go ahead”. Maybe “I have to go to mom’s for dinner, she’s expecting me, but Steve knows my mom well and would just phone her and say Alex says he can’t make it for a while. Obviously telling them I can’t stand any more would only prod them on to tickle longer!
I didn’t know any Derek; who the hell was this Derek that Neil said he’d pick up on the way back? I soon found out because I heard a car pull up and the doors slam shut—I was already pulling on the ties and my heart was almost pounding out of my chest. They were still all barefooted of course, and laughing together on the way in. Then I recognized Derek. I didn’t know him, but had seen him many times in the corner 7/11. He was cute, about 19 or 20 and every time I saw him he was barefooted (that’s why I always noticed him.) They obviously told him about my predicament because he didn’t seem shocked to see me tied up, rather he seemed a little shy and simply said “Hi”. Then he said I saw you many times in the 7/11 in your bare feet and wanted to say “Hi” to you and comment on your nice feet, but was too shy. Didn’t you ever notice me staring at your feet?”
I tried to be nice to him and ask him if he would untie my bonds. He knew that I had been tickled a lot before the guys went out to eat. Neil said, “Alex, Derek and I are good friends and I told him about coming back and tickling you some more. He said he loved to tickle cute guys, but was very embarrassed about tickling someone he didn’t even know, but I said you were such a great friend of us all, and that you loved barefoot guys and that he’d fit right in with the fun.
I quickly said that it was not fun, and they all laughed and said that it was more fun than I could imagine.
“Here’s our plan,” said Steve. Derek will tickle you for a while because he wasn’t with us this afternoon, then we’re all going to take turns (including Derek) tickling you to a song we’ll play from some of your records. We’ll be reasonable—Larry said he’d play your Paganni’s Concerto in D major, but even though that would be fun cause it’s so long and he’d get to tickle for 20 minutes, it wouldn’t be fair. An average song is 3 to 4 minutes and we’ll give you a break in-between. The one who gets the loudest laughter and reaction out of you wins and gets the prize of tickling you again at the end.
My nerves were frazzled at this “game”. How could I possible not die from all this? I protested to no avail, saying that you can kill someone from too much tickling.
“I doubt that, said Larry, anyway we’re going to give you a two minute break between song to catch your breath. So let’s see the order: Steve, then me, then Alan, then Larry, then Derek, then the winner. That will be about 15 or 20 minutes of actually tickling time plus the length of time the winner takes—it’s up to him—but he’ll be reasonable for sure.”
“OK, Derek, it’s your turn to get your initial tickle you missed by not being here earlier.”
Derek didn’t seem to want to do this. He didn’t really know me and felt that he wanted to be friends with me and was shy to do this. But his friend Neil and all of them pressured him and he finally gave in. He really did like my feet, he said, and wanted to start there. I was so tense that this cute stranger would be as good a tickler as the others, and I begged him to reconsider. He approached my feet and first put the bottom of his foot on mine, he said to see whose feet were bigger. It felt wonderfully strange and I started to form a tent in my jeans. But then all suddenly had an abrupt stop when he crouched down and started tickling my foot. The tickling was so intense, but I must admit I can’t tell one person from another—it’s all horrible. In the tickling of my feet I don’t become quite as breathless as when I’m tickled on the ribs or sides. I can get words out like, “wait”, “stop” “please”, “no” between my laughter, and it is very intollerable, but when my ribs are being tickled I can’t say anything, just laugh and squirm. He didn’t seem to be too long on my feet, and seemed a bit sheepish about crawling up to straddle my thighs. I assured him he didn’t have to do this.
“Derek, it’s ok, go ahead, tickle the hell out of him, he’ll be ok after with you.”
He rubbed his hands together, and then spread his fingers apart and started gently lowering the tips into my ribs. I wished the world would have ended right there. As always I was laughing in a panic anticipating the contact. He was as bad as the others, giggling, laughing himself, but I was in a panic laughter, wishing I could roll up into a ball. It lasted about 4 minutes were the words from Steven, four horrible panic-stricken minutes of trying to gulp for air and wishing I could grab is hands and push them away. “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha-a-a-a-aaaaaaaaa ha ha haaaaaaaaaa ha ha haaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ha ha ha ha ha, times 4 minutes!!! He bit his lip as he got off the bed then smiled gently at me almost hoping he didn’t offend me. Yet he must have enjoyed it, I know I would have if I was tickling someone like him.
Then the contest was to begin. It was no use protesting any more, but it was automatic, no matter what the warning was about going all evening. “Please, please stop, don’t tickle me anymore!” What else can one say who wants to rather die than be tickled.
They were all bad, but what made some worse was the teasing beforehand, especially by Larry and Neil, poking a finger here and there before the song started. I don’t know who tickled the best at the time. I think probably Larry, his fingers were soft yet firm and he dug in at exactly the worse places I was not expecting and changing to different areas and worming around while his wicked laughing expressions taunted me. Steve was a close second—he went right to it—his long nimble strong fingers doing the kneading in all the right (or wrong) places, sending me seemingly all over the bed though I couldn’t move much from the tight restraints and his body weight pushing me down, and me just laughing and laughing and laughing.
It seemed to last for hours, not just 20 minutes plus breaks (about 35 minutes in all).
I suppose it could have been much worse. Steve was the winner, he did make me laugh louder, they said, and squirm the most. But at least they didn’t say that there would have to be play-offs because Larry and Steve were even, or Derek and Neil were close. That would have been pure hell, it would have gone all evening.
Steve had no mercy collecting his winnings. He tickled my feet like a professional for five minutes, than taunted me for two minutes before beginning his five minute session on my abdomen and ribs, sending me into hysterics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Finally they reluctantly untied my bonds, and each one gave my trembling body a hug, telling me what a great sport I was through it all. I didn’t think so, I didn’t want any of this, but I guess it was my fault for not having the front door locked when I tied myself up.
This would never happen again, I would never tie myself up again—well, the only way it could happen again would be if they ganged up on me when we were all together. We stayed friends and still fooled around with play-wrestling, and I still got some “digs” in on a few feet and ribs. And best of all we still all went barefoot all summer long.
