*don’t read this if “fapping” material is your desire”
I fear for my weakness. Please forgive the self-pitying start to an otherwise unremarkable story. I feel that I must extol my weakness for you all as one can only interpret the “true” part as being the most important consideration of the “true story” section. I do not expect pity or scorn; I simply need an avenue to expound my experience. I sit here with my plus one to a weeknight that has included too many a libation. I am no Dylan Thomas.
So let us get to the brass tacks. The tickling. So intoxicating a subject that I dare say little else can come to mind in regards to those that I would desire. So here I am (rather a young me I suppose) in a situation all too familiar. I dare portend that you have read my previous posts, for those new to my game my old line of work proved to be of the strictest of dress code will suffice.
This is a long set up purely for my own selfish ends, please fell free to skip ahead to the designated mark annunciated with**
It would be at this job however that I could play out two fantasies, the hero and the tickler. So enough of this, here is the story: I have had a crush on a girl in my place of employ for sometime now, a month realistically. I knew for a fact she was a year my senior and believe it or not she was not a perfect 10. Too often I read stories posted that lack credulity (I fully except that I may fall in this category but the truth is my own, I will live with it and knowingly suffer an accusation of a lie if it is so deemed) but, forgive my lack of follow-up, I have addressed this before. Back to the girl, though the idea of even one man salivating to her makes me weak I press on for the one man that hears my story for its worth.
*the story*
The night was utterly unremarkable. I was fixing abused merchandise and the girl was also performing her duties admirably. While I kept an eye on her I noticed a man, nothing but two years older than myself, talking to my vision (upon rereading I sound like a creep but first thought, best thought. What a lamentable concept!). I was consumed. I approached the two and at considerable risk to my job as a stock-boy demanded to know from this guest what he was up to. Forgive me bragging but at 6’4” I usually get answers. He said that he was fine and moved along. My beauty, or in retrospect my momentary infatuation embraced me. She detailed the inappropriate behavior of this man and embraced my presumably gentlemanly behavior. Two hours later I worked up the courage to ask her out, she said yes with no hesitation.
What was a mere indentation for the reader would be weeks for me. After much politicking at work we finally settled on an nontraditional meet. Simply she invited me over to her house. No dinner, no drinks, I felt a bit taken aback but after all we are firmly in the 21st century. So let us fast forward and go to her house. Forgive the numerous undeclared addendums but at this point she had already disclosed that her feet were the most ticklish part on her body. So here we are watching CSI Miami, Kit-
Kat had just shot up a school and I had noticed the girl of our mutual interest rubbing her socked foot. Fear not I knew what to do. I grabbed her foot and rubbed it like a man who knew that one day a fetish board would want to hear of it. She was grateful but curious about a third party who knew very little about going incognito in briefs and jeans. I was embarrassed to be sure but a small part said “GO FOR IT!” I listened and spilled my guts. The tickling, the fetish, the fact that I was holding her foot was so awesome that all I really wanted to do was tick…why talk? I dug my fingers into her soles like it was my purpose. I used a pen to scratch beneath her toes, I in short lost control. Her laughter was sheer intoxication, her dancing toes were mesmerizing and her sole was so soft. She was generous with my time (forgive my lack of detail, but I have to be selfish).
The next part of the story is so unbelievable I am hesitant to post it. My closest confidant has dubbed it the “ultimate cock block”. To my fiends it is silly, to you it is nonsensical, and after my tickling of her she began to acknowledge the third party in a way that was most leading. The button, the Zipper, the…KNOCK AT THE DOOR!?! I collected my self in order to see a joke of a man enter the room, I now believe in Karma. My escapade was cut short, my memory tainted, I was denied because of the biggest dolt I have ever known walked in. He saw much and too my knowledge repeated little. I was blue then and drunk now.
I’m sorry this story is bad, but that was the real truth of it. I really have more to say but I am at present a beaten man and beaten men deserve no audience.
I fear for my weakness. Please forgive the self-pitying start to an otherwise unremarkable story. I feel that I must extol my weakness for you all as one can only interpret the “true” part as being the most important consideration of the “true story” section. I do not expect pity or scorn; I simply need an avenue to expound my experience. I sit here with my plus one to a weeknight that has included too many a libation. I am no Dylan Thomas.
So let us get to the brass tacks. The tickling. So intoxicating a subject that I dare say little else can come to mind in regards to those that I would desire. So here I am (rather a young me I suppose) in a situation all too familiar. I dare portend that you have read my previous posts, for those new to my game my old line of work proved to be of the strictest of dress code will suffice.
This is a long set up purely for my own selfish ends, please fell free to skip ahead to the designated mark annunciated with**
It would be at this job however that I could play out two fantasies, the hero and the tickler. So enough of this, here is the story: I have had a crush on a girl in my place of employ for sometime now, a month realistically. I knew for a fact she was a year my senior and believe it or not she was not a perfect 10. Too often I read stories posted that lack credulity (I fully except that I may fall in this category but the truth is my own, I will live with it and knowingly suffer an accusation of a lie if it is so deemed) but, forgive my lack of follow-up, I have addressed this before. Back to the girl, though the idea of even one man salivating to her makes me weak I press on for the one man that hears my story for its worth.
*the story*
The night was utterly unremarkable. I was fixing abused merchandise and the girl was also performing her duties admirably. While I kept an eye on her I noticed a man, nothing but two years older than myself, talking to my vision (upon rereading I sound like a creep but first thought, best thought. What a lamentable concept!). I was consumed. I approached the two and at considerable risk to my job as a stock-boy demanded to know from this guest what he was up to. Forgive me bragging but at 6’4” I usually get answers. He said that he was fine and moved along. My beauty, or in retrospect my momentary infatuation embraced me. She detailed the inappropriate behavior of this man and embraced my presumably gentlemanly behavior. Two hours later I worked up the courage to ask her out, she said yes with no hesitation.
What was a mere indentation for the reader would be weeks for me. After much politicking at work we finally settled on an nontraditional meet. Simply she invited me over to her house. No dinner, no drinks, I felt a bit taken aback but after all we are firmly in the 21st century. So let us fast forward and go to her house. Forgive the numerous undeclared addendums but at this point she had already disclosed that her feet were the most ticklish part on her body. So here we are watching CSI Miami, Kit-
Kat had just shot up a school and I had noticed the girl of our mutual interest rubbing her socked foot. Fear not I knew what to do. I grabbed her foot and rubbed it like a man who knew that one day a fetish board would want to hear of it. She was grateful but curious about a third party who knew very little about going incognito in briefs and jeans. I was embarrassed to be sure but a small part said “GO FOR IT!” I listened and spilled my guts. The tickling, the fetish, the fact that I was holding her foot was so awesome that all I really wanted to do was tick…why talk? I dug my fingers into her soles like it was my purpose. I used a pen to scratch beneath her toes, I in short lost control. Her laughter was sheer intoxication, her dancing toes were mesmerizing and her sole was so soft. She was generous with my time (forgive my lack of detail, but I have to be selfish).
The next part of the story is so unbelievable I am hesitant to post it. My closest confidant has dubbed it the “ultimate cock block”. To my fiends it is silly, to you it is nonsensical, and after my tickling of her she began to acknowledge the third party in a way that was most leading. The button, the Zipper, the…KNOCK AT THE DOOR!?! I collected my self in order to see a joke of a man enter the room, I now believe in Karma. My escapade was cut short, my memory tainted, I was denied because of the biggest dolt I have ever known walked in. He saw much and too my knowledge repeated little. I was blue then and drunk now.
I’m sorry this story is bad, but that was the real truth of it. I really have more to say but I am at present a beaten man and beaten men deserve no audience.
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