Ticklishboy30
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jun 22, 2010
- Messages
- 217
- Points
- 18
This story was inspired by xad7's post on Deviantart. Here's the link to his post. https://www.deviantart.com/xad7/art/Bad ... 1214504007
Brown-haired, grey-eyed, twenty-five-year-old Kyle Morgan Jr. lived with blonde-haired, hazel-eyed, twenty-five-year-old Jamie Larkson. The young men became instant best friends when they met on the first day of preschool and often giggled about how excited they were after learning their homes bookended the street they lived on, and that it only took five minutes to walk from one house to the other.
During their formative years, the boys' relationship strengthened and evolved from a close friendship into an unbreakable brotherly bond that rivaled some of the birth brothers they knew and hung around with.
Between the ages of fourteen and fifteen, the dark and light-haired youths came out to each other as gay and bisexual, leaning toward gay. Then, a few weeks later, they physically and emotionally supported one another while coming out to their parents in a joint family meeting.
Through the years, they shared their beds, wore each other's clothing, and had fun exploring their bodies. However, despite an admitted mutual appreciation for one another's physical appearances, the teens didn't see themselves as romantic partners.
After the pair's final growth spurt, each male peaked at six feet tall, and their weight fell between one hundred and sixty and one hundred and sixty-five pounds. Their chests were firm with perky, pinkish nipples, their arms and legs were slender with defined muscle tone, sported chisled sets of six-pack abs, and they each had a taut, toned ass that one could bounce a quarter off of. The young men took pride in their healthy appearance by working out regularly. They also indulged in pampering themselves with manicures and, because of their well-known ticklishness, squealed, squirmed, and giggled their way through pedicures. Neither one liked being hairy, so they helped each other with manscaping. One difference was the size of their feet. Kyle's were size eleven, and Jamie's were size twelve.
The life-loving duo attended Piedmont Community College (PVCC), and both were enrolled in a two-year course in business administration. They lived just five minutes walking distance from the outdoor mall in downtown Charlottesville, Virginia, in the right-side half of a three-bedroom, two-story, red-brick Colonial-style duplex situated on a half-acre plot.
The plot of land was once part of a forty-acre farm that over the years was split up and sold by its owners. The original farmhouse was destroyed by fire that was set by some violent protestors of a Civil Rights March, led by Dr. Martin Luther King in the Sixties, and two years later, the duplex was built. The two-family home had been renovated and well-maintained to keep up with modern trends and city codes. There was a wood-burning fireplace in the open-concept great room, light-colored hardwood flooring on the first and second floors, granite countertops in the kitchen, stainless steel appliances, screened-in front and back porches, an eight-seater hot tub, a decent-sized inground swimming pool in the backyard, and it was close to UVA, PVCC, and various stores and restaurants.
When they decided to live together, Kyle and Jamie enlisted their parents' help in searching for an affordable place to live, and had been a month into their search when they found the duplex. The original idea was to find somewhere to rent, but seeing the incredibly reasonable purchase price, combined with the highly sought-after location, the two sets of parents and sons couldn't let the chance to take advantage of this investment property slip through their slender, nimble fingers. After contacting the real estate agent, it took almost a week for the two families to coordinate a workable time and date for a walk-through. After close to a month of negotiations, the duplex was owned by Kyle and Jamie's parents. Both families agreed and stated in writing that the boys were responsible for handling the needs of tenants they rented to, and then could take ownership after their schooling was finished and they had found jobs. At that time, Kyle and Jamie could decide their future as landlords.
*****
His classes had ended for the day, and Jamie was halfway to his gold, Twenty-Twenty-Two Jeep Grand Cherokee, when his phone rang. He stopped walking, looked at the number, saw that it was twenty-seven-year-old Donald Taylor, his boyfriend of six months, and smiled while sitting on a black wrought-iron bench to answer the call.
"Hey, sexy boy."
He could hear the smile in his lover's melodic tenor speaking voice.
"Hey, yourself, lover. What ya got planned for this evening?'
"Well, just the usual. Finishing homework so that Ky and I can be free during the weekend in case our amazing and loving guys have any plans."
Jamie and Kyle made a pact that anyone they dated had to be ok with the closeness they shared. It just so happened that Kyle ended up dating Donald's twin brother and roommate, Brandt, so it was a normal thing for the four young men to enjoy shared time together.
"Sounds good, baby. How about the four of us getting together tomorrow for a few hours before splitting up for boyfriend sexy time?"
The blonde's eyes sparkled as a boyish giggle escaped his lips.
"Fuck! You're sooo hot when you giggle like that," Donald said, chuckling.
"Am not," Jamie playfully whined while blushing. "I love your idea, and I'm sure Ky's gonna be excited."
"Bran's supposed to ask Ky about it if he hasn't already."
They chatted for another few minutes before ending the call. Jamie slipped the phone into the left side pocket of his light blue jeans, slung the backpack over his right shoulder, and continued toward his vehicle.
*****
Kyle's classes got canceled at the last minute, so he jumped into the tan leather seat of his forest green, Twenty-Twenty-Four Chevrolet Tahoe, started the vehicle, opened the sunroof, and drove to his favorite cafe. He parked, left his books in the SUV, smoothed out the light pink polo shirt and tan khaki pants, and walked inside.
There were a few people ahead of him, and when he got to the counter, he ordered a French vanilla latte. After receiving his drink, the brunette made his way to the outdoor covered patio and his favorite burgundy plush armchair, at the back corner of the patio, where he removed his silver and light blue striped Nikes and placed his feet on the footrest belonging to the chair.
"Of all the cafes in the Ville, ya had to come here."
Kyle looked up at the smiling speaker and giggled.
The young man's physical appearance was undeniably striking. His glittery, sapphire eyes were unforgettable, and they complemented the flame-red locks of spikey hair. The creamy, milky, muscle-toned flesh covering the six-foot-one-inch-tall, one hundred and seventy-five-pound frame was clad in a black tank top stretched to its limits, his plump and juicy bubble butt ass and two trunk-like legs were accentuated by khaki shorts, and his bare, soft, meaty soles and ten olive like toes were enjoying the fresh air that wafted through the openings of a pair of size twelve-and-a-half tan sandals.
"Are you following me, Sir?"
"Ky, you're indescribably sexy and don't have a clue what it does to guys and girls when you put your adorable feet and this deliciously enticing body on display. Babe, I'd be a fool not to keep an eye on you, my exquisite tease."
The brunette thrust his head back and laughed.
"You're so adorkable when you speak like that, Bran."
"Adorkable, am I? We'll see who's adorkable, my tickly little boy."
The new arrival set his mocha cappuccino on the side table beside the latte. He reached down, quickly hooked the relaxed male's ankles in the crook of his left arm, lifted them off the ottoman, and chuckled when the helpless appendages instantly twitched and shook side to side. Seeing the curled toes outlined by the thin, white, and grey striped ankle socks made his generously sized manhood plump and lengthen as it pressed against his cheetah print bikini briefs, which were hidden by his size thirty-four shorts.
Kyle squeaked and was already squirming on the armchair's cushion. His grey eyes were wide, sparkling with excitement, playfulness, and intrigue. "Let go! I'm gonna scream," he said while giggling and trying to pull his feet free.
There was a mischievous sparkle in the oceanic eyes when the captor looked into his prey's quivering orbs.
"We both know that won't happen, baby boy."
Before another word could be spoken, the brunette's devilish lover's index fingertip slowly drew circles on his left and then right quaking arches, dead center. It took all of one second for the sensation to travel from his ticklish sole to his brain, and then another half second for the squealing, airy giggles to freely flow from between his parted lips.
"Bran..."
The giggling male's inner self swirled around in an inescapable whirlpool of ticklishness. Physically, his body bucked and squirmed, his feet writhed, they twisted and turned, excitedly flipped up and down, and jerked side-to-side while ten toes curled and unfurled, and his legs pumped, trying to break the grip.
"I love how ticklish these feet and Jamie's feet are. It's always fun tickling my boy and his brother."
"Just wait till Jamie and I get our hands on you and Donnie."
"Threat? Really, my giggling boy? That means these socks have to disappear."
Kyle gulped as his sock was taken.
"C'mon, Babe... Not my bare..."
Five fingernails lightly and rapidly strummed across the balls of the slightly younger man's pinkish soles. The result was instantaneous howls of wild laughter, combining with his body's excited writhing, flailing arms, and vain attempts at seeking freedom for his trapped, ticklish foot. A bright pink blush decorated his cheeks when he saw some of the other patrons, chuckling, giggling, pointing at him, and even some of them with camera phones recording his freakish reaction.
"Coochie, coo, tickly little boy."
"Shit! Not the coochies, you butthead."
The laughter morphed into high-pitched squeals when the soft fingertips switched between light strokes along the bases of Kyle's animated toes and teasing tickles on the toepads.
"EEK!!! Not the toes."
"Not the toes? Well, I'm always happy to oblige your requests."
The jovial captor stopped tickling and allowed a minute to pass before digging and kneading his strong fingers in the fleshy spot just above the hip bones.
The customers were getting quite a free show as they witnessed the young brunette's reaction to the second targeted spot.
"That's not fair," Kyle shrieked.
Eyes closed, the ticklish man's head rapidly turned side-to-side, tears, snot, and spit were slung as the tickling continued. His arms and legs flailed and thrashed as his upper body bucked back and forth, and wild laughter echoed along the shrubbery around the establishment's patio.
Not wanting to be mean and hurtful, the redhead's tickle attack ceased. He moved the chair on the right side of his captive so it faced his boyfriend. Placed the other pair of legs across his lap, and his former ticklee's feet and toes were the recipients of a gentle and firm massage, which brought out the breathy and soft moans of sheer pleasure from the brown-haired male.
"Damn! You're amazing at giving massages and tickles, lover."
"Have fun?"
"Totally! I can't believe you bared my feet, and tickled me like that in public."
"You once told me about how exciting and even a bit humiliating it would be for you to get tickled in front of others, so when the moment presented itself, I just couldn't resist."
Kyle gazed into the love-filled, ocean-like, sparkly blue orbs staring into his grey eyes.
"I can't believe you remembered that. You're such a hopeless romantic, and I love it."
Brandt grinned as he leaned forward, and lightly ran his moist tongue across his boyfriend's lips before slipping it between them, and caressing the other warm organ as they came together in a gentle kiss.
"For you, I'm as romantic as you deserve, Kyle. You're my living, breathing angel."
Brown-haired, grey-eyed, twenty-five-year-old Kyle Morgan Jr. lived with blonde-haired, hazel-eyed, twenty-five-year-old Jamie Larkson. The young men became instant best friends when they met on the first day of preschool and often giggled about how excited they were after learning their homes bookended the street they lived on, and that it only took five minutes to walk from one house to the other.
During their formative years, the boys' relationship strengthened and evolved from a close friendship into an unbreakable brotherly bond that rivaled some of the birth brothers they knew and hung around with.
Between the ages of fourteen and fifteen, the dark and light-haired youths came out to each other as gay and bisexual, leaning toward gay. Then, a few weeks later, they physically and emotionally supported one another while coming out to their parents in a joint family meeting.
Through the years, they shared their beds, wore each other's clothing, and had fun exploring their bodies. However, despite an admitted mutual appreciation for one another's physical appearances, the teens didn't see themselves as romantic partners.
After the pair's final growth spurt, each male peaked at six feet tall, and their weight fell between one hundred and sixty and one hundred and sixty-five pounds. Their chests were firm with perky, pinkish nipples, their arms and legs were slender with defined muscle tone, sported chisled sets of six-pack abs, and they each had a taut, toned ass that one could bounce a quarter off of. The young men took pride in their healthy appearance by working out regularly. They also indulged in pampering themselves with manicures and, because of their well-known ticklishness, squealed, squirmed, and giggled their way through pedicures. Neither one liked being hairy, so they helped each other with manscaping. One difference was the size of their feet. Kyle's were size eleven, and Jamie's were size twelve.
The life-loving duo attended Piedmont Community College (PVCC), and both were enrolled in a two-year course in business administration. They lived just five minutes walking distance from the outdoor mall in downtown Charlottesville, Virginia, in the right-side half of a three-bedroom, two-story, red-brick Colonial-style duplex situated on a half-acre plot.
The plot of land was once part of a forty-acre farm that over the years was split up and sold by its owners. The original farmhouse was destroyed by fire that was set by some violent protestors of a Civil Rights March, led by Dr. Martin Luther King in the Sixties, and two years later, the duplex was built. The two-family home had been renovated and well-maintained to keep up with modern trends and city codes. There was a wood-burning fireplace in the open-concept great room, light-colored hardwood flooring on the first and second floors, granite countertops in the kitchen, stainless steel appliances, screened-in front and back porches, an eight-seater hot tub, a decent-sized inground swimming pool in the backyard, and it was close to UVA, PVCC, and various stores and restaurants.
When they decided to live together, Kyle and Jamie enlisted their parents' help in searching for an affordable place to live, and had been a month into their search when they found the duplex. The original idea was to find somewhere to rent, but seeing the incredibly reasonable purchase price, combined with the highly sought-after location, the two sets of parents and sons couldn't let the chance to take advantage of this investment property slip through their slender, nimble fingers. After contacting the real estate agent, it took almost a week for the two families to coordinate a workable time and date for a walk-through. After close to a month of negotiations, the duplex was owned by Kyle and Jamie's parents. Both families agreed and stated in writing that the boys were responsible for handling the needs of tenants they rented to, and then could take ownership after their schooling was finished and they had found jobs. At that time, Kyle and Jamie could decide their future as landlords.
*****
His classes had ended for the day, and Jamie was halfway to his gold, Twenty-Twenty-Two Jeep Grand Cherokee, when his phone rang. He stopped walking, looked at the number, saw that it was twenty-seven-year-old Donald Taylor, his boyfriend of six months, and smiled while sitting on a black wrought-iron bench to answer the call.
"Hey, sexy boy."
He could hear the smile in his lover's melodic tenor speaking voice.
"Hey, yourself, lover. What ya got planned for this evening?'
"Well, just the usual. Finishing homework so that Ky and I can be free during the weekend in case our amazing and loving guys have any plans."
Jamie and Kyle made a pact that anyone they dated had to be ok with the closeness they shared. It just so happened that Kyle ended up dating Donald's twin brother and roommate, Brandt, so it was a normal thing for the four young men to enjoy shared time together.
"Sounds good, baby. How about the four of us getting together tomorrow for a few hours before splitting up for boyfriend sexy time?"
The blonde's eyes sparkled as a boyish giggle escaped his lips.
"Fuck! You're sooo hot when you giggle like that," Donald said, chuckling.
"Am not," Jamie playfully whined while blushing. "I love your idea, and I'm sure Ky's gonna be excited."
"Bran's supposed to ask Ky about it if he hasn't already."
They chatted for another few minutes before ending the call. Jamie slipped the phone into the left side pocket of his light blue jeans, slung the backpack over his right shoulder, and continued toward his vehicle.
*****
Kyle's classes got canceled at the last minute, so he jumped into the tan leather seat of his forest green, Twenty-Twenty-Four Chevrolet Tahoe, started the vehicle, opened the sunroof, and drove to his favorite cafe. He parked, left his books in the SUV, smoothed out the light pink polo shirt and tan khaki pants, and walked inside.
There were a few people ahead of him, and when he got to the counter, he ordered a French vanilla latte. After receiving his drink, the brunette made his way to the outdoor covered patio and his favorite burgundy plush armchair, at the back corner of the patio, where he removed his silver and light blue striped Nikes and placed his feet on the footrest belonging to the chair.
"Of all the cafes in the Ville, ya had to come here."
Kyle looked up at the smiling speaker and giggled.
The young man's physical appearance was undeniably striking. His glittery, sapphire eyes were unforgettable, and they complemented the flame-red locks of spikey hair. The creamy, milky, muscle-toned flesh covering the six-foot-one-inch-tall, one hundred and seventy-five-pound frame was clad in a black tank top stretched to its limits, his plump and juicy bubble butt ass and two trunk-like legs were accentuated by khaki shorts, and his bare, soft, meaty soles and ten olive like toes were enjoying the fresh air that wafted through the openings of a pair of size twelve-and-a-half tan sandals.
"Are you following me, Sir?"
"Ky, you're indescribably sexy and don't have a clue what it does to guys and girls when you put your adorable feet and this deliciously enticing body on display. Babe, I'd be a fool not to keep an eye on you, my exquisite tease."
The brunette thrust his head back and laughed.
"You're so adorkable when you speak like that, Bran."
"Adorkable, am I? We'll see who's adorkable, my tickly little boy."
The new arrival set his mocha cappuccino on the side table beside the latte. He reached down, quickly hooked the relaxed male's ankles in the crook of his left arm, lifted them off the ottoman, and chuckled when the helpless appendages instantly twitched and shook side to side. Seeing the curled toes outlined by the thin, white, and grey striped ankle socks made his generously sized manhood plump and lengthen as it pressed against his cheetah print bikini briefs, which were hidden by his size thirty-four shorts.
Kyle squeaked and was already squirming on the armchair's cushion. His grey eyes were wide, sparkling with excitement, playfulness, and intrigue. "Let go! I'm gonna scream," he said while giggling and trying to pull his feet free.
There was a mischievous sparkle in the oceanic eyes when the captor looked into his prey's quivering orbs.
"We both know that won't happen, baby boy."
Before another word could be spoken, the brunette's devilish lover's index fingertip slowly drew circles on his left and then right quaking arches, dead center. It took all of one second for the sensation to travel from his ticklish sole to his brain, and then another half second for the squealing, airy giggles to freely flow from between his parted lips.
"Bran..."
The giggling male's inner self swirled around in an inescapable whirlpool of ticklishness. Physically, his body bucked and squirmed, his feet writhed, they twisted and turned, excitedly flipped up and down, and jerked side-to-side while ten toes curled and unfurled, and his legs pumped, trying to break the grip.
"I love how ticklish these feet and Jamie's feet are. It's always fun tickling my boy and his brother."
"Just wait till Jamie and I get our hands on you and Donnie."
"Threat? Really, my giggling boy? That means these socks have to disappear."
Kyle gulped as his sock was taken.
"C'mon, Babe... Not my bare..."
Five fingernails lightly and rapidly strummed across the balls of the slightly younger man's pinkish soles. The result was instantaneous howls of wild laughter, combining with his body's excited writhing, flailing arms, and vain attempts at seeking freedom for his trapped, ticklish foot. A bright pink blush decorated his cheeks when he saw some of the other patrons, chuckling, giggling, pointing at him, and even some of them with camera phones recording his freakish reaction.
"Coochie, coo, tickly little boy."
"Shit! Not the coochies, you butthead."
The laughter morphed into high-pitched squeals when the soft fingertips switched between light strokes along the bases of Kyle's animated toes and teasing tickles on the toepads.
"EEK!!! Not the toes."
"Not the toes? Well, I'm always happy to oblige your requests."
The jovial captor stopped tickling and allowed a minute to pass before digging and kneading his strong fingers in the fleshy spot just above the hip bones.
The customers were getting quite a free show as they witnessed the young brunette's reaction to the second targeted spot.
"That's not fair," Kyle shrieked.
Eyes closed, the ticklish man's head rapidly turned side-to-side, tears, snot, and spit were slung as the tickling continued. His arms and legs flailed and thrashed as his upper body bucked back and forth, and wild laughter echoed along the shrubbery around the establishment's patio.
Not wanting to be mean and hurtful, the redhead's tickle attack ceased. He moved the chair on the right side of his captive so it faced his boyfriend. Placed the other pair of legs across his lap, and his former ticklee's feet and toes were the recipients of a gentle and firm massage, which brought out the breathy and soft moans of sheer pleasure from the brown-haired male.
"Damn! You're amazing at giving massages and tickles, lover."
"Have fun?"
"Totally! I can't believe you bared my feet, and tickled me like that in public."
"You once told me about how exciting and even a bit humiliating it would be for you to get tickled in front of others, so when the moment presented itself, I just couldn't resist."
Kyle gazed into the love-filled, ocean-like, sparkly blue orbs staring into his grey eyes.
"I can't believe you remembered that. You're such a hopeless romantic, and I love it."
Brandt grinned as he leaned forward, and lightly ran his moist tongue across his boyfriend's lips before slipping it between them, and caressing the other warm organ as they came together in a gentle kiss.
"For you, I'm as romantic as you deserve, Kyle. You're my living, breathing angel."
