Adam
by ticklefro
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Adam was the most gorgeous freshman at Hunter College. He had a
stunning swimmer's body, hair the color of the sun, a movie star
face.
It seemed that no one was immune to his physical beauty. When he
came into a room everything stopped. Straight guys spilled drinks
and walked into doors. Gay guys fainted and went into seizures.
I don't know what women did; when you were looking at Adam, you
forgot that there was such a thing as a second sex. Actually, you
forgot that there was anybody else on the planet but you and him.
My friend Joel and I got to see a lot of Adam because he lived on
our floor. One night in early September, after we had consumed a
massive quantity of beer with Adam and his best friend from high
school who was visiting him for the weekend, Joel started bitching
about Adam. Joel's body had not been blessed by nature or perfected
by regular workouts on an athletic team. He was short and slight,
and I suppose he must have been making comparisons between himself
and our beefy friend. While Adam was down the hall showing his visitor
where the bathroom was, Joel began ranting.
"Jesus, I'm so jealous of Adam's looks I've been shitting green
bricks. It's not fair that he should look like that and be happy
at the same time. He ought to be made to squirm and beg."
He was going on in this vein when Adam came back in with his friend
Stuart. Adam was dropping Stuart off before heading across campus
to fulfill a promise he had made to deliver some lecture notes to
this girl in his biology class. Like me and Joel, the two of them
were literally reeling from the effect of the brews we had downed,
and Stuart seemed to be in a particularly playful mood.
Adam was wearing a chopped-off T-shirt that revealed his well-muscled
stomach and deep belly button, and I had to suppress a moan of lust
when I looked at his body.
Maybe Stuart felt some of the same things I did, even though he
had "straight boy" written all over him, because he extended
a long index finger and drilled it into the tight jumping muscles
of Adam's stomach. Adam's body was gripped in one huge twitching
shiver, like the victim of a strong electric shock, and he let loose
with an enormous giggle as he pulled away from Stuart's wiggling
finger.
"You know better than that," Adam laughed as he slid out
the door.
Stuart chuckled to himself and sank to join me and Joel on the floor,
and I asked him what that scene had been about.
He smiled lazily. "Oh, Adam's always been extremely ticklish
as long as I've known him. But after he's been drinking he's incredibly,
unbelievably ticklish. I mean, he would probably die of shame if
it was widely known, but you catch him when he's really bombed and
you've got the most ticklish guy on the East Coast. I like to tease
him about it because he's always pulling this super jock act and
being tickled when he's high is the one thing he absolutely cannot
handle."
Joel's eyes were huge; they looked almost black in the candlelight.
"So where's he especially ticklish?" he said, whispered.
"Oh, God, you name it. All along his sides and up under his
arms would be the worst places for him. Everywhere on his stomach.
Inside his belly button. On the bottoms of his feet. Provided he's
had enough to drink, there's probably not a square inch of skin
anywhere on his body that you can touch without making him laugh."
He slumped back against the wall and closed his eyes, evidently
unaware of the powerful ammunition he had just given us. Joel was
looking at me with the most amazing expression on his face.
Stuart chuckled again. "One time last year he almost lost it
entirely. Like I said, Adam likes to play Mr. Macho when he's in
school. This was just before his birthday, and he was swaggering
around like the toughest seventeen year-old God ever created. We
spent the entire lunch period in the woods near the school, celebrating
his upcoming eighteenth by working on a fifth of vodka, and when
we got finished we could hardly walk.
But Adam had made a horrible mistake, because the class we had immediately
after lunch was phys. ed., and we were doing wrestling that day.
He had to take part in a demonstration of various wrestling holds,
and this smart aleck named Glenn was paired with him. Right at the
beginning of class Adam gave it all away; he was on all fours, with
Glenn kneeling beside him with his right arm over Adam's back and
his right hand on Adam's right side. Glenn moved his hand just a
little bit, sliding it back and forth over the T-shirt hanging loose
on Adam's torso, and Adam jumped like he had been shot. The alcohol
was burning up in his bloodstream and right at that moment he couldn't
stand to be touched. Well, Glenn figured out right away what was
going on. He didn't let on at first, but then they wrestled and
Glenn ended up pinning Adam. He was lying on top of his, with his
strong legs pinning Adam's legs and his left arm holding Adam's
arms back above his head, so Adam was stretched out on his back
and absolutely helpless at the moment.
"Then Glenn took his right hand and reached up underneath Adam's
T-shirt and started lightly tickling him in the ribs, and I thought
Adam was going to die right in front of us. He was wriggling and
gasping and laughing like a madman, but Glenn had him held tightly
and there was nothing he could do but lie there and take it. The
coach finally broke it up and made some remark about how he had
never seen anyone quite that ticklish before. Adam had a red face
for the rest of the day."
Stuart idly scratched his balls, an expression of rich amusement
settling on his face. "Yeah, you just can't tickle Adam when
he's smashed. It's his worst weakness."
Joel was sitting there with his mouth hanging open, and his pants
showed a hard-on the size of the Brooklyn Bridge. "We're gonna
have us some fun," he murmured. "All it'll take is the
right time." He shot me a steely look. "You've started
your job at the campus gym, right?" I nodded, and he went on.
"Make sure you keep a bottle of something with you when you're
on duty. I think old Adam might like to have a few drinks late one
night in the weight room, don't you? After everybody else is gone
and the gym is closed for the night?" He grinned wickedly,
and I felt my own crotch start to stir.
Our timing for this little stunt was perfect, because just that
week Adam had drifted into the gym to talk to me about starting
a weight training program. His years on his high school swim team
had sculpted his torso into a state of absolute perfection, so it
was ridiculous that he felt the need to build up his upper body,
but some guys are never satisfied. I knew that he would be back
soon. I set aside a bottle of cheap red wine and made an agreement
with Joel that he could hide in the office on the nights I worked
the weight room. We felt we would not have long to wait. We were
right.
It was late on a quiet Wednesday when Adam showed up. No one was
left in the weight room, and I engaged him in conversation until
the hands of the clock had crept past closing time. Excusing myself
briefly, I ran down to the outside door and locked it, effectively
sealing myself, Adam, and the hidden Joel into the otherwise empty
gym. Then I returned to the weight room.
It didn't take much urging to convince Adam to join me in hitting
the wine, and within half an hour we were flying. He was leaning
back against the wall, his eyes glazed and a silly grin on his handsome
face, while I felt my pulse quicken as I thought of what Joel and
I were going to do to him.
"You know, Adam," I said thickly, as the booze lay heavy
on my tongue, "I think there's a lot to be gained from regular
weight training. It looks to me like you've already got a big head
start. Why don't you take off your shirt and let me get a look at
your build?"
He slipped his T-shirt off promptly, obviously proud of what he
had to show. It was easy to study his definition, because he was
one of those very lucky boys whose bodies have not been disfigured
with chest hair. The pecs were smooth and solid, and my mouth started
to water as I got another look at the rippling stomach muscles that
had caught my eye the night we had gotten drunk with his friend
Stuart.
He had kicked off his sneakers when we started to relax, so all
he was wearing now was a pair of silky nylon running shorts that
showed off his long strong legs. They were also slit up the side,
affording tantalizing glimpses of the creamy skin above his tan
line.
"Yeah, you look like you're in pretty good shape," I complimented
him, passing him the bottle again.
He took a humongous slug, shifting his legs restlessly as the alcohol
slid into his bloodstream. He twitched a little bit as a gust of
air hit his bare torso; I thought I could actually see him getting
more ticklish by the second.
I cleared my throat and launched into the master plan, knowing that
Joel was listening just inside the office door a few feet away.
"I think I'm going to start you off on the Gravitron. It's
the one muscle machine that can give you amazing results really
fast, especially in the shoulders and arms."
He perked up a bit, straightening from his slump against the wall
to gaze across the room at the Gravitron. It was a large tubular
metal machine with a computer-controlled pneumatic platform on which
you stood while lifting yourself in various configurations; the
degree of lift and support you got from the platform depended on
the level of difficulty you programmed into the machine. I knew
that Adam knew nothing about how the machine worked. Our plan depended
on this ignorance.
"The sooner we get you started, the faster you'll be able to
pump up," I told him. "You're gonna look fantastic."
He looked incredibly interested. "When can I start?"
"Well, I have to measure you against the machine to get a reading
on where to set the platform." This was a lie; the machine
adjusted to each individual's height automatically. "Why don't
we do that right now, since we're talking about it?"
He was agreeable, so we walked over to the Gravitron. I had him
step up on the platform, lift his rippling arms up over his head
and grasp the handles, then release his feet so he was hanging by
his hands. What he did not know was that behind my back I was carrying
several bundles of electrical cord; I now whipped them out and went
to work with great speed, tying his hands to the handles of the
machine.
He just hung there with a puzzled look on his face, trying to figure
out what was going on. I proceeded according to plan, taking each
of his large bare feet in turn and tying it with more of the electrical
cord to the tubular base of the Gravitron. The result was that he
was suspended in the air in the form of a sinewy, well-tanned X
of smooth bare flesh, with all the most ticklish parts of his body
fully exposed and helpless.
"Hey," he drawled, "this isn't exactly the most comfortable
position to be in. What're you doing?"
I looked over my shoulder and saw Joel coming into the room; he
was rubbing his crotch and trying to suppress a big grin. "Hey,
Adam," he said. "You look like you're pretty smashed.
Are you smashed?"
Adam rolled his eyes. "Oh, man. I am bombed out of my fucking
gourd."
Joel came closer, and I watched his fingers twitch at his sides.
"That's cool. We understand from your friend Stuart that you
like to be tickled when you're drunk."
Adam's eyes grew huge, and his look of sleepy satisfaction changed
to one of quiet panic. "Oh, no," he said softly.
Joel stopped beside me. "So, is that true, Adam? Do you enjoy
being tickled after you've been drinking?"
Adam had let go of the handles above his head, but the loops of
electrical cord had his wrists firmly lashed to the machine. Despite
his most desperate attempts, he could not lower his arms to protect
his very vulnerable torso. At the same time his thigh muscles were
bulging as he pulled at the bonds securing his feet, with an equal
lack of success.
"Come on, guys. Let me down!"
Joel smirked at our victim. "I tell you what. I'll just direct
our friend here," he slapped me playfully on the back, "tell
him where to move his fingers, and we'll all have some great fun.
Don't worry, Adam. I won't lay a hand on you. I just want to watch.”
He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully while inspecting the muscular
frame of the helpless jock. "Let's see. Why don't you start
on his stomach. It looks nice and smooth, no hair on it to get in
the way. You'll be able to move your fingertip all around real easy."
That is precisely what I started to do. As the tip of my right index
finger got closer and closer to the ridges of muscle jumping in
his gut, Adam broke down.
"No, please. Please don't tickle me. I can't stand it! Don't!
I'll go crazy. You can't, please!" And then I touched his stomach.
I wiggled my finger just a tiny bit, not covering more than a fraction
of an inch, and Adam jerked madly. Giggles came pouring out of him,
and he kept begging: "Don't, ha, ha, please, I can't-hahaha,
stop, oh god, haha, please stop it!"
Now my fingers was sliding around, covering more and more ground,
moving in slow lazy circles to get at all of his stomach.
Joel was breathing in ragged gasps, obviously excited out of his
wits. "Check out his belly button," he suggested.
This part of Adam's stomach was indeed inviting. It was an extremely
deep innie, and the flesh both around its edges and down inside
it looked very soft and smooth. My sliding finger approached the
belly button and slowly started to tickle all around its edges,
and I spoke directly to Adam. "Does this tickle you at all,
Adam?"
"Yes!" he screamed, as he twisted and shook in his bonds.
"Hahaha, yes it tickles, ha, that's enough, hahaha, stop!"
"Your friend Stuart sure was right about how much you like
being tickled," grinned Joel. "I can tell how much you're
enjoying this by the way you're laughing." He raised his eyebrows
at me and winked.
"Stop it! Please, please, leave my belly button alone, cut
it out! Ah, ha, ha!"
"Oh, now I understand you," Joel said. "You think
we're paying too much attention to the edges of your belly button
and not enough to the inside. Tickle him inside his belly button.
"
Adam yelled hoarsely, "No! Not there! Don't, please don't!"
I took my finger, inserted it into the smooth hollow there in the
center of his beautifully muscled stomach, and wiggled it around
with excruciating thoroughness, and I thought Adam was going to
go through the roof. He rocked insanely on the machine, threw his
head back, and howled like an animal. He was still begging, but
his hysterical laughter made it hard to understand him. I continued
to poke and probe in his belly button for several minutes, until
I feared for his sanity.
"Give him a rest," said Joel finally. "We don't want
to kill him." I stopped the dreadful tickling, and Adam hung
there, tears of laughter shining on his handsome face, his breath
coming in great gasps as he tried to calm down.
"Wow," marveled Joel. "You have to be the most ticklish
guy I have ever seen. Boy, are we having fun!"
"Guys, please don't tickle me anymore. I can't stand it. You
don't know what it's like to be tickled like this when you can't
do anything to stop it. Please. I can't take any more."
Joel acted as if he didn't hear a thing. "I think we need to
test his feet for ticklishness. That's usually a hot spot on ticklish
guys."
Adam's panic was back. "No, you can't! Not my feet! Don't,
please don't! God, stop him, someone please stop him!"
By this time I had taken a single finger and started slowly trailing
the tip of it down the smooth pink sole of his left foot, and his
reaction was amazing. Squeezing his eyes shut, he threw his head
from side to side and let loose with a string of staccato giggles
like a burst of machine gun fire. As my relentless finger continued
to stroke up and down along the bottom of his wiggling foot, he
started to make strangling noises as he ran out of breath; even
after his lungs had emptied themselves of all available air, the
tortured laughter kept leaking out of him, until he was forced to
take another giant gasping breath add begin chortling it out again.
Joel spoke in a reasonable tone. "I tell you what, Adam. We're
pretty good at reading signals. If you are having such a good time
that you don't want us to stop, just keep laughing. If there's some
reason why you want us to stop tickling you, then just stop laughing.
That's all you have to do: Stop laughing for five seconds, and we'll
stop tickling you. Okay?"
I didn't think he could do it. Now my finger was slowly tracing
the edges of his feet, and every time I got up to the ball of the
foot, I lingered for a moment and used all four fingers and thumb
to tickle the base of his toes. Adam's laughter was coming in an
unbroken stream, while his lean body shook and he tried to get enough
air to talk.
"Five seconds without laughing," Joel said. "That's
all you have to do, and we stop the tickling."
Our victim's eyes sprang open, and I saw forlorn hope spread over
his contorted face. He clenched his jaw, and his lips parted to
show me his teeth grinding together.
I went back to his sole, only now I was scraping my nails along
the tender flesh. His foot was pulling and pulling to get away from
the tickling hand, but the electrical cord held it fast. He could
not elude the unbearable sensation, and I could see it was driving
him crazy; a desperate whine was escaping from his twitching mouth,
and I knew I had him totally in my power. My left hand moved up
to attack his helpless right foot, and the laughter exploded from
him again.
Somehow he found the breath to beg some more. "Hahaha, stop,
stop, ha, oh god, please, hahaha!"
Joel gestured to me to give him a break. My partner in crime was
positively glowing with excitement. I didn't imagine he would want
to quit this early in the game, so his next words surprised me.
"Well, Adam, I guess we have to stop because we've run out
of places to tickle you. I know that'll be a cruel blow to you because
you've obviously enjoyed it as much as we have."
Adam slumped in his bonds, as relief visibly flooded his muscular
young body. At my side, Joel snapped his fingers in a broad theatrical
gesture.
"Oh, how could I forget! Adam, I almost forgot your ribs and
armpits. Wasn't that careless of me?"
The very ticklish swimmer at our mercy was galvanized. Suddenly
I remembered, as I was sure Joel remembered, how Stuart had mentioned
the sides and armpits as the worst places to tickle Adam.
"Oh, no! Please don't tickle me there, please, you can't! Don't,
guys, I'm just too ticklish, I can't stand it! Please don't! I'll
do anything you want, but don't tickle me--ah, hahahaha!"
His desperate pleas trailed off into a delicious gush of laughter
as I placed both hands on his ribs and started massaging up and
down his sensitive sides. He went into a writhing fit, crinkling
his eyes in an agony of ticklish merriment, while his laughter got
more and more hysterical. I moved up to the smooth patches of skin
at the top of his ribs, just under the armpits, then my fingers
curled into hooks and I began scooping through the blond patches
of hair in. the pits themselves, and I thought he was going to wet
himself.
My ruthless fingers traveled all the way back down his sides to
his hipbones, then slowly up again to those vulnerable hollows under
his arms, and his screams told me that these areas were indeed the
most ticklish places on his body.
"Hahahaha, stop, haha, stop, oh god, hahaha, please stop, aauugh
ha, I'll do anything if you'll only stop!"
When I finally did stop, twenty minutes later, Adam hung limply
on the machine, reduced to a blubbering idiot. All on my own, with
no prompting from Joel, I decided to try stimulating another area
of his body.
My eyes were drawn to those erotically inviting slits up the sides
of his silky nylon running shorts, and I stuck my right index finger
up inside one slit and wiggled it around, lightly tickling the creamy
skin there above his tan line.
His reaction was not as strong as before, but there was something
different about the way he jumped that turned me on even more. It
was time to get serious about playing with Adam's body.
"Hey, Joel, do you still have that knife you usually carry?"
Within two seconds he had it out; within twelve seconds the running
shorts were cut off and lying on the floor. Adam was wearing a snow-white
jockstrap, and the large bulge in its pouch was perhaps a bit more
distended than might have been expected.
Delicately I applied my tongue to the groove of flesh where his
right leg met his groin, and he spasmed and gasped helplessly in
response. As I continued to lap at the sparse dark blond hair that
escaped from the pouch of the jock there at that obviously very
sensitive spot, his squirming grew more desperate and he started
to babble.
"Come on, cut it out. Don't--stop--hey, don't--I--come on.,
guys aren't supposed to--c'mon, don't!"
Adam was making Herculean efforts to close his legs, to protect
his crotch from the relentless probing of my tongue, which had now
begun sliding up and down along that edge of the jock's pouch and
occasionally darting its moist tip inside the pouch. Of course our
victim's bonds still held him firmly in that spread-eagled formation,
so there was nothing he could do but struggle and continue to make
weak protests.
The time had come to take away the last bit of protection he had.
I peeled down the jockstrap and cut it away too, despite Adam's
almost hysterical demand for an explanation ("What--Hey, what--what
are you doing?") and out sprang a phalanx of steel. His cock
was incredibly hard and looked to be well over six inches. Its pink
column soared up out of the curly blond hair of his naked crotch,
terminating in an exceptionally well-cut head now leaking tears
of pre-cum. Without even making a conscious decision, I found myself
approaching that beauty with my mouth, and I heard Joel groan beside
me.
"Oh, shit, I can't stand it anymore. Move over and give me
room too."
The two of us moved our tongues to the base of his cock and started
licking our way in long slow lazy swipes up its throbbing length,
making it into a gigantic ice cream cone of hot flesh, and I noticed
the muscular legs framing our heads were quivering and tensing up.
Adam was full of joy juice and I felt it could not be long before
he lost it.
I pulled back from our treat to survey the situation. My own groin
was burning with a feeling like lava, while Joel looked ready to
explode into a million fragments. Adam had his eyes squeezed tightly
shut and was taking huge, deep gasps that made his sculpted chest
rise and fall in a captivating manner as Joel continued his licking.
Adam was trying desperately not to show us how turned on he was,
which inspired my final piece of psychological torture.
"Hey, Adam, what was that you were just saying about how guys
aren't supposed to do stuff like this? I tell you what. If you want
to prove you're really the macho straight jock you like to pretend
you are, you won't allow yourself to come while one of us is touching
you."
Joel withdrew his face from Adam's crotch and stared at me with
admiration. Then it occurred to me that our playmate was fairly
close to release and neither Joel nor I had even touched our lips
to the head of his cock yet.
I moved to remedy that oversight, parting my lips to let them and
the hot length of my tongue envelop his cock head, and Adam started
to moan. I was resting my hands on his firm thighs, and as I slowly
gobbled my way down his dick I felt his trembling increase. He tried
to gasp out words between his moans.
"Don't, oh, no, ooohhh!"
I pulled back from his crotch again but continued to caress him
manually, noticing how my spit made his cock glisten when it twitched
under my fondling fingers. The noise he was making now was more
of a groan.
"I can't--come on, I can't help myself when you do that--come
on, stop!"
"You're not going to let yourself come as long as I'm touching
you, are you, Adam? Are you so out of control of your body that
you would have an orgasm while another guy is touching your private
parts? That's really uncool." I let my fingers trail up to
the wet cockhead and tease the sensitive area directly under his
piss-slit, and he jumped violently.
"Hey, man" he gasped, "it's not gonna take much more
of that. If you don't stop, I'm gonna ... Hey, come on, cut it out!"
I formed my fingers into a loose fist and stroked slowly but expertly
up and down his shaft; I was getting off on being able to watch
the expression of alarm flickering on his face. Every time my hand
got to the head of his cock I caressed the fleshy tip and made him
groan again.
"So tell me, Adam, how close are you to shooting?"
"Ooohhh, god! I'm really close! I can't stop it! Please don't!
I don't want to unload on you! Stop! God!"
He was beginning to panic now, and his face and smooth chest were
becoming quite flushed as he writhed in his bonds. At my side, Joel
was trembling almost as much as our friend.
"Oh, shit," he muttered, "this is something to give
a fucking lifetime for!"
"I tell you what, Joel. Maybe Adam here wouldn't be so close
to losing control of himself if he had something going on somewhere
else on his body, something to distract him."
"Yeah!". Joel moved around behind Adam, spread his firm
creamy cheeks, and with slow deliberation started licking at the
tight pink hole there.
Adam's response was electric. "Aaaahhh! Ahh, ahh, what--what's
he doing? Aaaauuuggghh!" His cries were almost screams, suggesting
that the pleasure he was experiencing was excruciatingly unbearable.
The head of his cock was now very wet, covered with a mixture of
my spit and his pre-cum, and I went back to concentrating on it,
sliding my fingers up and down over the swollen red-purple flesh
in a rhythm slow enough to create sensations of sexual agony. Adam
squirmed madly, opening and closing his fingers spasmodically above
his head and pulling at the unyielding cord.
"Come on, guys," he said hoarsely, "I can't--I can't
hold it! I can't! You've gotta stop, I can't handle this, oh god!"
"Sorry, Adam. You've gotta hold it. I don't want to see you
come while I'm touching you." Now I stepped up the pace of
my stroking just a fraction, moving my mouth in close to fan his
cock with my hot breath. I could see Joel on the other side of our
victim, his face buried in the crack of Adam's ass; in my mind's
eye Joel's tongue was becoming pointed and darting deep inside the
secret private hole there. I moved my mouth even closer to where
my fingers were tormenting his cock.
Adam had once again lost the ability to form coherent words. "Don't,
ah, ooohhh! Aaahhh! He was ready for release, no matter how much
he fought against it.
One last time I said, "You better hold it, Adam." Then
I plunged my mouth around his twitching cock and unleashed my ruthless
tongue upon it. Adam gave a primeval yell as his thighs stiffened
into twin columns of marble, and my tongue felt the cum speeding
up the length of the shaft. He unloaded into my mouth in a series
of violent spasms, all the while making grunting noises that sounded
like "Uh, uh, uh, uh!"
When it was over I drew back, licking my lips. "Gee, Adam,
I don't think you passed the test." Joel came dancing around
to my side of the machine.
"Boy, what a night! Hey, Adam, are you still smashed? You want
some more wine?" Then he laughed like a hyena, while our victim
hung his head and kept his eyes on the floor.
"I don't know how he stood it," Joel confided to me quietly.
"I know I'm ticklish enough that anything like this would drive
me out of my mind." He raised his arms up above his head and
stretched luxuriously, and although I had never been attracted to
his thin body, I found my eyes roaming to where his tight T-shirt
outlined his prominent ribcage, while I wondered how he would take
a taste of his own medicine.
I shifted my gaze abruptly and caught Adam also staring at Joel's
torso. Had he heard what Joel said to me? Did thoughts of revenge
lurk behind his suddenly bright eyes? I winked at Adam and, like
the morning sun coming out from behind a cloudbank, he gave me an
incandescent grin.
"Joel," I thought, "you're going to be laughing out
of the other side of your face." I went for more electrical
cord.
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