The
Stranger
by Rico
Boris
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It looked as though it would be a slow day at my auto repair shop.
By 10:00 a.m., I'd had only three customers and my two mechanics
had been able to take care of the problems and get the cars back
on the road quickly. Standing by the front door, I leaned against
the open door jam and stared at the passing traffic while my mind
wandered.
As it often did, my mind quickly turned to sexual adventures. I
recalled the telephone call I'd received yesterday, a guy responding
to the ad I'd placed in a local personals section. It was hard enough
to find guys interested in my rather narrow and unique sexual interest--bondage
and tickling--much less guys I was interested in tying up and having
fun with. Seemed lately the only ones sharing my interest were either
fat or ugly, or on occasion both.
Which is why this call had intrigued me so. The caller, if only
half-way honest, sounded like a rather studly guy. He described
himself as being extremely ticklish--a most definitely important
characteristic for a potential victim of my sadistic torture--as
well as quite a capable tormentor himself. It had been a while since
I'd encountered someone capable of pushing my limits of endurance
to the point of regretting I'd given them the chance. I wondered
if this could be just the guy to do the job. Unfortunately, we'd
ended the conversation rather open-ended, without a commitment to
meet or pursue our mutual interests further.
As my mind contemplated the possibilities, I was distracted by a
car wheeling into my otherwise empty lot. It was a distinctive automobile,
a sizzling black Corvette convertible with plenty of chrome accents.
As it slid into the parking spot immediately in front of me, its
engine purring like a docile lion capable of a roaring attack, my
eyes quickly changed focus. They were riveted on the car's driver,
a very good-looking and obviously cool guy. He looked to be in his
mid-thirties, although his apparent age might have been obscured
slightly by his slightly receding hair line--it didn't make him
look old, just sexy.
He combed his long fingers through the tousled and wind-blown yet
well-trimmed dirty blonde hair, pushing it back into a surprisingly
neat crop dipping from the center of his face back. His face was
ruggedly handsome, with a very strong jaw line, high cheek bones
and slight dimples. He greeted my stare with a smile, flashing his
pearly-white perfect teeth and further accenting his dimples. As
he stepped from his car, I was taken back by how tall he was. He
must have been 6'2" at least. Yet he wasn't lanky, but very
solidly built.
My heart pounded loudly as I observed his perfect body. He wore
a cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to display large, powerful
arms. The shirt was completely unbuttoned revealing an incredibly
buffed torso. Best of all, his chest was covered in a solid mass
of dark, silky hair with a thick, dark trail of hair leading from
his chest to his belly button and then plunging into his jeans.
A thatch of sexy hair radiated from his belly button, dancing into
and out of the prominent ridges carved into his rock solid washboard
abs. I quickly jumped to attention having realized I was gawking
at this approaching Adonis, not even offering him a greeting. I
could feel my pecker pressing against my own jeans, full from the
sight before me and the thoughts which had preceded him.
Dropping the clipboard in my hand to cover my crotch and minimize
potential embarrassment, I greeted the stranger asking him what
I could do for him. He sauntered up to me and when he spoke, his
voice rang deep and confident, the commanding voice of a person
in control. "Just need an oil change," he answered easily.
"No problem," I responded taking his keys from him. "Relax
and have a seat here in the lounge while I have one of the guys
take a look at it." I turned and bit my lip trying to surpress
my raging hormones as I headed for the service bays. I turned to
him on my way out, stealing one last glance at his awesome frame
sillouhetted in the doorway. "Oh, and help yourself to some
coffee."
My heart was still pounding as I returned to the waiting room where
the Adonis had taken a seat. He smiled as I walked behind the counter
so that I could stand and face him, and still hide my raging hard-on.
Apparently uninterested in the automotive magazines laying on the
table, he had made himself quite comfortable by sitting back in
the chair and stretching his arms out across the other chairs, a
position coincidentally similar to the one I'd love to have put
him in--spread-eagled!
His torso was stretched out at a forward angle, unprotected and
vulnerable. The light cotton shirt he barely wore hung straight
down, pooling in the chair behind him, and almost completely baring
his distracting torso. In fact, he was at such an angle that I could
see halfway into his armpits, adorned with equally sexy sprays of
hair. He displayed powerful lines from his arms down his sides to
his ribs. I could count each rib, their lines pressed firmly through
his taut skin. Oh how I hungered to wrap my fingers around those
ribcages!
The sunlight highlighted every glistening hair of his chest as it
danced across his muscular, defined pecs. His rippling stomach bobbed
rhythmically up and down from his breathing, the hair coating his
belly sparkled as the sunlight glanced across it with each movement.
I was distracted by the rigid vertical lines carving out his abdomen,
running down and into his jeans. I longed to take my fingernail
and scrape it down and across those lines.
"You own this place?" he inquired with a friendly nod
of his head. I nervously blurted out a lengthy and detailed account
of how my great aunt had died, willing me enough money to move from
the East Coast and start this business. While I rattled on, I tried
to focus on his steely blue eyes and ignore the distraction of his
dynamite body but that was easier said than done. He seemed genuinely
interested in my story, resting easily and unwittingly taunting
me with his intensely distracting body.
"Have you been in California long?" I inquired, trying
to put the onus on him to supply the conversation. He related his
own story of growing up in Southern California, having moved away
but happily returning. As he talked, my eyes wandered down his outstretched
body. He wore tight jeans that complemented his powerful frame,
accenting what appeared to be strong legs. As if to throw salt in
the proverbial wound, he wore no socks opting instead for a pair
of thong-style sandals which naturally showed off his beautiful
size-12 (I guessed) bare feet.
I don't know if he'd noticed my eyes trained on his feet or if it
was merely coincidence, but he uncrossed his ankles lifting one
of his legs, resting his ankle across the other knee so that his
bare foot dangled in plain view, the loose-fitting sandal barely
clinging to his toes thereby exposing his sole in plain view. He
had a perfect arch and long, well-manicured toes. His foot appeared
to be in fine condition, free of calluses or other blemishes.
"How's business been?" he inquired, quite happy to continue
the conversation. My attention jolted from his foot to his face
as I answered him. I pressed my body against the counter in front
of me rubbing my crotch against the firm surface. I was dying from
this ultimate tease but powerless to do anything about it. As we
chatted, I noticed a gold wedding band on his left hand. Damn! I
couldn't believe this guy was taunting me with his body, and yet
he's probably happily married and doesn't even realize what he's
doing. He sure seemed to be enjoying our conversation, though. What
frustration!
"Would you excuse me for a minute?" I asked as I slid
into the back office. I raced to the wall where a large two-way
mirror offered a clear view of the waiting room. There I was able
to watch him unrestricted and unconcerned about his noticing. I
allowed my hand to massage my bulging crotch while I drank in the
intoxicating sight before me. He leaned forward grasping his raised
ankle with one hand while removing his sandal with the other. I
was delighted to have a full view of his bare foot as he scratched
the sole of his foot. God how I'd love to have that job! Funny,
his toes wiggled and his foot wriggled as he scratched, almost as
if he was inadvertently tickling his apparently sensitive foot.
His face even flashed a silly grin.
Hanging his sandal back across his toes, the itching relieved, he
leaned back into the seat. Then, apparently a bit tired, he stretched
his powerful arms above his head grabbing his elbows with his hands
and stretched his sinewy torso as far as it would go. The shirt
he wore was stretched completely back and away from his body, offering
a full and unobstructed view. What a great show he was giving! He
yawned wide and stretched and stretched, all the while revealing
his unprotected torso in all its glory. The stretch seemed to last
for minutes. Finally, he pulled his arms down and replaced them
to their outstretched position on the seats next to him as before.
Returning to the counter, I assured him his car was being worked
on even as we spoke (although I really hadn't a clue nor cared if
it really was!). He nodded appreciatively. We chatted for a few
more minutes when he stood up and began walking toward the counter.
"Got a restroom?" he asked.
"Yeah, but I need to give you the key," I explained, "not
the best neighborhood!" I turned to get the key. We kept it
perched on top of the door frame to my right, which required me
to twist my body awkwardly and completely stretch to reach it, my
uniform pressing tightly against my own well-developed torso.
"Looks like you work out yourself," the stranger observed,
his comment coming from out of the blue. Not only was it surprising
he'd make such a comment, he punctuated it with a not-so-innocent
and completely unexpected poke against my own unprotected and highly
sensitive rib cage. Already on edge and unnerved by this guy, his
well-placed and rather effective assault (he actually formed a "U"
with his thumb and index finger and "pinched" my rib successively
like a crab's claw!) prompted me to yelp and giggle while I simultaneously
withdrew my arm quickly from its outstretched position to protect
my ribs under attack. In the process, I managed to drop the key
on the floor.
He laughed heartily, obviously amused at my reaction as he picked
the key off the floor. I was left, my face a rosy red from embarrassment,
to think about the incident while he retreated to the restroom.
Scratching my itching ribs, I pondered his surprise attack. "Geez!
I wish I'd done that to him! And what was I to make of his move?
Was he coming on to me? Or trying to send a signal?" I wondered.
My heart pounded quickly as my mind raced for answers. But he quickly
returned, interrupting further thought about what had happened.
"How's the car coming?" he inquired, as he placed the
key in my hand, a slight smile on his face. I went to check on it,
but found out that the guys had become distracted by a friend who'd
happened by the shop. Normally, I would have been pissed by their
irresponsibility but for once I was delighted. They snapped to attention
at the sight of me but I told them to take their time, that the
customer and I were old friends and he was in no hurry. I returned
to the waiting room, smiling slyly at my good fortune this morning.
"They're working on it," I informed him, "With a
fine automobile such as yours, we like to take our time and do the
job right. Are you in a hurry?"
"No, not really," he answered. "Although I am somewhat
bushed...it was a late night last night. Say, would you mind if
I were to lie down here across these seats since you don't have
any other customers?"
"No, not at all! Make yourself comfortable." What I really
wanted to say was "shit no! As long as you lay on your back!"
He laid his long frame on the seats and, to my delight, did so with
his front side up. "Would you like me to get you a Coke? I'd
be happy to," I offered. He accepted appreciatively and then
stretched his arms above his head, tucking his hands casually behind
his head. What a sight! His hairy torso was completely uncovered
and vulnerable, his flat stomach bobbing sleepily up and down. With
his eyes closed, he looked so peaceful. To top it off, he casually
kicked off his loose sandals leaving his sexy bare feet dangling
off the edge of the chairs.
I stole to the backroom to take a better look through the two-way
mirror. He looked like the perfect sleeping prince, so good-looking
and perfectly built. My mind raced with fantasies of returning with
rope and quickly tying him up, and then paying him back for his
cheap shot to my ribs. "Of course, he did start a war with
that move," I reasoned to myself. Maybe it was time for my
move. I grabbed an ice cold Coke from the refrigerator and quietly
returned to the waiting room.
His eyes were closed, his stomach floating up and down even more
slowly. I figured he was either very relaxed or asleep. At any rate,
I wasn't going to waste the opportunity. I crept slowly to his side,
cautiously watching his fabulous body for any sign of stirring.
I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, my breathing almost
non-existent. I felt like a school kid sneaking into his father's
underwear drawer for a peek at his Playboy magazines!
Slowly I lowered the icy can to his side aiming for his rib cage,
open and unprotected. I decided to try a one-two punch so as I touched
the chilled surface to the warm skin covering his rib, my other
hand landed an attack on his firm belly using a crab-claw motion
similar to his earlier one, scraping my nails along his skin at
his belly button. To make it look less obvious, I called out as
I touched him "here's that Coke you requested." My attack
was obviously successful, resulting in his own yelp and immediate
snap to attention pulling his arms down and sitting up to prevent
further attacks to his obviously sensitive torso. I smiled at him
with a look of "touche."
He grinned at me somewhat sheepishly, realizing he'd been "paid
back." He grabbed the can from my hand with one hand while
the other one scratched his stomach to erase the ticklish sensations
I stirred with my touches. "Thanks," he replied somewhat
sarcastically.
"My pleasure," I responded equally sarcastically as I
returned to the bay area to check on his car. I felt high, having
succeeded at a surprise attack, confirming my hope that he might
be sensitive. Still, I longed for more, to be able to tie him up
and have full run of his hot body. The guys were finishing up his
car, and I realized that a simple oil change shouldn't take any
longer, so I headed back to the waiting room with his keys.
I stopped before entering to glance through the window and observe
the mystery customer. To my delight, he had returned to his prone
position although this time he crossed his arms across his stomach,
protecting his ribs and belly from further attack. Pity. I was surprised
that he failed to stir when I reentered the reception area. His
eyes were closed, his breathing slow and relaxed. He must have really
been tired. Hmmm, he may have protected his upper body but he still
hadn't put his sandals back on leaving his feet bare and vulnerable
to attack.
My heart began racing again as I contemplated yet another attack.
I stared at his sexy soles crossed over his ankles. Deciding to
throw caution to the wind, I pulled his paperwork and stole quietly
over to his feet. Watching his body for a sign of stirring, I cautiously
lowered the tip of his key down until it hovered just centimeters
from his heel propped up on his ankle, angling his sole upward toward
me. Taking a deep breath, I touched the cold teeth of the key to
his heel and slowly scraped it up his sole to his toes. His foot
reacted spastically, startling me in fact, his sole wriggling and
toes jumping into action. His eyes flew open and I quickly tried
to drag the key back down his sole but he jumped into action and
withdrew his foot abruptly to avoid further attack.
He laughed nervously, obviously surprised and caught a little off
guard by my action. The situation was actually a little awkward,
so I offered a "sorry, couldn't resist!" response casually
and laughed nervously. He sat up and put his sandals back on, first
scratching his tickled sole for a second, and stood to pay. Naturally,
having essentially woken from a catnap, he chose to stretch heartily
again displaying his dynamite torso completely for me. I wished
I was close enough to offer one last jab but I'd already retreated
to the counter to ring up his service.
We began chatting comfortably again, this time about his car, as
we concluded the transaction. I walked out with him, stopping at
the door. I leaned back against the door and stretched my hands
comfortably along the bar extending across the door, not thinking
about the fact that I was leaving my stomach open and vulnerable.
He stopped and finished his thought, his body facing me and only
inches away. Again, I tried to concentrate on his face but I was
trying to take my last few looks at his muscular torso knowing it'd
be my last chance.
As he finished his statement, he thanked me and then out of the
blue landed a crab-claw multiple poke to my flat stomach, accurately
striking the invisible line running parallel to my belly button
which never fails to illicit a reaction from me when tickled there.
I giggled like a school boy and tried to concave my stomach to avoid
further damage. He laughed offering his own touche, "sorry,
couldn't resist!" Then the stranger sauntered to his car, got
in, and roared off into the bright sunshine. I stood for several
minutes watching his car angle down the busy boulevard, never to
be seen again. The rest of the day, I found my mind returning over
and over again to his visit, my mind conjuring up his heavenly image
and remembering the playful exchange of pokes and strokes we had.
I wondered if he'd ever return for a tune-up or other service, but
I doubted it. He began to seem like a mirage, almost as though it'd
never happened.
It was merely a whimsical dream by the time I got home that night.
My message light was flashing so I pressed the button as I glanced
through the mail. I stopped dead when I heard a message from the
guy who'd called yesterday in response to my ad. He left his phone
number so I jotted it down and then quickly dialed it. His name
was Jeff, and he was interested in getting together that night.
Frankly, my experience with the stranger had gotten me worked up
enough that even though I was tired, I was up for a chance to relieve
my aching member unresolved from the earlier teasing.
Changing and grabbing a quick bite, I hopped in the car and motored
down the coast to where Jeff lived. Turning into the driveway of
1202, I observed the white stucco beach-type house. It looked like
a nice place, with soaring roof line and huge panes of glass forming
many of the walls. As I exited from the car, I glanced down the
driveway noticing the back end of a car sticking out sideways from
a carport. Interestingly, what little I could see of the car appeared
to be a corvette. But it was dark, and I couldn't even tell if it
was black or another dark color.
My mind wandered briefly to the stranger of the morning, a tingle
running through my body. I walked up to the front door, my special
bag filled with goodies in hand, and rang the door bell. The large
wooden door swung open revealing a strikingly familiar sight. My
mouth dropped open as I saw before me the stranger who'd visited
my garage earlier! He was still wearing the open cotton shirt but
had exchanged his jeans for a comfortable pair of shorts and was
now bare foot. He grinned from ear to ear, the smile of a Cheshire
cat. I was both amused and furious at his earlier tease. All I could
manage to say was "You!" to which he returned a deep,
hearty laugh of satisfaction.
I was still stunned as I entered his beautiful house, sitting on
a sofa in the two-story living room. While I tried to come to terms
with the situation, he left to fetch a beer. Returning, he sat next
to me on the couch, crossing his leg over his knee to display his
bare foot. "So, are you surprised to see me again?" he
asked coyly.
"Shit, yeah!" I blurted out, still amazed that I am once
again sitting before this Adonis. "God, I can't believe you!
What a tease!" He laughed, obviously satisfied with my reaction.
"I had you going, didn't I?" "Boy, I'll say! You
have quite the amazing body," I confirmed swigging my bottle
and throwing a gush of beer down my throat. "You had that all
planned, didn't you?"
"Pretty much," he confirmed. "You even noticed the
ring, didn't you?" As he spoke, I noticed the wedding band
was no longer on his hand. "I was married once...I figured
it would help to drive you crazy, making me appear off limits."
As I sat pondering the situation and his smugness, I began to feel
foolish, as though I'd been taken by a con artist.
"So the open shirt and the sandals were all part of the plan?"
He nodded and smiled. "God, you drove me crazy today!"
"Yeah, I know," he snorted. "I noticed the hard-on
from the moment I walked up. When you kept disappearing into the
office, you were watching me through the two-way mirror, weren't
you?"
I nodded sheepishly, realizing he'd been on to me. "Why, you
son-of-a-bitch, that little show you gave, scratching your feet
and stretching your arms, all the while knowing I was watching and
aching to get at those ribs!" He cocked his head back and laughed
at my predicament, repeating his arm stretch to rub it in. I was
so frustrated, I wanted to lash out at him. So I quickly lunged
for his ribs, catching him completely off-guard and unprotected
as he stretched. My fingers wrapped around both sides and began
squeezing and scraping his rib cages. What I only dreamed to do
earlier in the day, I now had a chance to do.
He burst into laughter and quickly withdrew his arms to try and
stop my attack. His hands fought mine, trying to peal my fingers
from his bare skin. But I persisted, so he lunged into action grabbing
my own exposed ribs squeezing and massaging my sensitive ribs. We
both laughed and simultaneously fought and attacked each other,
trying to get the upper hand.
"Truce, truce!" he cried out. My own ribs tingling from
some well-placed attacks of his, I agreed and we both cautiously
withdrew our hands. "Relax, you'll have your chance for revenge
soon enough." I could hardly wait. We continued comparing notes
on the day's deception. I had to admit, I admired his cunning style.
He really got me good. Turned out, I really had surprised him with
my key attack to his foot. He'd actually fallen asleep and was caught
off guard by my opportunistic move.
"I couldn't help myself," I admitted. "Those gorgeous
feet of yours were crying out to me the whole time!" I was
getting super horny, wanting to get my chance for revenge. "And
you, you kept parading them in front of me!" Riled up again,
I launched a second surprise attack, grabbing his raised ankle and
yanking it toward me, throwing him completely off balance and unguarded.
My fingers sprang to action, scraping and tickling his naked sole,
now precariously in my control. He cried out and dissolved to raucous
laughter as I exercised the upper hand.
"Cut that out!" he cried out, yanking on his ankle in
an attempt to regain control. I jumped to my knees, straddling his
ankle with my back to him and applying significant leverage and
pressure to keep control of his obviously quite ticklish foot. Meanwhile,
I stepped up my attack on his sole, all ten fingers dancing wickedly
up and down his wriggling sole. He laughed loudly, pulling furiously
on his leg to try and wrestle it back from me. He was giving me
quite a ride, his powerful leg underneath me rocking my body back
and forth. But I was holding on for dear life, not letting up my
tickling attack. Finally realizing his pulling was futile against
my firm grip, he changed tactics becoming offensive instead of defensive.
My position had left my ribs once again vulnerable and in direct
line of his hands. So he wrapped his long fingers around my sides
launching an effective attack on my poor ribs. I now joined him
in laughter, lurching from side to side to try to avoid his touches,
but I could not move enough to be successful while still maintaining
control of his foot. Soon we were stale mated, trying to outdo each
other's effectiveness in our tickling but helpless to stop our own
misery. So finally, we agreed again to a truce, releasing each other
from our death grips and returning to sitting positions on the couch.
As we sat trying to regain our breath, I noticed we were both sweating
and sported bulges in our crotches. I observed his muscle-bound
and hairy chest and belly, heaving up and down while working to
restock his lungs with air. I was turned on and ready to get down
to business.
"You know, I think I would have gotten the upper hand on you
just now if I'd had control of your other foot as well!" I
challenged playfully. He laughed somewhat nervously. "Frankly,
you owe me after your stunt of today. And I'm ready to collect!"
With that, we retreated up to his bedroom. I was pleased to see
a large, four-poster bed in the center of the room. Removing his
shirt and offering the first complete view of his buffed body, he
laid down obediently on the bed. I removed leather restraints from
my bag of goodies and quickly secured both wrists to the bedposts.
He cleared his throat nervously as I moved to the foot of the bed.
Now that he was sufficiently out of control, I decided to step up
my dominance. I climbed onto the bed between his outstretched legs.
He looked anxiously at me, not sure what I had in mind. Grabbing
his shorts at the waistband, I gave them a quick yank dragging them
down his legs until they sprang free from his feet. His boxer shorts
formed a raised tent over his obviously already enlarged cock, it
forming the center pole of the tent. I repeated the dragging motion
with his underwear until he now lay completely naked in the bed.
I tickled his swollen balls with my index finger and smiled knowingly,
as he giggled softly and squirmed slightly from my touches. Retreating
down the bed, I secured his ankles with leather restraints to the
bottom bedposts leaving him spread-eagled, completely helpless and
vulnerable.
"Gee, maybe I should go get your keys for this session as well,"
I teased while scraping my fingernail up and down the bottom of
his foot, reminding him of my earlier sneak attack at the shop.
He laughed nervously, and twisted his leg at my touches. "I
don't know, I'm betting you're pretty damn sensitive!" I offered.
"I'd better make sure you're not going anywhere." He eyed
me nervously as I added straps across his knees and elbows, anchoring
each strap to the bottom rails of the bed on each side. He was now
totally restricted in movement and helplessly awaiting my next move.
Climbing onto the bed, I straddled his waist, towering above his
outstretched torso. God, what a sight! This great-looking guy staring
intently at me, nervous and uneasy at being out of control. His
massive arms were outstretched above his head, revealing his vulnerable
armpits decorated with wisps of dark hair. His powerful chest, fully
swathed in a matte of dark hair, flexed slightly as he shifted his
weight in response to the pressure of my body pinning his to the
bed. His solid belly, ripped and cut from hours of hard work, moved
up and down rhythmically with his shallow breathing, the curls of
soft hair shifting with each breath. I couldn't hold back any longer.
I launched an attack, my fingers scraping and gliding along his
sensitive skin. No spot was safe as I explored every inch, testing
for ticklishness.
Showing little reserve and unable to remain stoic for long, he was
soon roaring with laughter and pulling futily at his restraints.
With each particularly sensitive spot I'd discover, I'd stop and
concentrate my efforts inflicting a particularly vicious assault
of tickling sensations. He died as I plowed into his armpits and
underarms, as well as when I assailed his rippling belly, a particularly
sensitive region for him. Naturally, his ribs were quite reactive
as well. The more he yanked, the more his muscular torso flexed
and taunted me. After a full half hour, I slid down his body to
his waiting feet. He went nuts when I attacked his soles, easily
the most sensitive spots on his body. He was screaming for me to
stop, obviously regretting allowing his highly ticklish feet to
be at my mercy but unable to do anything about it. I showed no mercy,
instead devoting a full fifteen minutes to his feet.
He dripped with sweat following this attack, out of breath and desperate
for mercy. I jumped down, allowing him to regain his breath, while
I went to my special bag and withdrew my arsenal of tickling implements.
His face turned ashen as he saw what I held in my hand. Remounting
his body at his waist, I introduced a full line of new sensations
to his ticklish torso. A soft paint brush, dozens of feathers, makeup
tools, dried flowers. All proved immensely successful at arousing
every ticklish sensation of his body, plunging him into another
round of laughter and begging.
Surprisingly, the most effective device turned out to be a feather
device I'd picked up at an Indian shop up the coast. Consisting
of five long, stiff-barbed and colorful feathers, it was a ritual
device used in one of the tribe's dances. The feathers were attached
to a band worn around the head, forming a long, relentless line
of feathers. I stroked it up and down his side, switching from a
horizontal to a vertical movement. The feathers danced across every
inch of his torso, discovering new ticklish spots.
As the feathers slid through the hair of his chest, his nipples
rose to attention and he giggled and squirmed. When I painted his
neck and under his chin with the feathers, he laughed and tried
to tuck his chin under to stop me. His stomach really spasmed at
the feathery touches. Finally, I moved to his crotch where his cock
stood at attention, its head swollen and purple. I stroked the feathery
shafts up and down engulfing his member with the feathery tentacles.
He moaned and rocked, dissolving to giggles when I'd drop the feathers
to his balls and painted down into his ass and thighs. He appeared
to be near the edge of exploding, so I stopped not wanting to let
him off so easily.
I dragged the feathers down his thighs and legs, also ticklish,
to his supersensitive feet. Starting on the top side, I dragged
the feathers up and down his skin, eliciting uproarious laughter
and squirming. Soon, the feathers trekked to the bottoms of his
feet, causing him to cry out. His feet proved so sensitive that
the five feathers dancing and scraping up and down, back and forth
across his soles, provoked his most desperate reactions yet. He
became hoarse from laughter, screaming and begging, yanked at his
restraints until he stopped, totally exhausted and unable to react
any more.
Aware that he was nearing his edge of sanity, I decided to give
him a break and moved back up to his still unrelieved cock. It took
just a few strokes before he exploded, unloading his jism into the
air. I moved the feathers to his belly stroking while he exploded,
keeping him jumpy and giggling, and moaning from satisfaction. As
he worked to regain his breath, I didn't let up. "Did you know
that most people are ten times more sensitive after coming?"
I taunted. "Let's see if you are." I sat beside him and
began poking his rib cage with my index finger. Sure enough, he
was extra jumpy. So I dug in, scraping my fingers up and down his
side, dropping into his armpit and back down to his belly.
He was pathetic, now sensitive beyond imagination and tortured beyond
what he could bear, he actually started to cry while laughing. He
was drenched with sweat mixed with his own cum. I took pity on him
and didn't continue for long, instead releasing his restraints.
"Well, I hope that taught you a lesson about being a tease."
"Yeah, it sure did," he answered breathlessly, pulling
his hands down and massaging his tired arms. After a quick shower,
he returned looking refreshed and psyched. He wore only a towel,
the hair on his chest and belly matted and wet and looking rather
sexy. "Your turn!" he announced unexpectedly and with
a frightening enthusiasm.
"Oh, I don't know, I'm rather tired," I whined, not sure
I was ready to subject myself to someone I'd just tortured so heinously.
But he wouldn't take no for an answer, grabbing me and throwing
me to the bed. I struggled to work myself loose but he was determined
and stronger than me, and soon had my hands restrained above my
head. My heart pounded, finding myself much more vulnerable than
I cared to be. He yanked my clothes off my body, humbling me to
the same naked state I'd subjected him to earlier. Soon, my ankles
were also restrained and I was helplessly spread-eagle.
What followed was the ultimate revenge. Spots on me he found equally
ticklish as his own received even more intense scrutiny and assault.
He soon had me laughing and pleading for mercy, although I knew
I'd see none, just as I'd given none. The thought "do unto
others as you would have them do unto you" rang loudly through
my mind. He was a driven man, almost psychotic and definitely scary
as he attacked my very sensitive body with anger and delight. I
knew I'd soon regret having been so thorough and devilish in my
attack on him.
Having such a hunk towering over my body and completely in control
was definitely a thrill. His towel soon fell off as he bounced around
the bed to give attention to my whole body. He really had me howling
with laughter. I noticed his own cock back at attention, only this
time he was free to massage it occasionally, unlike myself completely
at his mercy (or lack thereof!). He was ruthless, using all of the
tools I had and more.
I was surprised at just how intense the sensations were from the
Indian headband. No wonder he'd reacted so strongly. I was dying
just as much. He really enjoyed cock teasing me with the feathers,
bringing me to the edge, and then moving to a ticklish spot elsewhere
on my body only to return repeatedly and bring me to the brink again
and again. The most intense experience was when he oiled my soles
with vegetable oil and began scraping firm brushes up and down my
shivering skin. I screamed, the sensations the most intense I'd
felt. Oh, how I regretted bringing those damn brushes! He was relentless.
Soon, I was crying, wishing I'd fought harder and not allowed myself
to be at his mercy.
After what seemed like hours, he moved back up my body and to my
surprise, straddled my neck, his large cock hovering above me. I
looked up and observed one of the coolest sights I'd seen--this
hairy hunk, rippling muscles and all, towering straight over me
and invading my space. Suddenly, he pressed his cock head into my
open mouth and began thrusting it back and forth. I obediently began
to lick and suck while he cruelly began dragging the five-feathered
device up and down the underneath side of my arms from my hands
to my armpits. I laughed as much as possible, trying not to bite
him, but probably tickling him with the vibration of my laughter
ringing deep from my throat. It didn't take long to bring him to
climax, but he pulled his member out of my mouth as he shot his
load over my head, all the while tickling my sensitive arms with
the feathers. I begged for relief of my own aching cock, this time
being obliged. He scraped his fingernails along my jumpy belly as
he stroked my cock with his hand, lubricated from his own cum and
the vegetable oil. Soon, I was shooting into the air and enjoying
that special relief I had sought.
But unfortunately, he remembered the scientific fact I'd shared
with him earlier (complete with a fiendish demonstration!) regarding
the effect of an orgasm on one's sensitivity. Only this time, he
resumed his ruthless attack on MY worn out body, not showing me
the mercy I'd show him. The worst was when he resumed the brush
movements up and down my feet. I'd never felt anything so intense
and hated/loved every minute of it. After another draining half
hour, he released my arms and ankles freeing me. He laid down beside
me and we quickly drifted off to sleep, much too tired to even talk
about what had happened. But as I drifted off, glancing at his fabulous
torso laying uncovered beside me, I began to plan a rude awakening
for him for the morning.
After all, payback is hell!
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