by Brad Johnson
My name's CJ. I've been with my boyfriend Ben for 6 years.
We're both 28; I'm Black with a caramel complexion, 6'2 with a stocky build, curly black hair, and sideburns. He's white with a mild tan, straight brown hair, 5'10, wiry build, and keeps a little stubble to try to balance out his boyish face.
We've experimented with kink in the past, and thought about bringing in a third guy to spice things up. And that's how we met Nate online. Early 40's, muscular redhead. He brought up tickle torture, which sounded like fun. He suggested an endurance match, tickling both of us to see who could hold out the longest. He'd focus on our feet, since we told him that's the one spot where we're both insanely ticklish (we have other ticklish spots, namely my pits and Ben's thighs, but feet are the only overlap).
Once the day came, Ben looked a little uneasy while we were driving to Nate's.
"You okay?" I asked.
"You know you're gonna beat me," he said, "You always win at anything physical."
"Relax babe, it'll be hot."
"I know, I just also know I'll last like 30 seconds."
"Well let's put something on it. If you win, I'll..." I trailed off since we hadn't thought about stakes before.
"...You'll cook dinner all week," he said with a playful smile, knowing that I hate cooking, let alone for seven days in a row.
"And you'll cut the grass next time it needs it. Just once, if you're that worried about losing." When we bought our house in Cincinnati, he reminded me of all the times I bragged about black people not sunburning, and jokingly claimed it only made sense for me to cut the grass. But since he does most of the cooking, I just went with it.
"Okay, deal," he said. I stopped at a red light and we shook on it like gentlemen, then made out like homos. The directions led us to some McMansion development twenty minutes outside Cincy. The kind of upper-middle class houses lifelong city dwellers like me and Ben only ever see on the cover of real estate catalogs in the grocery store.
"This guy's got some money," Ben said. "Did he ever say what he does for a living?"
"Grade school principal," I replied.
"Huh. Always the ones you least suspect that turn out to be freaks."
"I know, right?"
We made it to his house and rang the doorbell. The neighborhood was unnervingly quiet compared to the bustle of Cincy. Part of me wondered what other kinds of torrid secrets went on within these too-perfect dwellings.
Nate answered before long and was excited to see us. "Hey! Glad to finally meet face-to-face," he said. He was wearing shorts and a tank top showing off his impressive muscles. We made small talk in the living room for 15 minutes or so before he led us outside to his detached garage. It had a second-story suite that made a perfect inconspicuous dungeon. The windows were painted over (black of course), and the studio was filled with all sorts of bondage gear. The centerpiece was a wide table with a pair of wooden stocks on one end.
"Want us to get undressed?" I asked.
"Just your shoes," he said, "People tend to feel more vulnerable with just their feet exposed, if that makes any sense."
I was wearing flip-flops with a blue muscle shirt and black gym shorts. Ben was wearing a red polo and khaki shorts with tennis shoes and white ankle socks. He almost never went barefoot, not even during sex, and sighed as he took off his shoes and socks. His feet were considerably paler than the rest of him.
Nate fastened the stocks on our feet; the holes were padded to keep our ankles from chafing. There were loops at the head of the table to secure our arms, but Nate simply tied our hands behind our backs. "I like watching boys squirm when I tickle their feet," he explained. He was right about the vulnerable thing, by the way; I did feel naked with my bare soles against the cool air. I imagined it was tenfold for Ben.
"And last but not least..." Nate said as he took some soft string and tied our big toes to what looked like nails on top of the stocks. "Keeps your feet in place. You guys ready?"
Me and Ben traded glances. We were as ready as we were gonna be.
"Bring it," Ben said.
"Bring it on," I jokingly added.
"The safe word is 'red light,'" he said before getting to business. He started at our heels, lightly tickling with his fingers. Ben was already giggling. This part I could handle, but then his fingers traveled up to our arches, and my resolve was gone. I jerked and pulled my foot, but it wasn't going anywhere. Nate's short nails scribbled all over the bottoms of our feet, never losing contact. Ben and I were laughing, bucking, and pulling against the stocks. Then he started raking his nails up and down our soles. I shrieked and buried my face in the table.
God this is torture! I get playfully tickled all the time, but never more than a couple seconds, and I was always able to protect myself. But now, the tickling was endless and all I could do was take it. My eyes were clenched shut, but I could hear Ben cursing through his laughter and pounding on the table as his own foot was tickled. But at that moment I was more occupied with my own torment. I can take this, I can take this...
After what felt like an eternity, Nate stopped. "And that's just the warm-up," he said and laughed. He went over to a shelf against the wall to grab some items I couldn't see.
Me and Ben took the moment to catch our breath. We looked at each other.
"You good?" he asked me.
"I'm great, how about you?"
"Hanging in there." We started to kiss.
"All right, break it up!" Nate said. He had a bottle of baby oil and two hairbrushes.
"What's the oil for?" Ben asked.
"Softens up the feet a bit." He squeezed some oil into his hand and spread it on Ben's feet. Ben kind of writhed as Nate rubbed his feet, but seemed to like the massage. Without warning, Nate launched his assault.
"AHAHAHAAHAHAHA!..." Ben shrieked and howled as Nate tickled his newly-softened feet all over, scribbling his fingers on both soles. But Ben really lost it when Nate tickled the balls of his feet and under his toes. His laughter filled the room. I've honestly never seen Ben go crazy like this before. He's normally very stoic and collected. Even when he laughs at something funny, it's more subdued; he isn't one to howl out. But now he's a shrieking mess. It was hot as hell, watching him at Nate's mercy. I desperately wanted to stroke myself, but this was probably why my hands were tied.
Nate tickled him for a couple minutes before turning to me. "Your turn big guy!" he said as he got more oil. He massaged it into my skin like he did with Ben, but I wasn't lulled and steeled myself for the worse. "You've got some big feet, what size shoe do you wear?" he asked.
"Thirteen and a half," I replied.
"Must be fun to go shoe-shopping. Do they even have that in stores?"
"Sometimes they do, but I normally have to buy my shoes on-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!..." Bastard caught me off guard. If I thought last time tickled like hell, this was another level. He tickled both feet like he did with Ben, and the baby oil made it so much worse. He tickled the balls of my feet too, but realized my death spot was my arches, and doubled up his assault of them.
"I love when such big, strong feet are ticklish!" he said evilly. I couldn't respond through my laughter, and struggled and strained against the stocks, but the torture was relentless. It seemed like he enjoyed tickling me more than Ben, but it might have just felt longer since I was the one getting it. He eventually let up and I was breathless, but this was just the start.
"You guys ready for the main event?" He said as he held the two hairbrushes. "Here's how it goes. I'll set the timer for six minutes and tickle you both nonstop. Like I said before, the safe word is 'red light.' If one of you shouts it, I'll stop, but the other one gets tickled on *both* feet for the remainder of the time or until he shouts it. Sound good?"
"Sounds good," I said. Ben nodded in agreement.
Nate started the timer and waved the brushes in front of our feet. I suppose this slow build-up was giving us a head start; we'd need it. He started counting down slowly. "5........4......."
Me and Ben looked at each other with mixed fear and excitement.
"3...."
He started at 3.
"FUCK!!" I yelled as the brush ravaged my sole. God, I'd never been tickled like this before. I laughed like crazy and leaped right off the table but the stocks kept my feet in place. I yanked my legs and twisted my body trying to pull out, but the stocks held firm and the tickling kept on. The brush went up and down nonstop, sending what almost felt like electricity through my foot. I was drenched in sweat and curled up trying to withstand the intense tickling. I couldn't take it.
"REDLIGHTREDLIGHTREDLIGHT!!" I squeezed out through my laughter. Nate stopped tickling me, but never let up on Ben for an instant.
"Think you can last?" Nate taunted. I watched as my boyfriend roared with laughter, flopping on the table like a fish and pulling at the stocks as both his feet were savagely tickled. His face was beet-red, his hair a mess, and his shirt drenched in sweat as Nate scraped the brushes up and down his soles. Then Nate went after Ben's toes again, running the brushes back and forth across the balls of his feet, sending him into hysterics. His laughter alternated between silent air straining out of pressed vocal cords and high-pitched shrieks. Just when I thought Ben would give in, the timer went off.
"Almost had you!" Nate said as he put down the brushes.
"Whew...holy fuck," Ben said as he caught his breath. Nate untied our hands and we ditched our soaked shirts and wiped the sweat and tears from our eyes.
"You made it babe," I said.
"Yup. Longer than you, chef."
"Sure rub it in."
Nate opened the stocks, sneaking in a few quick tickles along the way. He sat beside us on the table; I made room and stroked his crotch.
"How'd you like it?" he asked.
"That was intense," Ben said, "But it was hot." By this point all three of us had raging boners that needed addressing, so I'll just end here and say that the whole experience is something we'll be doing again soon!
