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!
