Join the Fun!
by Leapoffate
I called him Guy.
He was a kid of about twenty and I noticed him long before I admitted it to myself. He wasn’t doing anything special — just existing in that quiet, self-contained way that made the rest of the world blur around him. Some people shine loudly; he shone softly, like a lamp in a window on a cold night. And for reasons I couldn’t articulate, I kept looking.
Every day I told myself I was being ridiculous. I didn’t know his real name. I didn’t know his voice. I didn’t even know if he’d ever seen me. But something about him — the way he laughed with his friends, the way he pushed his light brown hair back when it fell into his blue-green eyes, the way he seemed both confident and unaware of it — pulled at me with a force I didn’t understand.
I had four eagle feathers in my khaki shorts. I already had an idea of the turn this day might take.
Admiration is supposed to be gentle. Mine wasn’t. It was a restless, buzzing thing under my ribs. I’d catch myself staring too long, imagining conversations we’d never had, imagining what he might be like if I ever found the courage to step into his orbit. And then I’d snap myself out of it, cheeks hot, telling myself to stop being foolish.
The worst part was the urge — that sudden, reckless impulse to walk straight up to him and say something, anything, just to break the invisible wall between us. I’d feel it rising in me like a wave, and I’d have to physically stop myself, gripping the strap of my backpack or shoving my hands into my pockets so I wouldn’t do something impulsive and humiliating.
I told myself I was protecting my dignity. Truthfully, I was protecting my fear.
But admiration has a way of growing when you try to starve it. And one afternoon, when I saw him sitting alone on a bench outside the café — sunlight catching in his hair, his expression soft and thoughtful — something in me shifted. Not dramatically. Not like a movie. More like a quiet click inside my chest, a realization that I was tired of watching my own life from a distance.
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. My palms were sweating. My legs felt like they were made of wet sand. But I stood up anyway. He was dressed only in a tank top and shorts. On his handsome blemish-less bare feet were flip-flops.
Following him from a distance, I watched as his friends went in one direction and he went in another.
He was alone and strolling towards the beach.
I took a breath. Then another. Then I gathered every trembling scrap of courage I had — the kind you don’t feel until you’re already using it — and I started walking toward him.
Each step felt like stepping off a cliff.
But for the first time, I wasn’t running from the feeling. I was moving toward it.
And toward him.
Guy's blue-green eyes were wide with shock as I lunged at him. Je knew that I, a complete stranger, had dangerous intentions. The kid tried to run, but I was too quick for him. I tackled him like a defensive lineman and had him on the floor helpless. His flip-flops had already flown off his feet, and my fingers danced over his ribs.
"HAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!" he cackled helplessly.
"Seems to me that you need to loosen up a bit! This method here always proves successful" I said, tickling his sides with my strong fingers.
Then, without giving him a chance to shift his position, I sat on his thighs, straddling his legs while facing his now bare feet. I let my fingers scrape his arches, under his toes, and the balls of his feet, feeling the severely ticklish twitch of his entire leg and foot with each finger-nailed stroke.
Then my hand began tickling in earnest. He squealed with laughter and struggled to free his feet, but he wasn't getting away from me. I was much stronger. I continued to tickle and tickle and tickle and tickle his feet as he howled like a madman, pounding my back with his fists, as if his blows would be powerful enough to get me to stop the torment.
"AHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!" he belly-laughed as I concentrated on one foot. I seized his right ankle and used my fingernails to attack the sole of that foot vigorously.
I had to move like lightning in order to seize one of his limbs after freeing another. So, after releasing his feet, I deftly spun around so that I was on top of him and facing in the same direction. As quickly as I could I shoved his tank top up and grasped both his wrists with one hand--hauling them above his head. With his midsection bared, I leaned my head down and began blowing raspberries on his tummy. He howled and vibrated.
When he was sufficiently weakened from all the laughter, I spun around to face his pedal extremities again. His feet clearly were ticklish from heel to toes … top and bottom. I held his legs in place and situated myself firmly on his ankles. I then scissored my legs around his ankles as well as sitting on them for maximum vulnerability. I dug my fingers into his arches with complete and total abandon. The laugher that came from him was explosive!
He begged and pleaded for mercy through screams of ticklishness, "Please!! Please stop!! Stooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahahaa!!" He was really losing it. His stolid body was twisting and rotating around on the sand, but his bare feet remained locked firmly in my grasp and completely exposed to my tickle-attack. I altered the angle of my tickling in order to keep up with his feet as his body revolved and swiveled. His feet were first pointing downward... his soles wrinkled, toes clenching ... a scream and a laugh and then they were pointing upward ...flexing and clenching ... the laughter playing the accompaniment to his torturously ticklish dance. He began to wear down, and his feet came to rest toes down again. His twisting ceased as his laughter vanquished his strength. When I thought he was about to pass out I stopped tickling and released him. I never got a chance to use the eagle feather I always carried with me … just in case I grew the balls necessary to do what I just did!
While Guy recovered he explained to me that, as far as tickling was concerned, his body was one huge nerve-ending. I certainly couldn't argue with that. I hadn't seen someone react to bare-handed tickling like that before. We were probably going to part ways after this, but a guy named Ryan … apparently a beach lifeguard friend of Guy … had witnessed my tickle attack on the handsome twenty-year-old.
He wanted in.
The thought of a second round had both me and guy recharged and ready for more action.
First Ryan took his fingertips and very lightly began to tickle Guy's pits, starting by just barely brushing the hairs in there. And when the brown-haired youth shrieks and jerks violently in his bonds, the slim lifeguard responds by digging in deeper and harder--watching the twenty-year-old squirm and make vain attempts at trying not to show that it was getting to him. Alas, it very quickly reached the point where he was begging Ryan to stop. Ryan didn't stop.
I gave Ry one of my spare feathers just in case he wanted to take things to the next level. We were soon joined by as surfer! A stereotypical “dude” with long, shaggy blond hair and still wet from a recent foray into the pacific. His name was Lee and Ryan immediately invited him to join in the fun.
Meanwhile I took my lucky eagle feather and glided it over Guy's nipples ... from underarm to underarm ... traveling over his male-nips on the way. His skin was visibly crawling with torment. I almost felt sorry for that fact that the brown-haired youth wasn't able to pull his arms down. I then proceeded to work the feather around the kid youth's navel, gliding it over his heaving tummy. This was clearly more than he could bear because he blacked-out for a few moments. While he was out, we used to tie strings of our shorts to bind him securely. Yes, we were leveling up!
He awakened to find himself bound … and with Lee using s feather I leant him to continue the attack on his armpits. This underarm assault was apparently a few levels above unbearable because Guy made a supremely valiant attempt at pulling his arms down to protect his tender pits. But his restraints simply would not allow this no matter how hard he tried. When he nearly pulled his arms out their sockets while striving to escape the torturous feathers, Lee decided to give our captive's underarms a break ...and proceeded to lightly tickle the brown-haired twenty-year-old's abs and sides, right below his ribcage.
Ryan joined him, using feathers to slowly stroke up and down the exposed armpits that Lee had backed away from in order to give the brown-haired youth a break! I watched Guy's flat stomach rising and falling with desperate tickle laughter. No matter how dreadful the torment, he was completely unable to move his arms to protect his pits ... nor could he raise the leaden weight of the stocks off his ankles. Noticing the bulge at his crotch, I moved towards his midsection.
"No!" he pleaded as I lifted up the waistband of his briefs and watched as his penis stood shamelessly at attention. I let the top of his underwear go so that just the tip of his dick was sticking out. Without a word I began to tickle Guy all over: stomach, ribs sides and armpits, and letting my forearms and elbows rub up and down his penis.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! HAHAHAHAH!!!!"
The handsome brown-haired youth was now oozing precum. I rubbed my finger in it and began rubbing it over his dickhead.
He said, "Please, no more ... "
I pulled down his briefs even further and began stroking him with one hand and massaged his balls with the other. I could actually feel the cum surging inside him, and he tensed up in an attempt to stop it. But I kept stroking faster and faster, and firmer and firmer. And my dick was hard enough to cut diamonds as I did this! I knew it wouldn't be long before I'd be able to see a little dampness through the denim of my khaki shorts. My dick seemed to be dripping precum copiously ... wetting my underwear clear through with dogwater. But I was so excited that I couldn't have stopped if I wanted to.
I could also see that ticklish Guy was really straining to hold it in, but soon he began pumping up and down as much as his bonds would allow him, and he howled as he shot out a huge load of cum up over my head and onto my neck and chest. Some of it splattered onto the brown-haired twenty-year-old himself, leaving a trail on his flat stomach.
But if the kid youth thought that ejaculation afforded him relief from the other torments, he was sadly mistaken. Lee continued assaulting his body with both feather and fingers.
"HAAAA HAAAA HAAAA HA HA HA HAAAA ... NO YOU'RE GONNA KILL ME!!! SOMEBODY HELP MEEEEE!!! HEEEE HE HE HEEE HA HA HA HA!!!" Guy shrieked as my brother-in-bondage stroked our captive's pit-flesh with his feather for several more cruel minutes. He then began the poking torture--pressing his index fingers repeatedly into the soft sparsely haired flesh, torturously massaging the delicate muscular which lay beneath. He prodded his wiggling index fingers deeper and deeper, violating the brown-haired youth's most ticklish muscle tissue. Guy howled out several new rounds of screaming laughter before passing out cold.
Me and my fetish-minded new comrades sat around his prone, vibrating, but unconscious body laughing—waiting for him to wake up so that we could begin round three!