[This story originally appeared in Issue 18 (September/October 1990)]
ST. LOUIS, MO. Last summer I got tickled just for being an asshole. Some friends and I were helping our friend Jerry paint his new house. These were all guys that I’d known, a couple in the biblical sense and otherwise, since college, all gay and pretty tight. After the paint job, the five of us were hanging around Jerry’s pool, swimming, working out with weights, suntanning, etc. I guess you could say we’re all health freaks, but that’s important, I guess.
Like I said, I was being the class clown, not unusual for me especially after a few too many. I was dunking guys in the pool, trying to pull off their trunks, clowning around with the weights and being a nuisance, etc. The other guys finally got fed up and told me to stop horsing around or they would tie me up. I dared them to try.
Three of them jumped up and grabbed me while Jerry ran to get some rope. I didn’t think they were serious, but I was wrong. A futile struggle later I was tied to the metal pole supporting Jerry’s basketball backboard, with my hands crossed and tied behind the pole. As those sexy guys in their sexy trunks were tying and grabbing me all over, I started laughing and squirming and told them that they were tickling me. That’s all the cue they needed.
One of the guys took a finger and started tickling my side, just under my armpit, and then they all joined in, going after different parts of my body at once. Their fingers were everywhere, teasing my ribs, my feet, my neck. They were falling over themselves, laughing at my situation, and I was literally in tears, fully aware that I had no way to escape this ecstacy.
One of the guys drove me crazy just by dragging a toe up and down the hairs on my leg. Another one took a dry paint brush and just made me crazy. He started tickling my chin, and he swirled and teased my hairy body with brush strokes from top to tortured toes. Begging and pleading just made the strokes more insistent, and every sensory nerve in my body was on fire. He even reached into my trunks and ticklebrushed my oh, so tender groin. I thought I’d shake down the whole basketball setup when he did that. He had to see how stiff my cock had grown, and I enjoyed seeing that their cocks were making tents out of their Speedos, too.
The tickling stopped, but my body still jumped if one of them touched me. While I was tied up, they wanted to shut me up. One of them pulled my hair and tried to get my mouth open wide enough to accept a tennis ball between my teeth. The ball gag stayed in for a few minutes, but it wasn’t in far enough and I was able to push it out of my mouth. A piece of sticky grey gaffer’s tape, plastered across my mouth, kept me quiet.
I was tied like that for an hour or so, even after it started raining. They grabbed their stuff and ran inside, leaving me to struggle in the wet. While I was getting good and soaked, I could see them watching me through the window, safe and dry. Pretty soon, a couple of the guys untied me and hustled me thankfully inside. I started to towel off, but Jerry said he had another drying method in mind. But naturally, it involved being tied. I was too tired and turned on to argue.
We padded into the bedroom, with one of the guys holding my arms in case I was planning a getaway. They started tying me to a chair, but then they had another idea. I stood up and assumed the position, hands crossed behind my back in anticipation, but they told me to stand “at attention”. They held my arms flat against my sides, palms on my thighs, and they tied one piece of rope around my chest and upper arms a couple of times, and wrapped another piece two times just above my crotch and wrists. They pulled off my soggy trunks and pushed me naked on Jerry’s bed, and tied a third rope around my knees and a fourth one around my ankles. Jerry gagged me with a piece of towel or some other kind of thick cloth. Whatever it was, all I could do was grunt.
I could see the guys getting hot watching me, and watching them turned me on as well. Speaking of heat, Jerry pulled out his hair dryer and aimed it at my damp body. He worked the dryer up and down while the others moved in to watch. And here’s the surprise! It tickled like crazy. I felt so damn edgy and vulnerable every time the warm air blew across some hairy patch, especially my crotch, it just tickled, and soon I was letting out with the painful giggles again, this time through the gag. All I could do was roll around from side to side, like a mummy without the bandages. The drying also seemed to make the ropes a little tighter, but not tight enough to kill me.
By this time everyone had gotten naked, and I was surrounded by four erect cocks. Then they really tickled the daylights out of me, using their fingers and whatever else they could find in the house to tickle me, things like paper, pieces of fabric, the paint brush again, coat hangers, a feather duster, you name it. They zeroed in on the soles of my feet which they hadn’t gotten to when I was standing up outside. One of them even used some ice cubes to tickle my ribs. It works! A finger scratching my balls became a hand pumping on my cock, then two hands pumping, then a mouth, and then a hand again jerking off my dick until I shot my cum. Jerry and one of the others shot their loads as well, across the remnants of ice cubes on my hairy stomach.
I was worn out. Jerry took out the gag and said he’d untie me if I agreed to stop horsing around and if I agreed to suck each of their cocks in the next week. I said I’d suck theirs if he’d suck mine. A deal was made, the ropes came off, and he did, and I did. In Jerry’s case, I was on my knees, hands tied behind my back, wearing a suit and tie and barefoot. That’s the way he wanted it.
A few issues ago you printed a letter from someone who said it wasn’t a good idea, breathingwise, to be gagged while being tickled. I’m here to say that nothing life-threatening happened to me while I was gagged and tickled, and gags are a favorite part of the scene for me, but I can see that writer’s point about the possibility of swallowing your tongue or something, especially if someone has breathing problems normally. Let’s be careful out there, guys.
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