I Am Horribly Ticklish

Now having said that, I can openly confess (since all of the LERs live so far away) that being tickled is a mixed bag of emotions, responses and sensitivities. Although I have never tried it, I imagine that being high after smoking a joint would be one of the most incredible tickle torture sessions for me.

Yep, I said tickle torture. Tickle torture isn't really torture at all -- it's a wonderful "collision" of all that feels great and all that creates fear within. I am a LEE, or tickLEE. . . one who seeks to be tickled. I posted on a tickle site and I was shocked that I received a response. I was given EXACT instructions that I was to follow. My email said that I was to be in a certain location with a blindfold on. The person who was to pick me up would do the rest. I felt like such a dork sitting there in the gray, fading sunlight along busy US Highway 19.

It only took a few minutes when there was a "tap-tap" on my driver's window. "Michael," she breathed, "Please come with me." I stammered out an "Okay," and was led by the arm to her car. She held the side of my head so it wouldn't crash into the frame of the door. I was told to remain silent and to ensure that I did so, a rubber ball gag was forced into my mouth and a leather buckle fastened behind my head. OK, I was a little nervous. I mean I was sitting there with a blindfold (not too smart), taken from the comfort of my car, placed into another car, gagged and seatbelted in.

She had jazz playing on her stereo and it was quiet; so quiet that I could hear her breathe. Thank God there was just one of her because I did not know what to expect at all. She said, "Hi Michael, I don't know you and you will know none of us." I gulped hard, "Us," I said but it sounded more like "Mmmph," because of the gag. "Michael, there is nothing to fear. We are a group (group?) of researchers from USF and we are conducting a study on the male response to tickling." I gulped again. She continued, "We aren't funded but the group (group, again?) needs willing men like you so we can conduct our research and submit our graduate degree papers on the research." I "Mmmph'd" in an approving manner while nodding my head.

I felt the car slow and turn into a long driveway. Her foot touched the brake and the car stopped. She got out of the car and returned a few minutes later opening the passenger door. I heard some faint whispers and was led by both elbows into the home, hotel, motel, dorm. . . hell, all I know is it wasn't outside! "Michael," another woman's voice said, "In order to conduct our tests, we'll have to undress you." I gulped hard enough to fill the Gulf of Mexico.

I felt the breath of one of them on my face as she unbuttoned my shirt, It was pushed over my shoulders and onto the floor in a heap. I was backed up to the edge of either a very hard bed or a large padded exam table. One of them said, "Climb on top, Michael." I did as directed. Another leaned in to whisper in my ear, "Michael honey, I have to remove your shoes." I "Mmph'd" again but I was in terror inside. My soles and the edges of my feet are the most ticklish part of my body. That and it's also a 'hotline' to my erogenous zones. I felt like I was in deep doo-doo. Grabbing the heel of my shoe she pulled it from my scrunching toes. "Look," she said, "This one is going to be fun."

I was told to lie on my back and put my hands over my head. I did just that. A pair of handcuffs were snapped on and ratcheted up tight. Someone pulled my wrists over my head and snapped a chain then pulled that and locked it in place. A strap was placed around each elbow and they were pulled tight making the thought of any escape impossible. Still another bent over to whisper in my ear, "Now for your pants, Mikey," and she nibbled along the edge. Oh man, that was the wrong response as I soon mustered up a full throttle erection and it was evident by the bulge in my pants.

The pants which were about to be removed. I felt my belt buckle being undone and the top of my jeans opened. The zipper was slowly, almost painfully dragged to the fullest open position. The sides were pushed open and two ladies grabbed the cuffs of my blue jeans and pulled them down revealing all of me. . . and I do mean all of me. "Look," one of them said, "He's as hard as a rock!" One of them (I'm guessing there were three or four at this point) grabbed a leather cuff and placed it around my ankle. Another woman did the same with the other ankle.

The straps were pulled tight and it made my feet arch as they did so. "Oh wow," one of them said,"Just look at those arches, we're gonna have some fun toni...," but she was "shhh'd," mid sentence. "We're almost done, Michael," one said, "We just don't want you to get hurt during our research." A collar was then placed around my neck and it too was chained to my left and right then padlocks snapped in position. Leather laces were now being wrapped around my toes and they were pulled upward causing my soles to be both arched and exposed. "Are you ready, Michael?" one of them said. "Like I had a choice," I thought.

"Gretchen, tell him what's about to take place," a low voiced woman said." Gretchen has that soft, sexy voice that you want to hear. She leaned into my ear and whispered, "Michael, we're going to tickle..." I started to laugh as one of them was scribbling on my soles, Gretchen sternly said, "Stop it you guys, I'm trying to tell him that he's in for a long night." The cat out of the bag, one young lady each was at each of my soles. Ten fingers on each of my soles! Ohhh noooooo! Hahhahhahahh! I could only muffle out grunts and groans and gales of laughter as the gag did its job.

Awwww hahhahahahahah! Two more moved to my underarms and now I realized that there were at least four "conducting research." I couldn't budge, I couldn't move, I couldn't even beg for mercy as they continues their onslaught of me, "Hoooooo, ahhhahhahahahhahahhahaha," breathing was difficult but made worse by their tickling of me. I laughed so hard that rivers of tears were streaming down my cheeks. This went on for about an hour and then it stopped. Just stopped!

Then a single feather began to tickle my shaven balls. I began to laugh wildly and grew harder in the process. A young lady was at each foot tickling my soles and tickling up and down the inside of my thighs. Then I felt something strange. . . it felt as though one of them had began to consume me. The moistness surrounded my shaft and went up and down ever-so-slowly. She grabbed the base of my penis and held it tight saying that she didn't want me to ***. Here I was being eaten and my soles tickled. All of my senses were right at the surface of my skin and I was moaning with every breath I could gather through the gag.

The tickling of my soles intensified and I grew harder with each "bite." Then one directed, "Make it happen. Make him ***." The tickling was wild and the sensation explosion was in full swing as I experienced on of the best ******* ever. "Let him rest a few minutes then we start all over again!" I was in shock. I screamed through the gag but it was ignored. Gretchen came over and whispered, "Sorry Michael, but you're more ticklish post-****** and that's what our study is all about. Get ready because they're coming back and this time it's really gonna tickle."

I writhed about and tried to scream but they approached and it started all over again.
ticklishsoles ticklishsoles
61-65, M
1 Response Jul 31, 2010

what a story! LOVE IT!