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Hot Scruffy redneckCheck out out other Tumblrs:Rough and Ready...
08.05.2014 ,

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08.05.2014 ,

Wanna Ride it??

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Yummy…Check out out other Tumblrs:Rough and Ready...
08.05.2014 ,

Yummy…

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08.05.2014 ,

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[ blog posting ]
08.05.2014 ,
"Knowing" by Alex Proyas (2009)


"Never mind the diabolical explanations of air-foil you get in Pan Am’s multilingual INFORMATION TO PASSENGERS, I happen to be convinced that only my own concentration (and that of my mother — who always seems to expect her children to die in a plane crash) keeps this bird aloft. I congratulate myself on every successful takeoff, but not too enthusiastically because it’s also part of my personal religion that the minute you grow overconfident and really relax about the flight, the plane crashes instantly. Constant vigilance, that’s my motto. OK, I tell myself, we seem to be off the ground and into the clouds but the danger isn’t past. This is, in fact, the most perilous patch of air. Right here over Jamaica Bay where the plane banks and turns and the “No Smoking” sign goes off. This may well be where we go screaming down in thousands of flaming pieces. So I keep concentrating, helping the pilot (a reassuringly Midwestern voice named Donnelly) fly the 250-passenger motherfucker."

-- Erica Jong, Fear of Flying
Check out out other Tumblrs:Rough and Ready Rednecks-...
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No smoking. Manhattan, NYC.By Richard Rothstein.
05.05.2014 ,





No smoking. Manhattan, NYC.

By Richard Rothstein.

Frat House Interrogation
04.05.2014 ,

When the president of their fraternity is kidnapped by a rival frat, a group of fraternity brothers band together to tickle interrogate two pledges to force them to reveal his secret location in this hot gay tickling story by Ratty.
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Frat House Interrogation
by Ratty

Kidnapping the president of a rival fraternity was a kind of tradition. It usually happened twice a year and generally just after midterms or finals. Though exactly when, of course, nobody ever knew. We had kidnapped the president of Beta Theta Chi back sometime in the beginning of November, just after midterms. These kidnappings were all for the benefit of the new pledges of course. The more worldly upperclassmen just went along to make sure we never got into any real trouble (So they said! I suspect they enjoyed it even more than we did!). A kidnapping typically consisted of a midnight sneak-attack on the rival fret’s home turf where the president was then spirited away in his bed clothes off to some camp site at the edge of town or maybe just over to Edy’s or Fenton’s for a late-night sundae.

The pledges, wide-eyed and eager, would sneak in the back of the house, a television in the front room beaming David Letterman to the late-night diehards. Nervously conscious of every creaking board, the mob would make their way up the darkened stairway to the second or third floor, wherever their spies told them the president’s room was. Cowering in the hallway, the mob of freshmen would hold their breath while their upperclassman “chaperone” snuck into the darkened bedroom, closed the door behind him and whispered, “Wake up. You’re being kidnapped. And for heaven’s sake try to act surprised!”

Well, when the Betas retaliated that December, the night after the very last final of the semester, it went something very much like that. I was even watching David Letterman at the time. David had this guy filming him with a special camera while he dropped this big bucket of green jello into a huge spinning fan. Then he played the film back in slow motion. It was great! At about the same time, the Betas were sneaking back down the stairs with Tim, our president, securely in their midst, his hands tied loosely behind him with the sash of his bathrobe, and a makeshift gag stuffed into his mouth. We didn’t hear a thing.

Dave was running his slo-mo jello explosion for a second time, only backwards, when the kidnap squad got to the back door. Tim spit his gag out and called to us with a big smile on his face, “Yoo Hoo! Hey guys! I think I’m being kidnapped!”

We all turned around and looked into the wide-eyed, panic-stricken faces of the Betas. You have to remember that while the whole kidnap thing was staged by the upperclassmen for our benefit, we still took it quite seriously. The Betas quite seriously picked up Tim and ran tearing out the back door with him on their shoulders. We quite seriously jumped up from our chairs, screaming for the house to wake up, and ran tearing out after them.

The Betas had a whole shitload of cars waiting for them, ten at least. And when the pack of us came screaming out around the side of the house from the back, they all started their motors and turned on their headlights. More of us came pouring out of the front door, some wearing only shorts or just a towel around their waist, while the Betas stuffed Tim and themselves frantically into the waiting cars.

We swarmed over the cars like hornets even as they backed out onto the street. Rod Jameson, one of our own pledges, a big hulking blond boy fresh off the farm, pulled off the towel from around his waist and, spreading it over the windshield of the car Tim was in in an attempt to block the driver’s view, leaped onto the hood naked. The car screeched off into the night, frantic freshmen still pulling at the back door, falling back only when they could not run fast enough to keep up. Jameson clung to the hood for life, his bare white butt a beacon in the night. The car swerved crazily from one side of the street to the other in an attempt to throw him off, then stopped dead. Jameson did not slide off of the hood as they had intended (which is fortunate as the car possessed a large, rather wicked-looking hood ornament) but clung on tightly instead. Then with a smoking screech of tires, the car accelerated to about 60 and disappeared finally around the corner. Jameson was himself now an unwilling captive.

A train of cars followed their lead and was soon gone too. One car, however, was ours. The unlucky occupants, two Beta pledges, were a fraction too slow locking their door. Even as the car roared down the street we had the passenger door open. We dragged out the passenger first right onto the pavement and then the driver himself. The car narrowly missed a tree and careened instead into the large, well tended hedge of the hotel at the end of the street before coming to a rest. The Betas had our president and one of our pledges, but we had two of them!

And did they fight! They fought like they were being taken to their own execution. It took eight of us to hold the two down right there on the pavement. One had dark brown hair and the other blond and both had the wiry bodies of eighteen year-olds but were well-muscled, probably from lifting weights, so holding them was not easy. There was a scream from one of us, Richard, the vice president of the fraternity, as the blond bit down hard on his hand, drawing blood.

“You little shit!” Richard screamed, slapping the blond savagely across the face with the back of his good hand. The pair ceased their struggling a bit after that and we managed to pick them up and carry them back into the house.

We seated them squarely on the sofa in the living room, squeezed between two of our larger fret members. Dave was still grinning out at us from the television, involved now in a David Letterman look-alike contest. Five contestants, each with extremely large gaps between their front teeth, stood on stage, shuffling about and smiling at the camera. The television cast a ghostly, shifting blue light on the sullen faces of our two captives.

I suddenly recognized one of them, the dark- haired guy. I didn’t know his name but I had shared a math class with him the previous semester. In a voluminous class of at least two hundred, he had caught my attention the very first day, and after that I had tried faithfully to sit behind him in class. I liked to watch his back muscles through the thin shirts he typically wore. He was not bulky or exceptionally muscular but defined rather, very well defined. His neck was always well-trimmed and his shoulders broad, and every once in a while, when he wore very short sleeves, I could see a bit of thick black armpit hair spilling out. In short, I was in love with a back. Well here I had him on my living room sofa and I hadn’t even recognized him. I very quietly swooned.

The pair was surrounded by a mob, all talking at once. The house roared with voices as more members filed in through the front doors, or the heavier sleepers staggered downstairs to investigate the commotion, rubbing their eyes and yawning. Even a couple of towel-clad females (from a neighboring sorority I presumed) peered sheepishly around the corner, then darted back to whichever bedrooms they had come from. Very gradually the house quieted down. The Betas found themselves suddenly at the center of attention.

Richard took the burden of questioning them upon himself. He squatted down in front of the dark- haired guy and placed his hands firmly on the guy’s (broad!) shoulders.

“Okay, where are they taking him?” He was met with a blank look.

“Huh?”

“Where were you going to take Tim tonight? C’mon, you have to know!”

“I don’t know,” he said sincerely, meeting Richard’s gaze.

“Don’t lie. You were driving the car, just tell us where you were supposed to drive it to!”

“He told you we don’t know!” the blond snapped suddenly.

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth!” Richard turned on him, rubbing his hand where the blond had bitten it. “You’ll get your turn, I can promise you that!” He turned back to the dark-haired guy, “What’s your name?”

“Johann,” he smiled (I melted!) “and that’s Biff.” He indicated the blond with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t tell him our names, you jerk!” Biff screeched.

“Biff? Biff?!” Richard smiled incredulously. “Did you pick that name yourself or what?” Giggles erupted in the crowd standing around. Biff reddened visibly. Richard smiled and continued through gritted teeth. “Okay, YOU tell us… Biff. Where are they taking Tim?”

“I DON’T KNOW!! How many times do I gotta say it?!”

Richard stood up. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. I guess we’re gonna have to be a little more persuasive. Guys?” He motioned to the two large freshmen sitting on either side of the hapless pair. They stood up, large grins spreading on their faces.

“What are you going to do?” Johann asked calmly.

“Take you to the guest room for starters. After all, you’re our guests.” Their two “bodyguards” grabbed them by the upper arm and pulled them roughly to their feet.

“I think we’ll decline your hospitality,” Biff sneered.

“Wouldn’t hear of it,” Richard turned to walk out of the room. “I insist.” The bodyguards pushed the pair forward sharply, forcing them to follow.

The guest room was in the basement of the old three-story house and was really not a guest room at all. It used to be the pool room but was converted to a small dorm once a year when the university sponsored the Junior United Nations. Tau Kappa Epsilon typically hosted ten to twelve delegates from across the country for that week, providing them with bunks, a couple of army-style metal frame beds, some cots and floor space to spread sleeping bags out. The delegates had left the week before but the dorm hadn’t yet been converted back to a pool room. There weren’t any windows except for the two narrow ones up next to the ceiling at opposite ends of the largest wall. The walls and ceiling were an austere white; the floor, cold gray concrete.

Richard entered the room first, Johann and Biff were shoved down the stairs after him. “Put them over there on those two beds.” The bodyguards complied, throwing the two onto the army beds. Directly overhead, two bare light bulbs hung, one over each bed. They burned brightly and cast cold shadows in the far corner of the room.

“There, you ought to be comfortable here while we continue the, uh… questioning.”

“How dramatic!” Biff whined sarcastically. “When do the beatings start?”

“Oh I don’t think we’ll have to rely on anything so crude.” Richard took hold of Biff’s chin between his fingers and drew his face up close. “I feel confident you’ll cooperate.”

“I’m gonna puke!” Biff spat, and twisted his face out of Richard’s grip.

“I don’t think you could get out those windows there,” Richard went on, “but I think we should take some precautions all the same. I’d hate to lose either of you.” By now, most of the house had gone back to their beds but a still sizable crowd of fifteen or so had followed us into the basement and were grouped around the captives. Richard motioned to that group now. “Would you hold them down please?”

The small group eagerly pressed forward to push the pair onto their backs and hold them there. Richard pulled a sheet from one of the cots and began tearing it into wide strips. “This is just to make sure you two don’t try to go anywhere.” He walked up to the head of the beds. “Hold his arms up here.”

“Hey, what are you doing?!” Johann protested and tried to jerk his arms away, but the mob was too strong. In less than five minutes both Johann and Biff were tied up tightly, their arms stretched above their heads bound to the metal frame of the bed, their ankles similarly bound at the base.

Richard sat himself on the bed next to Johann. He was quiet a moment then smiled. “Now, tell me Johann, my friend. Where were you going to drive to tonight?”

“I don’t know, really. I was just following the rest of them. You know, it was a spur of the moment thing. We were all sitting around and someone says ‘Hey, let’s kidnap one of the Tekes!’ You know the rest, we were down here in five minutes.”

“Yeah, and then what?”

“I don’t know, we didn’t plan anything after that.”

“Johann, Johann, Johann.” Richard shook his head gravely. “I don’t believe you. I guess we’re going to have to be a little more insistent.” He turned toward the rest of us clustered around the two beds. “Well, how about it? You guys got any ideas how we might convince them?” Smiles spread suddenly across our faces. We had ideas.

“You guys remember your initiation last Fall, don’t you?” The smiles faded. We remembered that hellish night all too well. “What do you say to a repeat performance on these two?” Biff and Johann looked at us puzzled. The smiles were back on our faces bigger than ever. We knew if anything would make them talk, that would. Richard turned toward them again. “Hey guys, are you ticklish?”

They blanched. Johann’s mouth dropped open. “I asked you a question.” Richard continued.

“Uh…no, no of cuh-course not.” Johann stammered.

“Oh Johann, you should really learn to lie better. How about you, shitface?” He turned towards Biff. “Ticklish? Maybe just a little?” Richard got up and sat down on the bed next to him. Gingerly he reached down and untucked Biff’s T-shirt and pulled it up over his navel revealing a smooth, well-muscled stomach. Biff came to life all of the sudden. He tugged at his bonds madly, trying to free his hands. The bed squeaked and groaned under the effort.

“Don’t you touch me! Don’t you even touch me!”

“Hey guys, I think this one’s real ticklish!” Richard grinned. He leaned down, his nose only inches from Biff’s. “Just think, shitface. I pull that shirt of yours all the way up and me and my pals have a nice long prolonged tickling session on your ribs. How does that sound? Richard inserted a single finger under Biff’s sleeve and started tickling his armpit lightly. Biff started struggling all at once.

“No, No, ha ha, Stop it! Cut it out! HA HA ha ha, cut it out, STOP! HA HA HA!”

Richard stopped. “We can prolong it as long as it takes for you to tell us what we want to know. All night if we have to.” Richard got up and walked over to sit next to Johann.

“How about it guy?” he said casually as he pulled Johann’s T-shirt out and up over his stomach and chest to just above the nipples. My heart was in my throat at that moment. His stomach was hard and defined, rippling with muscle. Dark black hair creeped up from beneath his faded 501′s and covered his stomach thickly, then continued up in a line to join his bulging chest, itself sparsely covered with the thick, black hair. His nipples, just peeking out from under the T were sun-darkened, hard and surrounded by a thick ring of hair. He looked extremely vulnerable tied up. His arms were stretched very tightly above his head and the most sensitive parts of his body were exposed to whatever we wished to do, completely at our mercy. I seriously thought I would faint, such was my state of arousal.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! Don’t tickle me, please! I swear I don’t know where he’s at.” He was panicked. His words rushed out, his voice cracking on them. An intense almost sick sexual feeling burned in my stomach and started to boil up in me, forcing me to step forward almost against my will.

“Let me at those pits for an hour and I’ll have him talking!” I heard myself saying. I was staring intently at the bit of his hairy armpits revealed from under his short sleeves.

Johann stared at me, his eyes wide with horror. Richard turned around and beamed with satisfaction. “Alright, my man. Go to it!” he held out his hand towards Johann’s armpits. I sat on the bed next to him. Johann’s voice was a panicked jumble.

“No, No, don’t please don’t. Not my armpits, please not that! I swear I don’t know, please…”

I pulled his shirt all the way up over his head leaving his torso completely bare. His underarms were deep pits as he strained his muscles to free his wrists. They were choked with the coarse black hair so that you couldn’t even see the sensitive white skin underneath. With a fiendishness that surprised me, I approached his pits slowly, fingers wriggling wickedly. An involuntary smile grew on his face despite his panic.

“No don’t, No, No, NO! Ha Ha, keep away, don’t, ha ha, stay outta my pits!”

I found the panicky smile on his face strangely erotic. I wanted to prolong this as long as possible. My wriggling fingers approached his open pits slowly. I came closer and closer, just brushing the tips of the black hairs. He began to giggle helplessly and squirmed to get away, to escape. But of course escape was impossible for him now. Then, I dug in! With a scream he struggled madly, throwing his body from side to side, trying insanely to get away somehow, but unable to do so.

“No000000000000!! AAAHA HA HA HA HA! STOOOOOOP! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!”

I didn’t stop but kept tickling him. His laughter crossed over quickly into the realm of hysteria, high-pitched and constant. He managed to take one quick panicked gasp of air, then screaming laughter once more.

“AAAAAAAAAAAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA! STOOOOOOOOOOP ! AHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAHAHAHAHA!!”

His eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth stretched open wide. He jerked spasmodically from side to side, his hands clenched then opened repeatedly, his fingers splayed as he struggled desperately to free them. I just kept tickling him, but only his hairy armpits. I wriggled my fingers back and forth through the thick hair scratching the skin lightly, then poked and probed the muscular pits, digging in deeply and wiggling my fingers. His non-stop screaming laughter grew in intensity.

“Hey everybody,” Richard said as I tickled Johann, “What ‘re you waiting for?” The mob advanced on the two tied up captives. Richard turned to Biff and grinned lecherously. “I’m working on you personally, shitface.” He advanced on him then, fingers wriggling ominously, wickedly, heading straight for Biff’s creamy smooth armpits, white and sensitive and sparsely filled with fine blond hair.

The rest swarmed over the pair like starved animals. Biff and Johann had only a chance to scream “N000000000!!” before erupting once more into screaming, tortured laughter. While I continued tickling Johann’s pits, other hands dug into his ribs, sides and stomach. Someone pulled up his pants legs revealing his well-muscled legs. They were hairy, extremely hairy. Thick black hair covered his shins and calves. The mob reached down and began kneading and squeezing his knee-caps and the leg muscles just above the knees. It must have been an excruciatingly unpleasant feeling for Johann because he screamed and screamed before falling back into his hysterical high-pitched laughter.

Biff’s laugh was a giggle, high-pitched, hysterical and non-stop. Richard screwed his thumbs into his blond, sensitive armpits, wiggling them and probing deeply. At least five guys, all grinning and laughing, worked his ribs, tickling them, digging in with their fingers. Biff let out one long tortured scream as the mob pulled up his pant legs and squeezed and worked his knees. His legs were smooth and tan and extremely muscular like an Olympic ice-skater or bicyclist. Huge hands grasped the muscles and squeezed again and again.

“Listen to ‘em, listen to ‘em!” one guy yelled.

“Tickle his ribs, ha ha! Look at him, he can’t stand it!” said someone else.

“Do his armpits, get your fingers in there, here like this,” laughed one.

“Screw your thumbs in, here, let me!”

“You tickle his sides, I’ll get his ribs. C’mon, really dig in!”

We were laughing almost as much as they were. Johann’s laugh became suddenly deeper and throatier, more drawn out. Instead of “hahahahaha…” it became more of a “Haaaaaaaaaa haaaaaaaaaa haaaaaaaaaaaa… ” They both shook their heads crazily from side to side and their bodies squirmed and twitched and rocked helplessly. Their mouths were stretched into grotesque smiles. We just kept tickling them and tickling them. It continued for about half an hour until Johann finally broke down.

“I can’t stand it… HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA… God… STOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!… HAHAHAHAHAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA… I’ll tell you… HAAAAAAAAAA H

HAAAAAAAAA… ANYTHING ANYTHING OHGODANYTHING… HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAA…”

Richard shouted at us to stop. They were drenched in sweat. It had actually pooled in Johann’s armpits. He gasped for air desperately. Both he and Biff’s chests and stomachs heaved up and down savagely.

“Okay Johann. We stopped. Now it’s your turn to play. Tell us what we want to know,” said Richard. “This had better not be a false alarm because if it is… ” Richard approached Johann with his index fingers extended and wriggling.

“No, no, no… Stop, get away… I’ll tell, I’ll tell. I mean it… ” He had to stop to gulp more air and shake the rivulets of sweat out of his eyes. “The marina… ” he confessed finally, “They’re at the marina… ” Biff shot Johann a look. Johann stared back at him stonily. Something passed between the two but I couldn’t tell what.

“That’s more like it,” Richard continued. “See, you could eve told us at the very beginning and saved yourselves all this discomfort.”

“I told you… now let us go. No more tickling.”

Richard shook his head. “I know you wouldn’t dream of stooping to anything so low as lying to us, but all the same I think we’ll keep you around till we check out your story.”

“He told you where they were!” Biff screamed. “What the fuck more do you want? Let us go, NOW!!”

“He did tell us, you’re right. But for that matter, Biff buddy, you didn’t tell us a thing. I think you deserve to be tickled another couple of hours at least.” Richard began poking his armpits.

“No, no, no… hahahahahahaha… Stop! no… ”

Richard stopped. “Alright then, not another word out of you.” He turned to the rest of us. “Some of you come with me to the marina–the rest of you stay here and watch these two.” He left with a large group.

The rest of the mob went upstairs then to go to the bathroom, get a snack, or let the rest of the house in on the proceedings while I stayed behind downstairs to guard the captives alone. I was still seated at the top of the bed next to Johann’s head. When I looked down again he was staring at me.

“I know you,” he said quietly.

I gulped. “You do?”

“You know who I am too, I know you do.”

My face became hot. I looked quickly over at Biff. He wasn’t paying attention. His head was facing the other direction, his chest still rising and falling rapidly, trying to catch his breath. Apparently being forcibly tickled for a prolonged period of time had taken its toll on old Biff.

“You sat behind me in Epstein’s class.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “You sat behind me every day.”

“Except for the first day,” I answered back.

“And those three days in November you didn’t come to class.”

“I was sick… wait a minute, how did you know?”

He shrugged. He was about to say something else when some of the members returned, laughing and talking noisily as they came down the stairs. I looked at Johann questioningly. He only met my gaze, not looking away, not saying a word.

“Hey Biff, old buddy… whazza matter?” One of the pledges had returned with his buddies to pester the captive. They were all obviously quite drunk. “C’mon, wake up! Hey, don’ let a little tickling get you down. Hey buddy, hey, wake up!”

“Just get out of here!” Biff snarled. “Get the tuck outta here and leave me alone, willya?!”

“Thaz not very nice.” He wouldn’t be dissuaded. He turned to his buddies and smiled. “Watch this.” He began poking Biff’s armpits repeatedly with his index fingers. “Kitchy kitchy koo, ha ha!”

Biff came to life. “No, no, stop, hahahahahahaha… stop it, hahahahaha… leave me alone, no, hahahahaha… ”

“Kitchy kitchy kitchy koooo, ha ha.” He kept poking him and his buddies joined in too. Biff laughed helplessly, not hysterical yet, but unable to stop. I looked down at Johann again. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of me but was still staring, making me extraordinarily uncomfortable all of the sudden. There was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I lied, you know.” he said quietly.

“Huh?”

“I lied. They didn’t take him to the marina.”

“What?!” I said a bit too loudly. The drunken oafs tickling Biff didn’t even look up but kept guffawing and poking him in the armpits and ribs. “They’re only going to come back and tickle you some more,” I went on. “If you think you hated being tickled for the past half hour, just wait till they come back!”

“Maybe I didn’t hate it as much as I let on,” he said. His smile grew a little more. He glanced down quickly then back up once more to look me in the eye. I followed his glance. There was a quite discernible bulge in his crotch. I wondered that I hadn’t noticed it before. I couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, I reached my hand out slowly, hesitantly, and rested it on his out- stretched shoulder, then stroked it lightly.

“HA HA HA HA HA… STOOOOOP!…” Biff screamed. The small group of drunken slobs, cackling uproariously, were tickling his ribs and sides. Poor Biff.

“You won’t tell will you?” Johann asked.

“No.” I pulled my hand away, fearful that the others might see, fearful that the gesture had told Johann too much… or not told him enough.

They were back in less than half an hour. To my great surprise, Richard was smiling when he came down to the basement. “You were a very bad boy, weren’t you?” he said to Johann. “And I thought you weren’t a good liar. Shame on you. ”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t lie to you,” Johann said, apparently trying to salvage something from his failed ruse. “I told you where they were at, now let us go.”

“No, you didn’t tell us where they were going. I asked the night watchman. There hasn’t been a soul in the marina all night.”

“You’re lying,” Richard shot back. “You know you found them there. This is just some trick of yours!” he shouted. He seemed totally convincing to me. Richard was right. Johann’s ability to lie had grown considerably over the course of the evening.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Richard shook his head. “It’s almost two in the morning. I think we’ll be less concerned about finding out where Tim is and more concerned with your punishment. Lying to me is a grave offense. The night is young, my boys are eager,” Johann looked at the sea of leering faces crowded behind Richard, “and we have all weekend together… all Winter break for that matter, ha ha. But I don’t think we should have to keep you here longer than a week. Let’s see… ” He seemed to be figuring something out in his head for a moment, “Breakfast at seven, five hours of tickling, then lunch at noon, another four hours of tickling till dinner, then maybe we’ll let you rest, maybe not, I don’t know yet… ”

Biff was white as a sheet. As he listened to Richard a look of horror slowly dawned on his face. A soft whine escaped his wide open mouth. He turned to look at Johann. Suddenly anger flashed in his eyes and his white face turned crimson. “You IDIOT! You ASSHOLE! Why do you have to be so STUPID?! Why didn’t you say someplace farther away? Why can’t you have said San Francisco, or Marin, or even tucking ALCATRAZ?! They could have been gone for hours!”

“Shut up!” Johann yelled back. “I’m sick of you, just SHUT UP!!”

“Boys, boys… now boys,” Richard said grinning.

“I HATE you! Look what you did! You’re so STUPID! You ASSHOLE!” Biff kept raving.

Johann looked up at Richard. “Hey, Rich buddy. Do me a favor, will you. Tickle his feet. He can’t stand it,” he laughed.

Richard slapped his forehead. “His feet! Of course, what a fool I am! I forgot all about the feet!”

Biff stopped cold. Horror dawned on his face. Richard stooped down and began untying his shoes. Biff mouthed a silent “no”, shook his head and mouthed the word again. Richard looked up at him as he pulled off first one shoe, then the other. “Everybody knows the feet are the most ticklish of all. I’m sorry Biff al’ buddy. How could I have forgotten about your feet?”

A whimper escaped Biff’s lips. “No, no,” he pleaded softly. “God, please, don’t, no… not my feet… ” His lower lip quivered. He held his head up and watched Richard’s every move.

“Well don’t worry. I intend to make up for lost time. We’re gonna spend a good, long time together, just you… ” he pulled off one sock, “me… ” he pulled off the other, “and your feet.” Biff started to cry as Richard held one soft, tender foot in his hands. “Such nice, pretty soles,” he said. “It’s a good thing I never got around to cutting my nails.” He held up his hands for Biff to see. “They’re way overdue for a trim. See how long they are?” He wiggled his fingers then grinned a big, toothy grin. Then slowly, very slowly, fingers still wiggling, he began lowering his hand to Biff’s bare foot, held tightly by his other hand.

“No, please, no… ” he begged, tears streaming down his face, “pleeeeeeeeeeease, no, not my feet… Anything but that… ” Richard’s smile never faded. He continued bringing his wiggling fingers closer and closer to the sole of Biff’s bare foot, all the time staring at Biff right in the eye.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Biff started to laugh. Just the threat of having his feet tickled forced an involuntary smile on his face. “Ha ha ha… please, please, please, oh please don’t… ha ha ha… stop… ”

“‘Oh please don’t stop?”‘ Richard mocked. “Don’t worry buddy, I won’t stop.”

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Richard’s fingers began brushing the sole of Biff’s foot. The result was a volcano erupting. Biff screamed! His toes curled in a futile effort to protect the sole and he tried desperately to shake his foot loose from Richard’s grip but his hand was a vice and held it tightly.

“You guys give me a hand!” he called back. The rest of the mob joined in eagerly. They sat on top of each of Biff’s legs and held his feet immobile, squeezed between their knees. They tickled his feet, alternately scratching the soles with their fingernails and then brushing them lightly with the fluttering tips of their fingers. Solid laughter poured from Biff, screaming, helpless, uncontrollable, hysterical laughter of one forcibly tickled. His pants legs were still rolled up and one guy sat on his waist and started in once more tickling his kneecaps, probing around and underneath the bony cap with wriggling fingers. The rest of the mob crowded in to tickle his ribs, stomach and armpits. It was no longer possible to distinguish Biff’s laughter from his screams.

“Don’t forget our other friend over there,” Richard said looking up at Johann and me. “Don’t want to leave him out of all the fun, do we, ha ha.” He laughed and continued tickling Biff’s soles.

Johann looked up at me urgently. “Not my feet! Not my feet! Don’t let them,” he said, staring me in the eye. “Anything else, but not that! Please!”

I shrugged my shoulders. After all, what could I do? I smiled broadly and went down to help the gang take his shoes off. “No! NO! You wouldn’t! Not my feet! I hate that! No! I can’t stand it! I hug you!! AAHA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA…” We started in on his feet. If Johann claimed to like the earlier treatment we had given him, he certainly didn’t like this! I left the feet to the others, straddled his waist and dug my fingers sharply into his soft, tender sides then wiggled my fingers. But goddam if I didn’t feel the bastard’s hard-on underneath me bigger than ever!

He didn’t last three minutes this time before he began screaming that he’d tell, he’d tell, this time he’d really tell, onlygodpleasestopthetickling! We ignored him of course and I dug into his sides harder than ever then moved to the ribs. His begging for mercy was soon swallowed up in his hysterical laughter.

Finally, though after another fifteen or twenty minutes of tickling, Richard relented. He yelled for us to stop. “Alright this had better be good Johann!” he said sternly.

“It is, it is… just stop… no more… no more tickling… not my feet… I’ll tell you…”

“Well?”

“Tilden… they took him to Tilden… a campground in Tilden.”

“Tilden park is a big place. Which campground?”

“I don’t know the name… ”

“Isn’t that a shame. Let’s tickle him some more boys. Maybe it’ll jog his memory.”

“No, no… AAAHAHA HA HA HA HA HA STOOOOOOOOOP! HA HA HA HA HA… I..KNOW… WHERE!!… HA HA HA HA HA… ”

Richard relented again. “Tell us! Where?!”

“I told you I don’t know the name… NO, stop, stop… let me finish… I can take you to it… We had our freshman rush picnic there. I can take you right to it, I swear.”

“Alright!” Richard pointed his finger at him. “I’m going to trust you just this one last time. I’ll send you up there with these guys. But if you’re lying again or if you try to get away and we catch you… I’ll personally tie you up and make you wish you were dead!”

Johann gulped. “I’m not lying. Not this time. I won’t try to run away, I swear!”

We untied him and allowed him to dress himself.

“What about ME?!” Biff screamed, still tied to the bed.

“Oh we’re not going anywhere,” Richard said, smiling. “I’m sending the rest of them up there but you and I… ha ha, we’re going to spend the rest of the night right here, aaaaall alone, just us. Don’t worry though, I’ll see you don’t get bored.” He turned back to us. “Now get going!”

“No, No, N0000, you can’t. You BASTARD! You FUCKING BASTARD! Let me GO! Wait… no, no… stop… God no, stop… please no… get away… get away from my feet… No, no, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!… ”

We left up the stairs as Richard approached Biff’s feet, fingers wiggling, an evil grin on his face. We heard the explosive screams followed by uncontrolled hysterical laughter as we got to the front door. It seeped up through the basement windows and followed us as we drove off into the night.

The car took the sharp curves of the winding mountain road a bit too fast for my peace of mind. There was one benefit to that, however. With every curve I was pressed tightly against Johann, seated in the back seat between me and another Teke. The feel of his warm, hard body behind the sweat-soaked T he wore drove me crazy. We’d screech around a curve and he’d press tightly against me, his hard shoulder muscle against my upper arm. His leg was tightly wedged in next to mine and I could feel electricity where we touched. I wanted desperately to reach down and reposition my hard cock, it was bent uncomfortably in my levis, but of course I couldn’t in such close quarters, so I tried wishing it to limpness instead. It didn’t work.

We took another harrowing turn, tires screeching, and Johann shot out an arm to steady himself, reaching across my lap in the process. I became acutely aware of his arm pressing against my crotch. He seemed to be keeping it there longer than necessary. My face felt on fire and all I could do was stare straight ahead at the tail lights of the car in front of us. When he pulled his arm back he did it slowly. The long, slow friction against my cock drove me crazy. Did he do it deliberately?

I wanted to look down at his lap but didn’t want to be obvious. Keeping my head facing straight forward I looked at him slyly out of the corner of my eye. He was looking straight ahead, seemingly unaware of me. I slowly let my eyes wander down to his crotch. It was too dark to see anything. If I could only reach over somehow and “accidentally” brush against him. I squinted my eyes, trying to make out a bulge in the dark shadows of his lap and thought I could see something but couldn’t be sure. More of our cars followed behind us in a train and just then a headlight beam shot in through the back windshield, lighting up the inside of the car. Johann’s face was brilliantly illuminated in the rearview mirror. He was looking at me… had been watching my face all that time. A smirk touched his lips as his eyes met mine in the mirror. I was so embarrassed.

The trip took forever, it seemed. Johann indicated to the driver that the campsite was just ahead. We pulled in front of the other cars, turned off our motor and our lights and coasted silently to a stop before a grove of trees. I could make out the orange flickering of a campfire sifting out of the woods before us. Ten cars glided in next to us, a quiet crunch of gravel their only sound.

Our driver opened the door to get out. “What about him?” said the guy seated on the other side of Johann.

“Let him go. We don’t need him,” the driver answered. “It’s them. See, there’s one of their cars,” he said, pointing to a beat up Mustang parked not far away.

Now suddenly it seemed the trip hadn’t lasted long enough. I hesitated opening the door, not wanting to end the feeling of Johann’s body against mine. “Are you coming?” the driver said to me in a low voice.

I got out of the car not wanting to look at Johann. I could feel him staring at me. He didn’t make a run for it or shout for help but rather followed us quietly into the woods. As we made our way stealthily toward the light of the campfire, a sound we recognized slipped out of the trees. We all stopped and looked at one another, mouths open. It was laughter, hysterical, tickled laughter. It wasn’t Tim though, I knew that. I had witnessed him being tickled on more than one occasion and I knew his laugh well. We pushed forward, keeping careful to stay out of the firelight and in the shadows. As we came up quietly behind the large trees ringing the campsite we saw who was being tickled so mercilessly: Jameson!

We had forgotten all about poor Jameson, unwilling passenger trapped naked on the hood of the escaping car. He was suspended upside down, hanging by his feet on a rope tied to a branch of a tree. His head and shoulders rested on the ground and his hands were tied behind his back. The Betas were tickling him, clustered greedily around him, they laughed noisily and tickled his feet, suspended in the air.

“NOOO… HA HA HA HA HA… STOOOOOP!… HA HA HA HA HA HA… ” Jameson, a big laughing smile on his face, screamed and begged for mercy. He squirmed and writhed and rolled around on the dirt, sometimes lifting his entire body off the ground. He was still just as naked as when we last saw him. His cock flopped about semi-hard, an impressively large piece of meat. His feet were huge, size thirteen at least, and the Betas tickled those large, sensitive soles with a greedy relish. His hips swiveled and shook in a dizzy effort to escape the tickling.

Of Tim we had seen no sign. But a moment later we heard his voice call out from the woods not ten feet from where we were hiding. “I found one!” he yelled. He walked into the clearing with a large pine cone in his hands. We stared at the scene in amazement, unable to tell just who was on whose side. “Try this!” he said, handing the pine cone to one of the Betas.

They stopped tickling Jameson. He wilted in exhaustion, sweat dripped from him and his long blond hair was matted with dirt and pine needles. Then with a fiendish smile, the Beta brought the prickly cone in contact with Jameson’s huge, white soles and began rolling it up and down.

Jameson screamed! “AAAAAAAAAAUGHHH… GET IT OFF! GET

IT OFFAAAAAAAAAAUGHHHHHGET IT OFF MY FEET Noooo… AAAAAAAAAUGHHHHHA HA HA HA HA HA HA” He

twisted and thrashed desperately, screaming his hysterical

laughter. The Beta kept rolling the pine cone up and down, then lifted it off and began patting the soles with it repeatedly. Jameson continued laughing hysterically. The Beta used the top of the cone to poke and probe about the toes, lifting, then jabbing and rolling. Jameson’s screams were non-stop.

Tim crossed in front of the squirming victim. He kneeled down and took Jameson’s firm cock into his mouth. My mouth dropped open. I looked at my fellow Tekes, their mouths were open. I looked at Johann and he only stared back at me, a huge smile on his face.

Jameson’s screams were interrupted by his moans, then more laughter. Tim forced his mouth further over the rapidly hardening piece of meat, gagging, then taking more down his throat. In and out he started pumping the cock, no longer gagging. Jameson’s hips now moved not to escape the tickling, but to force his meat deeper into Tim’s mouth.

With a look at one another, the rest of our group went running out into the clearing to join the fun. Some of them knelt down to tickle Jameson’s ribs or force their squirming fingers into his tightly closed armpits. Another took his hanging balls into his mouth and tickled them with his tongue. Jameson alternated between screaming laughter and moaning pleasure, between begging them to stop and begging them not to.

I was left alone with Johann. He pulled me around by the shoulder to face him, pushed me against a tree, then, after a long look, pressed his mouth tightly against mine and kissed me passionately. The old cliché is true. Your knees can buckle, and mine did. He caught me by the arms and laughed.

“Let them have their fun… we’ll have our own.” He took me by the hand and pulled me after him back into the woods.

Needless to say, this proved to be a most interesting end to my first semester of college as well as an interesting end to my story. Johann and I continued seeing each other for a while after that. Getting tied down and tickled excited him sexually and he let me do it to him from time to time as long as I didn’t tickle his feet, an experience he loathed intensely. Being a fiend at heart, I of course did just that as often as I could get away with it and before long it was over. Johann had to withdraw from school for a semester of rest and recuperation after a particularly cruel foot-tickling session instigated by myself with the help of his wrestling coach. That story, however, I will save for another time.

Ratty

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