First, apologies to anyone who wonders where I've been. The honest answer is that I keep forgetting I have this blog. I'm not really much of a blogger in general, so "blogging" isn't usually in the forefront of my mind. So, that said, here I am....again. Two years later - almost to the date.
I have this thing about being tickled to death. I know, I know... it's a part of the tickling universe. There are many of us who enjoy it when the "top" or master or victimizer says, "I'm going to tickle you to death." I know I get instantly hard hearing it. I just got hard writing it. But here's the thing - I REALLY REALLY fantacize about it happening for real. Like I REALLY want it to happen more than I think I should. And there have only been two times where I've been tickled by a Master who brought me beyond what I could handle - past that breaking point where I was a complete mess, terrified that it was happening, and yet had two of the biggest orgasms of my life - then passed out. For real. The last time it happened my Master said some really raunchy stuff as he was tickling my sheer socked foot and shaft - REALLY digging into my sides and armpits ... the look on his face was the first time I knew another person was SO into literally TORTURING me and not really caring how I was doing that it seemed he just might kill me as a result from the intensity... well, I want it to happen again. I was never so afraid (only than the one other time mentioned above and, I think, in a previous post) and convinced that he really might not stop. And I'm sitting here getting hard recalling it. I want him to go further next time... so what's wrong with me?
I had a fairly decent upbringing. Didn't get along with my step-father, but that's no unique story. In second grade a male classmate tickled me to the point of pissing my pants on the playground - I jacked off to that memory for two decades. (On a side note, I just looked him up on Facebook hoping for a reunion/replay. Sadly, he's straight.) I had my first tickling fantasy at age 4 - but have no recollection of anyone tickling me until that second grade incident. So these days, with my death fantasy so extreme and DESIRED, I'm really curious where it comes from.
In that ultimate fantasy, I go to meet with a tickler - a joint decision. We're going to play tickle games, he's going to tie me up, strip me to only my sheer socks, tell me he's going to tickle me to death, then he tickles me to orgasm, we hug and I go home. That's the joint plan. BUT then when he should be untying me and getting ready to send me on my way - he doesn't untie me. He instead tells me he's kidnapping me for real. Holding me until the day he tickles me to death. It may take one week. It may take 10 years. But he's not going to let me go - ever. He's going to keep me in a box, or tied to his bed, and will tickle me every single day. He'll jack me off every single say, then tickle me more. He'll tickle me until I pass out - every single day. And then, on the day that he finally bores of me, he pulls out a particular pair of sheer socks, puts them on me, and does, indeed, tickle me to death. Then to prove he's not kidding me nor is he simply trying to bring a fantasy to life so I'll have another orgasm, he in fact pulls out the box he's going to keep me in - then begins tickling me...
And to that fantasy, I will shoot load after load. So i'm curious both WHY someone who doesn't desire death in general (it's only specifically related to tickling and has nothing to do with depression, et al) - and whether or not I'm the only person who wishes for it?
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
I haven't realized just how long it's been since I stopped by with an update on my thoughts about my secret life of tickling....
I love tickling. Everything about it. The tension. The suspense. Pulling at the restraints as the fingers come closer. Scrunching of the toes and arches. The desperation for it not to happen...but WANTING it to happen. Then once the tickling actually begins, wanting it to stop... but NOT really wanting it to stop.
As the victim, I love the look in my Master's eyes. I can tell just how wicked he's going to be. Is he tickling me to get his own rocks off? Is he doing it only to bring joy to me? Is he seriously doing this to tickle me to near death, or is this just a fun play time where he'll tickle me for a few moments then move on to another area of my body, not REALLY wanting to tickle me too extremely.
As the tickler - which I seldom do - I LOVE looking at the fear in my victim's face. He doesn't know how far I will go. When I hear his nervous laughter begin, it's bliss. When I know he TRULY IS ticklish, and not just ticklish for creating the scene itself .... Heavenly. How far can I take him? If his feet are truly ticklish, that's were I'll make him suffer most, watching his forehead sweat, pelvis thrust, feet flex and try to get away... I want to hear him laugh with true begging and pleading in his voice. I want him to enjoyably suffer....
I've recently come across a new tickler... He doesn't hold back. He likes to watch me SUFFER. When most of my Masters would stop to let me breathe because they think I've had too much, he intensifies. I've cum close to passing out many times with him at my feet. Being with him has, for the first time, made me wonder if I've actually come to a point where it's no longer enjoyable... and THAT turns me on! He likes to hear me scream for real. HOURS of endless tickling torture. I'm not even able to cum anymore by the time he's finished with me. He enjoys my sheer sock fetish. He enjoys that I like the idea of real, prolonged tickling torture.
I believe I've finally met my match... Now if he'd just let me take a whack at his sheer feet....
Monday, March 9, 2009
What is it about the sight of black sheer RIBBED socks? Why am I INSTANTLY drawn to them and IMMEDIATELY erect? No one in my family wore them. I first discovered them when my 5th grade teacher wore them...every day... and every day I'd have to hump the bottom of my desk. It's not that I had a crush on him, because he wasn't all that attractive. BUT those socks!!!
The closer a look I get at them, seeing the stitching and fibers...that solid black patch over the toes and heels... I want to devour them. To tickle them. Seeing the sole of the foot through the sheer fibers... It's impossible to explain the sensations just from seeing them on a rack in the store...
To this day, thoughts of tickling Mr. Stollenwerk's sheer socked feet sends me over the edge. And while I enjoy all kinds of sheers: colors, styles, lengths... my ultimate will always be knee high, RIBBED, brown/black with a completely sheer sole and only the tips of the toes and the very round of the heels covered in the solid patch.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
At the end of a recent tickle session, in which I wore these sleek powder blue sheers for my Tickle Master, he asked if I had to actively "let go" while he tickled me. I thought, "Huh?" Then I began to realize what he meant as he explained that when he tickles most people, there's always a wall up...something that keeps them based in the room and that a game is being played. Even though they're tied and being tickled, they're still, really, in control.
In contrast, he said that I tend to start off the same way, but at a certain point I "give myself over" to him and the situation at hand. I loose self control and just break away from the real world. My body changes. I become less tense. My laughter becomes more organic, more ethereal. My eyes show that I have, in fact, become his tickle victim...his tickle slave.
I have to agree with him. It's almost like having an hour long orgasm. I can feel myself "floating" away...feeling every sensation of his fingers on the soles of my sheer socked feet, almost like I can see him studying each fiber of the sock as it stretches under the tickle and tweak of his finger nails, brushes and feathers - but I'm seeing it through his eyes. It's intense, but sooooo natural feeling. .
When he finishes the session, after inducing a MASSIVE orgasm, my body is not only thoroughly exhausted, but completely refreshed. It takes me a long time to settle my mind back into the current space - that's the sign that letting go of my self-conscious mind set and truly letting him control my every ticklish sensation, is the right thing to do and makes for a far more titillating experience.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Ever since I was a wee lad, probably about 2nd Grade, I've gained an affinity for tickling older men. Men of all ages, really. While most of my fantasies revolved around guys my own age, there was something to be said for tickling dad's and even grandpas. As I turned more from being a tickler into a ticklee, that fantasy changed into me being the victim to some dirty old men...
I high school I often thought about older male teachers and my classmates' fathers tying me up and tickling my sheer socked soles. Being the victim to a much older man was something I never thought I'd actually do, but now I've had two sessions with a guy twice my age. And they've been unbelievably orgasmic.
Gentle yet forceful, he makes me tickle his sheer socked soles for only a few minutes before he turns the table and plunges me into HOURS of ticklish torture. He begins by removing my shoes while we're in his living room and he grazes my toes, heels and, worse, the arch as he tells me what he's planning to do to not only my sheer feet, but my entire body. Once I'm worked up, he leads me upstairs to his bedroom, done up and ready for his evil plans.
As we get into his room he slowly and methodically begins removing all of my clothes except for my underwear and socks. He doesn't tie me down right away. He wants me to prove I can withstand his fingers. I laugh and writhe as he tickles my feet, ankles, legs and cock. 15 minutes pass as I beg and plead, then he decides it's time to tie my arms into place. Once secure, the real fun begins....
Over the last several months I've told him my ultimate fantasy is to be held prisoner and on the day I'm ultimately going to be tickled to death, I'll know my master's plan is coming to completion by his putting my sheerest black knee high socks on me. The tickling will not stop until I pass. Tonite, as I lay bound tightly on his bed, he pulls those socks out.
As he removes my usual black knee high sheer TNTs, and begins to place the sheerest on my feet, he looks at me with a stone cold face and says, "You know what this means, don't you?" My body feels like it's collapsing in on itself. I wonder if he's serious. Is he REALLY going to do it? If he is, there's nothing I can do. There are no neighbors on either side of his lot, so if he really is planning to tickle me to death, there's no reason to scream for help. My heart races and I can already feel my balls filling with cum. It's one of the most intense moments of my life. He ties my feet into place and quickly gets to work on my feet, scratching the bottoms with his fingers as I howl and scream and beg. It doesn't take long for him to work me into fits of laughter.
After a short time he tries to use feathers and a brush on my feet, but my reaction fades. Not wanting me to regain my senses, he switches back to his fingers and I quickly realize he's determined to - if not tickle me to death - take me damn near it! He proceeds to tickle the bottoms and tops of my feet - non stop - for 15 minutes solid. No break. No mercy. It may not seems like a long time - but I'm used to having my ticklers break away at some point to another part of my body, or offer me a quick 30 second break to regain my breath. This particular night, he does not stop at all. 15 minutes, excruciating minutes, of pure, unbridled, ticklish torture. I start to black out. I can feel hysteria taking over. I'm aware that the words screaming from my mouth for mercy are now slurring and becoming slower - but I can't do anything to stop it. As I begin to see stars, I think, "He's really doing it. He's really going to tickle me to death." I panic, and I shoot a load so hard my groin hurts for the next three days. Then he stops.
It takes me another 10 minutes to regain my faculties. I'm drenched in sweat. I can barely speak. I realize he wants to tickle me again, by my body is limp. There's no energy, no fight. I know I'm glad to still be alive, but I'm also thinking about how long I'll go before I return to his home. He wants to go for a solid 30 minutes of tickling strictly the soles of my sheer socked feet next time. I know already, next time just might kill me for real... I'm afraid to return, but know that before long my desires, and my fantasies, will drive me to do it.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
So...I've had a friend who's been into leather, domination, etc for many years. I knew him when he first "came out" several years ago, but found that wasn't his true "moment." Over the last several years he has evolved from a scared 21 year old afraid to admit his desires, to - 5 years later - being a full-fledged "cub" bear complete with leather, ass-less chaps, whips...etc. You get the idea.
In the last few years he's made it abundantly clear he wanted to bring me into his world. In a drunken stuppor about two years ago, I confessed my sheer TNTs and tickling fetish to him. At first I regretted it, out of embarassment. But he was quick to jump on my tickling train. Turns out, as a "master/top," he'd already had experienced tickling men...and wanted to make me his next "victim/slave." I put him off for two years...until tonight.
So I'm out tonight...alone. Drunk. He's there. The night goes along just fine. The bartime. The few friends who met us out quickly left. He offers to drive me 300ft to my car. I oblige. No sooner do we park next to my car than I ask him, "You want to tickle me, don't you?" He grins and nods, but says only, "Only if you want me to." Naturally, I'm all horned up, quicker than a streak of lightning, my shoes are off and my brown sheer socks are in his lap.
My socks don't have the straight lines, but rather wavy, almost decorative thick brown lines tracing down the legs, over my ankles, and across the tops of my feet. He wastes NO TIME scraping his fingers along my soles and toes. Within seconds I'm lauging hysterically. Miniutes later he has me shirtless and pantsless. So here I am, in the parking lot of a gay bar, positive the cops will be crusing by any moment, wearing only my brown knee high sheers and green whore underwear. He's tickling the soles of my feet with one hand and my cock and balls through my underear with the other. I'm going insane from the fear and erotic torture. There's no doubt this boy has done this before to not just one other guy, but several. He confesses that even though he's not really into tickling per say, he's into making a guy squirm around uncontrolably and has tickled many men over the last 2 years. I ask What he "truly" wants to do to me. "Tie you so tight you can't breathe, shove a gag hard and deep into your mouth so you can't hear your laughter, then tickle your entire body from your toes, across the bottoms of your soles, up your hairy legs, cross your cock and balls, then tickle your ribs and nipples until you pass out.
A moment later my underwear were off, and he ran a little metal spiked wheel (I don't know what it's really called) over my ribs, nipples and cock with one hand while he feverishly tickled the sheer socked bottoms of my feet with his fingers. Typically, I need a sentence like "I'm going to tickle you to death," etc, but tonight he said nothing - and I came. I came so hard it hurt...and it seemed like the tickle juice wasn't going to stop streaming out of my slit. He just kept tickling...and ticking...and tickling....
Monday, March 17, 2008
As I've grown older, my tickling fantasies have continued to evolve. I first began dreaming of tickling and brown nylon socks when I was 4 years old. Around age 7 I discovered brown sheer TNTs - worn daily by one of my male teachers. Around the same time - in my consistent dreams of tickling him inparticular - I started incorporating kidnapping and bondage into the scenarios. This is also when I first discovered that when I humped my hand for too long, white stuff came out! A shock to a 7 year old who didn't even really know what sex or gay was....
My fantasies of tickling classmates and friends - and vice versa - continued to become more and more graphic and sexual. In junior high, the fantasy changed from just tickling sheer socked feet, to stripping those victims down to their underwear and socks - then ultimately completely naked, except their socks - and tickling them to actual orgasms. I had seemed more of a tickler in my younger years, occasionally desiring to be the tickle victim, but as I got into high school, I slowly found myself becoming not just the "victim" in my daily jerk off tickle dreams - but the "enslaved," "victimized," "kidnapped" and actually tortured tickle victim. I wanted to be "tickled to death." Then it happened...the fantasy that would scare me at how often (at age 15) I would dream of it...
I began dreaming that I was being punished by an uncle for something I'd done. The scenario: He would tie me stretched extremely tight to a bed in his room, dressed only in my maroon sheer TNTs (I had already accumulated quite the collection) and tickle my entire body for hours...but there was the twist... Now, he would take my dick in his hand, open the slit and tickle the inner lips of my piss slit. First it was with his fingers, then with feathers, then ultimately with some evil object which he'd shove down inside... and leave there, while he continued tickling my sheer socked feet.
I couldn't believe I would even fantacize about such a thing. But I did. Often. It's a fantasy I've carried with me for almost 20 years, but only recentlytouching acting upon in real-life with my masters. Still, it never went "all the way" or crossed the line. I feared the pain of it. And surely nobody would REALLY do such a thing. But about one year ago I began incorporating the fantasy during online chats with ticklers. EVERY single guy I brought the idea to has never thought of doing that to someone's piss slit, but ALL of them couldn't get enough of telling me they wanted to do it to me. Several even started doing it for real to their "in person" tickle victims. I was hearing back that their victims were terrified when they started doing it, some complained that it "burned," some found it the most extreme torture they'd ever been given - some enjoyed that, some didn't. All I knew is that it was exciting me more and more to hear it was really being done. I had to find out what it was really like.
I'd had just the outer slit lips tickled by a master a few years ago with a feather, but that was as far as it had gone... even though it made shoot one of my biggest orgasms ever. This past summer I met with two guys: One of them tickled my sheer socked feet while the other (one of my online guys who'd become "obsessed" with the idea I'd put into his head) began tickling my slit with small feathers...then did it! He shoved the feather tip into my slit. It burned. I didn't like it. He poked it in too hard several times before I just couldn't take it anymore. He continued tickling my outer lips, but I figured that after all these years, I'd never enjoy the fantasy I'd held in my head for so long...then I met a guy from Skokie....
So two weeks ago I met a new guy online. He lived about an hour away. After chatting several times, I agreed to meet. He'd made reference to tickling my slit, but I didn't seem he was too interested... until I got there. So there I was, tied EXTREMELY tight and completely naked - except for my brown TNTs - on his bed. To the side, a line of toys he'd planned to use on my body. He was obsessed with tickling my feet, which I enjoyed, but then he reached over and pulled out a toy I hadn't seen in the mix. It was a Q Tip. I thought he'd run it between my toes, but then he grabbed my throbbing cock and said, "Are you ready for this?" I'm like, "Huh?" Then I saw it - the look in his eyes. He actually looked mildly deranged. And he lowered the Q Tip towards my slit. At that moment, I realized what he was going to do - and do it for real...not just toy with the idea of doing it.
Terror actually came over me. Was it going to hurt as I feared? Would it damage the inside. I KNEW he was going to shove it down deep into the shaft...I could see it in his eyes. I had a "safe" word, but my mouth wasn't opening to say it. Then he spread my slit lips open WIDE.. streched it wider than anyone had before. He ran the Qtip around the inner lips. My sheer toes curled. I wanted to scream in pain, but I moaned in ecstacy. As the Qtip quickly gathered all the juices inside, it actuallyt began to tickle, running around and around the soft inside. But it was a different kind of tickling sensation. A bizarre sensation. Then he lowered it in...further and deeper. I screamed a few times in fear and pain and shock - mostly just from the realization it was REALLY being done. He then began pumping it. Pulling it up, then pushing it back down inside. I was screaming in near orgasm. He reached back and began tickling the sheer bottoms of my feet. Orgasm was close. Then I look down at my cock: the Qtip was almost 75% of the way down inside...and he was leaving it there!!!! He began tickling my feet more intensely, using his other hand to tickle my shaft. He then pushed the Qtip a little further and it burned - it hurt - but I still think my fear hurt more than the actual Qtip. He promised to pull it out, slowly turning and spinning all the way... but it was too much and probably the second biggest orgasm of my life unloaded moments after he pulled the juice soaked QTip out. During my minute long orgasmic thrusts, I just kept thinking, "He crossed the line..." And it was HOT!
He took me there. To that place I thought I'd never go. A fantasy 20 years in the making. I've jerked off to its memory almost every day since....and probably will for years to cum.