The Circle

The circle is used as a form of introduction at the bondage clubs in New York and Philadelphia. This allows everyone to know what you are looking for so that like minded individuals can find each other easier. It is also a good way to "break the ice".

I knew that there were several people who could not make the meeting the last time I was in Philadelphia, and knew that I would be there again. I was staying with Brian, the main tickler in the story "St. Andrew's Cross", and had invited Jon in from Chicago, who organizes the Man To Man Tickling Network (MTMTN). I had been tied up and tickled since Thursday night, after picking Jon up at the airport. With all the ticklers that were supposed to come to the meeting, Saturday looked to be an exhausting night.

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Dave and the Dickersons: True Tales of Tickle Torture

PART I :
THE FIRST FORBIDDEN FOOT FULFILLMENT

Around eleven years ago I was unceremoniously fostered out to a black couple.

This was a strange experience for me, mainly because of how people in the neighborhood (not the couple who'd taken me in) treated me. I wasn't brutalized or anything . . . wasn't even ostracized for being white. But I was treated strangely. And this attitude towards me didn't stem from racism, I later discovered. Rather it was a result of a misunderstanding. You see, it had been a long standing tradition in this part of the state that white children who were fostered out to black families were generally the most mentally unstable, unmanageable, emotional wrecks in the child welfare's kiddy corral . . . kids who were rejected by most, if not all, white foster homes.

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St. Andrew's Cross

I was tied facing the cross. My legs were spread and tied tightly to the outside eyelet. Rope cuffs were put on my wrists and tied tightly to the top eyelet, causing me to stand on my toes. My freshly shaved body was stretched tight and completely vulnerable to any touch. Brian was exploring my body. I started laughing almost immediately.

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The Jogger

One thing I've never posted before are my various tricks for meeting ticklish guys. These are, unfortunately, trade secrets of mine, duly registered with the US Patent Office. But one of my more successful methods, and a true story, I am willing to share for the first time ever. It involves purchasing personal ads in the local newspapers.

Over the years I have refined this method to the point where it just about always works. I first got a private PO Box when I was a freshman in college and I still have it today. I consider it one of my most cherished possessions and the smartest investment I ever made. I started out posting tickling ads, seeking guys interested in being tickled. I changed the wording over several tries, trying to install a sense of trustworthiness, phrasing it as a challenge, or appealing to some deep curiosity never before satisfied.

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Tickled Half To Death

I was at school one day just minding my own business, eating lunch, when I notice these three other boys walking down the row of seats, grabbing other guys by the ribs.

Now, these boys are the school bullies. I was wondering what they were up to today. Now, being on the other end of their bullying ways. I knew it was a matter of time until they came down to where I was seated. Sure enough, I wasn't paying attention and I was poked in the ribs, and part of my sandwich came flying out of my mouth. I let out a loud laugh and said, "Hey, what's the big idea?" I turned around to see Randy, the meanest son of a bitch at our school. I gulped and stared at him doe-eyed.

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