CellarDweller
3rd Level Orange Feather
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Hiya members!
This is my first attempt at a tickle story. Hope you enjoy it.
It's a M/M foot tickling story, staring me. :laughing: The two main characters are gay, but there is no sex in the story.
This story was inspired by a post by Bob1249 that I found on page 4 of this thread.
http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=46805&page=4
The Truck Stop
It was a cool September evening, and I was on my way home. I had been on an extended weekend trip, visiting friends out of state. Cash was a little tight, and it was only a 10 hour drive, so I figured it was cheaper to drive, crash with friends for the weekend, and then drive home, saving on the airfare.
It had been fun, a lot of fun, but I was anxious to get home as well. It's always easier sleeping in my own bed. Not sure why that is, but it's the truth. I guess the saying "There's no place like home." isn't just a silly line from the Wizard Of Oz.
I'd been making good time, but I could hear my stomach rumbling, and when I looked at the dashboard clock, I could see it was about to turn to 6:00 pm, and I still had 5 more hours to go. I don't mind driving, and I'm a night owl by habit, so a late night on the road would be no skin off my nose.
After I passed the Pennsylvania border, I began to look for signs for a place to eat. I don't have the most cultured palate, so a burger and fries are right up my alley. My friends find that funny. The fact that I'm a gay man, they expect all the stereotypes to be true. Well, I'm not the neatest dresser, don't always shave, and if someone took me to a place where they served frog legs and escargot, I'd probably run out.
My mind starts to wander, and I'm thinking about the city of Brotherly Love. Philly. I have a friend who lives out that way. Real sweet little gal. She just got married not long ago, and she and her wife are setting up house. Yup, her wife. She's a member of the tribe too. One day, I'm gonna see that house when it's ready.
My eye catches a sign that is simple, to the point. "Eats!" Hell, that's all I need to know. I get onto the exit ramp, and turn off. When I get to the end, I see a quiet little road, and to the right is a truck stop. The lot, and nearby surrounding field, has trucks parked at all different angles. I notice one other truck, that's parked in a field across the street. I assume it's a newer driver, not wanting to risk hitting someone else's truck, so he parked where that wouldn't be a problem.
I pull into the lot, and quickly find a spot. When you've got a small Tracker, it's not hard to get an available spot. However, I will admit to being uneasy amidst all those large rigs. It wasn't helping any that as I looked in the rearview mirror, I could see the reflection of my "Brokeback Mountain" bumper stickers. I was begining to wonder if this was a good idea. It was at that point my stomach growled again, and I decided to walk in.
It was a loud place, and the joint was packed. A juke box in the corner was playing some Faith Hill song, and a small mist of rising smoke filled the air. Apparently, this establishment didn't hold the "no smoking law" in high regard. No matter, most of my friends smoke, and I can tolerate it. When the door closed behind me, the place fell silent. Everyone turned to check out the stranger who dared to break the spell of conversation they had weaved. All eyes were on me, and while I didn't sense any anger towards me, I didn't exactly sense friendship either. It was then that I realized I was wearing a sleeveless denim T-Shirt, and my gay pride tats were showing. I rolled my eyes to myself, and walked up to the counter. If I managed to get home without any scratches, I would owe a prayer of thanks to God and my guardian angel.
I squeezed myself into an empty space, and stood there until one of the waitresses came over. Of course, there were no empty stools, so I gave my order, and then stepped back. I walked to the right to see if there were any emtpy stools or tables on that side. As I turned to go back, I could see a pair of eyes on me. One of the truckers, sitting alone, was watching me, I had caught his eye, and I wasn't sure if I was happy with that. I walked by him, and looked to the left, no empty stools or tables there either. I was thinking I would be eating my meal standing, when that trucker reached out and tapped my arm.
"You can sit here with me, if ya like." he said. His voice was on the gruff side, I assumed from a number of years smoking. He kept his eyes on me in a steady gaze, that I wasn't quite comfortable with.
"Do you mind if I ask you something first?" I asked.
"Shoot" he replied.
"Is there any particular reason you're extending this invite to me?" I asked. I did want to sit, however, I'm not trusting of strangers. I was not about to be robbed, or worse.
With that, the trucker propped his left leg up on the bench across from him. This guy was tall, and had long legs. Huge feet too. They were in brown workboots, with the black band around the ankle. He started to pull his jean leg up, and I could see the top of his sock was bunched down, and as the jean went up further, could see he was sporting his own gay pride tattoo.
I smiled, and told him I'd be happy to join him.
I sat down, a he signaled to the waitress to bring my food to his table, and we started to get to know each other.
"Hi, I'm Chuck." I said, extending my hand.
"Hey. I'm Scott. Good to meet ya."
"I've never met a gay trucker before."
"Well, there's a few of us on the road, but we're few and far between. It's nice to have someone to talk to over dinner for a change."
I nod my head towards the other truckers, "They won't talk to you?"
"Oh, sure, about the job.....as long as it doesn't get personal. Can't mention my personal life, or say something that could come across as hitting on them. If I do that, I'll be getting a knuckle sandwich. That's why I eat alone......I don't want to slip anything out, and they don't want to hear it.
"Well, ya got an audience tonight who doesn't care what you may say, so feel free. Get to talking."
Scott smiled, and shared a bit of his history with me. He was 45. He left his parents' house at 20, and got himself a trucking license. He loved to be on the road, and had been to almost all 50 states. However, he admited that it was hard on his partner, with him being away all the time....so he was starting to think of retirement. He'd been with his partner for about 12 years, and while he'd miss being on the road, he misses his "hubby" more when he's away.
I listened to him, and was (I hoped descreetly) taking him in. He had broad shoulders, sandy blonde hair - cut short, scruff on his face, a ready smile, and was about 6'3". He stretched his legs out again, and placed them next to me. I glaced out of the side of my eyes, and his feet were huge. At least, to me they were. Of course, the first thought that popped to my mind was "Is he ticklish?" but pushed it away quickly. After all, it wasn't like I would find out.
Scott had finished his dinner first, and signaled the waitress over. Scott went for his wallet, and I put my hand up, telling him this meal was on me. He smiled, and invited me over to his truck. He had a collection of pics of his travels, and wanted to share them. I told him I'd be there when I was done, in about 10 minutes or so, but he had to let me know which truck was his. It was dark out at this point, and I figured I'd have a hard time finding it. His reply was that his truck was the one across the street, alone.
Scott walked out the door, and a few of the other truckers followed. After all, time is money, and they needed to get back on the road. By the time I finished, I was the only one in the joint. The waitress took my money for my meal, and Scott's. After I told her to keep the change, she smiled, and leaned over to me.
"Honey, thanks for being nice to Scott. He's a stand up guy, but I always feel badly.....watching him here eating alone. You made his night."
I smiled, and got into my Tracker. I drove it across the road, and parked beside Scott's trailer. I got out, and walked along side the rig. When I got next to the cab, I see a a pair ankles and feet sticking out from under the cab. Scott was underneath with some lanterns, working on the rig. Oh, and he had taken off his boots, and socks.
"That you, Chuck?"
"Yeah, it's me. You Ok under there?"
"Oh yeah....I'm at home under a truck. Thanks for dinner. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome!"
"Hey, I know you said you've got to get on the road soon, but would you mind keeping me company for a while? Just till I finish this job?"
"Sure."
"Thanks. Open the cab door, there's a big blanket on the seat, you can spread it out and lay or sit there."
I found the blanket, and sat down next to the cab, and got to talking again. It was easy talking to Scott, and after a few minutes, I decided to be bold.
"So, Scott......can I ask you a personal question?"
"Shoot."
"What size feet do you have?"
"Heh heh. Everyone asks that. If I had a dollar for each time I was asked, I would've been able to retire years ago."
"Oooops....Sorry."
"It's ok.....as long as you don't make any 'You know what they say about guys with big feet.' jokes!"
"No jokes, I promise."
"They're 14s."
"Wow...that's big. I gotta say, I was surprised to see them sticking out from under the truck, barefoot."
"Heh heh.....yeah, well, I try to take off the boots as often as I can. My feet used to be real rough, and it bothered the shit out of Dave."
"Dave?"
"My partner."
"Oh, ok."
"Yeah, as long as I keep them smooth and soft, he'll give me foot rubs. I'm looking forward to one when I get home."
"Well, if you wouldn't be offended, I could help you out with that right now."
"Sounds like a plan! I wouldn't be offended at all! Have at 'em!"
I quickly spread the blanket out, and lay down by Scott's ankles. I looked over, and could see him still using the tools under his truck. I grabbed his right foot, and began kneeding the sole of his foot. I started at the heel, and worked my way up. Hit his high arch, the balls of his foot, and softly rubbed each toe, and then went back down to his heel, to start over again. I could see a content look on his face.
"hmmmmmm......that feels good. thank you, buddy!"
"You're welcome. Your feet are warm.....I'm surprised, with them being out in the air like this."
"They're always warm. I've never had cold feet."
After a few minutes on his right foot, I moved over to his left, and gave it the same treatment. His feet were warm, and his demeaner was completely relaxed. We continued to talk some more, and just as I was finishing, my devilish side came out, and I began to gently tickle the arch of his foot.
"heh heh heh."
"Oh, so you're ticklish, huh?"
"Oh yeah.....those big dogs are plenty ticklish. Between family, and Dave, they're always being tickled."
"Really? Well, the temptation to tickle you is very high, but I don't want to mess you up while you're working under the truck."
"Oh, quit your fussin' and go for it.....I can take it, and it won't distract me either. If you hear me drop the tools, it means you're getting to me. But no one's made me say 'uncle' before."
"Oh? Well, there's a first time for everything."
Before he could say another word, I placed my right hand over his ankles to hold them in place, and opened my cell phone to watch the time. Then, with my left hand, I started softly, but quickly scratching his soles. The giggling immediately started from under the truck. He wasn't kidding, his 'big dogs' were very ticklish. His toes were scruching up as hard as they could, and he began moving his feet back and forth, trying to cover his soles.
I looked under the truck at him, and I could see his stomach shaking with laughter, and surprisingly, still see the tools moving in his hands. He wasn't lying, he could focus. But I was determined to break that focus. I had all I needed to encourage me....his big smile, his laugther, and a pair of very ticklish feet in front of me.
Any time that he flexed his toes, I moved my fingers to the base, and his legs would tense up......when he scrunched the toes up, I went after his soles....letting my fingers play withe every wrinkle that appeared. I couldn't speak for Scott (and he could barely speak for himself) but I was having a great time!
"How you doin' buddy?"
"I I Ihihi'm hohoohokay! Haahahehee....youhuo can't break meeeeee."
"We'll see"
I continued my quick assault of his soles and toes.....his laughter was music to my ears, and his soles were my instruments to play. As I continued on, the laughter started to get more intense, but he wasn't giving up. I looked at the cell, it had been about 10 minutes. I looked to my right while laying there, and could see beads of sweat on Scott's forhead and face. However, those tools were still in his hands, but they were no longer being put to work. I was getting there. I was also getting hard.
"You're good, Scott.....really good....Nice endurance!"
"You're killing me!!!!!!" was his reply.
I started moving my fingers over his soles as quickly as I could, and suddenly, I heard two soft "thumps". I looked to see that Scott had dropped the tools, and put his hands to the sides of his head.....his mouth was wide opened, and he was laughing hysterically. the soles of his feet were turning light pink, and getting slick with sweat. I didn't mind.......that helped my hands to move even quicker.
"Say 'uncle', Scott."
"haahaaahaa nooohhoohoooahaahaaaaaaaaa"
"Ok, have it your way."
I continued on, and so did Scott. I began to get worried that his loud laughing might attract attention, but I pushed that aside, I was having too much fun. Scott's stomach was moving up and down quickly as he gasped with laughter, and he balled his hands into fists, and began to pound the ground on either side of himself, as he shook with laughter. I knew it wouldn't be much longer now.
"Oh hoohohhoo God....hahahahha sheeeeheheheit!! Okayyyyahahahahahahaa UNCLE UNCLE UNCLE!!!'
"Hmmmmm.....nope....just a few seconds more!"
When he heard me say that, his whole body tensed up, and he was shaking with laugher.
"Chuuhuhuhukeeeeheheehe..puhpuhhahapulease....hellllllpeeheeheehee......."
Not wanting to piss him off, I stoped the tickling. Scott's body immediately relaxed. His knees bent, and he was breathing very heavily. His face and neck were drenched with sweat. My cell phone gave me a time of 20 minutes total. I looked at Scott, who was now pulling himself out from under the truck. He was looking at me, still breathing heavy, his face beet red and covered in sweat. He bent one of his knees, and rested his arm on it. His other leg was bent, the sole of his foot facing me.
"Damn! No one has EVER tickled me like that."
"So, I'm the only one to make you say 'uncle'?"
"Yes, you are. I swear it."
"Cool!" and with that, I reached out, and gave his sole one more quick stroke.
"heh heh hey!....C'mon bud....I can't take any more."
By that time, my erection had abated, and I was able to stand. I reached out, and shook his hand.
"I gotta get goin'. You be safe driving back home to Dave."
He grinned at me. "Oh, I'll be safe, but I'm spending the night here. I didn't finish the repairs.....something kept me from finishing." and with that he winked at me.
"well, then safe journey tomorrow. Tell Dave I said 'Hello!' "
"I'm not telling Dave nuthin'! As far as he's concerned, I still havn't said 'Uncle!' and I intend to let him think that!"
With that, I gave Scott one final wave, and got into the Tracker. I still had a 5 hour ride ahead of me, and I drove home with a huge smile on my face.
This is my first attempt at a tickle story. Hope you enjoy it.
It's a M/M foot tickling story, staring me. :laughing: The two main characters are gay, but there is no sex in the story.
This story was inspired by a post by Bob1249 that I found on page 4 of this thread.
http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=46805&page=4
The Truck Stop
It was a cool September evening, and I was on my way home. I had been on an extended weekend trip, visiting friends out of state. Cash was a little tight, and it was only a 10 hour drive, so I figured it was cheaper to drive, crash with friends for the weekend, and then drive home, saving on the airfare.
It had been fun, a lot of fun, but I was anxious to get home as well. It's always easier sleeping in my own bed. Not sure why that is, but it's the truth. I guess the saying "There's no place like home." isn't just a silly line from the Wizard Of Oz.
I'd been making good time, but I could hear my stomach rumbling, and when I looked at the dashboard clock, I could see it was about to turn to 6:00 pm, and I still had 5 more hours to go. I don't mind driving, and I'm a night owl by habit, so a late night on the road would be no skin off my nose.
After I passed the Pennsylvania border, I began to look for signs for a place to eat. I don't have the most cultured palate, so a burger and fries are right up my alley. My friends find that funny. The fact that I'm a gay man, they expect all the stereotypes to be true. Well, I'm not the neatest dresser, don't always shave, and if someone took me to a place where they served frog legs and escargot, I'd probably run out.
My mind starts to wander, and I'm thinking about the city of Brotherly Love. Philly. I have a friend who lives out that way. Real sweet little gal. She just got married not long ago, and she and her wife are setting up house. Yup, her wife. She's a member of the tribe too. One day, I'm gonna see that house when it's ready.
My eye catches a sign that is simple, to the point. "Eats!" Hell, that's all I need to know. I get onto the exit ramp, and turn off. When I get to the end, I see a quiet little road, and to the right is a truck stop. The lot, and nearby surrounding field, has trucks parked at all different angles. I notice one other truck, that's parked in a field across the street. I assume it's a newer driver, not wanting to risk hitting someone else's truck, so he parked where that wouldn't be a problem.
I pull into the lot, and quickly find a spot. When you've got a small Tracker, it's not hard to get an available spot. However, I will admit to being uneasy amidst all those large rigs. It wasn't helping any that as I looked in the rearview mirror, I could see the reflection of my "Brokeback Mountain" bumper stickers. I was begining to wonder if this was a good idea. It was at that point my stomach growled again, and I decided to walk in.
It was a loud place, and the joint was packed. A juke box in the corner was playing some Faith Hill song, and a small mist of rising smoke filled the air. Apparently, this establishment didn't hold the "no smoking law" in high regard. No matter, most of my friends smoke, and I can tolerate it. When the door closed behind me, the place fell silent. Everyone turned to check out the stranger who dared to break the spell of conversation they had weaved. All eyes were on me, and while I didn't sense any anger towards me, I didn't exactly sense friendship either. It was then that I realized I was wearing a sleeveless denim T-Shirt, and my gay pride tats were showing. I rolled my eyes to myself, and walked up to the counter. If I managed to get home without any scratches, I would owe a prayer of thanks to God and my guardian angel.
I squeezed myself into an empty space, and stood there until one of the waitresses came over. Of course, there were no empty stools, so I gave my order, and then stepped back. I walked to the right to see if there were any emtpy stools or tables on that side. As I turned to go back, I could see a pair of eyes on me. One of the truckers, sitting alone, was watching me, I had caught his eye, and I wasn't sure if I was happy with that. I walked by him, and looked to the left, no empty stools or tables there either. I was thinking I would be eating my meal standing, when that trucker reached out and tapped my arm.
"You can sit here with me, if ya like." he said. His voice was on the gruff side, I assumed from a number of years smoking. He kept his eyes on me in a steady gaze, that I wasn't quite comfortable with.
"Do you mind if I ask you something first?" I asked.
"Shoot" he replied.
"Is there any particular reason you're extending this invite to me?" I asked. I did want to sit, however, I'm not trusting of strangers. I was not about to be robbed, or worse.
With that, the trucker propped his left leg up on the bench across from him. This guy was tall, and had long legs. Huge feet too. They were in brown workboots, with the black band around the ankle. He started to pull his jean leg up, and I could see the top of his sock was bunched down, and as the jean went up further, could see he was sporting his own gay pride tattoo.
I smiled, and told him I'd be happy to join him.
I sat down, a he signaled to the waitress to bring my food to his table, and we started to get to know each other.
"Hi, I'm Chuck." I said, extending my hand.
"Hey. I'm Scott. Good to meet ya."
"I've never met a gay trucker before."
"Well, there's a few of us on the road, but we're few and far between. It's nice to have someone to talk to over dinner for a change."
I nod my head towards the other truckers, "They won't talk to you?"
"Oh, sure, about the job.....as long as it doesn't get personal. Can't mention my personal life, or say something that could come across as hitting on them. If I do that, I'll be getting a knuckle sandwich. That's why I eat alone......I don't want to slip anything out, and they don't want to hear it.
"Well, ya got an audience tonight who doesn't care what you may say, so feel free. Get to talking."
Scott smiled, and shared a bit of his history with me. He was 45. He left his parents' house at 20, and got himself a trucking license. He loved to be on the road, and had been to almost all 50 states. However, he admited that it was hard on his partner, with him being away all the time....so he was starting to think of retirement. He'd been with his partner for about 12 years, and while he'd miss being on the road, he misses his "hubby" more when he's away.
I listened to him, and was (I hoped descreetly) taking him in. He had broad shoulders, sandy blonde hair - cut short, scruff on his face, a ready smile, and was about 6'3". He stretched his legs out again, and placed them next to me. I glaced out of the side of my eyes, and his feet were huge. At least, to me they were. Of course, the first thought that popped to my mind was "Is he ticklish?" but pushed it away quickly. After all, it wasn't like I would find out.
Scott had finished his dinner first, and signaled the waitress over. Scott went for his wallet, and I put my hand up, telling him this meal was on me. He smiled, and invited me over to his truck. He had a collection of pics of his travels, and wanted to share them. I told him I'd be there when I was done, in about 10 minutes or so, but he had to let me know which truck was his. It was dark out at this point, and I figured I'd have a hard time finding it. His reply was that his truck was the one across the street, alone.
Scott walked out the door, and a few of the other truckers followed. After all, time is money, and they needed to get back on the road. By the time I finished, I was the only one in the joint. The waitress took my money for my meal, and Scott's. After I told her to keep the change, she smiled, and leaned over to me.
"Honey, thanks for being nice to Scott. He's a stand up guy, but I always feel badly.....watching him here eating alone. You made his night."
I smiled, and got into my Tracker. I drove it across the road, and parked beside Scott's trailer. I got out, and walked along side the rig. When I got next to the cab, I see a a pair ankles and feet sticking out from under the cab. Scott was underneath with some lanterns, working on the rig. Oh, and he had taken off his boots, and socks.
"That you, Chuck?"
"Yeah, it's me. You Ok under there?"
"Oh yeah....I'm at home under a truck. Thanks for dinner. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome!"
"Hey, I know you said you've got to get on the road soon, but would you mind keeping me company for a while? Just till I finish this job?"
"Sure."
"Thanks. Open the cab door, there's a big blanket on the seat, you can spread it out and lay or sit there."
I found the blanket, and sat down next to the cab, and got to talking again. It was easy talking to Scott, and after a few minutes, I decided to be bold.
"So, Scott......can I ask you a personal question?"
"Shoot."
"What size feet do you have?"
"Heh heh. Everyone asks that. If I had a dollar for each time I was asked, I would've been able to retire years ago."
"Oooops....Sorry."
"It's ok.....as long as you don't make any 'You know what they say about guys with big feet.' jokes!"
"No jokes, I promise."
"They're 14s."
"Wow...that's big. I gotta say, I was surprised to see them sticking out from under the truck, barefoot."
"Heh heh.....yeah, well, I try to take off the boots as often as I can. My feet used to be real rough, and it bothered the shit out of Dave."
"Dave?"
"My partner."
"Oh, ok."
"Yeah, as long as I keep them smooth and soft, he'll give me foot rubs. I'm looking forward to one when I get home."
"Well, if you wouldn't be offended, I could help you out with that right now."
"Sounds like a plan! I wouldn't be offended at all! Have at 'em!"
I quickly spread the blanket out, and lay down by Scott's ankles. I looked over, and could see him still using the tools under his truck. I grabbed his right foot, and began kneeding the sole of his foot. I started at the heel, and worked my way up. Hit his high arch, the balls of his foot, and softly rubbed each toe, and then went back down to his heel, to start over again. I could see a content look on his face.
"hmmmmmm......that feels good. thank you, buddy!"
"You're welcome. Your feet are warm.....I'm surprised, with them being out in the air like this."
"They're always warm. I've never had cold feet."
After a few minutes on his right foot, I moved over to his left, and gave it the same treatment. His feet were warm, and his demeaner was completely relaxed. We continued to talk some more, and just as I was finishing, my devilish side came out, and I began to gently tickle the arch of his foot.
"heh heh heh."
"Oh, so you're ticklish, huh?"
"Oh yeah.....those big dogs are plenty ticklish. Between family, and Dave, they're always being tickled."
"Really? Well, the temptation to tickle you is very high, but I don't want to mess you up while you're working under the truck."
"Oh, quit your fussin' and go for it.....I can take it, and it won't distract me either. If you hear me drop the tools, it means you're getting to me. But no one's made me say 'uncle' before."
"Oh? Well, there's a first time for everything."
Before he could say another word, I placed my right hand over his ankles to hold them in place, and opened my cell phone to watch the time. Then, with my left hand, I started softly, but quickly scratching his soles. The giggling immediately started from under the truck. He wasn't kidding, his 'big dogs' were very ticklish. His toes were scruching up as hard as they could, and he began moving his feet back and forth, trying to cover his soles.
I looked under the truck at him, and I could see his stomach shaking with laughter, and surprisingly, still see the tools moving in his hands. He wasn't lying, he could focus. But I was determined to break that focus. I had all I needed to encourage me....his big smile, his laugther, and a pair of very ticklish feet in front of me.
Any time that he flexed his toes, I moved my fingers to the base, and his legs would tense up......when he scrunched the toes up, I went after his soles....letting my fingers play withe every wrinkle that appeared. I couldn't speak for Scott (and he could barely speak for himself) but I was having a great time!
"How you doin' buddy?"
"I I Ihihi'm hohoohokay! Haahahehee....youhuo can't break meeeeee."
"We'll see"
I continued my quick assault of his soles and toes.....his laughter was music to my ears, and his soles were my instruments to play. As I continued on, the laughter started to get more intense, but he wasn't giving up. I looked at the cell, it had been about 10 minutes. I looked to my right while laying there, and could see beads of sweat on Scott's forhead and face. However, those tools were still in his hands, but they were no longer being put to work. I was getting there. I was also getting hard.
"You're good, Scott.....really good....Nice endurance!"
"You're killing me!!!!!!" was his reply.
I started moving my fingers over his soles as quickly as I could, and suddenly, I heard two soft "thumps". I looked to see that Scott had dropped the tools, and put his hands to the sides of his head.....his mouth was wide opened, and he was laughing hysterically. the soles of his feet were turning light pink, and getting slick with sweat. I didn't mind.......that helped my hands to move even quicker.
"Say 'uncle', Scott."
"haahaaahaa nooohhoohoooahaahaaaaaaaaa"
"Ok, have it your way."
I continued on, and so did Scott. I began to get worried that his loud laughing might attract attention, but I pushed that aside, I was having too much fun. Scott's stomach was moving up and down quickly as he gasped with laughter, and he balled his hands into fists, and began to pound the ground on either side of himself, as he shook with laughter. I knew it wouldn't be much longer now.
"Oh hoohohhoo God....hahahahha sheeeeheheheit!! Okayyyyahahahahahahaa UNCLE UNCLE UNCLE!!!'
"Hmmmmm.....nope....just a few seconds more!"
When he heard me say that, his whole body tensed up, and he was shaking with laugher.
"Chuuhuhuhukeeeeheheehe..puhpuhhahapulease....hellllllpeeheeheehee......."
Not wanting to piss him off, I stoped the tickling. Scott's body immediately relaxed. His knees bent, and he was breathing very heavily. His face and neck were drenched with sweat. My cell phone gave me a time of 20 minutes total. I looked at Scott, who was now pulling himself out from under the truck. He was looking at me, still breathing heavy, his face beet red and covered in sweat. He bent one of his knees, and rested his arm on it. His other leg was bent, the sole of his foot facing me.
"Damn! No one has EVER tickled me like that."
"So, I'm the only one to make you say 'uncle'?"
"Yes, you are. I swear it."
"Cool!" and with that, I reached out, and gave his sole one more quick stroke.
"heh heh hey!....C'mon bud....I can't take any more."
By that time, my erection had abated, and I was able to stand. I reached out, and shook his hand.
"I gotta get goin'. You be safe driving back home to Dave."
He grinned at me. "Oh, I'll be safe, but I'm spending the night here. I didn't finish the repairs.....something kept me from finishing." and with that he winked at me.
"well, then safe journey tomorrow. Tell Dave I said 'Hello!' "
"I'm not telling Dave nuthin'! As far as he's concerned, I still havn't said 'Uncle!' and I intend to let him think that!"
With that, I gave Scott one final wave, and got into the Tracker. I still had a 5 hour ride ahead of me, and I drove home with a huge smile on my face.
