TIMMY’S TICKLISH TRIALS (A BONER BOOK)

My name is Tim, Timothy Backman to be exact. Some of my buddies call me Timmy B. I’m thirty something years old, married for the last fifteen years and my wife and I have a ten year old son, Tim Junior. I have short cut black hair; my hair is actually cut in a classic banker’s style, crystal blue eyes and no facial hair whatsoever, a real clean cut Wall Street type executive, that’s me. I stand five feet nine inches tall, give or take an inch and my body is pretty muscular and well toned from the daily workouts that I put myself through at the Wall Street gym three to four times a week after working hours. As I pointed out I have known Ronald for a lot of years so when he did what he did in kidnapping me you can imagine how it came as a total shock. I mean, lets face it, how many poor guys out there get kidnapped by one of their best buddies? And right out of their own bathroom? And for the purposes of tickle torture of all the blasted things? I realize of course that all this sounds totally preposterous and I agree, it certainly is, it’s totally fucking outrageous, but it happened, and it happened to me, yours truly, one of the most tickle sensitive guys on the planet. When it comes to my being tickle sensitive I have to say that God was real mean when he created me. I learned very early on that I was more tickle sensitive than most average guys out there. And I have had enough experiences that I can share with you to back up what I just said. But for the moment, let me tell you about Ronald and how he captured me. It happened three nights ago, and as far as I know my wife thinks that all this had to do with a joke being played on me by my fraternity brothers from my past college days, although my son did see me being taken by Ronald, so I wonder if he told her and worse, if she believed what he claims to have seen, if he did tell her… Okay, let me backtrack some more because all of this probably sounds like something out of the “Twilight Zone” of erotica to all of you who might be reading this… It was the middle of the night like any other, what some people call the wee hours of the morning. “Ohhhhh,” I groaned softly as I awoke at 2:30 AM with a raging piss filled hard-on, next to my still slumbering wife. “Ohhhh, every night it’s the same thing, every goddamned night…”