Tickling Fest in Chicago
Chicago. The year is 2005 or 2006, I’m not sure which. I met a guy at the New York foot party the year before and believe he was added to a list of foot lovers; that’s how (or so I assume) I received the invitation to the Chicago Tickle Fest, an event I’d never heard of.
I am completely obsessed with feet. Though I enjoy tickling, it is not my main fetish. Tickling parties, on the other hand, equal exposed bodies, including feet. So, why not give it a shot? The invitation arrived through email, with extremely detailed instructions to follow: contact the host, pay the cost, specify your foot preferences, reserve your accommodation, and select your favourite beverage. The site was a hotel in Chicago, and attendees could get a fantastic deal on one of the four beds designated for the event.
The disadvantages were: 1. You would have to share the room with another customer (which I thought was a bonus due to the possibilities); and 2. the room was only open during the party hours. I paid the cash and reserved one of these rooms and flew to O’Hare two weeks later for my first Tickle Party. I was overjoyed!
For those of you who are familiar with the Windy City, it is still cold in the spring. But it didn’t stop 60 eager males from getting together to indulge their wildest dreams. To give you an idea, there was this hot young guy who liked to dress up as Robin, get tied up spreadeagled, and have as many men as possible tickle his entire body; the real ticklers, with their crazy eyes and hands, overworked the poor boy’s upper body while I attacked his unattended feet, tickled them mercilessly, sucked on his big toes, licked his arches, tickled some more.
It was difficult to discern what was causing his loud shouts, but his hard on suggested that he was having a great time. As the tickling continued, the guys would strip him naked. He had a 9-inch curved cock that pulsated as if it had a mind of its own. We alternated sucking him off, tickling his dick head and balls, and fingering his ass.
I admit that I did the most of the oral part, giving him lengthy licks to his pits (when they were available) and biting his firm tits. We milked him a number of times before he said the safe word. As previously stated, the hotel was separated into blocks of four flats, each with a single entrance. Richie has reserved the first block, which consists of four interconnected units. The first level (two flats) was deemed the “main floor,” with the remaining two upstairs allocated for heavy core tickling using devices I’d never seen before.
That was the location where we milked Robin. My roommate was the prettiest play toy ever, and I grabbed one of the rooms upstairs. Mark was from Chicago, with greyish short hair, a slender figure, blue eyes, and the nicest size ten set of feet a man could have. On top of that, that small-framed man had one of the largest cocks I’d ever seen, and he’d been crushing on me since the moment our paths met. But the night was young, I’d only just begun, and I knew he’d be mine as soon as the clock struck two a.m.
Guys, so much happened at that party at the same time that I had to be picky here. I recall the “cowboy,” a Texas man who enjoyed being teased. When I first saw him, he was with a companion, and I assumed they were a couple. They were not, as I discovered. The Texan was a regular guy, but his size nine feet and massive dick and balls were to die for (though I only really played with his private parts on a different occasion). I had to have him, and I did.
After some convincing, I persuaded him to sit on the chair in front of me and let me tickle his feet. T, as I previously stated, was a middle-aged man in his fifties. Some may even argue he wasn’t attractive in the broadest meaning of the word. But I honestly believed differently; he was adorable. His body was in line with his age, and because I wasn’t interested in his body at the moment, who cared? I took hold of his left leg and placed his booted foot on my lap.
He grinned and gave me a joyful expression. I gingerly unlaced his boot, slipping two fingers into it to reach his insteps, just enough to push his socked high arch. He burst out laughing right then. His companion then decided to join the activity. He sat behind the chair and lifted T’s left arm to reveal the tickling armpit of the man.
He obviously understood just how to press the poor guy’s buttons. I had already removed T’s footwear and was greeted with the silhouette of an amazing high arched foot through his brown socks, exactly how I want my feet to look. If you’ve read my past stories, you’ll know that I have a strong passion for male feet in general; however, I am fascinated with high arches; they amaze me.
Just touching that foot, feeling the warmth of his arch beneath his socks, had me salivating. I drew his toes back with one hand while running my fingers through his soles with the other. T’s chuckle was hilarious! His companion continued to do the same to his pit, which just added to his urgency; I observed his dick growing to a full erection within his pants.
I stroked the bulge and squeezed it for the purpose of it. He groaned a little, but I quickly returned my focus to his foot. When I finally took off his brown sock, I was in awe of the beauty of this man’s foot once more. Perfection was the first word that sprang to me, yet it was insufficient. T’s feet were perfect: they smelled amazing, were exceedingly soft (and so sensitive), and tasted like candy! With both hands on the foot, I “hot dogged” his arch with small bites. T went insane! I carried on like this for a bit, and his companion was already tonguing his pit.
I noticed a tear of delight fall down his left eye as I tickled the ball of his foot, right below the toes, his erect dick throbbing within his trousers while mumbling phrases that sounded like pleas for mercy. T, on the other hand, never removed his foot, no matter how painful the feelings were. As a result, I kept up the ferocious assault, alternately sucking on his toes.
I gave the poor guy some space to catch his breath while massaging and kissing his high arch and heel. I also took my time touching his hairy leg and caressed it. His prick continued to exhibit symptoms of delight, as verified by his piercing green eyes as they rolled alongside.
Only then did I begin working on his right foot. This time, I withdrew the boot as quickly as I could and abruptly began tickling. His emotions were once again a combination of agony and ecstasy. T was straining to evade his demonic fingers while his pal worked on his ribs. Overall, I believe we kept this going for about two hours, with the other clients in the room watching and marveling at how I simply gobbled the poor Texan’s feet.
That night, I even received the prize for greatest foot worshipper, a novel from an erotic writer who attended the gathering. PS: I’m not sure what his entire name was; I think it was Randy or something. However, the book was excellent, with well-structured tales. That night, he wanted to hook up with me, but I was not drawn to his feet).
Many more things occurred at the party; after all, we had four rooms full of horny, fetishist males eager to keep the activity going at any costs. I suppose I’ll need to write a new chapter to cover what I remember. That includes the steamy time I spent toying with my roommate’s massive cock and size twelve feet.