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From: Andy Caulden <andycaulden@yahoo.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.gay.moderated
Subject: ST: "A Sweaty Initiation" (M/M) (Bond) (Tickling) (Oral)
Date: Thu, 30 Aug 2007 03:05:11 -0500
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A Sweaty Initiation

By Andy Caulden

andycaulden@yahoo.com
Comments, suggestions, and questions welcomed.

--The following story is a work of fiction; any
resemblance to persons, places, or events is strictly
coincidental. This story involves explicit, non
consensual sexual content taking place between two
men. If such a premise offends you, is illegal by law
to obtain, examine, or otherwise view in your place of
residence or business, please do not proceed.--

* * *

It was late August. Tryouts for varsity baseball were
over, and I made it. It wasn't too hard, really, our
college being a small campus, but still, as a
sophomore all of 19, I was to be the youngest player
on the team. 

I'd worked out all summer, running, getting my swing
just right, and even a bit of heavy lifting. This guy
on the team, Corey, seemed to always be around when I
was in the weight room, sparsely populated on account
of the summer holiday.

I usualy showered afterwards, soaping up my body,
sudsy hands gliding down my defined chest and all
around my taught stomach, sometimes, if I were alone
I'd let a hand trail to my crotch, thinking of all the
girls I'd fuck in the fall. 

Corey startled me one afternoon as he turned on the
shower only a few heads down. I thought I was alone,
and had just closed my eyes under the stream of water,
once again letting a hand slide down my stomach. I
stopped, and washed up, quickly, getting an odd
feeling that he knew what I was up to, and was getting
off on it. 

"So, you ready for your initiation this weekend?," he
asked, eyes roaming my naked body. 

Everybody knew that new players were initiated, broken
in, so to speak, but the details I'd heard were all
cloudy and filled with rumors I really didn't think
were true. 

"Yeah, I guess so," I said turning off the water and
grabbing a towel. The firm cloth coarsely dried and
also teased my sensitive skin as he continued on.

"Good. One of the seniors will be by to pick you up at
six in the morning Saturday, wear mesh shorts and a
shirt, and keep your weekend free," he smiled wickedly
as I left and got dressed. 

In the locker room, a few of my teammates were just
packing up. 

"Look it's the super sophomore...you think you can
handle playing varsity, Kevin? Last time I saw you on
the field coach had you drawing lines out and setting
bases," he laughed with his buddy. 

"Dude, I've been at it all summer getting ready, coach
knows it, I know it. Before long you'll be batting
clean up after me...," I replied in a snarky way. I
was cocky, I guess, but neither of them had gotten
onto varsity before they were juniors or seniors. So
what did they know?

"Whatever you say man, just don't forget you're not a
part of the team until after your initiation..."

"Yeah, yeah...," I said as I dressed and
left...wondering what was in store for me.

* * *
I was groggy early saturday morning, as I finished
brushing my teeth and looked myself in the mirror. My
blue eyes and blonde hair were dripping with youth, I
really looked much younger, and I definitely liked
what I saw.  Mesh shorts. Check. Sneakers. Check.
T-Shirt. Check.  

When the car pulled up, right on schedule, l had some
butterflies in my stomach when I got in the back-seat
of Aaron's car, the team captain, and noticed Corey
riding shotgun. Just my luck.

Corey turned back and handed me a bottle of water and
a piece of cloth.

"Drink up, you'll be thirsty later. When you're done,
put this blindfold on and keep your mouth shut, cool?"

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about what was
going on here...but hell, if the other guys had done
it, so could I.

"Yeah," I said. I gulped down the bottle of water and
then tied the blindfold around my eyes. I couldn't see
shit, and realized I wouldn't know where we were
going. After a short drive the car stopped and Aaron
and Corey got out, opening my door and guiding me by
the arm towards somewhere.

I heard a door being unlocked and I was guided in. 

I knew from the smell of it that we were in the field
house, a shed of sorts opposite the athletic complex,
somewhat abandoned and used mostly for storage. It had
no air conditioning, and only two small windows up
top, from what I remembered. On account of the
equipment inside there was a dank smell of sweat and
grunge that thickened the air. 

I was told to strip off my shoes, socks, and shirt,
then they guided me down on an old weight bench that
was there, lying flat on my back. I felt my wrists
being tied firmly together and then attached to the
bench frame behind my head, and then I heard the sound
of another bench being moved around, on which my feet
were spread. My ankles were tied and secured as well.

I felt comfortable, but also nervous as I tested the
binds. I wasn't going anywhere until they untied me.

Suddenly I felt a slap on my stomach that made me
yelp, not so much in pain, but rather from the
unexpected contact on my bare skin, already starting
to perspire. 

"Well, this is pretty much it, Kevin. The sun will be
up in a few hours, supposed to be up in the 90s
today...hope you enjoy sweating it out in here...it
gets pretty stifling, but I think you'll manage. Maybe
you'll even get a nap. Somebody will be here to untie
you after sunset. Enjoy"

One of them twisted my nipples, and then I heard the
door shut and lock. 

Fuck. I had no clue about what time it was, and had
nothing to do but lie there. After what I figured was
several hours and the late morning sun began to heat
the field house, I realized what this was all about.

It was, in a way, torture. The thick air had my hair
matted and dripping with sweat, and the thought of
being stuck there until sundown was changing my mind,
but I stopped trying to get out of my bonds. It was
only making things worse. I just had to lay there and
sweat, breathing in the stagnant musky air. 

Hours passed.

I heard the door unlock and someone entered the field
house, just in time. I was loosing my mind, and also
dying to get out my restraints for some fresh air.

"Thank god, dude, shit...It's so fucking hot in here."

I got no reply.

"Uhh...hello? Aaron? Corey? Fucking untie me already."

I flinched as I felt a single finger glide down my
ribs, slowly, biting my lip to keep from laughing. 

"What the fuck?..."

"It's not even four yet, dumbass. Aaron won't be back
until later. Much later. I've been watching you for a
while. I thought I'd come over and have a little fun."

It was Corey. I immediately started against the
restraints and yelled.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Leave me the
fuck alone you fucking
faggot....dude...ahhahaha...what the fuck!"

I felt his fingers thrum on my soles, gliding up and
down, moistened by my sweat. My memory flashed back to
childhood hijinks, when my friends had horsed around
and found out that wiggling fingers on pretty much any
part of my body sent me into shrieks of laughter. 

He didn't let up, even as I coughed and begged him to
stop between laughter so hard I was barely even making
sounds at times, gulping for air in the thick summer
heat.

I'd never had my feet tickled for so long, and there
was nothing I could do about it. I cursed, yelled, and
screamed, all the while that fucker found the best
ways to tickle me--in between my toes, the steep and
sensitive arch, even the tops. He was killing me. 

When I thought I'd nearly pass out, he stopped.
Suddenly the sound of my laughter or thrashing about
on the equipment was replaced with my deep gulps for
air, my chest heaving desperately to catch my breath.
I was a jock, but this was pushing it. 

"Dude...okay, please, stop. I can't take this shit.
Untie me now man," I heard myself pleading between
breaths.

Suddenly I felt a warm hand firmly grasp the shaft of
my dick. During my thrashing, my mesh shorts had let
my dick pop out above the waistband. I was hard. Hard
as steel, and I didn't even realize it. I wasn't gay,
but the sensations on my feet somehow went straight to
my cock, and now I was confused, my body flooded with
sensations, my mind scrambling to figure a way out of
this, but I was so exhausted I felt like some type of
animal.

"I don't know, Kevin. Seems to me like you enjoy this
almost as much as I do...maybe more," he said as he
began to firmly stroke my cock, I felt my nipples
being played with and jolts of pleasure spread over my
chest and in my crotch. I grunted.

"Stop that shit now dude, just untie me and let me go.
I won't tell anyone, I swear."

"You want me to stop? Fine. I haven't even tested your
chest and stomach for ticklishness yet, and we've got
a whole afternoon ahead of us."

I lost it and started screaming for help. Maybe
somehow, somebody would be passing by hear me. I was
silenced with a jock stuffed into my mouth and tied
round behind. My shouts and spit mixed with it until,
slowly, the juice of someone's crotch sweat was
dripping down my throat.

His fingers started in my armpits, strong sadistic
strokes, like a virtuoso pianist or some shit, and I
was screaming, pleading, but mostly laughing
hysterically into my gag. I was seeing stars, bucking
with all my will to get away, twisting and turning.

But no matter where I swiveled or how I bucked, his
fingers never lost contact with my skin, gliding all
around my sweaty pits, down to my ribs. My heart was
racing, and I could feel it pounding away while he dug
into each side of me, chuckling to himself as he
forced me to endure this torture. I couldn't keep
track of time, only his hands. One would explore my
navel and belly button while another grazed my foot.

Then both feet were tickled, then my pits, then my
feet again. Over and over and over again. He didn't
stop, and I was out of it. Howling, bucking, making
incoherent and inhuman noises in vain, pleading with
him to stop all this shit and just let me the fuck out
of there. The heat was unbearable when I was alone,
and now with my body being played and worked over, I
felt as if I were in a boiler room. 

Finally, he gave me a breather. I moaned pitifully,
but mostly just tried to catch my breath. I was
exhausted. I could feel my muscles become sore from
straining against the bonds, and my stomach was
cramped from laughing so hard. 

Again, he started stroking my dick. Slow, strong, and
firm strokes that teased me. I was furious at Corey,
but also at my body, betraying me to this faggot and
his jollies, always happy to cum at the hands of
whoever, and the tickling only made things worse.

At times, I thought I might shoot my load just from
being tickled on my feet, but when I tensed up and
started bucking my hips, he'd switch over to my navel,
twisting and pinching my nipples, making me grunt and
groan, before starting up again with the same shit. It
dawned on me that he knew what he was doing.

I didn't care about anything anymore. Fuck varsity.
Fuck everything, I just wanted to get out of there. I
would have done anything. 

Then I felt a mouth on my dick. I grunted and shook my
head, writhing around on the slick weight bench, wet
with my sweat. Having him play with my dick was
already too much, and I was not about to get sucked
off by another guy--especially a guy I'd be playing
ball with. Fuck, no.

"You're not enjoying this, Kevin? Well, I guess if you
like being tickled better...," he started up at my
feet again as I screamed in protest, before breaking
down into howling, shrieking, silent laughter.

My blindfold was completely soaked from sweat and
tears, and I felt utterly helpless, unable to see when
he'd switch from working over my soles, surprising me
with fingers probing deeply in my armpits, then
sliding all over my chest and stomach, digging into my
sides around my hipbones...I convulsed as if I were
having a seizure, too hoarse to do anything but grunt
and occasional let out a pubescent sounding squeal.

When he finally stopped tickling me, he resumed
sucking on my cock, I just accepted it, lying
silently, catching my breath. He flicked his tounge
round and round across my head, slurping up and down
until finally my limbs grew taught, toes splayed and
hands clenched, and I exploded. Shot after shot of
spoodge pulsed out of my dick and was eagerly devoured
by his siphoning mouth until I was dry. 

Several moments of silence passed, as I heard myself
breathing heavily and cooing. Then, I heard what
sounded like the winding and clicking of a camera.
Fuck. He was taking pictures of me. I tried in my mind
to visualize what would become of the film...I was
splayed out, tied up among deflated soccer balls and
dirty lacrosse nets, dick still hard, blindfolded with
a mouthful of jock. He was going to blackmail me, or
something. 

"I should go," he said, taking jock out of my mouth. I
gasped for air and then quickly pleaded with him. 

"Dude...please, no, come on man...untie me. I'm dying
here dude. I can't fucking breathe."

"Don't worry, the sun will set in an hour or two, and
Adam will be back." 

"And so will I."

I tried to scream, but my voice was so hoarse, only a
wispy, raspy shriek was barely heard over the sound of
the door closing and locking. 

* * *


       
____________________________________________________________________________________
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