The Tickling Payback (Bloomingdale's Shower Boy Part III)

Summary: The advertising executive from Bloomingdale's Shower Boy Finale, a dead ringer of the gorgeous Congressman Adam Kinzinger,runs into the resentful shower boy (actually a grown hunky man)  at a beach hotel. Things occur.

What happened was:

My name is Rob. I work for a department store in their advertising department. The following is a true story and I am using real names when it is necessary.

I have repeatedly been informed that I bear a very strong resemblance to a man named Adam Kinzinger. He is a Congressman, and I must say, a very handsome fellow, so this comparison does not bother me at all. I find it flattering. His ears are large, as are mine, but not to the point of annoyance when compared. One very strong similarity with me and Mr. Kinzinger is that we have strong jawlines and deep, masculine voices.

Anyway, here is a bit of back story. I related here an incident involving my store and a gimmick they attempted involving a portable shower and a naked male model (yes, naked).

The model's name is Clifford Marks. He was paid (handsomely) to shower in the nude in our Bathwares department in a product called "EZSpray". You may have seen it advertised on television.

Mr. Marks exhibited himself, willingly, for over two weeks, naked, in front of New Yorkers of various ages, genders, sizes and whatnot. My store cleared this with our legal department, Mr. Marks signed a contract, and he was compensated. We got exactly the press we'd pursued, and sold a lot of product. It had been a daring experiment, but for the most part, it had proven to be a wise business decision (until the next-to-the-last day, but by then, the press corps had moved on, and what occurred that afternoon became the stuff of legend).

That particular day, the day I finally checked Mr. Marks and this situation out for myself, after days of office gossip about the "auburn hunk" who was bathing himself on the eighth floor in the nude, I found Mr. Marks to be quite embarrassed and I thought this was funny. I teased him, watching him outside of the shower cubicle in my suit and making jokes at his expense. I was not the only one doing this, in fact, there were quite a few of us making fun of him. He is a well-built individual, but he was stark naked, and he looked ridiciulous, trying to act like it was perfeclly normal to be nude in the middle of the afternoon using body wash in public. I recall I'd met this man previously, in the elevator of the store. Then, he'd been wearing a sweater. Now, he was wearing nothing at all. He was naked and he did not seem to be enjoying it.

Mr. Marks' embarrassment unfortunately made him sexually aroused. He got an erection (an erection naked!) in front of everyone. Then, amazingly, without warning, Mr. Marks lost control of himself. His nipples were erect, he could barely stand up without holding the rails of the shower, his erection obscenely stuck out at us, and he leaned backwards, showed us his asshole(!) and ejaculated(!!) Pictures were taken of this. I have them still. You may have seen photos of Mr. Marks on the internet, losing control of his body and having an orgasm shamelessly. They are fairly pornographic.

Mr. Marks became outraged that we'd witnessed his humiliation, and seemed to blame me in particular, as he huffily exited the EZSpray, naked with his rather thick semen amazingly still on on his wet body, and insulted me verbally as he tried to find his nearby robe and cover his nudity. He stormed off in a rage, as we all laughed at him. I mean, he was quite the spectacle. What did I do? I had just watched him make a fool of himself, naked, along with old ladies, kids, gay guys, co-workers, fawning women, and the like.

That is back story. The following occured months later.

I was vacationing at a beach hotel a few miles outside of the city. That morning, as is my wont, I smoked a big ole joint. That afternoon, after taking a dip in the pool, where I and my wet slightly hairy chest amusingly were hit on in an extremely nice way by a "cute" red-headed guy half my age (his name was Max, and he reminded me of Sam from LOTR),

I showered and took my time. On the way out of the shower, I glimpsed my naked body. I looked pretty good, I thought. I'm going to wear that clean tank top, the one with the bar logo. I loved that tank-top. It reminded me of the bar, it showed off all my gym time, and it often got me laid, if you want to be honest. I took care of this cherished garment; I really did love it. I would wear it today on my vacation! I trimmed a little bit of my armpits.

I decided to take a stroll on the beach and go to a quaint little fish-themed bar a few yards away from the hotel. They always had free pretzels and popcorn, and sometimes, pepperoni cheese and crackers. Bar snacks rule!

Suddenly hungry and still in the room, I had a turkey sandwich (always bring out sandwich material and don't forget the mustard) and then I put on beachy attire (my favorite tank top, shorts, underwear (briefs), sandals, etc.) and left the familiar room, locking it. I did not like the way my left foot looked. It looked red. Fuck it. It is just sunburned. Gotta remember: on the beach, ANYTHING can get sunburned.

I'd stayed in this room many times, although I preferred the one on the second floor. This one was on the first floor and it was near the ice machine, so no complaints. But you could get away with more mischief on the second floor, and the second floor was harder to find if you weren't a guest. But of course, it involved late-at-night stairs, so again, I had no qualms with the first floor at all. I never requested specific rooms at this place, the staff just seemed to know where to put me. I think the maids and houseboys preferred when I was on the second floor because on hot days I did not bother closing the blinds and just hung out completely. The houseboys in particular kept asking me if I needed more towels when I was on the second floor. To tease them occasionally, I'd open the door naked and say, "No, I'm fine  Thank you." They'd fan themselves and come back over and over. The maids were more restrained. Unfortunately for me, the maids were totally professional. (OK, there WAS one girl who took an unabashed shine to me--sweet Sarah-June. But this was during a big storm, almost a hurricane really, we were both soaked to the gills, and si I actually DID need towels. It was in September as I recall.)

Back to the story:

In the corridor, wearing far less than my business suit, and LOVING THAT, I marveled at the glorious day awaiting me (the hotel is ON the beach). There was not a cloud in the sky, and it was a great 75-80 degrees. It was a perfect summer day. I praised the nice day (you don't always get them)  and decided to smoke more pot later, maybe even naked alone in my room watching TV. This was a big reason I'd locked the room; I'd brought out a bag of the stuff this time, and it was terrific weed. that you don't often get  You gotta watch your weed in this hotel. I'd learned the hard way. But enough about weed........

There I am outside my room, anticipating fun and games on the beach. I even had a bottle of top shelf vodka in the room that I hadn't even opened. Happy me. I saw Max strolling by below the hotel  and invited him for a smoke later in the day. He smiled, he had such good little teeth. Max looked like a born stoner. He was scruffy, a bit pale and blonde, shirtless today (it suited hime perfectly) and loving his dragon tattoo on his muscled left arm. Friendly Max was in serious good shape but he was not a show-off. He was just in a perpetual good mood, I surmised.

I wanted to ensure nothing bad happened to my new buddy Max. He reminded me not only of LOTR Sam, but of my nephew Teddy who did not have good sense back in the hellhole of West Virginia. "Put on sunscreen, Max!" I admonished. Max grinned and waved and then met a girl on his way to the beach. It was pretty obvious to me that affable Max swung both ways, or something or other. I looked forward to getting high with Max but I wasn't going to have sex with a 20 year old manboy. Not on this beach. Word gets around, and I had a reputation (of some kind). I'd cuddle with him if he didn't move around a lot and disturb my sleep. But WE WOULD BE CLOTHED.

The pot was kicking in. Rather, it was knocking down the door of my head, telling it to STFU. My mind was wandering, the sun was out and I was happy. I gazed at the beach. My thoughts were nowhere near the city. Should I eat? Nah. I want to drink.

I was warmed when little Max turned around and waved at me again. Even from this distance, his pearly whites gleamed. There he was! I watched the ocean waves. What a nice kid. The girl he'd picked up didn't deserve him, she looked quite skanky, but that is none of my business. Hopefully Max used condoms. I'd have to remind him of that later, while we were smoking and watching TV. I don't have children, but I would adopt little Max. Oooh, this is good weed, indeed, champ.

But THEN:

Lo and behold, in the corridor was---Clifford Marks! This time he had clothes on. LOL. Similar attire as me: except he had on a Star Wars T-shirt instead of a tank. He was tanned and still fit. Cliff looks like a GQ model. He has sandy hair (believe me, he trims it everywhere) He recognized me and I reacted similarly. He was glowering; I was grinning from ear to ear.

"Cliff Marks," I exclaimed in surprise. "Good to see you. Good to see you got clothes on." I laughed.

Marks glared at me. "You. From the store. You made fun of me."

"Well, you WERE naked." I laughed at him. "Me and about two dozen people made fun of you that day. Are you staying here?" I was not going to let his bad job decisions ruin my vacation. As a maid walked by, I announced again, "You were STARK NAKED."

The maid paused, looked at us, smiled, and continued walking.

"Shhhhhhh. Yes. I am down the hall." Hmmmm. Down the hall from what? 

"Oh," I responded. I felt a little guilty as I could see he seemed to be still a little resentful I'd seen him nude and ejaculating all over himself with his asshole visible to all. Cliff's asshole was the first male anus I'd ever seen. I've not even seen my OWN asshole. I do not exhibit myself naked and do not look at myself naked. I know I look good naked; I've been told by several women, and that's enough for me. Also, Justin from the men's department in the store told me "I would kill to see you without clothes." Justin is highly particular, so I took this as a compliment of thie highest caliber; it was how it was intended (I told myself). I had considered asking Justin to come out here to the beach so I could show off a little and get his reaction. I see nothing wrong with a little ego boost off and on, and Justin is an athletic, amiable drinking buddy in the city, always impeccably attired of course. He'd be a hoot at the beach with his hair down. He's also a babe magnet, even though he is as gay as a goose. Thanks to Justin and his charm, I'd gotten laid several times. I have no problem with being sloppy seconds, know what I mean?

But let's go back to the humorless, clothed Clifford Marks. I told him: "I'm going for a drink, do you want to join me?" I heard myself ask. I'm straight, but it's always better to drink with someone rather than alone, and here was Cliff Marks, all dressed up and ready to go. I also thought I'd be able to tease him at the bar about his nude display in my department store. I told myself to refrain from mentioning details about his body--his obscenely exposed asshole, his weird balls, his even weirder nipples (they got RED), his cock, etc. etc. So many areas of derision that everyone had seen and photographed!

To my amusement, he took the bait. "Very well, I will join you for a drink," he replied, evenly. He then said, and I will never forget this, "You look like that senator. Adam something."

I laughed. "Kinzinger. Adam Kinzinger. I hear that a lot."

Marks snickered. "You both have big ears." I instantly thought of Max, who would never say dumb things like this to me, I  just knew. Ears? Give me a break. Where is Max?

I let the idiotic comment pass. So what. I'd seen this big doofus shoot his wad in public, naked. But I did zing him with this: "We both probably have big everything, like yourself." I couldn't deny Clifford had an impressive penis, especially when erect.

He stiffened, so to speak. I was getting impatient. Frankly, I wanted to get stoned with little Max. He was nowhere to be seen, probably impregnating that townie whore near a sand dune.

I became a bit grumpy. "C'mon, Clifford. Let's go. I'm thirsty."

We left the hotel and strolled to the bar, a modest little shack favored mostly by locals.

On the way, little was said. I got tthe impression Clifford was still simmering that not only had I seen him naked, but that I'd taken pics of him. He actually said, "Still got those cell phone pics?" Clifford was beginning to bore the hell out of me. Get over it, I thought.

"Of what?" I played dumb.

"You know of what," huffed Clifford.

"Oh, you mean of your naked body?" I innocently replied. Might as well have fun with this dirge.

"Please do not patronize me," said Clifford. I was annoyed that he couldn't lighten up. We were on the damn beach. I laughed and watched a seagull eat french fries off a bench.

So I said, "Yeah, of course I kept the pics. Many people took pics of you that day. I mean, you were naked. People will tke pictures of naked men, you do realize that, don't you?" Then I tried to flatter him.

"Especially well-built handsome naked men."

Cliff complained, "I know about the pics. My kids keep finding them on the internet. I know I'm handsome and all that."

Then just shut up, I thought to myself. I am not a psychiatrist. I am out here to party. Clifford moaned on: "There's nude pictures of me all over the place. And you took some of them. My penis. My, uh, asshole."

Is this guy serious?

I sympathized (but not really), thinking People who take their clothes off in public  have to consider the consequences. "That must be tough." I had a few of Cliff's pics on my phone and would glance at them when I was bored. This occasionally got me a few glances if I was around other people, expeically the one of Cliff and his full-blown erection sticking through his soapy pubes above his scrotum, all in vivid color. I tried not to exhibit the asshole photos, as they were just too explicit and I had to explain them to peopole. Oops!

We had arrived at the bar, thankfully. "C'mon, I'll buy you a drink. Forget about EZSpray." I felt like saying, forget about your asshole, but the timing was just not quite right. But if he blatherd on, I would say it in a heartbeat.

Cliff huffed, scoweled, and said, "Very well. You do owe me." What a buzzkill is this guy, but then I had naked pics of him and could show them in the bar if he further got on my nerves. Him, his big gaping asshole, his "handsome" face, his titties with the soap on their turgid redness, all of it.

I patted Cliff on his well-toned back through his little Star Wars shirt and he flinched. I was entertained already. I also realized that we were being stared at by tourists, who seemed to think we were a gay couple. I am as straight as they come, and had been informed that for all his wanton nudity, Clifford Marks was also heterosexual and did not welcome attention from gay guys. The latter infor I got from a slutty gay co-worker who was a shamless flirt (actually the one who had hired Cliff in the first place). I have no problem with attention from other men; I get it a lot. You have to take it in stride. I am not vain, but I do keep in shape.

To further unnerve Clifford, I took him by the hand and pulled him into the bar. He flinched and actually whimpered, but he allowed me to do this. After all, I had seen him completely nude for an extended period and shooting his load and yelping in pleasure with his fucking asshole hanging out  (oh yes, Clifford makes sounds). All of that had to be on his mind, and the masculine Clifford, even while clothed, probably realized that at any time, I could blurt this out loud at this laid-back beachfront bar.

To reassure him and boringly flatter him, I said: "Cliff. Let's get drunk. I'm not going to marry you even though you are very gorgeous."

Cliff gave me a very odd look. It was just this close to menacing. I ignored it. He was borring me now. I'd seen him naked, it was obvious he didn't like that, so I did not care anymore. I was going to buy the man a fucking drink. I hoped he would not further speak.

We went inside the bar and were promptly served. We got a lot of looks. I'm used to it, so I just relaxed. Cliff fidgeted. He was probably uncomfortable what with all his naked photos on the web and everything. I recalled Marks' strangely disproportinate balls. (One was larger than the other.) I chuckled to myself. The bartender did seem to recognize him, and arched an eyebrow. The bartender, a handssome older fellow, also winked at me. Sorry, buddy, I am not gay. But I gave the barkeep a little show and stretched, putting my hands behind my head briefly and exhibiting my armpits. The bartender asked me if I wanted more ice.

Works every time, gentlemen!

Cliff had ordered a beer. I was on bourbon and soda. We drank.

I then asked Clifford, "Have you posed nude since the shower display?" I had decided to embarrass him.

He gasped. "I don't POSE NUDE. That was a job to pay bills. Why are you so cruel?"

OH PLEASE.

I laughed at him. The bartender hovered. The soundtrack from "Grease" was playing.

A drunk pretty girl walked by. I recognized her. I had one arm hanging off the barstool. She pulled on my armpit hair. I flinched. 

"Marcy, you know I'm ticklish," I barked.

She laughed. "You at the Dunes, Rob?"

No reason to lie. She was good in bed. "Yeah."

"Same room?"

"They gave me the one on the corner," I lazily replied, not wanting to get her hopes up, or more sensibily, not wanting her to pursue me at this point.

I did notice Cliffie paying a lot of attention to this. Strange. When Marcy wobbled off, Marks said, "So you're ticklish, are ya?"

At least he's loosening up, I thought. I said, "Terribly. From my feet up to my pits. I can't stand it. But for some reason, women like it."

"Interesting," said Clifford. "My daughter's fiance is extremely ticklish."

Uh, OK.

"Another round, guys?" the bartender appeared. I had never encountered a more attentive bartender, anywhere.

"On me," said Clifford. Finally, I thought, he's relaxing. I accepted the drink, enjoying the day for what it was. Odd, but fun. At this point.

I suddenly had to piss. I put a napkin on top of the fresh drink and said to Cliff, "Do you mind holding the seat? I have to go to the loo."

"My pleasure, Rob," responded Cliff. On my way to the men's room, I flexed and showed off my manly armpits, getting looks. I loved the beach. I felt like taking off my shirt, frankly, but I did not, that would be excessive.

I heard Marcy squeal from somewhere and told myself not to let her in later. I will opt for a nap, or go to that other bar, later. At this other bar, there was that redhead with big tits and she liked to smoke weed and she smelled like the ocean. What was her name? I would find out later. Jenny? Joanne? It was one of those. And she liked my body. She really gave a terrifc blow job, and she swallowed. I certainly liked her body. The definition of voluptuous. Sweet girl and she had all her teeth, which she used quite skillfully. But now, friends, I need to urinate and I have a drink awating me. Hurry. Fuck. There was a small but determined line. I told myself not to think about potential blow jobs. It was not serving me well at this moment. i really needed to pee.

Be patient, penis. I eventually arrived at the urinal (heaven on earth) and all became correct. It's a great relief to piss on the beach in a bar in private. I suddenly wanted food and remembered I still had turkey in the hotel. And I think I had potato chips and SODA! I knew I certainly had weed, but I wanted food along with it. And then I could just pass out and sleep. I reminded myself to lock the door when I got back.

Good times.

I started to return to my bar seat, and Cliff, passing by Max on the way back, who was still shirtless. "I heard you were ticklish," he said, and smiled. His girlfriend was nowhere to be seen. He must have been here for a while if he'd heard that exchange about being ticklish. I was surprised I hadn't notice his presence.

I did not respond to the affable comment, just shrugged, smiled, and patted him on his bare, nicely toned shoulder, and told him to come by the room later for a joint. He assured me he "could not pass that up." Max smelled like salt water; he'd obviously taken a dip in the ocean. I thought, Max is very charismatic in his shaggy little beachy way.

I continued to my seat. On the way, I received many "are you Adam Kinzinger" comments. Wow, I thought, this politician is getting really popular.

Back to the seat: Drink still there with its napkin cover, Cliff looking comfortable, bartender welcoming me back. I felt good. The bartender had put out munchies. I indulged, as did Cliff, who was watching me very closely as I drank, which I found a bit odd.

Midway through the drink, I began to feel a bit woozy. I wrote it off as over-indulgence, which I could deal with as long as I had the key to my room. I fished in my shorts. I had key. I finished the drink and looked out at the ocean from whence the friendly Max had emerged.

The bartender asked if I wanted a refill. I said yes. Cliff had another beer.

This drink, I sipped. I was feeling warm and uneasy. Something was off here.

Cliff was chatting with a woman to his left about politics. I did not want to be involved in that conversation, so I ignored them, and sipped my drink and ate popcorn.

A surfer dude approached me and said, "Adam! Dude! I;ve seen you on TV!"

"I'm not him," I croaked. The surfer dude was dubious. "I get it," he said, and winked, strolling away, leaving a whiff of weed in his wake.

"I am going back tto the room," I suddenly announced. I wanted to lie down.

"You OK?" Cliff turned his attention to me.

"Yeah, I just wanna get back to the room."

"Can you make it by yourself?" he asked. God, it wasn't even close to dusk.

I did feel wobbly. "Uh, I think so."

Cliff put money on the bar and told the woman next to him, "I think I'd better walk my buddy back to the hotel." The bartender thanked him for this.

"OK," I said. I REALLY wanted to lie down in an air-conditioned room.

I saw Max in a corner of the bar and wished it was HIM walking me back, not Cliff, but Max was engaged in conversation with a clearly infatuated gay guy who was also shirtless, and I was not about to intrude. The other gay guy was touching Max, I noticed, and Max was allowing it.

Cliff walked me back to the room. I was woozy as fuck, but we got there without incident.

He got me inside, and I passed out on the bed almost instantly, but not before I heard him leave and pull the door closed. My last thought was get up and lock the door but then I remembered the door locked itself. I fell asleep, fully clothed, listening to partying going on outside..

I awoke a bit later with a bit of a clearer head. It was not yet dark, but the sun was going down.

I was no longer fully clothed. This was the first thing I realized. The sedond thing I realized was that I was in the Sand Dunes Hotel. And I was NAKED. Nude. And I was tied spread eagled to the bed. And I was not alone.

In my bleariness, I recognized that there was another person in the room, looking at me, sittting in a chair, in front of the darkening drapes. A man, not a woman. He was smoking a joint and he was, unlike me, not naked.

"Have a nice nap?" he asked. Outside, I heard The Supremes being blared.

I recognized the voice of this man, even though I was still groggy. I struggled to identify the man's identity.

"Your body is quite good," the man said, but there was contempt in his tone of voice.

He was not giving me a compliment. There was derision in his commentary.

Hd said, coldly, "My penis is bigger than yours. And you might want to manscape a bit .I can see your asshole. You enjoy anal sex. You are not a straight man, Rob. I have a toy for you, Rob.."

The man laughed. I was scared. I was not into scenes like this at all. I struggled, naked, but could not get out of my binds. The man laughed again, this time, with gusto.

"Oh how you squirm. So, you're ticklish, I hear," the man casually said. I tensed. I suddenly with real fear realized that not only was I bound, I was gagged as well. Since I'm not used to this, it took me longer than usual to realize just how helpless I was.

"I am going to teach you a lesson in manly respect," the man said. "You mocked me. Now I am going to mock you."

I blinked at the man sitting in the chair. Who was this? It was.....it was........

The man was...........

It was CLIFF. He rose from the chair and approached me with an enormous black dildo.

I was toast. I yelled through the ball gag. All I could hear from outside was old Madonna songs.

Cliff had utilized leather restraints on me. He'd used them on my wrists and my ankles. He was serious. I shuddered in anticipation of what was about to occur, as I realized that being naked was the least of my problems right now.

THERE WAS ALSO A VIDEO CAMERA SET UP AT THE FOOT OF THE BED, FACING ME AND MY NUDE BODY.

I was helpless. Not in my wheelhouse. But there was nothing I could do, that I could see. I glanced at my nakedness, and felt ashamed that I was being seen this way against my will.

For story purposes, I guess I'd better try to describe my body. As posted, I strongly do resemble the Congressman from Illinois, Adam Kinzinger. Aadmittedly, he is a very handsome fellow, and looks great in a suit. We appear to have the same height and weight and ressemblance is uncanny for some people. I see it,  for sure, but when I look in the mirror I see the face I've been looking at for 34 years, so I don't dwell upon it too much. We have the same salt and peppery hair on our heads.

Body: I work out, religioiusly but not every day. Every two days. On weekends if I fell like it I'll do back-to-backs on Saturday and Sunday. If I've had a long week, I'll skip one of those days. I have abs and I mean to keep them. Women love the abs, you know.

I have minimal body hair on my chest. It is dark, and it is sprinkled mostly around my upper chest and pecs. I have a man's usual amount of hair under my arms which occasionallly I'll trim if I'm going to wear a tank top .Nipples: pinkish brown and normal as far as I know; it's not a topic I've pursued. They're sensitive at times. Flat chest which I am determined to maintain. Tapered waist. I like to have a tan, and have a good speedo tanline. I would NEVER sunbathe in the nude.

OK,  here's the juicy stuff, so to speak. My penis is around six inches soft and my balls are proportionate. I have what I guess is referred to as one of those "plum-shaped" cockheads. I manscape occasionally but don't really need to do that a great deal. Still, before I date, I will. My ass: oh, I dunno. It's an ass. Women like it. Some guys at work will occasionally comment, but nowadays, you have to keep that type of banter to a minimum, although I would never report anyone for commenting on my ass. I have no idea what my asshole looks like. I've never seen it. I've dated women who are into fingering a man's anus, even licking it, and women who just never go there. Doesn't matter to me either way. It amuses me, to be honest. I don't worry about it, as I take two showers a day. One in the morning, and one when I get home in the evening. You could classify me as a cleanliness freak, I suppose. I don't lounge around the house in the nude too often; I order in a great deal, and it's tiring pulling things off, putting them back on, etc. etc.

But today right now in this hotel room I did not have the luxury of pulling anything off or putting anything on. I was completely naked and exposed and tied up spread eagle. This was a first. I'd never been tied up naked.

Cliff was studying my reaction to the situation. He was smirking.

I had to exert authority. Through the gag I tried to say this: "Untie me. NOW." It came out as "MMMEEE. NO." Epir fail. Cliff laughed.

"I think I'll leave the gag in," Cliff sneered. "You talk too much anyway."

I struggled, which amused him to no end as my junk bounced around embarrassingly. I decided to keep the struggling to a minimum if I could. Too humiliating.

Cliff had not changed clothes. He still had on a T-shirt and baggy beach shorts. I made myself look at the object he was holding in his right fist.

The dildo. A big, black dildo. BIG. And it appeared to have a switch at its "base." OH FUCK.

OK, think fast. My brain raced. Assess. I am naked and tied up and can't speak coherently. No one will hear me. There was music outside (to this day I cannot abide hearing Madonna). I am naked and this angry bastard is going to get his revenge on me by sticking that THING into my ass.

And why does that THING have a switch on its simulated scrotum. Yuck.

Damn it. I realized Cliff had drugged me at the bar. Stupid, stupid, stupid. That bartender was going to get a piece of my mind, if I survived this.

Cliff came over and dropped the THING on my naked chest. Then, he went back to his chair and pulled out from underneath, a plastic CVS bag, of all things.

What the hell?

Cliff pulled out an electric razor with clippers, a set of disposable razorrs, and a can of shaving cream. Oh, no, buddy, don't even thing about it. I struggled, despite myself. He is going to shave off my man hair. I hated him for even considering it. Well, I hated him basically anyway at this point. I was outraged. Cliff was chuckling incessantly. He even had a mad gleam in his eyes. It crossed my mind I might not get out of this alive.

No one had shaved off what little body hair I possessed. Or even asked to. I suppose Cliff was gayer than he let on. Or that he rationalized that in revenge, all bets are off and you can do anything to your prey.

And I felt like prey, as Cliff turned on the clippers and went straight for my armpits. I have hair there, so this took him a few minutes. I yelled thrugh the gag, I did not want him for a second to believe I was condoning this onslaught.

He merely smiled and shaved my armpits bare. "Perfect. They are prime for tickling."

Oh, no. No, nn, no. NOT THAT.

Next he went directly down to my pubes, and agonizingly, he shaved me there as well. His hand fooled around with my gonads and teased my cockheaad. GAY. I made muffled sounds of protest. He said, "I am not going to hurt you, Rob. Relax."

I made more sounds that were not sounds of relaxation. The black THING rolled off my chest and plopped next to my waist. It felt slimy.

Cliff knew how to shave. Soon, I was bare above my groin.

I looked at it. It looked ridiculous.

Next he sprayed shaving cream on my balls. MY BALLS. He was going to shave them as well. "Lie still, Rob," Cliff chuckled. 

Cliff shaved my balls. 

My midsection looked teenagery to me..

That is, until I realized my penis had become a little...fuller. Damn it.

Please don't notice that, I silently prayed.

He did notice it, commenting rather acidly, "You sure you're straight? You're getting a little excited." Cliff fondled my balls and I made the sounds again.

Not satisified with my remaining hirsuteness, he shaved my chest, using the disposable and the shaving cream, paying a little too much attention to my nipples, which he jeeringly mocked as "hard."

Never heard that from another man, and frankly, only a few women. OK there was one who really loved to suck on them. Fine by me. But I didn't like hearing this from Cliff, although, I remembered, I had teased him in the shower display back in the city for his own "hard" tits. But hey, I was not the only one doing that, people. Cliff's nipples do get HARD and they look cartoonish and RED.

The vengeful Cliff stood up straight by the bed (he'd been shaving me sitting down beside me) and announced "I am not going to shave your ass because you don't have any hair there to speak of anyway. I looked at it when I undressed you. Again, however, I will say that your rectum is rather deep and large for a straight guy. But I am not going to judge you."

Gee thanks. I was mortified to see that ol' Cliff was sporting a boner underneath his festive baggy beach shorts, which sported the characters from the Toy Story franchise. So Cliff had a woody underneath Woody. I don't know if I should have felt complemented. Mostly I was just confused.

The humiliating shaving appeared to be finished. With an idea of what was next, I wished I'd had more body hair for him to remove, to prolong the inevitable torment that was to come. The THING next to my body, on the bed, was soon going to find a new home.

Cliff picked up the THING. He put lubricant on it out of nowhere. Oh fuck.

Clifff slowly inserted this object into my ass. I was sweating bullets and writhing. I watched as my penis got hard. I wanted to yell obscenities, but you can't do that with a ball gag in your mouth.

The dildo went in, and in, and in.

It felt like it was going to emerge from my navel. It was full, and I did not like it. My body felt differently. I "achieved" full erection, and Cliff began to take photos.

I tried to emit muffled sounds with volume. It did not work.

I was chagrined that Cliff was taking pictures of me naked on my simple beach outing. Not only naked, but with a sex toy up my ass, shaved, and with a hard-on.

This was insane.

But it got even worse.

Cliff began the tickling.

He was quite adept at tickling, I must say. Within mere seconds he reduced me to a mass of shuddering, ridiculous flesh and muscle, laughing uncontrollably as he attacked my bare armpits, my ribs, and my feet, up and down, up and down.

He was grinning the entire time, cooing "tickle, tickle, tickle" over and over. He was obviously no stranger to tickling scenarios. He pushed my every button on that score. I hated every laugh I could not stop from emitting.

Cliff laughed at me non-stop. He tickled my balls. He called me a woman.

My penis, to my chagrin, remained erect, which implied I was enjoying this. I was not.

Then Cliff made an adjustment to the sex toy. He switched it ON.

It whirred deep inside my asshole. I yelled in protest and writhed, watching my erect cock twitch around. I noticed Cliff's dick was sticking out underneath his cute Disney shorts. He continued to tickle me and also began to tug on my hard nipples.

I was horrified to see that my urethra was gaping wide open and that I was oozing predum. No way was I gonna cum in front of this jerk. No waaaaaaaay.

Cliff tickled, tugged, mocked, stuck the dildo in further. The thing rubbed and massaged my rectum with horrible force. Cliff then grabbed my cockhead and twisted it around. The sensations were tremendous. I almost cried. Cliff was anything but gentle.

I was beyond humiliated. And all this was being videotaped.

Cliff tortured me for what seemed forever. Eventually my body gave in and I ejaculated. Cliff laughed. "Now you know what it feels like. And my body is better than yours, chump."

Cliff did not untie me for another hour. He sat in his chair and had a cocktail, watching the fruits of his labor (me and my "inferior" body) lying naked and cum-drenched on the bed with a electronic sex device stuck up my ass and a gag in my mouth. This was agonizing, as I knew he sttill had his camera on, and was obviously relishing in my total humiliation.

Eventually, he untied one of my hands and announced he was leaving. "This is not where I'm sleeping, so don't get ideas about robbing me," he said, arrogantly, on his way out. He took his camera with him. And he laughed as he shut thd door. "You can keep the restraints, but leave the vibrator unless you need it again," he sneered. And then he was gone.

I was able to untie myself, yank off the gag, pull out the damn vibrator (WHICH HAD BEEN ON SINCE I SHOT MY WAD), wipe myself off, get dressed (my clothing was tossed on the floor), and leave. I did not "steal" the vibrator or the restraints. They disgusted me. I was frankly grateful to be alive.

I went to a bar I'd never visited and got hammered. I don't know how I made it back to the hotel, but somehow I did. I left the next day and callled out for two days.

I don't know what Cliff did with the footage. I don't think I want to know. It has yet to resurface anywhere as far as I can figure. I simply will not think about that.

I never saw Cliff again. Or, regrettably, Max.

THE END