After I had been working at the Veterans Hospital for about a month, an Intern came into my office for help with a research paper. I had seen him around the cardiovascular department and had admired him from a distance: blonde crewcut, stocky build, lean, hard body, clean shaven, kind face-a Nordic god.

When he walked into my office we both became awkward and tongue tied: him because he was so humble about asking for help, and me because of lust. He had beautiful, large, solid hands and feet (the things I check out after the face), and a hot tickle scene flashed through my mind as he was explaining the help he needed on the paper.

As the months went by, and we got to know each other, I was delighted to discover that he (Ken) had a fun-loving sense of humor. He was also very warm and down-to-earth....shy with a brilliant, mischievous streak. He often surprised me with his quick wit, which would come seemingly out of nowhere, causing those around him to collapse with shocked laughter. One day I said to him: "For having such a great sense of humor, you sure keep it under wraps." He flashed the grin I had come to love and said: "that's because most of what goes through my head I would never DARE say."

I challenged him to try to shock me. He said he would wait till my guard was down. That day I learned something new about Ken: that he was a hell of a flirt.

One day he came bursting into my office while I was looking at Jack's Message Rack on the Internet. (AT WORK no less; aren't I terrible?) I yanked the frame down to the lower edge, out of sight as he came around the corner of my desk. We made affectionate banter. He assumed a mock supervisory/corporate disciplinary tone...threatened various consequences when I complained about his requests. He was kneeling at the side of my desk, pointing at his manuscript on my screen. I would make a wisecrack. He would respond with a teasing remark and give me an elbow in the sides. As his left hand rested on my desk, I looked at his wedding band with remorse. He adored his wife, who I had also met...a zany, hell-raiser of a woman. They were a perfect match. It's not like I wanted sex with the guy anyway....(well, not exactly)..so I had become used to letting my fantasies about him run rampant in spite of the fact that he was taken.

After Ken left my office, I read a few more of the posts on Jack's board, then went downstairs to the cafeteria. While I was buying coffee, I realized with horror that I had forgotten to close the screen to Jack's board. I rushed back to my office...praying that I had shut my door or at least that the screensaver had kicked in.

I walked into my office and saw a post-it note stuck to my computer...folded in half with my name on it. My heart sank. Behind the note was Jack's Message Rack right there in front of God and everybody. I opened the note and read:

Cool website, man. Hey...we all got SOMETHIN' kinky that turns our crank...well, I shouldn't say all...boring people don't. Someday I'll get up the guts to tell you mine.

KEN

I collapsed into my chair. I felt a little embarrassed, but mostly relieved that it had been Ken who had seen it and not someone else. The more I thought about his note, the better I felt. He could have just read it and ignored it. The fact that he wrote the note meant that he wanted ME to know that HE knew...(why? Hhmmm). I also admired him for the effort he went to reassure me that I (and tickling) was "okay"...and had even gone so far as to allude to a kinky interest of his own so that I wouldn't feel embarrassed. The fact that he was so protective and sensitive to my feelings told me volumes about the kind of person he really was. I fell in "like" with him all over again........not to mention, my tickle fantasies about him ran rampant. Ken showed extra sensitivity by not mentioning the incident, and not behaving in any way differently toward me. Finally, one day, after I had relaxed around him again, I got up the guts to bring "the subject" up.

"You have me at a bit of a disadvantage, you know." I said to him in the hall one day, as we were chatting.

"Really? How?" He was smirking.

"Well, you know my kinky secret, but you haven't told me yours."

He laughed. "You're right. Fair is fair."

"How about if you tell me over a cocktail some night." I said.

"How about tonight. You bring the cocktail and we'll have it here. I'm on call all weekend. I'm in room 302 down the hall."

I agreed. As I walked away, I was sure he could hear my heart pounding. Room 302 was the sleep-over room that the interns used at the Hospital when they were on call. I wondered briefly if they furnished the rooms with straight-jackets and transfer belts..(hospital tickle bondage!)

When Ken opened the door to his room, he was in those blue hospital scrubs, and those silly clogs that doctors insist on wearing...with the disposable sanitary booties on the outside. Under his clogs, I saw black, thin, ribbed nylon dress socks. Jackpot! I pulled a flask of scotch out of my coat. "Happy hour!" I said.

We drank and talked for awhile. I was seated in a chair at the foot of his bed. He was reclining against the head of the bed, against the wall, his feet were crossed at the ankle within my reach. All I had to do was nudge the heel of those clogs and they would come flying off. The clogs were already bouncing around on his feet (from him wiggling and flexing his toes. Ken was a little under six feet tall, with gorgeous size 10 1/2s. I could tell that his feet would be as masculine, veiny, well-groomed, nicely built as his hands. His fingers were long but his palms were large and square.

His feet looked to have very high arches and large heels and long, straight toes. When the clogs came off, I would know for sure. Finally, I got around to "the subject."

"Okay, spill it...what's the secret?" I said.

He blushed for the first time since I'd knows him, but smiled. "Oh, let's talk about yours first."

"What do you want to know?"

"Do you like tickling or being tickled?"

"Both."

"Men or women...or both?"

"Men."

Ken smiled and got a far-away look in his eyes. then he said: Does it lead to sex? I mean, does it always have to be foreplay?"

"Often but not necessarily," I said. Was this boy "tickle-curious" or what?

"Wow. That's really cool."

"You're turn. What's your kinky turn-on?"

Ken smiled. Oh, you'll find out. First, you gotta tell me where you're ticklish."

"Only if you tell me your spots."

"Deal."

I gave him the rundown: ribs, belly, bellybutton, sides, kidney area, upper thighs, around the knees, calves, ankles, feet, toes. When his turn came for tickle confession came, he grinned and said:

"No way, man. I'm WAY too ticklish to be giving you any ammunition.....SUCKER!"

Like a flash he pushed me off the chair and had me pinned on the floor. His powerful legs trapped my legs in a scissor grip. On the way down to the floor he put my head in some kind of lock, which left my torso twisted on the floor and my arms dangling behind me to the side. One of his knees was between my shoulder blades, and he was lying on top of my arms. One of his hands pressed my head to the floor. His other hand was free. I put up a valiant struggle (for his sake, not cuz I wanted to get away), but because my torso was twisted so awkwardly, I couldn't get the leverage to push him off me.

"You just found out mine." Ken said.

I panted from the exertion of trying to get away. "Wrestling?"

"Bingo." Ken said. I was on the wrestling team in High School. It's the struggle and domination that gets me off." He lifted my shirt and exposed my belly. "Now I've got a great new idea of how to spice it up."

I started thrashing as his fingers jumped and danced across my tummy, kneaded up and down my sides. He circled my belly button with light crawling strokes, scritch-scratched the edges or my ribcage, zig-zagged back and forth right above my belt line. This man had some tickle top experience! Either that, or he had given the activity a lot of thought in his spare time.

"Noooooo! God please st-o-o-o-op..ha..hah.ahahahaha." I tried to keep my voice down, afraid that the noise would carry.

"I have no intention of stopping." Ken teased. "I'll stop as soon as you get away from me."

Then the REAL struggle started. As I struggled to twist free, I only brought another ticklish part of my upper body into attack range. Ken crawled all over my upper body, pinning me again and again in new positions as I struggled under him. He would work on my sides until I squirmed onto my belly, then he would straddle my butt and do a finger dance around my kidneys and lower back. Once, as I struggled to sit up (and almost succeeded) he pushed me back down on my back, flipped around and sat on my chest with his back facing me: his butt resting right under my chin. His fingers raced across my belly in wild, irregular patterns. I was laughing so hard now that I was too weak to move. I just submitted to the torture. He listened to how my laughter changed whenever he hit a hotspot. Pretty soon he had my whole tummy mapped out in his warped, tickle-torturer mind. This guy was GOOD.

After what seemed like forever, Ken let me push him off. We both sat on the floor panting for awhile. He had long since kicked his clogs off, and I could see a rather large tent had formed in the crotch of his scrubs. He sat cross legged (to protect his feet?)

"What do you do with this wrestling interest of yours? Besides torture the shit out of me, I mean?" I asked.

Ken laughed. "Just fantasize mostly. Lately, though, I've been visiting wrestling sites on the web. Amazing the number of straight guys who are into it."

"So there's nothing sexual in it for you?"

"Sure there is. But for me it's all about arousal. The actual getting off I can do by myself later, after I've gotten so horny that I want to explode. It's like foreplay. The actual sex, I reserve for my wife, and that's different....for a variety of obvious reasons. I've never met or even corresponded with a wrestling dude. I just lurk around the sites and fantasize...get myself off...think about it during sex sometimes."

"So you never wrestle with your wife?"

"Sometimes we play, but it's different. I prefer wrestling with guys cause it's a male bonding thing."

"Cool," I said. "Between my tickling thing and your wrestling thing, we have...two great tastes that go great together."

We laughed, and talked awhile more. then I left to go to the bathroom. Of course, when I left, I forgot to mention to Ken that I was making a stop at the nurse's station to pick up transfer belts so that I could tie him up and tickle the living shit out of him. I had been a nurse's aid, so I knew my hospital bondage equipment inside and out. I looped one of the belts in advance and slid one end through the adjustable buckle to give myself a head start.

When I shut the door behind me I dropped the other belts quickly on the floor. Ken was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out, the way he had been before. I scooped up his legs quickly and tightened the belt around his legs, right below the knee. Ken was already struggling and was laughing, trying to yank me off of him. He shouted very fearful protests...I could tell from the anxiety in his voice that he hadn't lied about being so ticklish.

As soon as I had the one belt tightened, I picked up another quickly from the floor. Ken was working the other belt free with his fingers, but not fast enough. I pushed him onto his belly and started struggling to fasten the belt around his wrists. It took about 5 minutes to tie, he was struggling so frantically, saying, "no...no...stop...please don't..." After his arms and legs were immobile, I secured a third belt snugly around his chest, right below the nipples. I pushed him over on his back on the bed.

Ken twisted and thrashed like a fish out of water. he became more and more frantic, and just kept pleading..."Please...PLEASE don't ..I can't take being tickled...ha ha ha...you gotta stop, please lemme GOOO!!!"

I rolled up his shirt and exposed a gasping, lean, flat tummy. A soft trail of blonde hair separated each side, and curled inside of a dime sized, shallow innie. His feet were flexing back and forth and his toes flexed. I wiggled my fingers playfully in front of his face.

"Payback time," I said, as my fantasies came true.