Finally she changed to a small paint brush, one of the most devious tickle torture implements we had come up with. She pumped the gag up to fully fill...my mouth and let me know that she hadn't forgot about my feet and toes. When she started on my feet I thought I would die, I couldn't think straight, I couldn't scream through the gag and I couldn't control the spasms running through my body. My eyes were so teared that I couldn't see, my awareness was limited to the brush traveling over my feet,. You were this twenty-something-year-old man that moved into the apartment across from mine. We exchanged pleasantries a few times when checking the mail. I hate to admit it, but I would sometimes wait until I saw you coming before I nonchalantly strolled outside to walk with you to the mail boxes. Your quiet disposition was accompanied by your intelligence about everyday subjects, and I yearned to hear the next thing you would say, to glean what knowledge I could get about you and the world. I. More

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