Tickling Laurent

tickling, forced arousal

Two boys discover their younger brother enjoys being tickled. A lot.

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My reimagining of a scene in the excellent French 1971 movie Le souffle au Coeur (Murmur of the heart). The scene occurs at approximately 11 minutes 30 seconds into the movie.

Tickling Laurent

Laurent sat at his desk in his pyjamas trying to write. Father Henri had given him an assignment on the philosopher Albert Camus’ views on the human condition. Laurent enjoyed philosophy class. It was a mature subject for his age, but he was in private education at a Catholic school in Paris and one of the advantages was an advanced syllabus that pushed its students.

But tonight, he was waning. He had two more pages to write by tomorrow, but it was 10pm and he was struggling to concentrate. Then his bedroom door opened and the last chance of getting his assignment done before bedtime disappeared.

His two elder brothers entered. They had been out for a night on the town together, and both were in a jovial mood. But that wasn’t what put a huge smile on Laurent’s face. It was the fact that Marc, the younger of the two brothers, was wearing one of his mother’s knitted all-in-one dress sweaters.

Laurent took one glance and his face cracked into a wide grin.

“What are you wearing?!” he asked laughing.

“We came to tuck our little boy in,” Marc replied in a falsetto voice.

“Yes, even though he’s a little traitor!” Thomas added.

“A traitor?” Laurent said.

“Yes, a filthy collaborator. Telling mother that we go to the Windmill Club.”

“Oh that. I’m sorry Thomas,” he said, pronouncing the name ‘Tohm-ahss’. “I didn’t mean to. It just came out. Did you get in trouble?”

“Yes, terrible trouble,” Thomas lied in a mock sombre voice, “And now it’s time to punish you!”

Laurent grinned, immediately recognising his brother’s playful tone. He stood, turning to face Thomas, but the 19-year-old shoved him backwards onto the bed, then he grabbed him by the shoulders and bounced him up and down on the mattress.

“You must pay for your crimes miscreant!”

“No, no, I’ll never surrender!” Laurent laughed.

The front of his light-weight blue pyjama jacket came wide apart and the shoulders slipped back revealing his skin. It was perfectly smooth despite his 15 years.

“Look at his skin, how soft and sweet and pink!” Thomas said pushing his brother against the mattress.

Laurent twisted towards Thomas, lifting his back from the mattress.

“Good enough to eat!” Marc added.

He leaned forwards and pretended to eat Laurent’s back in a parody of the way their mother had treated them when they were small children. The absurdity of it had Laurent giggling.

“Um num num num num!”

“No, no!” Laurent squealed.

Laurent bounced on the mattress, throwing his legs high in the air in a weak attempt to free himself from his brother’s grasp.

Thomas joined in, nom nomming Laurent’s tummy with his mouth. All the while Laurent alternated between struggling sounds and laughter.

“No please, I’m sorry!”

“It’s too late for apologies collaborator. You must pay the price!”

Thomas nodded to his brother and Marc immediately started tickling the sides of his brother’s slim, bare torso. It was Laurent’s greatest weakness; the achilles heel that could reduce him to uncontrollable jelly. He redoubled his struggles, throwing his hips up off the bed in a futile effort to free himself.

“No, unn!” he grunted, powerless against his two much stronger brothers.

Marc looked down as he tickled Laurent’s sides, then something caught his attention. A stiff shape flopping within Laurent’s pyjama trousers, rising into view and tenting the cotton each time the boy lifted his hips.

“He’s got a hard on!”

Thomas looked down and laughed.

“The choir boy’s got a hard on!” Marc added. “Shame on you. What would Father Michel say?”

“I didn’t even notice. You’re gonna have a tiny dick like Marc,” Thomas teased, getting both brothers with a single jibe.

Marc reached around Laurent’s right thigh and up between his legs, cupping his brother’s balls. He gave them a masturbatory jiggle like a man fizzing up a can of soda.

“Hmmm, he’s pretty excited. I’m sure he was thinking about you at the time Marc. Must be your soft lips on his tummy.”

“Nnnng!” Laurent grunted, making another huge effort to lift his hips away from Marc’s playful jiggling hand.

His stiff penis flopped through the slit on his pyjamas.

“Well, well look who’s come out to play!” Thomas said.

Marc looked down at his younger brother’s cock. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. Laurent was two years his junior and they had jerked off together dozens of times, since he’d first taught the boy, then aged 13, how to masturbate.

Laurent’s penis was a pale finger emerging from a small tangle of hair. At 5 inches long, it was not particularly small, nor slim for his age. Its foreskin drew to an end just short of the end of his glans, revealing the pink within.

Marc reached up and gripped Laurent’s penis in his fist, drawing the skin fully back off the head, before giving a few light pumps. Laurent made a gargantuan effort and freed his right arm, tucking his cock back inside his pyjamas before Marc gripped his elbow, driving it against the mattress.

“Awww, the little boy scout is shy,” Thomas said. “I thought you’d seen his hard on lots of times.”

“I have!”

Marc returned to jiggling Laurent’s balls. The teenager’s scrotum was round and tight. He gave it a playful squeeze. Laurent could feel his dick straining, and the feeling in his nuts was to his annoyance, utterly delightful. He didn’t like being played by his brother with such ease.

Thomas looked down at the wet patch that appeared on the front of Laurent’s pyjamas right over the bump where the head of his dick rested.

“Our little boy is getting excited Marc. He’s becoming a man.”

He reached down and ran his index finger across the small wet patch. It was slimy. Laurent looked down at himself. Now the red face-flush of his struggles turned a darker shade or crimson.

“Okay guys. A joke’s a joke. Enough now!”

Marc was always the one to take a joke too far. He slid his hand further between Laurent’s leg so that his brother’s cock rested beneath his vertically oriented palm. Then he started sliding his hand up and down.

“What’s wrong choirboy, feeling horny?”

“Take your hand off my penis homo!”

“Your peeeenis. Oooh. La di dah. Thomas, he wants me to take my hand off his peeeeenis.”

As he spoke, Marc continued rubbing his palm back and forth along his struggling brother’s cock.

“Marc, I’m warning you!”

Laurent threw his legs high in the air.

“Nnng!”

When they landed, the wet patch was coloured now, as pearly goo oozed through the thin cotton. Marc saw it and grinned. He moved his hand faster, forcing his brother’s balls to give up their load.

Laurent writhed, vainly trying to shield his groin from Marc’s hand. Thomas grinned too now.

“I think our little choirboy has creamed his pants Marc.”

“Yes, the young man seems to have a very short fuse.”

“Nnng, unn, urrrgh.”

Laurent’s only contribution to the conversation was a series of angry grunts as his brother forced him to mess his pyjamas still further. He was already past the point of no return and his struggles only served to intensify his orgasm. He lay still glowering at Marc.

For his part, Marc continued working his cock until the cream-patched ceased increasing in size. He looked down at the circle of cream that had oozed through the fabric. It was the size of a jam jar lid. He lowered his palm and jiggled Laurent’s tight scrotum for another minute.

“I bet they don’t teach you this move in judo Laurent. Vibrating palm nuts!”

Laurent drew his knees together coquettishly but his sap stayed high.

“No more now please Marc,” he said, utterly resigned to his fate.

Thomas said, “Ahh look, now he has given in to the futility of struggle. Put THAT in your report about Camus.”

Marc laughed.

“Better not. That filthy old perv Father Henri will have you in his office demanding that you show him what happened.”

The puddle of cream grew as a second orgasm forced more cream through the material.

“Again, already Laurent? Why you horny little monkey! I can see we’ll have to administer this procedure every night lest you blow your load sitting in class.”

Laurent was grumpy at the forced orgasm, but he couldn’t help but snigger at the thought.

“I think Henri would be very happy if I did!”

His brothers smiled back at him.

“I’m very certain you are correct,” Thomas said. “But if I were you, I would not let him put his hands on you. If you want a helping hand, I’m sure that Marc here would be happy to oblige any time you like isn’t that so Marc?”

Marc grinned.

“I’d consider it a service to my dear little brother.”

“Indeed,” Thomas agreed. “Now go change out of mother’s dress before you blow your load in it.”

Marc looked down at the erection tenting inside the tan knitted dress. He smiled broadly.

“Look what you have done to me Laurent. If mother’s dress is ruined, I’ll tell her it was your fault.”

With that, he finally released his brother and left the room to change.

Thomas also let Laurent free and the boy sat up. He pulled his pyjamas away from his groin and looked at the gloopy mess within.

“I’d give those a rinse before you put them in the laundry or you’ll give Daphne a heart attack.”

Laurent grinned at the thought of their elderly house keeper seeing the mess he’d made.

“Probably the most spunk she’s ever seen!”

“Don’t get carried away, little brother. You’re not THAT impressive.”

Thomas leaned forwards and blew an unexpected raspberry on his brother’s stomach, then he stood up and walked towards the door, leaving a grinning Laurent to clean up the mess.

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