Not Pounded At The Last Second Because Consent Can Be Given And Revoked At Any Moment And This Is A Wonderful Thing That’s Important To Understand - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

old chuck has been planning to post a classic tingler on here (i try to make sure there is a tingler every week along with timeline tuesday. sometimes that is NEW tingler and sometimes that means a classic revisit). anyway i was thinkin on: what book should i post today? and that has been my morning way

chuck has huge folder of all my dang tinglers and it is pretty fun to look at this folder fill up over the years, but it is also not the easiest to actually SEE what the heck is in there. plus every file is named some strange thing like FINAL SPACE RAPTOR (ACTUALLY FINAL UPLOAD 3) SECOND PART EDITED which can make it a little confusing

so these days when i am searching catalog i usually just go to my own website. it is laid out very nice in rows of four got all the tinglers right there and all the covers just pop out at you. as i scrolled and tried to make my selection i thought about how many tinglers are tied to SUCH A SPECIFIC TIME. so many little political events that the whole dang world was talkin on at the moment and then disappeared into the mist of the timelines

this is not a complaint, i actually really like that you can chart history (and even some attitudes of the time) through various tinglers. i am glad that i have politically and philosophically always had a pretty similar leftwing trot that i do now, so i think many of these works hold up surprisingly well in their message.

anyway as i was making my selection i thought ‘i want to post a tingler that is EVERGREEN in its way. what is something that ALWAYS needs to be said and promoted and talked about.’

then i saw NOT POUNDED AT THE LAST SECOND BECAUSE CONSENT CAN BE GIVEN AND REVOKED AT ANY MOMENT AND THIS IS A WONDERFUL THING THAT’S IMPORTANT TO UNDERSTAND and i thought, ‘now THAT is an evergreen message.’ lets trot buckaroos please enjoy this early no pound tingler

Blip is on the way to a white water rafting trip, but he’s nervous about the adventure before it even begins. Fortunately, Blip finds himself with a wonderful and patient guide, a handsome bigfoot named Garto Grims who explains that, while the river may seem like there’s only one path to take, there are actually several forks in the road, and it’s always okay to stop entirely.

As the attraction between Blip and Garto mounts, they suddenly find themselves locked in the heat of passion, and when Blip suddenly changes his mind about the encounter, he quickly learns that’s okay!

Now Blip and Garto are embarking on an erotic adventure with absolutely no sex, proving that love is still real when you revoke your consent for any reason at all.

This important tale is 4,100 words of sexless romance between buds, including learning about each other, sharing a river rafting adventure, and a blossoming love that is just as important with or without sex.

----

NOT POUNDED AT THE LAST SECOND BECAUSE CONSENT CAN BE GIVEN AND REVOKED AT ANY MOMENT AND THIS IS A WONDERFUL THING THAT’S IMPORTANT TO UNDERSTAND

By Chuck Tingle

As the bus rumbles around us I can already feel myself getting nervous, the anxiety and tension within my body finally manifesting itself. I’m staring out through the window at a glorious desert landscape as it passes me by, a flood of questions making their way through my head.

Is white water rafting really as dangerous as it seems?

If everything else is so dry, where’s the river?

I could go on and on, but at this point I’m getting so worked up that I decide to turn my attention to anything else, leaning back against my seat and closing my eyes tight.

“Everything okay?” the guy next to me questions.

I open my eyes slightly, making note of the concerned look on my seat companion’s face.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell him with a slight nod, not quite sure if my expression is as convincing as my words.

“I’m Treen,” he offers, shaking my hand.

“Blip,” I inform him. “You ever done this before?”

Treen nods. “Plenty of times, it’s a lot of fun.”
 “Really?” I question. “Because I’ve always wanted to go rafting, but it never really looked all that fun.”

“Why go then?” Treen asks me with a chuckle.

“To challenge myself, I guess,” I inform my new friend. “It seems dangerous and exciting.”

Treen can’t help but crack a smile. “It’s not as scary as you’d think,” he informs me. “It looks much more thrilling than it actually is. I’m not saying rafting is boring, it’s not, but those explosions of white water always amp up the visuals.”

I take in the man’s words, but they still don’t change much about my own internal struggles and fears. My new friend can see this, and he tries again.

“Listen, here’s the thing about rafting,” Treen offers, leaning in close. “Everybody seems to think you don’t have any control, that you’re on this boat going down the river, and that river is heading we’re it’s heading no matter what you do.”

“That’s exactly what it seems like,” I reply.

“Well, it’s not true. First of all, there are plenty of paths in a river to choose from. Some of those paths are rough and wild, but others are calm and slow and they take their time to wind through the canyon,” Treen explains. “Second, you can always just stop and get out of the water.”

“I can?” I blurt, this very simple thought never once crossing my mind.

“Of course,” Treen continues. “If you’re not feeling it, just pull your raft over to the shore and get off. You don’t even need a reason, just do it.”
 Finally, I feel a powerful wave of relaxation wash its way across my body, filling me with a sense of confidence that I never had before. Ironically, this realization that I can stop my rafting trip, should I need to, gives me more than enough inspiration to go through with it.

The bus begins to slow down, pulling off of our main drag through the desert and beginning a winding decent into the canyon below. The air around us immediately becomes cooler through the open windows, lush plants and shrubbery springing up on either side of the road.

Eventually, we pull into a small parking area on the side of a wide, blue river, the water calmly meandering its way through this canyon as it slices a path through this otherwise arid landscape.

“Alright, everybody out!” our bus driver calls from the front. “Don’t forget your life jackets.”
 The bus full of rafters stands in unison as we begin to shuffle out into the beautiful natural setting. Everything here in the canyon seems more vibrant that what I’m used to, the hills a deeper orange, the trees a healthier green, and the water a powerful, brilliant turquoise.

Without further instructions, our small group of rafters begins to chat amongst ourselves, making introductions and struggling to relate after being thrust into this brand new collective. Everyone here comes from a different walk of life, brought together by the simple fact that we all signed up for a beginners white water rafting trip for some reason on another. There are clearly a few people who’ve done this before, like Treen, but most of the people standing around seem just as nervous as I do.

“Alright, alright!” comes booming voice from down on the riverbank.

Our crowd glances over to see a handsome bigfoot strolling up the bank towards us, his lush brown fur glistening wet from the river. He’s muscular, perfectly sculpted with massive arms and a barrel of the chest.

The second that I see this beautiful Sasquatch, I find myself incredible attracted to him, and based on the powerful silence that falls across our crowd, I’m not the only one.

“I’m Garto Grims,” the handsome bigfoot announces. “I’ll be your guide for today’s trip, along with my assistants here.”

Garto waves over to a pair of equally muscular men, one of which hands him a paddle.

“How many of you have been white water rafting before?” Garto questions.

A smattering of people raise their hands, including one particularly excited fellow in the front.

“Last time I went, I got lost on the river and met the physical manifestation of Saturday,” the man blurts. “I haven’t seen him since then, but I’d like to reconnect.”

“Unfortunately, that’s a different story entirely, that is Saturday Pounds Me In The Butt, and this is Not Pounded At The Last Second Because Consent Can Be Given And Revoked At Any Moment And This Is A Wonderful Thing That’s Important To Understand,” Garto offers in return. “However, this is a tingler, so you never know what could happen. Now, I’m gonna go through the basics of white water rafting with you. After that, if you still have any questions then I’ll try my best to answer them.”

Garto continues his safety instructions, but my mind is spinning. I lean over to my new friend, Treen, who is  now standing next to me.

“What does he mean this is a tingler?” I question. “I don’t get it.”

“A tingler,” Treen repeats back, as though this simple explanation is of some meaning to me.

I continue to stare at him blankly, until finally Treen realizes something and starts chuckling loudly.

“Oh shit, you don’t know, do you?” he continues. “I’ve heard about characters who don’t know, but I’ve never actually met one before. This is great.”

“Don’t know what?” I blurt, getting a little frustrated now.

Treen collects himself a bit, realizing that this conversation is going to be a little more nuanced than he first suspected. He opens his mouth to speak, then halts again, considering another perspective before finally moving forward.

“Do you remember what you were doing before that bus ride?” my new friend questions.

“Of course,” I reply. “I was…”

Suddenly my mind goes blank, struggling to recall this simple yet incredibly difficult-to-grasp information.

“I don’t know,” I finally admit, “but I got on the bus somehow.”

“Did you?” Treen questions. “Do you actually remember getting on?”

I begin to reply and then suddenly, to my own horror, realize I have no recollection of this event. As far as I know, I just appeared in my seat at some point during the journey.

“Why can’t I remember any of this stuff?” I finally stammer, fear surging through my veins.

“Because it wasn’t written,” Treen explains. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but don’t worry. This is all heading somewhere important. Chuck’s handling it.”

“Who the hell is Chuck? And if he’s so great then why can’t he calm me down?” I cry out, my voice trembling.

Suddenly, a wave of relaxation flows across me, chilling me out before I take things too far and start drawing attention from the rest of the crowd.

“Better?” Treen questions.

I nod.

“See, we’re all characters in a book that Chuck is writing. We’re here to tell a story,” Treen continues. “That guy over there who raised his hand was already in a tingler, apparently one where he got pounded in the butt by the physical manifestation of Saturday, after a river rafting trip.”

“Pounded in the butt?” I blurt. “What kind of book is this?”

“Erotica,” Treen replies flatly.

I glance over at him, chuckling to myself, then freeze when I notice the man’s expression is utterly stoic. “Wait, really?” I question.

Treen nods.

“Am I going to get pounded?” I ask.

“Well, you do appear to be the main character,” my friend continues. “This is written from your perspective. See how every time a description based on your senses happens the word I is used instead of he?”

Immediately, I notice what my friend is talking about.

“Wow,” is all that I can manage to say, the word falling limply from my mouth.

Treen is staring at me with a great concern now. “Do you even want to be pounded?”

I consider his words for a moment, glancing across the crowd and locking eyes with the muscular bigfoot before us who continues to dole out his white water rafting instructions. The second this brief exchange happens, a powerful surge of arousal shoots through my body.

“If it’s him doing the pounding,” I murmur under my breath.

Almost immediately, the handsome Sasquatch guide calls out over the crowd, pointing towards me. “Alright, you’re on my raft. Everyone else, get into groups of four.”

The crowd disperses and Treen and me say our goodbyes.

I stroll over to Garto to introduce myself. “Hey there,” I offer, shaking his massive hand.

Garto’s grip is firm and powerful, but his playful smile puts me at ease. “You ready?” he questions.

I nod.

“Let’s go then,” he continues, strolling over to the edge of the riverbank and pushing a large yellow raft out into the water. I help him along, and soon enough I’m climbing up into the floating vessel and grabbing ahold of a paddle.

As we begin our trek down the river I find an incredible sense of ease wash over me. I know this is only the beginning of our journey and that, eventually, this path will become wild and crazy, but for now I’m just enjoying the natural landscape.

“It really is beautiful out here,” I offer Garto, who nods in return.

“Don’t let your guard down too much,” the handsome bigfoot counters. “But yes, for now, it’s really something to behold.

Through the canyons we continue our float, with the rest of the rafts gradually drifting farther and farther behind us. Eventually, we round a corner and I realize that we’ve completely lost sight of the others.

“Are we pulling too far ahead?” I question.

Garto shakes his head. “These trips are personalized, every group has a guide to take them down the river, but they’re free to branch out on whatever paths they want.”

Suddenly, I notice a large fork in the streams up ahead, one of them continuing on straight while the other veers off in a sharp left.

“Speaking of,” Garto continues, nodding towards the rapidly approaching bend.

“I get to choose?” I question.

Garto nods.

“Which one is better?” I ask him.

The handsome bigfoot smiles. “Depends on what you’re looking for.”

“Adventure,” I propose confidently.

Almost immediately, Garto shoves his paddle into the water and veers us off to the left, our raft floating onward in a completely unexpected direction. Excitement floods my veins as I watch the fork disappearing behind us.

“This is so great,” I tell the handsome bigfoot.

Soon, even more varying paths begin to sail by, flowing past us in rapid succession as we push deeper and deeper into the wilds of this enormous canyon. With every decision point I direct Garto towards even more adventure, and he doesn’t disappoint. I may have been a little wary of this journey at first, but being guided along by my muscular bigfoot companion makes me feel nothing but safe and sound.

Along with the comfort, of course, comes another powerful emotion.  I’d thought Garto was handsome the moment I saw him, but the more time we spend together, the more this mild infatuation transforms into full-blown arousal. I can feel myself getting harder and harder just thinking about touching his soft, bigfoot fur, until eventually my cock is so swollen within my pants that it aches.

“Mind if we take a break?” I call out, mischievous thoughts of seduction suddenly making their way through my mind. “Maybe we can stop for lunch somewhere?”

Garto glances up at the sky above, then nods in conformation. “Looks like it’s just about noon,” the handsome bigfoot states. “There’s a great spot just around the bend.”

We glide down the river a short while longer, then eventually pull up onto the shore of a beautiful vista. This whole time, I’d assumed the canyon we were floating down was as deep as things got, but from our incredible vantage point I can see that there’s an even deeper canyon stretching out before us. The view is absolutely breathtaking, and from this particular location you can make out the brilliant changing colors of a distant cliffside beyond.

“What is that?” I question, pointing over at the canyon wall as we pull our raft ashore and stroll up onto the beach.

“Various minerals,” my bigfoot guide explains. “Over time, weather conditions and changes in the Earth’s atmosphere created those separations of color. Meanwhile, the rivers were digging their way deeper and deeper through these rocks.”

“Incredible,” I gush.

“Definitely,” the handsome bigfoot replies.

I can see now that Garto is eyeing me up, clearly on a similar erotic page. The attraction has been passing back and forth between us now like a feedback loop, building and building towards a powerful eruption. There’s a growing lust that simply cannot be contained.

“I want you,” I suddenly blurt, pulling off my shirt and tossing it to the side.

I step forward, pushing myself against the giant creature’s muscular chest as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Garto whispers into my ear. “I’ve been a guide for plenty of white water rafters, and you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever had.”

I look up into Garto’s beautiful bigfoot gaze, then kiss him deeply on the lips as a shudder of aching pleasure pulses its way down my spine. We begin to make out with one another passionately, our hands exploring the chiseled topography of each other’s bodies.

“I want to pound you so badly,” Garto groans.

“I want…” I begin to reply, then stop suddenly.

Something inside of me has abruptly shifted, a strange emotional slant that takes me by surprise and causes my hands to completely cease their movement. I’m frozen solid now, struggling to determine what exactly is happening.

“Is everything okay?” the handsome bigfoot questions, deeply concerned.

“Yeah,” I reply with a nod. “I just… this is so strange because up until thirty seconds ago I really wanted to fuck you, but now… I don’t really feel like it.”

Garto just stares at me blankly, clearly a little confused, but after a few seconds his expression changes to one of utter warmth and understanding. “That’s okay,” he says.

“Wait, really?” I question.

Garto nods. “I mean, it’d love to have a good pound, but your consent doesn’t have a timeline. Just because you wanted to bang one out this whole raft ride, doesn’t mean that you can’t change your mind right now. Hell, you could even change your mind during sex if you wanted. Then we would stop.”

“That’s very understanding,” I inform him.

“Not really,” Garto replies, shaking his head. “Everyone should know this. It’s a given. If this makes me a particularly understanding bigfoot then that’s a big problem, because this isn’t something that’s up for debate, it’s just the truth. Your consent is yours to give and revoke at any time, for any reason. It’s the business of nobody but yourself. Anyone who says otherwise is an asshole, and not the good kind of asshole.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Garto offers. “So, how about that lunch?”

I can’t help laughing as the Sasquatch says this. “I wasn’t actually hungry, I was just trying to pull off of the river so I could make my move.”

“I’m not hungry yet, either,” the handsome bigfoot admits.

I take note of my emotions, then finally continue. “I do want to spend so quality time with you, though,” I admit. “Just because I don’t want to have sex doesn’t mean I’m not interested in learning more about what makes you tick.”

“I’m in,” Garto replies.

“I feel like we should go on a date or something. This view is beautiful, but I want to get dinner with you, maybe go to a bowling alley and throw some balls.”

“There’s a bowling alley right down the hill,” Garto informs me.

“Wait, what?” I stammer. “Are you just fucking with me? We’re out in the middle of nowhere”

The handsome bigfoot shakes his head. “This might be the middle of nowhere to humans, but there’s a large bigfoot community in these canyons. Come on, I’ll show you.”

Garto begins to lead the way down the steep cliffside before us, taking a winding path of switchback after switchback as we make our decent into an even deeper canyon.

Soon enough, a small town starts coming into view, complete with a main street and a variety of local businesses. One of these businesses happens to be a bowling alley.

“See,” Garto says, pointing. “Told you there was a place to knock some pins down.”

Soon enough, the two of us find ourselves in the lobby of the bigfoot bowling alley, renting our shoes as a distant lane is assigned to us. The place is packed with several bigfeet in a variety of furry shades, from brilliant white to a deep charcoal black.

“This is gonna be a lot of fun,” Garto tells me. “I haven’t played in a long time.”

“Not quite as good as sex,” I joke, “but I actually feel like bowling.”

“No better reason to be here than that,” my bigfoot friend chimes in.

The two of us stroll over to our lane and start picking out balls, perusing the selections and taking a moment to test out the various weights and grips. At first, I have a bit of trouble finding what I’m looking for, but eventually a beautiful swirling purple and blue ball catches my eye.

I approach the ball slowly, placing my hand on its hard surface and getting a feel for its presence. I creep my fingers toward the holes but I don’t slide in just yet, hesitating on the edge for a few seconds as I allow myself the pleasure of existing in this powerful moment.

Once I’m finally ready I slide inside with a deep, powerful movement, taking great pleasure in the way that my fingers fit within its perfectly sculpted body.

“How’s that ball?” Garto calls from over my shoulder.

“It’s incredible,” I gush. “Wanna give it a try?”

The handsome bigfoot steps up and I hand my bowling ball over to him, the two of us still lost in a world of admiration for its rounded perfection.

“That’s a solid ball,” Garto confirms.

“Tell me about it,” I reply with a nod. “Wait until you get inside.”

Garto closes his eyes and then gracefully slips his fingers within, letting out a soft moan as they reach the hilt. Despite the fact that me and the handsome bigfoot have vastly different body types, our large hands appear to be vaguely the same size.

“You’re lucky to have this one,” Garto informs me, finally retracting his fingers and handing the ball back over.

I nod. “Ready to play?”

The two of us step up at a small podium, where my handsome bigfoot companion immediately takes charge. I watch as the beautiful creature begins to type in his name letter by letter, his huge pointer finger moving back and forth in slow, gradual thrusts. Faster and faster he goes, until his entire name has been spelled out and swiftly appears on the brilliant glowing screen then hangs above.

“More,” I demand. “Do mine.”

Garto winks and then immediately dives back in, falling into a confident rhythm now as his girthy finger pumps back and forth.

As I watch, an incredible realization washes over me. This experience that Garto and me are sharing is powerful, visceral, and important, but there’s absolutely no sex. Still, we’re finding the connection we so desperately desire in other ways, creating a meaningful evening that I’ll never forgot.

When Garto finally finishes, he steps out of the way and waves me forward, motioning towards the smooth wooden lane. At the end are ten brilliant white pins just calling out to be bowled over by a perfectly placed strike.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” the handsome bigfoot says teasingly.

I step up to the line, deeply focused, then launch my ball forward with one powerful swing of my arm. Despite the fact that I haven’t played in months, my technique is perfect, and the second this bowling ball leaves my hands I know exactly where it’s headed.

I step back and watch as the sphere careens in a slight curve, hitting the pins just right and causing a resounding crash to blast out across the bowling alley.

Seconds later, not a single pin is left standing.

“Strike!” Garto calls out proudly.

We continue to play through three whole games, drawing closer and closer as our session pushes on into the evening.

Eventually, however, we realize that we should probably get back to the river.

Being the gentleman that he is, Garto pays for the games, then takes me arm and arm as we stroll out of the bowling alley and onto the main street of this quiet bigfoot hamlet. Above us, the evening sky has transformed into a shade of deep purple, with hints of brilliant orange streaking throughout the clouds.

“That path back up to the river is this way,” Garto says, pointing me towards the cliff.

The two of us begin our long trek back, but the buzz of excitement from such a fantastic date is still lingering within me. The erotic attraction that I’d been feeling for Garto has only doubled in its intensity, now consuming every thought.

Sure, I’d been certain about wanting to make love to him before, then quickly altered course, but something about this moment feels different.

Once we’re a ways away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk, I grab my handsome bigfoot companion and pull him towards me. “I can’t wait any longer,” I gush. “I need you so fucking bad.”

The next thing I know, Garto and me are passionately making out once again, our hands freely roaming across one another’s bodies as surges of pleasure pulse back and forth between us. My hands are drifting lower and lower across the beautiful creature’s perfectly sculpted chest, hovering at his waistband before making their final decent below.

I wait here for a moment, teasing Garto a bit, but instead of amplifying my arousal this moment only serves to cast doubt on the whole thing. Maybe we’re moving too fast.

In this moment, my mind suddenly shafts. I realize that I’m no longer interested in having sex right now.

“Actually, nevermind,” I offer. “Sorry to do that twice.”

Garto shakes his head. “No apology necessary, just like our trip down the river, there’s more than one path to take. It might feel like the inertia is pulling you one direction, but that doesn’t mean you’ve gotta follow it. In fact, it’s perfectly fine you just hop off the ride.”

“But this is a tingler, right?” I continue. “If it’s erotica, then the readers expect a little sex. I feel like I owe it to them.”

“You don’t owe anyone a fucking thing,” Garto counters. “And you don’t need any reasoning or excuse for your decision. Who you sleep with and when you do it is your choice. It doesn’t need to be qualified, even if you’re a character in an erotica story.”

I wrap my arms around Garto and pull him close. “I’m so thankful to be on this river with you,” I say.

“I’m happy to be here,” the handsome bigfoot tells me with a nod, “wherever the current may take us.”