Gypsy Rope Trick m/fmm, f/m

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calebtras
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Gypsy Rope Trick m/fmm, f/m

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Gypsy rope trick
"See if this rope has any tricks to it." Liam handed me the three foot length of rope.
I pulled on the ends. "It's real and strong."
"Okay, now tie my hands as tight as you can."
Liam held his hands out behind him and I tied them together. He turned to face me and,
with a look of intense concentration, he began working on the knots.
Liam was my best friend, and I was helping him practice escape artist techniques. For
several months he had been learning magic tricks. He had started with coins and cards and sleight of hand and had developed a routine that he did on weekends for kids' birthday parties in Brooklyn Heights and the richer parts of town. I had helped him practice the gypsy rope trick. That's where your hands are tied behind you, two audience members hold up a curtain for you to free yourself, but it's a trick knot and you keep reaching out and adjusting the curtain or tweaking the kid's nose, showing that really you are already free. The kids loved it, so now he wanted to learn real escape artistry to add drama to his routine.
He freed his hands, held up the rope, and took a bow. We were in his basement room which was like a sanctuary for me, and I stayed there and slept on the top bunk as many Saturday nights as I could
I looked at my watch. "Two minutes, forty seconds."
He shook his head. "Too long. The kids will get bored. He held his hands behind him.
"Here, tie me up again, about the same tightness."
Just as I was completing the knots, Jimmy walked into the room. "Oh, what do we have here? The Great Fooldini!"
Jimmy was two years older than Liam but an inch shorter. He maintained older brother
psychological domination by constantly competing with and beating Liam at everything from one-on-one basketball to rock and roll trivia. I actually think Liam could have kicked Jimmy's ass, but sort of let him win to keep the peace.
Jimmy picked up a second piece of rope. "Here Terry, tie me up, too, and let's see who
gets out first."
I tied Jimmy's hands behind him, but a little tighter. "Ready, set, go."
Liam began methodically working on the ropes and knots. Jimmy yanked wildly, bending and grunting.
I heard footsteps coming down the stairs outside and Moira came into the room. She must have heard all the noise Jimmy was making and come down to investigate. She was thirteen, two years younger than Liam and I. I didn't see her that often because she went to Catholic school. She was still wearing her blue and red plaid school skirt and blue knee
socks. She had long blond hair and a cute nose just slightly tilted up. You could tell
that in a few years she would be gorgeous. She had a crush on me. I was flattered, as no
other pretty girl had ever paid much attention to me, but there was no way I would
encourage her, for a bunch of reasons. First, she was my best friend's kid sister; second,
there was a world of difference between a fifteen year old Brooklyn public high school boy and a thirteen year old eighth grade parochial school girl. Also, when I stayed overnight and had Sunday breakfast with the family and went to mass with them, from what I could see, she was at that awkward stage where she looked and moved like a real girl but she still seemed childlike and sometimes bratty to me.
She sat down next to me on the bunk bed. "Who do you think is going to win?" she asked me.
I shrugged.
"I bet Liam will win," she said loudly enough to irritate Jimmy.
Jimmy yanked his hands free and held up the rope, taking bows. "Stepping out from the
audience, Jimmy Brophy has challenged the Great Fooldini and defeated him. The crowd
roars."
Moira booed him while Liam looked glum. He was learning stage magic both to make money and as a matter of pride. It wasn't a joke to him.
"Hey, let's do it again, only this time loser buys the winner a Coke and ice cream," Jimmy
said.
Liam looked unenthusiastic. I had an idea. I liked watching Liam and Jimmy tied up and
struggling to free themselves but it would be even more fun to get Moira into it.
"Okay, Jimmy," I said, "But you're two years older. You got to make it more fair."
"Hey, he's been practicing this escape routine all week."
"But you already won once." I turned to Moira, "Do you want to help Liam?"
"Yeah!" she jumped up.
She was so eager to play with the big boys I felt a little guilty. She was thirteen but
those were Catholic school years, the place where parents send their daughters precisely to maintain them in a state of enforced innocence. I was kind of taking advantage of her. But I figured the fun of watching her tied up and struggling to get free would compensate me for the guilt for my venal sins. When you're a fifteen year old boy raised Catholic, the best pleasures are the guilty pleasures.
"Okay, Liam and Moira work as a team," I said. "They are both tied up and get to help each other and only one has to get free. Jimmy, you work alone. Can you handle it?"
"Ab-so-lutely." I knew Jimmy would go for it, Moira was enthusiastic, and only Liam shot me a look that said, "Thanks for nothing."
I had Jimmy put his hands behind him, palms facing apart in a handcuff position. I wrapped the rope around his wrists, then between them and tied a tight knot. I didn't want him getting free too soon.
I crossed Liam's hands behind him and criss-crossed the whole rope around them, because I knew that gave him more slack. I hoped he would win.
I didn't want to hurt Moira, but I wanted her to have to struggle for awhile to get free.
I crossed her arms behind her, wrist to elbow, and wrapped the rope snug not tight around
her arms but tying a couple of knots.
"Okay," I called. "Ready...set...go!"
Jimmy again began struggling furiously. In a minute his face was beet red.
Liam began working systematically at the knots that bound Moira's arms. Moira kept trying to look over her shoulder and saying, "Hurry up, Liam."
"Stand still, Moi," Liam said patiently. "Stop pulling--you just make the knots tighter.
Hey, I'm the one who has to pay if we lose."
I lay back on the bottom bunk and watched. It was great theater.
This was the only place I knew where we could be fairly sure of privacy, in the basement of a private home. Liam's father was the only man in our working class neighborhood who owned his entire four floor building. He worked as a teamster and arranged for tvs and fishing rods to fall off the backs of trucks and get sold at the local pizza parlor and bar, so he had extra cash.
Liam was making progress with the knots binding Moira. He got both knots loose. "Okay, Moi," he said. "Now pull your arms out."
Moira began struggling furiously, twisting her whole body as she worked her arms free.
Just then Jimmy threw up his arms in triumph. "Ta-daah! Winner, and still champion, Jimmy Brophy!"
Seconds later Moira threw up her arms. "It's a tie!"
Jimmy patted her on the head. "Forget it, kid."
Moira smacked his hand off her head. "It's a tie, isn't it, Terry?" I shook my head.
Jimmy grabbed Liam by the arm. "How about a Coke and ice cream, Liam. Your treat."
I had enjoyed the show and felt I owed Liam. I took a five dollar bill and started to
shove it in his pocket. Jimmy pushed my hand away. "You're just the referee, Terry. Liam here is the loser." He began dragging Liam toward the door.
"Hey, at least give me time to untie myself--I spent the whole time on Moi's knots," Liam
said.
"I'll untie you when we get to the store and it's time for you to reach into your pockets
and pay for my Coke and double scoop ice cream."
They were still arguing as they left. "Double scoop! That wasn't the deal."
This was the first time I had ever been alone with Moira. We shot each other shy glances.
She was still holding the rope.
"You want me to show you the Gypsy rope trick?" I asked.
"Sure," she said eagerly.
I held my arm out, palm down. "Tie my wrist."
She tied it pulling as tightly as she could, but that didn't really matter. As I put my
hands behind me I put a twist in the rope. "Okay, tie my hands together." She again made a tight knot.
I turned to face her. "What's that?" I said looking over her shoulder. As she turned to
look, I shifted my hands behind me, releasing slack, slipped one hand free and tapped her
on her other shoulder. Then I quickly slipped my hand back into the loop and tightened the slack.
"Hey!" She turned me around. My hands still looked tightly bound. "How did you do that?"
So I showed her how the trick worked.
"Let me try," she said, holding out her wrist.
I knotted her wrist, and she put her hands behind her, correctly putting in the twist. But
I put an extra loop around her wrists before tying them.
She lifted her hands behind her and tried to slip free. "Hey, it's not working." She
began pulling harder.
I sat on the bunk, propping myself on my elbows, head against the wall, and watched her.
She looked so cute tied up. I had to remind myself--white midi blouse and knee socks;
Catholic girl, thirteen; don't take advantage.
"Okay, Moira, you won't be able to escape. I put an extra loop and knot in."
"Cheater," she called, but with a smile.
"That's why it's called the Gypsy rope trick. Sometimes you can get gypped."
We were both in stocking feet, and now she stepped up and planted her toes on mine.
"Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater," she said. "Now how do I get out?"
"Well, you have to say the magic word."
She was about to argue with me, then decided to play along. "What's the magic word?"
"Abracadabra."
She closed her eyes and chanted, "Abra-ca-dabra!" She pulled on the ropes. "Didn't work."
"Really?" I said innocently. "Oh, I know, it's 'Shazam.'"
"Sha-zam," she chanted. "Nope, still didn't work."
"Well, I guess you'll just have to go to the Enchanted Forest and ask the Imperial Wizard
what the magic word is."
"How do I get to the Enchanted Forest."
"You have to take the D train all the way to the very end."
"That goes to Coney Island. There isn't any forest there."
"Then I guess you may have to stay tied up for all of time."
Then she did something that really surprised me. She sat down on my lap, pulling her knees up onto the bed. "Come on, Terry, tell me the magic word."
I had a pretty girl tied up and gift wrapped and sitting on my lap. It was very thrilling. It was also scary. If Liam walked in and saw this…he would never trust me again.
"Um, okay, Moira. Get up and I'll untie you."
"No. I want to know the magic word."
"Moira, you know there's no magic word. Now get up.”
She looked a little hurt.
“Look, Liam and Jimmy will be back any minute."
She frowned. "They aren't the bosses of me."
"Come on, Moira, you're their kid sister."
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say. It really pissed her off. "I'm not a KID!"
"You're missing the point. You're a kid sister to two Irish brothers. When you're thirty
and Liam is thirty-two and Jimmy thirty-four you'll still be their kid sister and they'll
still be protecting you."
"I don't need to be protected."
Like hell she didn't. "Okay, you don't need protection. But do ME a favor. Get up. If
they come back and see you sitting on my lap all tied up they'll kick my ass." I took her
by the shoulders to push her off.
"You're being mean."
"Okay, okay. It was mean to trick you and tie you up. Now I'll fix it and everything will
be okay. Before Jimmy and Liam come back."
"No," she said stubbornly. "Not then. You're being mean NOW." She resisted my attempt to push her off.
This was getting to be like "The Ransom of Red Chief." "Now, you're being a brat."
That REALLY pissed her off. "I hope they do kick your ass! I'm going to tell on you!"
I was stunned. "But I didn't do anything!"
"Well... I'll tell them that you did. You tied me up and tried to touch me. In a bad
place."
I shot to my feet, banging my head on the top bunk, and had to grab Moira around the waist to keep her from tumbling onto the floor. I spun her around by the shoulders to untie her but she twisted loose. She was about to yell something else when she must have seen my expression of total terror.
She burst out laughing. "Terry is a scaredy cat," she chanted several times. Then finally
I guess she felt sorry for me. "Okay, I was just kidding. I wouldn’t do that."
Kidding! I back sank down onto the bunk. If she told Liam and Jimmy that I had touched her they would tell their father and he would get his mob friends. I knew a guy, a senior at my high school, who had only slapped his girlfriend, and she had turned out to have a father who was connected. Two big fat thugs had been waiting for him after school. They talked to him real quiet so no one knows what they said, but he peed his pants right there on the sidewalk with kids looking on.
I was still getting my thoughts together when she sat down on my lap again.
"Oh, no." She had the upper hand now. Just because you are an innocent soul doesn't mean you can't torture someone. Sister Agnes demonstrated that to me with her ruler when I was daydreaming in catechism. I took a deep breath. I couldn't piss her off again. I had to explain to her. "Moira, I wasn't trying to be mean. I was just trying to figure you out. Of course you should be able to do what you want to do. But you know, a girl my age...you know, a high school girl...wouldn't walk up and sit down on my lap."
She hesitated. "Why not?"
"Because it's not cool. You've got to be cool--that way the guy chases after you."
She thought about it. "I don't want to be cool. I want to be hot."
How was I going to explain that being cool was part of being hot to this thirteen year old
going on eleven. The funny thing is, you could tell that in a couple years, with some
experience of real life under her belt, she would be hot, real hot. But at that moment she
was simply too hot to touch.
"Moira, I like you, I really do." Her face lit up. I quickly continued. "But Liam is my
best friend. You know how tight we are. So as much as I like you, right now we're doing
something behind Liam's back, and I feel real bad about it."
She got thoughtful. "It's like Romeo and Juliet."
"Huh?"
"You know, how Juliet's family tried to keep her from seeing him. But they couldn't." She leaned toward me.
I leaned back further. "No it's not like that at all. And Romeo ended up dead, you know."
I could feel my excitement rising, dumb as a post, muscling past my fear. I didn't want her to feel that. I sat upright but that put us face to face, only inches apart.
I pushed her backward but that made her brace herself and squirm. I had this very, not
hot, but very pretty girl with her hands tied behind her practically doing a lap dance on
me.
She giggled and bounced, sending an electric shock through me. "You're even cute when
you're scared, Terry. You're so..."
"Vulnerable."
"Yeah."
She had no idea how vulnerable I was. "So how will you explain to Liam and Jimmy what you are doing sitting tied up in my lap?"
She shrugged. The word "man-child" describes a boy caught between childhood and manhood. If there was a similar word for a girl, Moira would define it.
I tried a different tack. "You're going to have to tell about this in Confession. Don't
mention my name; just say 'a boy.'"
She giggled again. "I don't tell anything important in confession, Terry. Anyway, it's not
something I'M doing bad; it's something we're BOTH doing bad."
She had me there. I had wanted to see her tied up and she had just taken it one step further. My lower instincts had conspired with her naiveté to get me into a situation that ran against my better judgment. That was why I hadn't pushed her off as soon as she had climbed into my lap.
I sighed. "What do you want from me, Moira?"
Now she looked thoughtful. "You know, Terry, a lot of boys at school like me. I mean a
lot. But they're always trying to be tough and they act so stupid and bump against me or
tease me to get my attention. But, Terry, you listen to people, to Liam, and even to my father and mother, and you talk with them about what they're doing and what you're thinking about and doing. You're nice. Why can't you be nice to me?"
When you're a freshman in a high school of three thousand, trying every day to stay under the radar of the gangsters and drug dealers, you never imagine that you are the mature older guy to some girl.
It struck me that there was a little more to this then a crush, that I really meant something to her and that she liked me because of the way I really was. In my mind she was
transformed, from a kind of Pinocchio-like toy who misbehaved into a real girl. I looked
at her with a sense of amazement.
She returned my intense look. Thinking back now, I realize that she understood that I was finally really paying attention to her, but she thought that I was seeing her as a girl
friend. What I was actually feeling was that I had been a jerk treating her like a
plaything and that I should be doing what Liam and Jimmy would do--taking care of her.
Her direct gaze right into my eyes made me feel that she was about to lean forward and kiss me. If she did that, all semblance of self-control and better judgment would just crumble in me. Hell, I would end up marrying her. An image came to me of her father and his mobsters sitting in the front row at my shotgun wedding.
I heard the front door open upstairs. I shoved Moira off my lap, but she threw herself laughing onto the bed beside me. I slipped my hands under her shoulder and very gingerly under her thigh to flip her onto her stomach to untie her. She spread her legs, her skirt riding up, and planted her feet firmly on the bed in resistance. A very provocative pose, but I was in no mood. I stuck my fingers into her armpits and tickled her. She giggled and kicked out at me. I grabbed her leg, flipped her over, sat on her behind and frantically tore at the knot that bound her wrists until it was undone.
Footsteps on the stairs. I looked all around the room. The top bunk. I scampered up the
ladder, sat on the top bed, drew up my legs to hide the evidence of my last lingering
excitement, leaned against the wall and tried to look casual.
Jimmy and Liam came in still arguing about the ice cream.
Jimmy tossed me a Coke. "Here, Terry, complements of Liam. Nothing for you Moi. What are you still doing here?"
Moira flounced to the door. Behind their backs she gave a passionate kiss to the tips of
her fingers and blew it to me then ran up the stairs.
TC
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Post by Xtc »

Welcome to the League of TUGs Writers. It's good to have you on board.
They all say boxer shorts are cool,
but little Speedos always rule.
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Post by Veracity »

“ When you're a fifteen year old boy raised Catholic, the best pleasures are the guilty pleasures.” Truer words were never spoken!
calebtras
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Post by calebtras »

Guilt sucks for adults, but when you're a kid you learn to turn it into the spice that makes stuff like a TUG more exciting.
Evo
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Post by Evo »

I love the gypsy rope trick, great story. This is a great escape that many magicians do its almost always a girl being tied up and escaping which i love😅i have a few stories of my experience with this trick coming up😊
calebtras
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Post by calebtras »

Another one is Houdini's Metamorphosis, also usually done with a female assistant--requires more skill.
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