My reader decided to share more of this fantasy with me, bring us closer to the climax, but not quite getting us there. This seems to be the conclusion to what he did to please my body, but now the tables have turned, and we need to please his body. As before, I have modified it slightly, adjusting it to my perspective, and trying to draw out more of the environment.
From a naughty reader, here is the next step in his dirty little story of me:
He paused for a minute. I licked my lips, dry now from my protests and heavy breathing. Slowly. Seductively. Hoping he was watching as my tongue poked out between my lips starting at the right side, moving across my upper lip, making it nice and moist, tasting my own lipstick. My upper lip lowered, pressing against my lower lip, sucking them in slightly, then back out, puckering as if for a kiss.
He responded, pulling me forward forcefully, putting lips against lips. His tongue darted out, thrusting deep into my willing, wanton mouth. His hands moved up to my head, holding me there, as his kiss mixed with my kiss, passion mixing with passion, tasting each other and exploring each other. Time slowed, exhale, inhale, pulling in each other’s breath, feeding off the others air. At last we parted, breathless, the oxygen from the other no longer able to sustain us.
He stood up quickly, pulling me up. As I was standing, he bent down slightly and picked me up, swinging me over his shoulder. He carried me a short ways. I squealed as I felt myself suddenly flying through the air, having lost contact with anything but myself. I hit a bed, bouncing slightly as the mattress springs caught my weight and cushioned my brief flight.
Moving around the bed, he first straightened me out on it. He untied my left hand and secured it to the headboard. He moved further down, and secured my left leg to the endpost. Moving to my right leg, he pulled, stretching my legs wide and tying my right leg to the other bedpost. Move up, secure right arm. I was now stretched out, spread eagle, at his mercy. Helpless. His play thing.
His breathing sped up, deep, almost panting breaths. What was he planning now?
He leaned onto the bed, his weight shifting the mattress. A soft kiss on my nipple, a little light sucking, then he moved away and off the bed.
A fingertip appeared on my pussy, tracing the lips, but barely touching. A soft sensation, almost not there, yet ticklish at the same time. His finger followed me as I shifted slightly this way and that, so there was never a real force, a real substance, just a ghost of a touch on my pussy. Then, a soft flick on my clit, soft as a butterfly, before even the ghost touches left.
I could feel his eyes, gazing down on me. I wonder what thoughts went through his head?
A soft touch to my face, light, fleeting, almost non-existent. It moved down, touching my cheek, beating a slow line down then across to my lips. My face moved towards it, trying to feel what was touching me. A feather, or wisp of material, with very little firm substance. I assume it is a feather anyways, so ghostly, so soft as to be barely more than a breath of air. Tickling. Softly. Slowly.
The feather continued moving, finishing its journey across my lips before moving across to my other cheek. Down it moved, its ticklish path, to my neck. The feather lifted, then made contact with my armpit, slowly continuing downward, me fighting the urge to laugh, as it tickled, and taunted, and teased.
Each time it made me react, he continued in that spot, until I was laughing, gasping, tears rolling down my cheeks. He moved it to my arm before lifting it again, to less ticklish but more erotic places.
The feather appeared between my breasts, circling them almost lazily. Slowly, it spiraled around, moving up, inward, towards my nipples. It brushed over each nipple, again and again. While it did not tickle, and did not have enough pressure to send tingles running through me, it did ignite my passion more because of its intimate placement.
He then moved the feather down my belly, towards my ticklish side, running across each rib, back to my belly, then the other side, taking care to make sure I was good and giggly before he left each side. Once he reached my fur, he moved the feather to the side, trailing it down the outside of my leg, slowly, then using it on my feet until my giggles satisfied him. Then he brought it back up, along the inside of my leg, moving it just before it made contact with my pussy, ran it across my stomach, then back down the other leg, repeating his previous actions.
This time, when he hit my upper, inner thigh, he did not veer off, instead lightly brushing it across my pussy. It was both ticklish, and highly erotic, causing me to become wetter, visible now to him as drops leaked out of me.
One hand reached down and spread my pussy lips, gently opening me up, and the feather was moved to my hood, to tease my now exposed clit. He teased my clit, tickled it, flicking back and forth, tantalizing it. A ghost touch, there, but almost nonexistent. The thought of what he was doing drove me wilder than the touch, barely there, would have by itself.
Suddenly, it stoped without warning, and I heard the soft patter of his feet fading as he walked across the carpet and left the room. When he came back, I could feel him settle onto the bed beside me, right on the edge.
“Are you thirsty sweetness?” came the question.
I nodded my head, my lips parched from my giggles and laughter brought about by his tickling, wanting to feel the cool liquid meeting my lips, entering my mouth, and moving down my throat as I swallowed each succulent drop.
Something was pushed against my lips, not hard plastic or glass that I expected, but slick and cold, and a little bit wet. An ice cube.
He placed it across my lips, sucking on it, trying to quench my thirst. Hot lips against cold ice. It quenched my thirst, a little, one cold drop at a time. It melted quickly, soon becoming a sliver, then gone. Taking another, he put it against my chin, down my neck, sending shivers up and down my body. It then traveled down, between my breasts, to spiral up, following the same path the feather had, until it reached my nipples, standing at attention from the cold, wet cube, as the water trailed from the cube sat, beaded upon my hot skin. Cold water, hot skin. I can see the drops in my minds eye, glistening, magnifying my flesh, like dew on a flower.
The cubes were pushed down hard, firmly, the cold causing my nipples to tingle, even as they became stiffer. Rubbing ice across my nipples, cold pinpricks dancing on them, cooling them down, stimulating while at the same time almost painful. A moan came from my throat involuntarily. The ice cube was removed and his mouth enveloped my attentive nipples, warming them up, causing the tingles to change, to creep up inside me, to rip a second, involuntary moan from me. Warming up, the pin pricks subside, to change into the pleasure of touch and attention.
As the cube disappeared, leaving only wetness behind where it once was, he again withdrew, removing all contact, and I heard the sound of yet another ice cube being plucked from its resting place among others. In surprise, I gasped as it appeared between my legs, pressed right up against my pussy. Rubbing up and down, side to side, the cube quickly melted, leaving me tingly with cold from where it once rested.
Another cube was grabbed, and my pussy was slightly spread, the ice cube placed directly onto my clit. Over it. Pinpricks. The naughty little cube rubbing my clit, trying to tease it back out. My nerves were on fire, becoming super sensitive as the cold crept into my pussy and clit. Until, again, the cube is quickly gone, melted away from the heat of my body.
His head moved down, his mouth finding my clit, warming it, much like my nipples. The moan was louder, longer than before, coming from deep within me. I thrust my hips towards him, pressing my pussy against his face, grinding it against his mouth. He sucked harder, pulling my clit tight, while another cube was pushed inside my pussy, causing me to scream in surprise, to thrust my hips harder against his face. Unable to stay on my clit, he instead started sucking my inner lips, pulling them tight, and plunged his tongue into my cold pussy, as if he was trying to follow the ice cube, to lick it, sitting inside me.
He continued working his tongue, in my pussy, then up to my clit, lick lick lick, in, clit, in, clit, pushing me harder, harder, until a wave of pure bliss passed through me, relieving the pressure that had been building inside. I arched my back, pushing against him, shaking, lost in my rapture.
He still didn’t let up. He continued licking, and nibbling, and sucking, sliding his tongue in and out of my pussy, sucking my clit, kissing my pussy. Tied to the bed, I was at his mercy as his face remained between my legs, continuing its naughty work.
In the living room, on the sofa, he continued, not stopping till I begged him to. Here he was, repeating it. Licking, sucking, nibbling, pleasing, teasing, doing naughty things to my pussy, until I climaxed again, again. This time my begging was ignored, as he continued, yet more, again, to pleasure me, with wonderful tormenting pleasure, until I was too weak to move, to even speak.
He untied my arms and legs, laying down next to me. I clung to him, shaking, pushed so far I could do nothing else, my body in rapture that bordered on torment. As I rested, regaining my senses, I could feel his warm, throbbing, rock hard penis pressed up against me.
He brushed my hair aside, and whispered in my ear, “My turn now…”
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