Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Tickled Pink

   Author's Note - Lighthearted kink in this one - a sexy Valentine's
Day-esque tale.  Thoughts, comments, criticisms, whatever ~~
shadesofextasy@hotmail.com

   MF Romantic - 9,000 words - focusing on erotic tickling with very light
bdsm undertones

   When Wyatt arrived home with an enormous fragrant bouquet in his arms,
Natalie thought, `Roses!  I love roses!' and Wyatt knows that perfectly
well.  After nine idyllic years of marriage, he knows by heart nearly all
of her favorite things.  He knows that she likes to stay up late and get a
little bid wild on Friday nights, and he knows she loves to sumptuously
luxuriate in on lazy Saturday mornings.  He knows that she takes her coffee
straight black, as caffeinated strong and flavorfully rich as she can
possibly get it.  He knows that her favorite pie is homemade apple and that
her favorite flavor of ice cream is French Vanilla, and while those might
be fairly predictable choices, he also knows that Natalie's sexual
predilections are anything but run-of-the-mill.

   You see, the most intimately important thing that Wyatt knows about
Natalie is that her biggest erotic turn-on is tickling.

   Natalie loves every single subtlety of being tickled.  She even adores
the time period before being tickled, because fervent anticipation is major
foreplay for her.  When Wyatt says that he is going to tickle her, she gets
as steamily turned on as when he says he wants to make love.  She vividly
imagines every second of it beforehand, every wicked vibration resounding
through her as his whisking fingertips trip up and down her naked skin,
making those dangerous, devious motion that elicit from her body-shaking
spasms of squealing laughter.  The mere thought of what his titillation
feels like is frequently enough to make her dewy wet.  But the actual
x-rated act is incalculably better: the gratifying feel of his knowing
hands slipping under her forearms to excite that most sensitive region, or
working sensuously along the bottoms of her wriggling feet in slow-motion
circles, or seductively running up and down the backs of her creamy thighs.
Each tantalizing action has the luscious potential to send her careening
over the edge.

   When Wyatt starts tickling Natalie, he is in total control, and she is
completely submissive to his dominant will.  She relishes being at his
capricious mercy, heedlessly giving herself ~~ and her carnal pleasure ~~
over to him.  It makes her feel more profoundly connected to her beloved
husband than any other bedroom activity they engage in.

   That special night, Natalie watched Wyatt walk into their living room
with a big carnation-pink crinkly tissue bouquet in his arms.  There were
vibrant crimson blooms visible within the translucent pastel tissue
wrapping.  But where was the familiar floral perfume wafting out to delight
her nostrils?  "Happy anniversary," Wyatt said as he approached his wife,
his gift still cradled in his arms.  His evocative olive eyes flashed
impishly at her, and his ginger-hued eyebrows rose in a rakish manner.  A
roughly-hewn handsome man, he kept his muscular, heavy-framed body in
excellent condition and was blessed with athletic coordination and
seemingly limitless endurance.  But his imposing appearance was swept from
Natalie's mind when he took another step forward and now suddenly close
enough for her to see that the extravagant bouquet in his arms was made not
of fragrant flowers but of downy feathers ~~ lush and lovely maroon-hued
ostrich and peacock feathers, all wrapped up together and artfully arranged
to simulate an armful of roses.  The plumose deception made her instantly
cross her long legs and rock her slender body.  She didn't sigh; she very
nearly swooned.

   "Happy anniversary," Natalie breathlessly whispered back to him, her
coffee-hued eyes still mesmerically focused on the bundled array of
diaphanous feathers.  She was a striking woman, with tawny hair which
tumbled in loose curls to her shoulders, and an almost schoolgirl face, a
seeming-innocence that was betrayed only by a pair of intense, almost
smoldering eyes.  It was only in those mirrors to the soul that one could
perceive the searing fire that now ignited inside her, could even guess at
the wild animal that lay imperfectly concealed behind that cool exterior, a
subtle hint of her insatiable desire.  She couldn't have torn herself away
from the sight of those feathers if Wyatt had said the house was on fire.
All she could do was ogle the feathery bouquet and feverishly wonder about
his lascivious intent.  She didn't make a move or ask a question of him. 
She simply remained silent and quiveringly poised, because she knew from
years of experience that Wyatt would undoubtedly have a salacious plan in
mind ~~ and Natalie was sure it would be one of the sexiest scenarios she'd
ever experienced!

   "Do you like them?" Wyatt asked teasingly, turning to look from the
fluffy quills to Natalie's enchanted face.  She wordlessly nodded, then
licked her plush lips.  There was utter silence for a moment; the room was
so preternaturally quiet that Natalie was aware of the very pounding of her
heart ~~ as well as the resonant pulsing in her honey-dripping pussy.  When
he moved, she was convinced she could hear the susurrating rustling of the
plumes against each other.  When she looked back at Wyatt, he simply
jauntily cocked his head.  Clearly he was waiting for her to respond.  She
shot him a coquettishly sexy look back.

   "Should I get a vase?" Natalie asked coyly.  She was playing games, and
Wyatt gave her a little half-smile.

   "Not a vase, sweet cheeks," he said.  "These little beauties don't need
water for us to enjoy them."

   "What then?" Natalie asked, her body trembling as Wyatt held the
feathers in his hand and surveyed its deep iridescent sheen, his artist's
eye appreciative of nature's use of color and texture.  When he ran his
hands over one of the faux blooms, Natalie felt it was as if she could feel
the whispery kiss of the feathers against her own palm while she watched
him gently flutter them over his skin, intentionally titillating her.

   Stepping right in front of Natalie, Wyatt wrapped one arm around her
waspish waist and abruptly pulled her loins in tight to him, the beefy
bulge of his dormant penis cleaving into her cusp with sensuous force.  She
moaned into his shoulder as her loins began to simmer in libidinous
response.  His lips sought for and found hers, his aggressive tongue
bursting through the barriers of teeth and lips to probe and savor her.  He
held her immobile and helpless in his strong arms, his supple lips and
twisting tongue touching off a slow fuse in her, the erotic, sexy
sensations in her mouth as his nimble tongue moved there, the sweet, yet
pungent taste and smell of tobacco on his breath, the rough fabric of his
shirt, irritating and arousing her tender nipples to erect hardness, and
the strength of his hands and arms holding her against him, the subtle
brush of the synthetic flowers gliding over her backside, all combined to
throw her in a morass of ecstatic sensations that coursed through her in
rapturous, sensuous sexuality that threatened to explode with devastating
force in her loins.  Oh, Dear God!

   Then, Natalie was kissing Wyatt back; her moist, pink tongue that came
alive in her mouth and jousted with his, finally, lashing snake-like into
his oral cavity, searchingly, caressingly as his hands began to explore the
soft contours of her lush body.  Cupping the resilient mound of a perfectly
sculptured breast through the soft material of her dress, he kneaded the
mounding hemisphere massagingly, while below, the hand that still held her
in close to him relaxed on her rump and began to explore the curving
outlines of her waist, hip, the bouquet he still somehow held onto skimming
voluptuously over her thigh.  In response, she raised her arms and placed
them around his neck to pull his head down tighter to her lips, and her
tongue flicked in and out of his mouth in signal to him of her readiness
... her wanton desire that flamed higher and higher every moment.

   Leaving the buttery whiteness of Natalie's finely tapered thigh, Wyatt
went in under the short length of her cut-offs, allowing his warm hand to
massage the soft flesh up the smooth inner side, moving upward, slowly,
until he was rummaging in the cradle of her loins, cosseting the curling
fleeciness of her pubes.  Smoothly, he slipped a finger down into the moist
warmth of her blossoming pussy, pressuring in through the fleshy folds from
the top to find the hardening spike of her clitoris within the crumpled
petals.  His finger rubbed at it, temptingly, gently bringing the nubbin to
throbbingly hungry life while Natalie began a grinding undulation of her
craving cunny up against his taunting fingers.  When he began using two
fingers, together, to drum a tattoo up and down its short, pulsating
length, the resultant erotic spasms that reverberated through her body made
her suddenly weak in the knees; she slumped against him, her vision
blurred, swimmingly, and she felt dizzy, lightheaded ...  tingling all over
with delicious sexual desire.

   "You can't smell these flowers," Wyatt breathed sultrily, as he slowly
drew away, his fingers glistening.  "And though they're lovely, they aren't
meant for simply admiring.  What you need to do for me, Natalie, is take
off all your clothes right now."

   Because it was a hot day, Natalie had only been wearing her white
cut-off shorts and a slinky silver tank top.  As she hurriedly discarded
her outwear, so restless that she was in motion practically before he
finished speaking, she took a deep, shuddering breath, already imagining
where Wyatt would choose to first tantalizingly touch her with those
velvety feathers ~~ how sweetly they would brush over her naked skin, how
alluring their silken touch would be.  She knew from past experience
precisely how she would boisterously laugh and lubriciously squirm as Wyatt
danced the stunning feather tips over her vulnerable body ~~ and she
couldn't wait another second.

   Wyatt watched appreciatively as Natalie whipped off her demi-bra to
reveal the curvaceous ebbs and flows of her supple, feminine body.  When
she slid her sopping-wet panties down her lithe thighs until they reached
the floor, she was entirely naked, her body warm from lounging in the
sun-filled room, and her pussy so sopping wet that she felt the nectarous
liquid of her juicy arousal already working to lubricate her shaved nether
lips.  From the way Wyatt stared at her, Natalie knew that he liked what he
saw but she curiously wondered if he could see how turned on she was from
where he stood.  Then she wondered if he could smell the exotically spicy
scent of her impending pleasure.  He was right.  They didn't need roses at
all.  Her own heady fragrance, zesty cinnamon with a redolent tang of sea
salt, had begun to perfume the air.

   Wyatt came in behind her, his arms going around her, under her arms, his
big hands massaging the full, softly pliant swells of her breasts, while
his lips came down to kiss her delicately sloping shoulders and the nape of
her neck.  Natalie shivered with unfettered delight and turned in the
circle of his arms to press her statuesque body up against him with a
mewling moan of building passion.  She felt the erect cones of her hardened
nipples press in, tightly against his shirt, to his broadly sculpted chest,
while below she gyrated her hips in tiny circles against the succulent
hardness of lengthening cock.  His hands swarmed over her, smoothing the
svelte contours of her body, his strong fingers kneading the resilient,
warm flesh of her full-orbed buttocks.  Then, her mouth was on his, her
kittenish tongue bursting through his lips to probe deep into the honeyed
sweetness of his mouth.

   After a moment or two, she broke the kiss and murmured, "Now what?"

   Wyatt took a moment to treasuringly admire her naked curves by licking
his full lips before continuing with his instructions.  "Lie down on the
rug, put your hands over your head and hold them together.  I don't want
you to move, Natalie.  Not at all."

   Because Natalie had an idea of what was in store for her, she knew this
would be far more difficult than it sounded.  In point of fact, it would be
impossible.  When Wyatt tickles her, there's absolutely no hope of her
staying still.  The gratifying feeling of being tickled makes her
spontaneously kick and wriggle; it makes her laugh so hard that she aches
deliciously inside.  Her whole body gives itself over to that most
ebulliently decadent experience of being completely powerless to behave. 
But that didn't mean she wouldn't attempt to do what he was requesting. 
Trying to obey him was half the fun ~~ while being exuberantly tickled is
the other half!

   While a spectating Wyatt watched, Natalie lay down on their plush lilac
rug and obediently locked her hands together over her head.  Her hedonistic
awareness was considerably piqued.  She was intensely focused on every
nuanced sensation: the way the velvety carpet rippled under her naked
bottom and the way her honeyed wetness continued to flow from her soused
pussy.  She achingly craved to take one hand and dip her fingers between
her puffy labia and down to the slippery button of salacious sensation
those knowing fingertips desired to fondle.  She wanted to stroke her fiery
clit on and on, finger herself until liquid fire pulsed through every
flaming inch of her spasming body then lick away her own sweetness while
Wyatt watched her ~~ but that would be disobedient of her, and she couldn't
fail him so soon.  Shifting the curve of her hips, she found the most
comfortable position possible, and then stared up at her lover to let him
know she was ready.  Although her heart was pounding fast, she was more
excited than anything.

   With a rakish wink, Wyatt fully unwrapped the feathers.  They were truly
stunning, dyed a dark scarlet, with long wavering plumes that seemed to
shimmer when Wyatt moved them.  Natalie trembled all over at the erogenous
sight and anxiously bit down on her lower lip.  She already knew what
libidinous havoc those aphrodisiacal feathers would wreak as they naughtily
traced intricate designs all over her nude body, but she still couldn't
wait for their very first touch against her soft skin.

   "Ready?" Wyatt thoughtfully asked.

   "No," Natalie whispered jokingly, and her lover laughed at her, the deep
baritone rumble that she loves.  Although Natalie instinctually craved his
ticklish touch, she's never actually entirely prepared ~~ but she always
wants it more than anything.  Another resounding shudder of seismic
pleasure worked through her as Wyatt frankly stared at her naked body.  She
felt as if she were being tickled by the near-palpable look of those
delectable feathers alone!  Tickled, somehow, by osmosis.  If the mere
sight of the scrumptious feathers was making her twitch in mounting
arousal, what would she do when Wyatt actually touched her with them?

   Wyatt must have been thinking the same thing, because he gave another
low chuckle, and then brought one plumed quill forward.  Natalie
immediately felt the responsive muscles in her sleek thighs and the inner
tendons of her receptive pussy clench tight in raw anticipation, and the
girlish giggles were already starting to overpower her.  This was how it
always was for Natalie.  Yes, she loves being tickled ~~ she fantasizes
about the act all the time during her masturbatory self-loving in a steamy
bubble bath ~~ but the actual act of being tickled was so astoundingly
intense.

   As Wyatt brought the downy plumes inexorably closer, Natalie shut her
eyes tight and told herself to hold still.  Despite her sincere
determination, her impatient body jerked, spasmodically, involuntarily, at
the light tickling touch of the fronds that moved, inch by tortuous inch,
up the smooth, sensitive flesh of her legs where they were clamped tightly
together.  Her eyes flew open, widening, as she gaped down to where her
husband was crouched over her, a single gaily colored peacock feather held
in his fingers, lightly, as he skimmed that one solitary quill up the outer
length of her creamy thigh, twirled it, teasingly, on her vibrant,
sex-tingling flesh.  He grinned down at her, salaciously, seemingly heading
to the dewy split between her legs and the pulsating portal of her vaginal
passage, and she felt it trailing up through the fleecy softness of her
pubic mons, but then he traced it down the other side, along the ivory
column of her quivering limb.

   Without a word, Wyatt continued, trailing two stalks of feathers along
Natalie's ribs and circling her heaving stomach.  Oh, did it feel
otherworldly!  The feather's plush fronds were like thousands of tiny
fingers, each individually massaging her.  Groaning with delectable
helplessness, she felt the teasing lightness of their innumerable touches
as the plume tracked tiny circles of fire on her immaculately smooth skin,
darting into the swelling crests and hidden hollows of her physique.  The
plume capriciously swept across her abdomen and out over the plane of her
smooth belly, dipping with a saucy twirl into the shallow depression of her
navel and moving out to her groin to tantalize the soft hollows there.  Her
ardent body reacted hedonistically to the lavish pampering, her plump
nipples hardening into ripe, round jewels and her breath speeding up as if
she'd just sprinted up a steep flight of stairs.  Natalie could have
screamed with the excruciating torment, as it moved, relentlessly, toward
its obvious target, through a deviously tortuous route.  She arched her
back, uninhibitedly offering herself over to Wyatt's whim.

   Suddenly, with a broad sweep, Wyatt's tantalizing peacock feather was on
her bosomy breasts, orbiting them in a figure eight, which grew smaller
with each evolution, moving upward on the doughy mounds of her trembling,
breasts, until it circled the crowning, cameo-pink of her hard-coned
nipples.  Soft whimpers and mewlings commenced to issue, unbidden, from
Natalie's lips, as the quill moved in ever smaller circles, until it
proscribed only one of the hardened, erectile nipples, playing on the
crinkled flesh of the aureole, then on the pink column of the tiny nipple
itself.  her quivering breasts set all atingle with the lascivious
sensations it generated in them mirroring the throbbing ache at the vee of
her loins.  Natalie found herself whorishly wriggling her shoulders to
jiggle her tits, her torso writhing as she attempted to shove her bobbling
breasts up against the teasing tip of the feather in Wyatt's hand.

   "Oh God!" Natalie whimpered.  "Oh, My God!  Oh, Wyatt, that's torture!"
Her ascendant body felt electrified, and she shook from the molten center
of her sexual core.  The familiar nameless hunger fluttered betrayingly
within her and her insatiable body wanted more of it!  forced to see
herself as she really was.  The image was of a young wife, love-starved,
sensual, vibrant, alive ...  the feather, sensually teasing the taut
nipples of her breasts, torturing her ...  arousing her, again, to full
sexuality, a slave at the hands of her beloved husband ~~ a man who was
forcing her, subjugating her to his will as the debauched fires of
unbridled passion flared in her.  She felt as though she were in a strong
undertow, being dragged under water, and she was helpless in its implacable
grip, Every cell in her aroused body cried for fulfillment ...  for release
from the torture of the feather on her trembling breasts...  fulfilling her
...  or she'd go out of her mind.

   Natalie hesitated uncertainly, not wishing to disobey her cherished
Wyatt, but the insistent urge pulsed ever more strongly.  Perhaps he was
distracted enough that he might not notice, she reasoned.  Sighing, she
unclasped her hands, and pushed her naughty hands to the magnificent orbs
of her breasts; she massaged them upward, pressing them up straight from
her prone, quivering body, the two upstanding hemispheres demanding, now,
that they be teased and tormented with lewd, exciting pleasures they
frequently enjoyed before, and the taut, erect nipples throbbed with
delight as they seemed to offer themselves up to the torture of the
whirring feather, almost as if her breasts were an entity of their own,
completely separate from her sensate body trembling under the tormenting
caress of the feather in Wyatt's talented hand.

   Why Wyatt allowed this blatant infraction, Natalie could not guess,
other than perhaps he had lost himself in the eroticism of the moment.  But
when she drew her fingers down her sweaty belly to her pubic mound, not to
protect herself, but realizing in a flash that if he were actually to use
the feather on her cunny all would be lost, there would be no end to her
arousal...  "Ah-ah-ah, little Natalie," Wyatt chided quietly, catching up
her hand, easily, in his own, strong-fingered hand.  "It doesn't work that
way.  And it isn't really torture, my dear.  It'll be rapture ...  before
long!" he exulted, never ceasing his tantalizing torment, dragging the
quill now up the valley of her buttery-smooth thighs.  "There's nothing
quite like it ...  so why don't you just lie back and enjoy me getting you
good and ready ...  for some wild fucking!  But you have to keep your hands
together, or I'm going to have to tie them!"

   That wasn't much of a threat.  Natalie likes it when Wyatt ties her up.
Wyatt likes it too, which explained the mischievous smile Natalie caught
playing on his handsome face when she opened her eyes again.  He wanted her
to fail so that he could bind her up the way he had pictured in his devious
mind; truss her and tie her so that she couldn't possibly move, and then
tease her however he wanted to with those long, lovely feathers.  The image
was so sinfully erotic that she almost intentionally misbehaved for him. 
But being the properly submissive lass she is, Natalie steeled her resolve
and again tried to subserviently obey, clasping her hands once more over
her head and giving Wyatt a nod when she was ready.  A tremulous shiver
coursed through her entire body, and she held her breath as Wyatt stared at
her, a feather poised in each hand.

   Every single movement Natalie made now felt like she was being tickled
~~ even the delicate carpet under her rump was tickling her.  Her body was
vibrantly alive and galvanically aroused like rarely before.  She took a
deep, steadying breath as he brought the feathers to her defenseless
nakedness, brushing the tips along the bottoms of her bare feet.  For about
a second she was able to keep her composure.  Didn't she look stoic,
splayed out naked on the floor with her husband tickling the soles of her
dainty feet?  She was a veritable statue.  She was cut from stone.

   That self-disciplined attitude lasted all of a millisecond before
Natalie had to shriek with hysterical laughter and fiercely pound her feet
on the rug.

   "Oh, you like that," Wyatt correctly noted with a faux-clinical tone,
continuing to trail those sweet feathers up her wriggling legs, titillating
the insides of her thighs as he moved higher and higher.  He, of course,
was right.  Natalie did like it.  Her beloved man's exquisite usage of the
feathered apparatus had long since ignited a slow fuse that was sputtering
away in her, and she was ensnared in a quagmire of rapturous sensations
that raced through her voluptuous body in waves of erotic anticipation.  If
he had brought his fingertips to explore her needy sex, he would have been
able to see just how much she liked it.  His brushing fingertips would have
been drenched from the merest touch.  In fact, he could have known without
even a touch.  The exotic scent was intoxicating.  Suddenly, she became
dimly conscious of the drizzling wetness in her cunny, now positively
glistening with her flowing sexual wetness, the honeyed fluids exuding from
the inner walls of her inner vault to flow, the portal becoming sopping and
slippery, instinctually readying itself for the entrance of a hard,
joy-bringing cock.

   For all of Natalie's vampish squirming and frantic thrashing about, this
time she somehow managed to keep her hands together as instructed.  Some
acquiescent part of her wanted to do what Wyatt had asked, even as she was
achingly aware of the sexy lubricating juices continuing to pool within her
puffy labia and felt the carpet grow progressively wetter beneath her bare
bottom.  She felt she would leave a luscious little lake of her natural
nectar beneath her, particularly when Wyatt moved away from tickling the
soles of her feet to use those two naughty feathers sliding, sinuously, up
over her body to the full moons of her breasts.  The downy tips played,
narcissistically, with the distended, berry-like buds of her nipples, the
darker pink of their aureoles long since drawn up in sensitive wrinkles of
tumescent flesh.  Her crescent-curved hips beat out a tattooing rhythm on
the floor, but Natalie did not release her hands.  She would do her best,
she told herself.  She would make her man proud!

   Wyatt seemed to appreciate how hard Natalie was working to please him.
He continued to relentlessly tickle her with the twin plumes, one in each
hand, moving the stalks slowly along the streamlined silhouette of her
attractive physique, smiling genially at how boisterously hard his wife was
laughing and how much her succulent body was writhing.  She earnestly
struggled to keep her arms overhead for him, giggling helplessly as the
enticing feathers skittered all the way down to her demure ankles, then
slipped along the insides of her thighs, their dually tantalizing lightness
tracing whispery circles on the sensate skin, going into the hollows on
either side of the fleshy vulva lips.  Although the cloyingly sweet ache
was insinuating itself within her nerve clusters in suffusing pulses,
Natalie found it in herself to stay serenely still, even as she
gluttonously hungered for him to ravish her cunny ~~ but she had no such
luck.  Without even a fleeting glance at the raw urgency written on
Natalie's angelic face, Wyatt skirted over that most desperate part of her,
refusing to give her what she had shamelessly craved since she'd gotten the
very first glimpse of those decadent feathers.

   Then, the unexpected happened!

   Inexorably, the feather in Wyatt's skilled hand moved closer and closer
to her weeping sex, until finally, it trailed into the coralline moistness
of her lubricious groove between the auburn curl-fringed vaginal lips, as
soft and as sweet as anything Natalie had ever felt before.  Around and
around he twisted first one, and then the other, dipping every now and then
between the inner petals that had fully flowered open, blood-engorged and
turning a darker shade of crimson.  She struggled on the floor, her
recurved hips undulating, scribing rhythmic circles of scandalous desire,
up to that torturing feather, and her breath came in uncontrolled, short,
sharp pantings, as she felt him thrust it, churningly, in and out of her
gooey channel, igniting searing flames of inflammatory desire that raced,
unchecked in her nerve endings, like an all-consuming prairie fire, leaping
before a strong wind and destroying all in its path.  Never had Natalie
experienced a more lewdly sexy, wickedly exciting sensation.  It was even
more arousing than the lusty cunnilingus that Wyatt regularly performed
upon her!

   Natalie was sure that the innocent feather was a destructive tool of
uncommonly cruel torture and that it would be the source of her complete
destruction.  Wyatt had been twisting the tormenting quill farther into the
cream-imbrued depths of her cunny; but now he pirouetted it upward to dance
through the auburn fringe to the pulsating bud of her erectile clitoris,
canopied in the apex of her womanly cleft.  He moved it, cruelly, up and
down the short length of the miniature phallus, coming to rest with a
twirling motion on the sensitive triangle of its blood-engorged, sensitive
head.

   Natalie stifled a shrill scream because she wouldn't allow him to know
that he had subjugated her with an insignificant feather.  She couldn't
think rationally; she couldn't speak intelligibly.  She was inundated by
the effervescent excitement bubbling in her clamorous loins, jubilating in
the agonizing rapture that had begun to move her.  Never, ever, had she
experienced such exquisite suffering ...  and anguished joy, at the same
time.  The peacock feather, in Wyatt's dexterous hand, danced teasingly on
her throbbing clitoris for only a few moments, and just at the point when
Natalie was sure she could stand no more of it, the lust-inciting plume was
suddenly gone as quickly as it had come to that secret place.  The teasing
quill dallied at her jiggling breasts for a moment, allowing Natalie to be
liberated from the excruciating bliss of direct clitoral stimulation and
fully enjoy the depraved enjoyment of the sensuously sexual ministrations
of her husband.  But suddenly Wyatt retraced a salacious path down through
the moistly perspirant valley to swoop down and downward again to the
throbbing pink flesh of her searingly expectant cunny.  She gasped with
sheer ecstatic joy, as she felt the moist tip of it slide down through her
auburn fuzz, to pause, momentarily, on her clitoris, where the twitching
torment of the feather paying twitching homage to her pulsating nubbin left
her breathlessly writhing on the floor.

   Natalie almost screamed with frantic frustration when it didn't stop
there, on her throbbing clitoris; instead, she felt it plow, lightly, down
through her sleek vaginal groove, until it was running in tiny, orbiting
circles, homing in on the puckered ring of her anal opening.  The fully
rounding moons of her pudding-soft buttocks spasmed, suddenly, as the tip
of the feather nestled down between the orbs of snowy flesh to tantalize
the sensitive flesh of the rubbery, nether portal of her rectal passage.

   That was it!  She had reached her limit of tolerance.

   "Oooooooooohhhh!" she groaned, with agonized rapture, as the
unbelievably powerful taboo sensations surged, uncontrolled through her
body.  "Oh, Christ!  I-I can't take any more, Wyatt!  Please...?  Oh,
please?"

   In spite of his resolve to hold back his own sexual arousal, Wyatt found
himself breathing heavily, as he half leaned and half crouched between
Natalie's wide-spread legs, torturing her with the gaily colored feather,
intently watching as she dissolutely writhed her full-curved hips, her
flagrantly clenching and unclenching anus seeming almost as though it
reached out to claim the torturing feather for itself.  It won't be long
... now!  He was gleeful ...  She'll go of like a Roman candle ...  on the
Fourth of July!  Wyatt was aware that his massive erection throbbed
achingly.  It had jerked several times, involuntarily, squeezing a small
rivulet of clear, glutinous lubricating fluid from the tip.  Reaching down
unto his pants, he grasped the beefy shaft of his hefty penis and milked
back the loose foreskin to reveal the fiery red crown, heavy with engorged
blood; then, he used his thumb to spread the slippery lubricant over the
bulbous head, as with the other hand, he kept the feather alive and
dancing, twirling it up through her vaginal slit to search out, again, her
enshrined clitoris, peeping out from its enfolding ridges of vaginal flesh.


   Wyatt repeatedly stroked Natalie's chubby nubbin as she beat her flaring
hips on the rug, crying out as those feathers took her higher and
deliriously higher.  She realized she was going to come just a split second
before it happened.  The enthralling ache permeating her body shifted
profoundly, from feeling like she would faint from hysterically laughing so
much, to feeling like she would die if she didn't achieve a purifying
climax immediately.  Wyatt pressed the gyrating plumes harder against her,
and Natalie sorrowfully knew these would be destroyed by the storminess of
her impending orgasm; the delicate stalks bent, the gossamer feathers wet
and matted.  But she didn't care.  She convulsed ferociously and
tempestuously came, feeling as if she had been swept away by innumerable
billowing breakers of surging rapture on a mellifluous sea of boisterous
laughter, with the unremitting quills tickling her even after her
rambunctious orgasm had subsided.

   "Stop!  STOP!  Please...?  Oooohhh ...  please ...  stop?!"

   Wyatt leaned over Natalie, staring straight into her shimmering eyes,
still keeping the feather twisting tormentingly on her near-abraded
clitoris, and said, "You really want me to stop, Natalie, baby ...?"

   "Yessssss!  I-I can't take any ...  more of it!"

   Finally, with her last gasping words, the agonizing torment was suddenly
lifted from her glowing cunny, leaving Natalie breathless.  Wyatt gave her
a moment to relax and catch her breath, fondly wishing her a happy ninth as
he watched his wife try to pull herself back together.  Her heart was still
pounding like a triphammer and her whole body still rippled with descending
spasms from the cannonading power of her rapturous orgasm.  As the tense
muscles of her body relaxed, slowly, and she lowered her upraised pelvis,
she felt a sense of sweet relief imbuing her nerve-tortured loins.

   The irreparably soiled feathers had served its purpose.  As Wyatt tossed
them aside, he began quickly shedding his shoes, socks and pants, leaving
only his boxers to cover him.  Inside those obscenely distended shorts, his
impressive erection stirred and jerked involuntarily, and Natalie's eyes
were glued to the spot, her interest intense.  A mewling hum of
anticipation emitted from her throat as her greedy eyes devoured him,
admiring the blatant lurch of the outsized bulge in his shorts.  "God!" she
moaned, finally, anxious for him to go on now, "Get your shorts off ...  so
I can see ...  that big cock of yours!"

   Defying her expectations, Wyatt instead stood to his full height,
looking down at his wife's sensuously squirming body, his eyes lewd and
filled with pure lust for her.  He grasped her ankles and pulled her
unresisting body toward the edge of the Oriental rug, until her buttocks
extended slightly beyond the edge of the plush fabric.  Quickly, then, he
knelt down between her wide-splayed legs and pulled her knees up over his
broad shoulders.  Now, his mouth hung just above her still wildly pulsing
vagina.  He gaped down at the narrow, moistly creamy split, its slightly
ragged opening bedewed with pearlescent droplets the vivid evidence of her
liquid arousal.

   Through lust-crazed eyes, Natalie gaped down at her beloved husband
crouched between her legs.  She could feel the palms of his hands, hot
against the tender softness of the flesh of her inner thighs, holding them
wide apart.  She knew his intention, welcomed it and instinctively wallowed
in the crazy desire to open her legs even farther for him, to allow him
full access to her most private, inner femaleness.  This afternoon with
Wyatt and the feather so far had been an experience beyond her wildest
dreams, but now, after she had been exquisitely aroused with the feather
... to be licked there would be next to heavenly.  She watched him in
fervent fascination, anticipating his next move she watched as her sinfully
handsome man lower his head between her tingling thighs, while,
reflexively, her hips undulated upward to meet the delicious sensations his
proficient mouth would bring to her.

   "Aaaaaaahhhhhhh!" Natalie moaned, her body spasming, uncontrollably, as
his moistly hot lips closed over her heated sex.  Her head pounded with her
hammering heartbeat and her vision blurred, his attractive features out of
focus as he planted soulfully lewd kisses on the tingling fissure of her
wildly craving pussy, his nimble tongue darting out to lash deep into the
snug heat of her quivering opening.  Immediately her own hands moved with
sure, sensuous knowledge, caressingly, over the twin mounds of her swollen
breasts, her fingers teasing the erectile, coral nipples for a moment,
before they slid, sinuously, along her smooth belly, until finally, they
arrived at her loins, on either side of his working lips.  Stroking herself
gently, her soft fingers rubbed for a few moments from the flexing hollows
of her inner thighs upward to the fleshy labia, caressing all around them
until she could wait no longer; then, slowly, deliberately, she used her
fingers to pull the pulsing lips flanking her pussy apart, pulling to
either side, allowing his hungry mouth the liberty of all of her secret
grotto, the heart-stirring feeling deep in her that she wanted all...  and
wanted to give all of herself to him.

   Under Wyatt's voraciously active mouth, Natalie felt his lips suck at
her, drawing the warm, tender petals of her flowered-open cunny into the
hot cavern of his mouth.  Moaning, incessantly, now, she pressed her elbows
to her ribs, her tousled hair in disarray as her head flailed from side to
side with her unbridled rapture as his agile, searing tongue flicked out,
its soft, searching tip circling her palpitant clitoris, tantalizingly.  He
drew the tiny, erect bud up between his lips to maddeningly suck it for a
moment, before finally taking it lightly in his teeth, while his tongue
teased its short length with sensuous flickings of his lingual member. 
Unashamedly, she groaned out her ravishing pleasure from deep in her
throat, mewling and purling as now the hot, searching tip of his sinuous
tongue worked its way up and down the narrow length of her soft, pulsating
furrow, beginning at her lower belly and pressuring its way down over the
resilient opening of her hungrily clasping vagina.  Inexorably, then, his
tongue traveled lower and lower, down into the crevice of her hollowing
buttocks, pausing, momentarily, to probe, moistly, at the tight, puckered
ring of her sensitively clenching anal opening below.  She gasped with the
erotic shock of it, and her hips gyrated wildly as she shoved her undulant
pelvis up at him, in beggarly supplication for more of the same.

   Natalie's unceasing moans seemed to drive Wyatt's tongue faster and
faster, as he slavered away at her steaming loins.  She knew he ultimately
wanted her begging for it ...  literally screaming to be fucked, when he
was ready to shove his big cock into her.  It was sadistic in a way, she
supposed.  They both knew she was more than ready, now, as he had taunted
her with the feather ...  and now with his mouth.  But she had shown in the
past a capability of multiple orgasms when she let herself go to his
torturous tickling, so neither he nor she was worried that she might cum
while he was still licking her.  She would cum again and beautifully again
when his cock finally got in her cunny.

   Suddenly, the excitedly writhing Natalie reached out to entangle her
fingers in her husband's dense hair, guiding his cute face in tight to the
palpitating vestibule of her creamy passage, snugging him in tight between
her wide-splayed legs.  He energetically stabbed his stiffened tongue
deeply into the soft-rimmed flesh of her soggy depths, flicking at it
teasingly for a moment, then withdrawing to trace swirlingly, around the
ragged, coral-pink edges.  With lecherous sex-crazed strength, she tugged
on his ears, forcing his head in even closer, pressing his gorging mouth
directly over the glutinous portal of the demanding hole to her searing
passage.  When his kissing lips ovalled and covered the clasping, palpitant
opening, he thrust his serpentine tongue deep down into it again, flicking
it in and out with a set rhythm in imitation of sexual intercourse.

   From deep in her throat emitted a low, guttural, almost animal groan
from Natalie's parted lips, and below, her trembling thighs closed
convulsively around either side of her husband's slightly bobbing head as
she slipped into a dazzlingly euphoric state, beyond all analytical reason.
Wyatt could feel, clearly, the susceptible flesh of her silky smooth
vaginal walls as they slipped sheathingly around his long, extended tongue,
the plush lining of her amenable cunny seeming to clasp pulsingly around it
in a tiny milking motion of its own, attempting to pull his slippery organ
deeper and deeper into its sweltering depths.  Her bare heels, swung up
over his crouching back, pressed him down hard, aggressively pushing his
body into the cradle of her open thighs as she lifted her loins up to him.
He felt almost as though he were caught in a fleshy trap, barely able to
breathe, his nosed mashed tight against the tiny, erect button of her sex,
above, his tongue, below, savoring the cinnamon-pepper flavor of the
flowing juices of her liquid lust.  God!  It was inciting his penis to a
throbbing hardness he didn't believe was possible.  Never had he been able
to hold himself back this long before as he brought his beloved almost to
the peak of climax before shoving the steely-hardness of his cock in her
and bringing them both to the ecstatic, soaring heights of sexual release.
He had to get it in her pretty damned soon or he would explode all over the
place.

   Natalie's nubile body was lost, consumed in the blissful fires that
raged, sensually, in her.  Every rippling muscle of her ripened body tensed
as she strained her curving hips upward, pushing up toward the anarchic
excitation of the maddening probe at the junction of her thighs.  It was
magnificent!  It was beautiful beyond her imagination; first the feather
... now his licking tongue brought her pleasure from out of this world. 
Her updrawn legs scissored, opened and closed around the tormenting head
licking gluttonously at her flaming cunny.  The cords of her neck stood
out, strainingly, as she pulled with superhuman strength against the back
of his head.

   "Ooooh!  Oooohhhhh!  Aaaggggggh!" Natalie groaned in ecstasy of
beginning release, as she realized that the supreme orgasm would come to
her with the licking of her cunny only, and she splayed her legs wider and
ground her pelvis up into Wyatt's handsome face to give him greater access
to her cunny that roared with the blasphemously immaculate flames of
infernally glorious hell.  "Go on!  Don't stop!  Oh, God ...  don't stop
licking me!  Lick me!  Lick my pussy!"

   There came a thunderous roaring in her ears and Natalie was one with the
fluffy purity of the clouds overhead, the birds that flitted and twittered
there; her home was the blue sky ...  and she was in it and of it, the
rapture of space and of the deeps in one ...  one soaring climax that
described a parabola of the infinite and the finite and she wanted it to go
on and on forever.  She screamed with the sweet, intolerable delight of her
celestial transport, luxuriating in the ceaselessly billowing surges of
vertiginous delectation sweeping her into rarified realms.  When it was
over she lay gasping for breath, her eyes glazed, her body jerking
convulsively as wave after soothing wave of welcome well-being and relief
flooded through her.  Gradually, her senses returned and she was still on
the floor, lying on their drenched rug, the same filtered sunlight
splashing upon them in ever-changing patterns of light and shadow.

   To Natalie's surprise and dismay, Wyatt suddenly stepped back.  "I must
say, you have failed me once more," he said disapprovingly.  "You need a
little help in order to obey." Bending, he pushed her hands behind her back
and swiftly lashed her wrists together with a length of cord he had
apparently cleverly concealed somewhere nearby.  Natalie stayed obediently
still as he bound her tight, waiting for the exuberant tickling to begin,
but this time Wyatt lifted her gallantly in his strong arms, whisking her
effortlessly over to the sofa.  His chivalric gallantry ended abruptly,
however, when with a great heave of his long biceps he threw her bodily
over the back of the sofa.  Natalie swayed in her recurvate position,
wide-eyed as Wyatt stripped off his slacks quickly, exposing the swelling
rod of his imposing cock.  She bit her lip as her well-hung lover, his
emerald eyes blazing with incandescent lust, drew his thickly curving penis
down the creamy handfuls of her buttocks, coming tauntingly close to the
auburn-fringed portals to her shapely body.  The pink-brown buds of her
erect nipples tingled delightfully in wanton anticipation.  She loved
seeing how intensely aroused Wyatt was.  He'd gotten that excruciatingly
excited from tickling and pleasuring her alone ~~ or maybe he'd been turned
on all afternoon.  Suddenly she wondered what he'd said when he'd bought
those flowers.  Did he tell the shop girl that he was going to take them
home and tickle his wife until she came?

   That naughty idea made Natalie smile wickedly, but then she had to stop
thinking like that as Wyatt reintroduced the soft feathers to her quivering
body even as he nuzzled the bulbous glans into her puffy labia.  Breathing
deep, she parted her sleek thighs and could smell the wet musk of her
cloying excitement.  He whisked the downy quills along the flow of her ribs
as her nubile body twisted and turned, collapsing against the sofa, fully
overwhelmed by the ebullient sensations.  She screamed her joy as he
entered her swiftly, penetrating her to the very core of my being in a
shockingly smooth thrust into the depths of her shameless pussy that
seemingly ripped her very soul away.  The intensive pressuring sensations
of impalement exploded through her young loins and she grunted out her
choking gasp.

   "Oh ...  Oh God!" Natalie cried, her wide eyes goggling unseeingly as
her wildly panting lover began to excitedly fuck with rhythmic lunges up
into her slavishly kneeling body from behind with a searing urgency.  Oh,
they both needed it!  Hands still secured tight behind her narrow back, she
gasped with each thrust that his surprisingly narrow hips pounded into the
glossy petals of the open pink flower of her welcoming womanhood dripping
with her eager lubrication.  Natalie not only gasped at the ferocity, the
urgency, of Wyatt's lovemaking but also his astonishing inventiveness.  One
hand gripped her curved hips possessively as he lunged again and again
between her parted thighs while the other wielded the bouquet with a
maestros flair, sweeping the rich swath of satiny feathers over her high
pale breasts, swaying stiff-nippled beneath her.  He pampered those
resilient mounds as thoroughly as his lower torso pumped his swelling cock
instinctively, mindlessly into her.  The original driving assault should
have torn her asunder ...  yet it seemed somehow that the feathery
massaging of her libidinous flesh made her ready for him deep within.

   Impotently struggling to free her fettered hands, Natalie writhed over
the narrow couch, naked and sweaty while Wyatt deliciously both
cock-impaled and feather-caressed her.  Her dewy mouth opened wide,
unthinkingly imitating her stretched netherlips, and her eyes rolled back
in my head.  My glossy hair, tousled and fragrant, spilled over my bare
shoulders and across the sofa's cushions into which she sank.  She felt
unbelievably full of her husband's demanding love.  Her clitoris, swollen
against the sliding rod of engorged masculinity, pulsed insistently as
those quills swept over the soft hemispheres of her jiggling breasts,
tweaking their sensitive pink peaks and tantalizing the crinkled buds as
well as any worshipful mouth.  Her tongue twitched between the wet
concavity of her flushed cheeks, inundated in this dazzling lovemaking.

   Yet Natalie was as powerless as any dumb beast.  Before meeting Wyatt,
she had prided herself on pleasuring my partner, on rewarding his masculine
passions as only a girl truly can.  A particularly deep lunge of the
delicious curving dildo tore the half-thought from my reeling mind.  Yet
now, bound, and pinned helplessly to the bed by her sexy husband's urgent
thrusts, she could help neither herself or her beloved.  All she could
offer was her utter submission ...  which he had taught her over the years,
was all the better for both of us.  She was wildly flattered to be the envy
of her man's ravenous appetites, and in that selfless acceptance was her
service to him.  Surely it was amusing her master to fuck a pretty young
wench as he did, to pound her into the bed while the girl screamed out her
helpless delight.  Surely the sight of her writhing nakedness, the
knowledge that she was there for him alone, would pleasure him just as much
as her nimble fingertips and fluttering tongue.

   Natalie could do nothing but submit, and accept ~~ willingly,
deliriously ~~ both the slippery penis they shared between their steamy
loins and the silken feathers he flourished so cunningly over her most
secret hollows and swells.  As Wyatt filled her so demandingly, he
skillfully utilized the feathers that roamed her dewy flesh possessively,
sweeping over her aching breasts, skating over her delicate shoulders and
running down her trembling flanks to her quaking hips and back again.  Her
shimmying hips, energized by the feather's titillating touch, met his
demanding thrusts with the knowledge that each sluicing lunge of that
lusciously big cock of his ~~ and each selfless acceptance into her hungry
depths ~~ sealed them ever tighter.  How it filled her!

   For a moment Natalie could not even remember where she was, so intense
was her carnal pleasure.  But then when she did recall they were in the
livingroom, where occasionally they could hear the old spinster Miss Evans
watching her soap operas, still she was helpless to silence my cries of
delight.  In some corner of her mind still capable of some semblance of
thought she knew that the old biddy could not fail to hear her shameless
cries.  Yet the radiant sensations which welled up from the liquid pit
between my shivering hips were simply overwhelming.  She screamed in
boundless ecstasy, caring not who could hear.  And perhaps, she imagined,
even then Beryl's bony old fingers were swirling through the slippery flesh
of her own pulsing quiet....

   "Arch your hips," Wyatt suddenly instructed.  \ Natalie responded
automatically, pushing back against him.  Now Wyatt had a little space
between her writhing body and the padded arm of the sofa.  She sucked in
her breath, guessing what he was going to do a split-second before he once
again made her most heartfelt wish come true.  As Wyatt continued to hump
into her inflamed cunny from behind, he brought the feather to her
honey-doused pussy.  The fluff of it tickled her blazing clit in the most
delectable manner, wild thrills rippling through her satin-fleshed body
already trembling from the fierce jolts of his plunging cock hammering
rapidly into her.  In lust-filled joy, she ground back hard against his
battering body, feeling the tiny rivulets of moisture dripping down the
backs of her inner-thighs, while the mounting pressure in her
desire-inflamed loins warned of the climatic moment near at hand

   Of a sudden, Natalie spied a mirror on the opposite wall behind the pair
and in the image she could see Wyatt and herself both over the couch, her
handsome husband rutting between her slender highs, his strong hips
pistoning up and down, pumping within the cradle of her sex, her own legs
akimbo and kicking wildly with each squelching plunge.  She whimpered
loudly to the jagged edges of her mounting sensual rapture, gaping at the
mirror to see his engorged penis vanishing up between the soft whiteness of
her own roundly absorbing buttocks.  She caught sight of her own vaginal
flesh wetly clinging to his huge hardness when he pulled out of her, then
disappearing back up inside again with his every thrusting charge and the
downy feathers whirring over the fiery nubbin of her clitoris.  In the
mirror, Wyatt's bubble-bottom bobbed up and down and with each hump into
his wife's honeyed sex, and resultantly the air would whoosh out of her
lungs with a scream, and, not caring if all of Blue Bay heard her, she
cried, deliriously, for her man to fuck her.

   "Oh God ...  fuck me!" she loudly cried ...  her voice a clarion call of
immeasurable joy!

   When Wyatt complied, his staccato thrusts becoming quicker and more
frenzied as they rushed toward impending climax, the fluttering of the
feathers over her clit becoming more intense, a maddening joy filled
Natalie, causing her nostrils to flare erotically wide.  Her whole
curvaceous body quivered in naked ripples from behind, driving her
frantically on.  The two incompatible feelings warred ferociously within
her: the candied joy of the feathers massaging the core of her sensuality
and the ravishing plundering of her jubilant sex by his ramming cock;
sweetness and rawness.  She began to spasm as her body tried to make sense
of the antithetical, chaotic sensations.  And then, when her
passion-suffused mind could do no more processing, she simply came, every
muscle and tendon of her body contracting and jerking as the erotic release
of spasming rapture detonated deep down in her screaming loins, her pursed
labia clenching and opening like an angered fist from behind!
"That's right," Wyatt crooned.  "Come, darling.  You come as hard as you

can."

   And then the feather was gone and his fingers took over, lightly
scratching her inner thighs, tickling, then pressing hard against her
aching clitoris.  Her insanely jerking buttocks waggled momentarily out of
control, and then froze into firmness and she gurgled out a whimpering wail
as her wildly quaking body unleashed and exploded too in the moment she had
been straining toward!  There was nothing but the astonishing bliss of her
orgasm ...  no time, no space, no motion ...  nothing but enthralling
rapture!  Again and again, she was struck by the spasmodic twitching of
every muscle and cord in her pleasure-suffused cunny ...then Wyatt groaned
and shuddered as his engulfed cock pulsed.  He lifted her in his devoted
embrace, pulling her up and off the ground as he exploded and filled her
with his cream squirting deep up into the hidden sanctuary of her eager
belly.

   In that tender moment as Natalie felt him warm and soft along the length
of her, felt her heavy breasts flatten against his strong chest, she
twisted her neck to allow him to cover her blushing cheek and the lobe of
her ear with nibbling kisses.  With his aggressive nature, his impetuous
desires, how delightfully masculine he was at heart!  His tongue tip
traveled lovingly over her blood-warmed flesh.  She doubted he knew how
intimately she took the act, but she prayed silently that the moment never
would end.

   "Happy anniversary, darling," he whispered as he lovingly cradled her in
his arms.  The great curving shaft of his manhood still projected up
beneath his taut stomach, a scepter of authority, its warmed shaft shining
with her wanton lubrication.  His toned flesh seemed to glow with power,
both his natural majesty and that bestowed by his wonderfully erotic organ.

   "Happy anniversary," she signaled back at him.

   There is no traditional guideline that says on your ninth anniversary
you give flowers.  Or if there is, Wyatt must have created it himself.  But
thinking this, Natalie couldn't help but wonder: What might he possibly
have planned for their tenth?








   Thoughts, comments, criticisms, whatever ~~ shadesofextasy@hotmail.com