Dick Martin - Virginia_s wet lips

Instead, she felt the soft breath of moving air on her warm flesh as the feather glided above her, displacing the air so that it, and not the feather, caressed her. It started just above her forehead, and she closed her eyes as it flowed smoothly downward, over her face and her throat, over her upper chest and the firm thrust of her tit jugs, over the inviting expanse of her flat stomach and taut abdomen, over the smooth swell of her red beaver, over the sleekness of her upper thighs, over her long slim legs to her feet and then back up over her body. Again, the plume moved over her, this time still lower. She could feel just the lightest, most feathery of touches on her hypersensitive flesh as the very ends of the feather traced over her skin. She felt as if every single filament were finding her nerves, fancying that she could actually feel each one individually. Burt's control of the feather was masterful, always slow and constant, never varying. She could hear the sound of her breath in the utter silence, somehow louder than normal to her ears, and she – could hear the gradual, subtle but unmistakable arousal creeping into it. Still again the feather traveled over her, even lower, and this time it was brushing over her fully. She sucked in a sharp breath as the feather touched her throat, her aching, swollen nipples, her abdomen, her pubes, her thighs.

She grunted as the feather brushed up along the inside of one tautly stretched thigh to the edge of her wet beaver. There he hesitated for the first time but only to lift the gripped edge of the feather till the plume was rising vertically between her legs. He drew it painstakingly slowly upward, and a million gentle, knowing fingers rippled over her swollen pussy-lips and clitoris.

Virginia exhaled sharply, her hips humping upwards just slightly in response to that stimulus. Sensations were exploding through her pussy. She caught sight of her own reflected image in the huge mirror overhead and felt arousal rising through her still higher. She felt like a voyeur, watching some lovely woman being aroused to fever pitch while at the same time having precisely the same caresses lavished upon herself.

Now Burt was adopting a different tack. Only the tip of the plume was touching her, gliding over her like a feathery aircraft, following the contours of her rich body, dipping from time to time to skim the peaks of her tits, the valley of her thighs,the smoldering volcano of lusty passion in her cunt. Within moments, Virginia was groaning, almost sobbing with her excitement. She was writhing or tried to as well as she could within the confines of the bonds securing her feet and hands in place. Her knockers heaved irregularly as she responded to the powerful sensations washing through her ever more thoroughly excited body. He traced the tip of the feather about the swollen nutshell dome of her nipple. Virginia gasped, thrusting the fit upward. She wanted it to be touched, yes, teased, yes but she needed to have it sucked, powerfully, laved and bitten by a man s mouth. As it was, she was being brought to a violin-string tension and without the release she craved so urgently. The plume moved to the other boob, again lightly grazing the hardened, reddish-brown mass of her hypersensitive nipple.

Virginia thought she was going to lose her mind completely. The feather moved upwards. Catlike, she arched her head back, offering the smooth, graceful line of her throat to the feathery touch. Burt wasted no time or enthusiasm in taking her up on the offer. She writhed as the feather tip moved upward over the exact center line of her arched, drawn throat,reacting as if the touch were at her clitoral shaft and not on her neck. She'd never had any idea that she was so sensitive there, though she'd always been quickly aroused by the press of hot male kisses against the hollow at the base of her throat but that had always been merely a stopping off place on the way to the magnificent swells of her creamy jugs.

This time, though, that point at the base of her throat was receiving lavish attention in its own fight and was responding gratefully by sending electric shocks of pleasure through her. When the tip of the feather began to touch just barely touch the soft flesh of her cheeks and follow the lust-tensed line of her jaw up to her shell-like ears, Virginia was sure that she'd been drugged. That could be, she thought, the only possible explanation for the incredibly intense sensations radiating outward from the point of the feather's touch.

The feather moved to the other side, its journey there an exact duplicate of its first, and the knowing of each next move only made her anticipate the more and crave the greater and respond the more intensely. But then, without any other warning, the feathery caress stopped, was taken away from her.

She lay there on the bed, a tensely strung bundleof aroused nerves, all but screaming for continuation and release. Suddenly, she felt the touch of the feather tip on the inside of her left thigh, just above the knee. Slowly, the feather moved upwards, always closer to her cunt.

By the time it reached the crease of her thigh, she was trying to open her legs still farther, thrusting her cunt upward and trying to work her body lower on the bed in a desperate effort to bring the tip of the feather into contact with her pussy and clitoris once again. But she was denied. Without any warning at all, Burt abruptly removed the slowly swinging feather tip from her flesh. Virginia cried out and moaned, a sound of sheer, animal want and frustration.

He was, she decided, a sadist but of a different sort than she'd expected. He intended to torture her by arousing her to the very bunk of orgasm but never giving her the explosive relief of which her body was capable, which she needed. Again the feather tip descended this time to the sensitive flesh of the other thigh."Oh, no," she moaned, "Please, no, no, don't torture me any more!"

But he did. Exactly as before, the slowly writhing tip of the plume danced upwards towards her cunt, this time actually grazing the outer edge of her swollen, sensitive pussy-lips before abruptly being withdrawn, to leave her once more writhing and pleading for the last stimulus she needed for her orgasm.

"Please, please," she whined, barely controlling her sobs."Please touch my cunt, please touch it or lick it or suck. I've got to come!"

Her voice was a shrill shriek of pure, unadulterated lust, the last word leaving her dry lips explosively, reverberating in the darkness surrounding her spotlight star's place on the bed. Evidently, though, as far as Burt was concerned, she wasn't yet ready. He placed the feather on the bed, between her legs, the soft tip of it high up between her soft, convulsively tensing thighs where she could just barely feel its softness against her flesh if she pulled her body down till the bonds of her wrists were restraining her with painful. resistence, and spread her legs still more, until the tics about her ankles were digging into the flesh. She tried to will herself to stretch her lower torso and pelvis, down, down but could never lower quite enough to bring that soft, foreign touch to her clitoris or even her eagerly throbbing pussy-lips.

She heard another smooth ball-bearing sound and tensed, straining to see what he was takingfrom the bed-drawer. With what instrument of pleasure would he torture her next?She soon found out. Burt's hand came into view. He was holding a vibrator in his hand a vibrating dildo.

Virginia's mouth gaped open and her breathing quieted as she studied the dildo. It was cock-shaped and colored, and looked as if it were made of flexible latex but she caught a glimpse of the place in the base of it where it could be opened for the insertion of batteries prior to the insertion of the dildo itself. But it wasn't the sight of the dildo itself that made her gasp.