Paris Bound

She hated being tickled. Hated it. A sad feeling had rolled around her stomach when she realized he was touching her with a feather. They were lovers but he might not know she hated being tickled. Their physical knowledge of each other was stolen in dribs and drabs at random and too soon over meetings. Stolen knowledge lead to chains and plucked out livers. That thought added to her sadness.

As he continued the sadness faded. She did not feel like she was being tickled.

She lost herself for a time trying to decide what it did feel like. The touch itself was vanishingly soft and contained yet she seem to feel throughout her body. Her arousal, which had waned while she was being positioned on the bed, roared back to life. Her lower belly cramped and she could almost imagine she felt her sex pulsing. She pulled her mind away from analysis and re-focused on feeling.

Trying to feel led her to think about trying to feel and how it distracted her from feeling. She need to feel without feeling, which was all very Zen and struck her as funny. If Zen was taught with a feather, tied naked on a bed, she might have to consider changing churches. Paul had to be struck blind, her epiphany came from the tip of a feather. Was there a sermon there? Okay, now that was funny. She was sprawled nude in her lover's hotel room wondering about sermons. She started to giggle but bit it off. If she got started she'd never be able to stop. She hid the truncated giggle in a feather-induced shiver.

Finished tracing her lips, the right side of them anyway the feather hesitated. She thought of it as "the feather" now, as if it was a living entity, not a dead thing wielded by her lover. The feather hesitated as it ponder its next move.

It drew the lines of her neck muscle, including the little V where it split near her collarbone. Soft staccato dabs adding shading. It moved from her neck to shoulder across the top of her collarbone and returned to mid-chest along the underside. It was the dip into the hollow of her neck that caused the shiver. The feather stopped for a moment and she could sense its concern. She continue her slow breathing and soon the feather began to draw her body once more.

The feather drew a steady line down the right side of her sternum, angling to complete one side of the triangle of bone at its tip. The feather moved up slightly and began to move toward her side, following the bottom of her rib cage. She tensed, expecting her breast to be touched but the feather tilted, avoiding her breast and the hard knot of her nipple. It finished the line were her ribs meet the mattress. It worked its way up her side drawing rib after rib. This was as close to tickling as it had been. At her armpit her ribs lay hidden under the tail of her breast and she tensed. The feather hesitated then began to move in a semicircle inscribing the lower border of her breast. It moved in such a way as to avoid touching the breast itself. For the first time she felt real frustration. As if reading her thoughts the feather began to dance along the side of her breast, completing the shadowing before moving to her aureola.

When the feather touched she nearly pulled free. Her muscles bunched and the feather stopped. She relaxed and the feather completed its maddening circle. Her nipples screamed to be touched or let loose, anything but this continued aching. They were not.

The feather drew a quick line from her chest to pubis, stopping only to circle her belly button and dip into its shadow. That was almost as frustrating as the aureola. The line across her pubis, feather trailing across skin still sensitive from being shaved, was worse. Quickly filling in the few shadows of her belly the feather hit a spot that caused her stomach muscles to contract and the ache deep in her belly grew.

Her lover's weight left the bed and she started to raise her head but settled it back before he spoke. She heard him move to the opposite side of the bed. The feather touched the inside of her left arm and the whole process began again with the added spice of anticipation.

The feather completed its drawing of the left side of her torso and paused. Her breathing paused with it. This pause was longer and she again considered opening her eyes. Reading her mind the feather touched. It swirled around her right nipple and then brushed across it.

For the first time she wished she were actually tied. It would have been a relief to strain against her cords without actually pulling them free. Her body roared. For a moment she thought she had had an orgasm. As she drew in a breath the feather did its dance around her left nipple. As if knowing one more touch would tip her over the edge it lifted free of her skin.

She felt the mattress shift as he repositioned himself on the bed, not touching her, allowing her desire to seep back into her bones, still trapped, still tied.

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He jerked the feather away from her nipple as much to hide the way his hand was shaking as to keep her from cumming. Her body pulsed with passion. There wasn't a New Age bone in his body but he swore that out of the corner of his eye he could see waves of purple and red ripple across her body. The broke around her nipples and belly button, tattooing his lover's body with refraction patterns that coalesced just below the patch of hair that guarded her clit. If he turned to look they disappeared.

He need a break or he would cum watching her. He deliberately slowed his breathing as her body slowly relaxed back into the bed. She had barely budged the bra and robe sashes that held her to the bed. He was impressed at her control.

When he was sure his hand was steady he shifted toward her feet. He gazed at her strong legs before rising and moving once more around the bed. He sat on the corner near her right foot.

For the first time since they had started she spoke.

"Not my feet, please. Not the bottoms anyway."

He answered by kissing the top of her foot. He used the side of the feather this time. He drew it from the tips of her toes to the ankle, careful not to touch the bottom. He worked his way up the outside of her leg, working in broad impressionistic strokes, not the fine detail work he had used for her face and arms and torso. He spent a little more time around the knee, before reaching across and repeating the process for the leg leg.

He turned and knelt beside her leg, careful not to touch her with his body. Starting at the crest of her hip he began to draw once more. He worked to the crease that joined her leg to her sex but touched only her leg. He struggled to avoid staring at her pussy. Her juices ran down the swollen lips. The sheet was wet under her. It was a glorious sight but one he could lose himself in. His one concession was to lean close over her thigh, eyes closed and inhale, deeply and loud enough for her to hear. If he could bottle that scent he'd be a rich man. The world would pay him to keep it secret, lest all commerce grind to a halt in an orgy of fucking. He sniffed again and though he heard her groan deep in her throat. Enough.

He climbed off the bed and stooped over the bag, retrieved the items he was looking for and laid them on the bed. He opened the top of drawstring bag, squeezed the plastic wrap packet in his hand and dropped it in. He added the final items and pulled the drawstring closed. He walked around the end of the bed, carrying the bag in one hand. He stopped at the desk and picked up the ice bucket, setting in on the bedside table.

Kneeling beside her left leg he finished quickly sketched her left thigh. He had planned to roll her over and repeat the process on her back but he no longer believed he had the stamina. Only one area left. Her cunt. Or her sex. Or her pussy. Whatever one elected to call it that was where the feather alighted next. He started on the outside and worked his way inward. Heavier strokes in the dark shadowed junction of her thighs and lower, where her butt flattened out. He let the feather grow wet and heavy in order to delve beyond the surface. He finished with a few quick strokes around her clitoris, watching her belly and stopping when he saw the muscles tense. He ran the now wet feather up and down her cleft a half dozen times waiting for her breathing to slow.

When it did he lay along her side, not touching her. He lowered his face to hers. She kept her eyes closed. He inhaled. It was hard to smell himself on the red scarf. He sniffed so that she would know how close he was. When he was sure he had her attention he held the wet feather between their faces and inhaled deeply as his lover did the same.

He was growing too impatient to linger. He lay the feather beside her head and turned to the table. He picked up the drawstring bag and felt it. He nodded to himself and set it down on the bed. He took the lid off the ice bucket and used the tongs to pick up a piece of ice. He did not want his hands to be cold when he touched her. He put the piece of ice in his mouth and began to move it around with his tongue. He pulled the bag closer and reached inside. The chemical foot warmers had worked as advertised. The inside to the bag was warm but not too warm, as was the small puffs of ermine fur that nestled in the bag. He felt the fur with his fingers to ensure it was nice and warm.

By now the ice in his mouth was almost gone. He crunched the last of it between his teeth. He leaned over her and as simultaneous as possible pressed the warm fur to her right nipple while taking the left into his ice cold mouth.

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She gasped. Her brain fizzled as it tried to process the opposing signals racing through her body. Even her breasts were confused. At the touch of his chilled tongue her nipple contracted then relax as if feeling the warmth of the fur. He caught her nipple between his tongue and lip and tugged, released and tugged again. His fingers pinched the warm fur around the other nipple, mimicking his mouth. Her groan was more a vibration than a sound.

He released her nipples and she felt him sit up. She heard soft rustling, then the clanky sound she knew now had to be ice tongs. She heard ice crunching between teeth. The crunching grew louder as he leaned across her body. She almost moaned when the wet head of his erection poked into her left side near her armpit. Then his chilled lips touched the inside of her right wrist. At the same time the warm fur began to move along the inside of her left arm. Her brain cross-circuited again. Which side was hot and which side of her body was cold?

His mouth made its way to the bend of her elbow where it lingered, nibbling and licking until her body had burned away the chill of his mouth. He left her and she heard ice clinking. She braced herself, expecting he would move on to her upper arms. He did not. He started at her wrists once more, cold mouth on the left this time.

So it went. A few minutes of kisses and caresses until mouth warmed and fur cool. A pause and then it began again on opposite sides. Once he left her arms his erection no longer prodded her body as he leaned to kiss her right side. She almost inched toward him but resisted. The feel of his chilled mouth nibbling at her left armpit was far more arousing than she would have imagined. She tried to recall if anyone had ever kissed her there and congratulated herself for having shaved.

He did not touch her neck which left her feeling strangely bereft. He did his trick to her belly. She wonder where he would go next and gasped when his cold tongue surprised her when it dipped into her navel. He flicked his tongue in and out and sucked her into his mouth. She could see him doing that just a little lower. She wanted him to do it a little lower but guessed that he would not. That was the one act she had forbidden. The one thing she had always wanted to keep pure for her husband. Her love for her husband was complete, despite her present actions. He had been the first man to kiss her there; she wanted him to be the only man to kiss her there.

He moved to her feet and worked his way up. The fur was no longer as warm or else she had grown use to it. He seem to move more quickly, slowing only as he reached her upper thighs. Her mouth opened and closed as time and again she started to say "go ahead, please go ahead" before forcing the words back into her mouth.

He kissed her and caressed her as close as he could without breaking her rule. His lips worked their chilly way up first one side and the other, so close she felt the small patch of her pubic hair catch in his whiskers but beyond the line of the outer edge of her pussy lips he did not stray.

The bed shifted as he sat up. The familiar sound of the ice and rustling back settled over her. She wondered what was next. Unless he broke her rule, and she wondered if that would anger her. Was he done? The idea that he might have finished disappointed her and that disappointment surprised her.

His erection pressed into her and his belly brushed against her left breast as he leaned over her. She felt the warmth and softness of the fur along side the left side of her neck just before his lips found her right ear. He didn't linger but shifted quickly and began to kiss her left ear while his mouth was still chilled.

He left her too soon. This time her groan was as much frustration as lust. She heard the damn ice clattering in the bucket as he lifted it. She was considering pulling the scarf from her face when the bed gave a lurch.

He sat astraddle her. His erection slipped between her breasts. Both cheeks were cupped in warm soft fur. His mouth found hers. His tongue parted her lips, a trickle of icy water following it.

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He rocked forward as she sucked at his tongue. He was bent into an uncomfortable position. He wanted to kiss her and he wanted his cock between her breasts but he couldn't do both. He slid lower, never breaking the kiss. Lips never leaving her skin he work his way down her cheek, then to her neck. He kiss and tongued the hollow of her throat before working his way back up the left side of her neck, ending once more at her lips.

He sat back on his heels, breathing hard. Her face was flushed and her lips looked swollen from his kisses. He still had the two puff balls of fur in his hands. He drew them up and over her shoulders, bring them together and then down her cleavage. He circled under each breasts and as lightly as he could brought them up the sides of her breast and began to make tighter and tighter circles, very so slowly working his way toward her nipples.

He could feel her stomach muscles clenching underneath his butt. He leaned forward as much as he could without toppling on top her and rub his erection in small circles on her belly. She tensed as the fur finally touched her nipples. He brushed softer and softer circles around the crinkled nubs. She left her breath out in a gasp when he lifted them away.

He paused, letting her relax a moment and considering how to proceed. He was unsure if he should have her roll over. It seemed a lot of trouble. He loved her ass but he loved her breasts as well. It occurred to him that though he often thought of her "cunt" he never thought of her breasts as "tits". Strange but at the moment not relevant.

He rested his hands, along with the fur balls, against her upper chest and lowered his mouth to her left breast. He kissed from the tail, around and under, pushing her breast up with his face. He kissed along her cleavage. He stopped for a moment when he realized he was tasting himself on her skin. He mentally shrugged and resume the kissing and licking. He imitated the path of the fur and circled his way back to her nipple. His mouth was not chilled this time but it did not seem to matter. He circled and nip and tugged as hard as he dared. Her belly flexed but as far as he could tell her hands and feet never moved.

He moved to her right and began again, ending once more at her nipple, stopping only when she seemed to hold her breath a little too long. He wasn't sure she could cum by just having her nipples played with but he did want to take the chance. While her breathing steady he licked up and down her cleavage.

Not sure if it was a good idea or not but beyond caring, he scooted up her body. His cock was dripping now and slid along her belly with ease. Sitting back on his knees, he pushed his erection into her cleavage, surprised at how warm it felt. Between his licking and the pre-cum leaking from his cock, it was also quite wet. He moved his hips back and forth, sliding slowly between her breasts. He interpreted the tensing of her body as a excitement not anger. He pressed his hands against the sides of her breasts increasing the pressure on his cock. He cautioned himself to be careful. He didn't want to cum yet, any more than he wanted her to. But it felt fabulous. Maybe he should let go. They could rest and resume later. No, not yet.

Feeling bold, he pushed forward. His thighs bumping against her breast. His erection touched her chin. Fearful and hopeful at the same time he held motionless. He had almost decided he had gone too far when she lifted her head slightly. Her lips found him and her tongue darted around the head of his cock. It was his turn to moan.

She strained and he pushed forward, eager to feel more of her mouth on him. He pushed himself forward a few times and realized if he did not stop, and now, it would be over. Marshalling what little self control he had he pulled himself free and slid back down her belly. His mouth found hers. She apparently felt the need to slow up as keenly as he did. Their kisses were soft and sweet.

Feeling more in control he sat up and slid his leg off her, sitting now at her right side.

He kissed her cheek and whispered in her ear.

"I'm going to help you roll onto your tummy now okay?"

She nodded but did not speak. He slipped off the bed and walked to the foot where he pulled the robe sashes from under the mattress. He patted her leg.

"Onto your tummy love."

She did as he asked and he tucked the sashes under the mattress once more. He climbed onto the bed from the foot, kneeling now between her outstretched legs.

She had a lovely ass.

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She clenched her hands and imagined her arms weighted tons, impossible to lift from the bed no matter how much she wanted to grab his hair and force him to keep his mouth on her breasts. She felt every tug of his lips deep in her belly. She clenched first one butt cheek then the other, trying to create some motion, some friction, between her legs, anything to relieve the ache.

She let her breath go when he lifted his mouth from her nipple. He had to be finished now. It was impossible to imagine he was not as desperate as she was. She waited, waited to feel him slide down her belly and slip between her legs. She clawed through her memories, desperate for her body to remember how to accept him. She did not want to miss a single sensation.

Lost in her thoughts she did not notice he was slipping up, not down, her body. When he slipped his erection into her cleavage she wasn't sure how to respond. This was not something she had done before. It didn't bother her but her cleavage was not where she wanted to feel his hardness. He seemed to enjoy it and his enjoyment piqued her interest. At least if he had an orgasm the game would be over and she could use her hands to relieve her ache, not ideal but she would take it.

The pressure off his hands on her breasts, making a tunnel of her cleavage, a tunnel he was slowly fucking, succeed in arousing her. She found herself wishing he'd move closer. She wonder if he was afraid to offer himself to her mouth. If, sitting casually over coffee, her friend Sue inquired, "do you like performing oral sex?" she would have replied, "it's okay". She giggled quietly to herself. Sue was not verbally reticent. Sue would have asked, "do you like giving head?" Either way, sitting over coffee she would have been noncommittal in her answer. Often she would have ranked the act more a duty than a pleasure but there were times when it was most definitely a pleasure.