Archie
I shiver and gasp as something light and soft tickles across my skin. It starts at my clavicle and snakes down my body, skipping over my groin before travelling down one leg to the sole of my foot. I try to jerk my leg because fuck, the soles of my feet are ticklish, but the restraints forbid me from moving much. Hamish tickles my other foot and then goes up that leg. I pout when he misses my groin again. Even without the tickling touch, I'm hard. To be fair, I was already hard before I lay down on the padded mat. Watching the other couples had turned me on in seconds.
I arch my stomach up to what I guess is a feather as Hamish runs it down my body again. This time, there’s a little more pressure behind it, which tickles me more, making a giggle burst out of me. Abruptly, the tickling stops.
Hamish’s hot breath blows over my ear. “Are you ready for more?”
“Yes, Sir.”
His tongue swipes across my earlobe, and then something prickly is drawn over my skin. I writhe as Hamish drags the toy over my nipple. It’s not painful, but it’s definitely uncomfortable, like hundreds of tiny spikes being pulled over my skin. My brain helpfully supplies me with the mental image of a cactus. It fits. I whimper and moan as Hamish carries on working the cactus toy down my body. This time, I’m glad it goes nowhere near my genitals. At least, I think I am.
By the time he takes the toy away, my muscles are aching from all the tensing and relaxing I’ve done over the last few…I don’t know how long. The cactus play seemed to last for hours, but it was probably only minutes.
The next toy is more familiar. I recognise the circular pricks of a Wartenberg pinwheel instantly. The spikes are thicker than the cactus spines and have more weight behind them, which leads to a different type of discomfort. Where the cactus spines were prickly and ticklish, the sharp jabs of the pinwheel are methodical. I know it can't break my skin or actually hurt me, but when I'm bound and blindfolded, the slight pain is all I can concentrate on. Well, that and all the slapping, moaning, and groaning around me. For some reason, this is ten times hotter than anything I've done at a kink club. I'm not sure if that's because there are fewer limits or because Hamish is the one trundling a pinwheel over my body.
“Are you enjoying it?” he asks in a low voice that makes my spine tingle and my balls draw up.
“Yes, Sir. You’re really turning me on.”
He chuckles and nips my skin again. “That’s the idea.”
He runs the pinwheel over the top of my groin not on a truly delicate part but right where my skin begins to get really sensitive. Everything he's doing to me combines to send me into a state of ecstasy. I want to laugh and cry. My skin buzzes. I'm hyperaware of my body and everything Hamish is doing to me. I'm soaring through the sky, ever upwards. Soon I'll be so high I'll be hanging out with the stars. Hamish is everything. My thoughts are only of him, what he’s doing to me, and how he’s making me feel with wheel, teeth, and lips. I’m not sure where I end and his touch begins. I surrender fully to him and the bliss he’s wrapped me in.
“Oh, fuck, Hamish. I think I’m about to come.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell me I’m not allowed, but he doesn’t. He keeps nipping my throat with his teeth as he teases the pinwheel back and forth. Pressure builds up in my balls, and I shudder and groan as my relief spills out of me. The jockstrap traps my cum against my cock, warm at first but slowly cooling. I lie panting, my mind reeling at the fact that Hamish just made me come.
I sob as I sense him leaving me, but seconds later, he lays a blanket over me. Next, he unties me and removes the blindfold. Not that it helps, thanks to my crappy eyesight. Trying to look at Hamish makes me feel sick. Everything far away from me is as clear as the dim lighting lets it be, but he is blurred to the extent I can only see colours. I shut my eyes again and take a couple of breaths.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’m not good without my glasses, especially after I’ve had my eyes closed for a long time.”
He moves, and then he’s slipping my glasses on. He comes back into focus, and everything else in the room ceases to matter. My heart flutters at the way his crow’s feet deepen as he smiles at me.
“Better?” he asks.
“Yes, much, thank you.”
He lies beside me and envelops me in his arms. I cuddle up to him, wrapping my arm around his stomach. God, I love how furry he is. His chest and stomach are a carpet I want to bury my face in. His shoulders and back are hairy too, but nowhere near as thick and dense.
“That was nice,” I whisper, clinging on to him in case he decides this was all a huge mistake.
As far as I’m concerned, it wasn’t. Our play wasn’t long or too involved, but it was so enjoyable.
“I’m glad you liked it.” His voice rumbles from his chest, which vibrates against my cheek. He strokes my hair and back. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
“Sleep if you want. I’m not going anywhere.”
Eight perfect words. I feel safe to close my eyes and drift off in a boat of post-orgasm bliss. The room seems quieter as the beat of Hamish’s heart and the sound of his breathing drown out the other couples. Either that, or we’re all enjoying aftercare at the exact same time, although I doubt that’s the case.
My experience with aftercare in clubs is that it’s generally brief. Long enough to make sure a sub is okay, but not long enough to feel any kind of connection. But as the seconds expand into minutes and then tens of minutes, I realise Hamish isn’t in a rush to get me back on my feet.
I relax my grip on him and stroke his chest. His hair is wiry against my skin. I love the way his body moulds against mine. He’s soft and huggable but also strong.
I’m coming down from the state of bliss I’ve been in. It’s time to stop hanging out with the stars and drop back to reality. For a moment I’m in free fall, hurtling towards the ground. Hamish tightens his grip on me and lifts me up so his mouth is close to my ear.
