I laugh when the fluffy feather tickles my toes. I wriggle them. It snakes over the sole of my foot. I try to resist the urge to pull my foot away. It’s nice but excruciating. The stiffer feather tickles my other foot. It’s more bearable. Confusing signals are sent to my brain. It’s like the experiment we did in school, where we had to hold one hand under a cold tap and the other under a warm one. I couldn’t decide whether my hands were hot or cold. Right now, I’m unsure if my feet are ticklish. They are and aren’t simultaneously.
They wiggle their way up my shins, over my knees and thighs. They’re lifted and then touch my skin above the waistband of my boxer shorts. I whimper and then suck in a breath. I didn’t expect to want to feel them flutter across my entire body, but I do. I grasp my boxer shorts and go to pull them down. Rory puts his hands over mine, not holding or restraining in any way. I still myself and hold my breath.
“Let me,” he says firmly.
I let my hands drop to my sides. The only movement I make is to lift my hips to make it easier for him to slide my boxer shorts off.
I barely have time to register that I’m naked before the feathers run over my skin again. They whisper up and down my whole body. My heart pounds fiercely, forcing blood and adrenaline through my system. My cock pulses as it becomes hard. I moan and bite my lip as both feathers play across my length.
I have no sense of time. I’m warm and fuzzy. Excited and relaxed. The feathers are lifted and then touch my skin somewhere else. It becomes a guessing game, perhaps even a wishing one, as I long for Rory to use the feathers in more sensitive places. They caress my face, tickle my lips, run down my body, circle my cock, and flutter across my feet, toes, fingers, and palms. I’m floating. I can hardly feel the bed beneath me. There’s nothing but the tantalising touch of the feathers.
My body shudders. My cock jerks. I groan desperately and clutch the sheets. Cum goes everywhere. I scramble to remove the blindfold.
“I’m sorry!”
Rory puts the feathers down, sits beside me, and pulls me into his arms. “What for?”
“Coming. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realise I was that turned on.”
He makes a calming, shushing noise and then kisses my hair. “You don’t need to be sorry. Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes. It was amazing.”
“That’s what matters.”
“Is that normal?”
“Having an orgasm?”
I nod.
“It can be. Everyone reacts differently.” He strokes my hair and jaw. “I’m glad you had fun. I’m glad you were relaxed enough to come.”
I force myself to breathe slowly. “It was wonderful.” I tilt my face up so I can seek out a kiss. “What now?”
“Now, I take care of you.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because you might feel weak and wobbly for a while.”
“Because of the orgasm?”
“And the feather play.”
I realise then how exhausted I feel. I relax into his arms. “I think I get it. Why you and all your housemates are into kink.”
“Oh?”
“It’s freeing. It’s intense. It’s erotic. It’s relaxing. It’s—” I give up.
“It’s all that and more. Do you think you’d want to play again?” Rory asks tentatively.
I sigh heavily. “Oh, yes. If it’s always as amazing as that.”
He chuckles. “I’ll do my best.”
I raise my hand to stroke his chin. “You’re amazing, Rory.”
