The Peacock Feather

A Fantasy

I was listening to Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade. While driving to meet friends for a morning tryst. The 3rd movement inspired this tale erotique! Perhaps my mind was on a singular track of anticipated pleasures.

The Peacock Feather.

A gasp as the turquoise and blue feather glides up the soft mound of sweet flesh and a groan as it brushes the rampant nipple.

The lights are low, the peach fuzz below her perfect belly button, merging with the manicured tangle covering the mount of Venus, glows like gold.

Jan is spreadeagled on the dining table. Restrained only by her wantonness, nary a stitch nor thread impedes. Her eyes are closed.

Steve is seated at the head of the table. Jan's hands around his neck drawing him to her shoulder. He nibbles her earlobe and whispers. The blush that starts on Jan's cheeks and spreads like fire to her throat and breasts tells what his words might be.

My mind and heart are driving my hands. The intense desire in my loins are focused on the tips of the feather as it sweeps and crosses the expanse of skin from Jan's voluptuous breasts circles the bellybutton and raises the fine peach fuss with shivers and the exquisite waves of ASMR sweeps from Jan's head to her toes.

As the feather lights on the mons and undecided which way to go, hesitates, the swings to her right groin. Jan clutches Steve's neck as the feather stimulates the sensitive groin crease and travels down the thigh and turns up the inner thigh.

Jan turns her thighs outward inviting the feather. Not heeding this call, my attention jumps to her left groin and mirrors the path on the right. Eliciting a groan and a tremulous sigh.

As I reach the sinew of the left inner thigh, Jan draws her knees up and spreads her thigh. The petals bedewed with desire opens to reveal the bud of joy, slipping from under its demure hood, stands proud and phallic.

I circle and tease the miniature phallus with the feather. With my other hand, I pick up a soft makeup brush and draws its tip across Jan's clitoris. She convulses with pleasure and as I drop the feather and softly touch her on either side of her gaping yoni gently massaging the bulb and roots of her clitoris. The camel hair brush works the head of Jan's clitoris till she is bucking uncontrollably. It takes all my concentration and steady hands to keep the entire clitoris, (head, shaft, bulbs and roots) stimulated.
It took only 30 seconds of this orchestrated stimulation to bring Jan to a whole body orgasm, wave after wave tossing her body as she helplessly surrendered and panted as if she just ran a mile, the breathing slowed as her spent body calmed to a limpness of euphoria and contentment.

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