Welcome to the hottest, filthiest, sexiest, most depraved, most satisfying and most wonderful night I've enjoyed for fifteen years.
 
But before I tell you about the night in question, it's necessary for me to give you a little back story regarding the lead up to this night.
 
If you're familiar with my stories and articles, then you know that I love sex. I'm obsessed with it. I love everything about it (except the dash for the tissue box immediately after the oh-so-dirty deed has been done). But you will also know that BDSM is certainly not my thing. Pain holds no erotic pleasure for me. Neither does submitting to another's control.
 
Or so I thought.
 
I'm now just beginning to appreciate how erotic and stimulating it is to be completely at the mercy of another - to be his personal sex toy to play with as he wishes. Looking back, I realise now I've been a sex toy for men most of my adult life. At parties I've been stripped, groped, fucked, sodomised, had cocks shoved in my mouth and I've just lapped it up (so to speak). Most of the time I've thoroughly enjoyed it. A few times, less so.
 
But to openly invite a man to take control of my body? Oh no, that had never happened before.
 
It started innocuously enough; these things often do. I was chatting to an on-line friend in Germany. Our chats are always text based - as she learned her English from reading, her written English is fantastic, but her spoken English, to put no too finer point on it, less so.
 
These conversations can often be extremely intense, and are often profoundly sexual in nature. We've spent hours describing our past adventures and our erotic fantasies. I even wrote a fantasy involving her as a story. Oh, the tales I could tell you about Anna! And the tales she could tell you about me.
 
Suffice it to say, we're very close and very open with each other.
 
I can't remember who mentioned it first, but the subject of feathers in sexual play came up. In fact, thinking about it, it must have been her suggestion as I'd never even considered it myself. But I do remember that it was I who suggested we try a little fun there and then. I was only wearing a dressing gown so it would be easy enough to pleasure myself, and it didn't take long for her to expose all the important bits.
 
My only problem was that, unlike her, I didn't have a feather close to hand. Or anywhere in the house that I knew of. But I soon had a solution: a single petal from a particularly large lily.
 
So we both sat back, relaxed and let those implements work their magic on us. I gently stroked the petal over my naked skin, ascertaining which areas were the most sensitive and gave the greatest pleasure. It didn't tickle as such - I've still not worked out why it's impossible to tickle oneself, but it just won't work.
 
But it was pleasurable, just slowly and easily caressing my bare skin as I leisurely described the sensations to Anna, and she did the same for me.
 
I'd imagined the soft, sensitive flesh between my thighs would be very sensitive. It was, but not as much as the skin on the outside of my thighs. It felt heavenly, just stroking myself in this way, knowing that my friend was doing the same hundreds of miles away.
 
As expected, the fleshy lips of my pussy were ultra-sensitive, and the petal was soon limp, coated in my juices that ebbed from my hole.
 
And that was pretty much that. Neither of us orgasmed from that experience, but it awakened something in me that I hadn't realised was there. And the thought was now lodged in my mind: what if someone else was to do this to me? What if I were to place myself under his control, lie there and see what happened?
 
This fantasy did not sink into my subconscious as another unfulfilled dream, but continued to consume me. Eventually I realised that I had to do this, to satisfy my curiosity and my craving for this experience.
 
So, one night after we had gone to bed, I tentatively raised the subject with Current. I made sure I did this after I'd given him a pretty damn good blowjob. I'm quite good at these. God knows, I've had enough practice!
 
But he was suitably relaxed, and I could still taste the lingering flavour of him on my tongue. I told him I wanted to be tied to the bed, that I wanted him to procure a feather from somewhere, and to torment me with it.
 
He didn't say anything for long moments, and I wondered if I'd overstepped that invisible boundary, that this was too extreme for him. But I needn't have worried. Bless him, this is why I love him so much. He would do anything to make me happy. Absolutely anything, I'm sure, and had simply agreed to anything I desired.
 
Though from the way his cock had miraculously come back to life, I could tell that the idea appealed to him as well.
 
We did it a couple of nights later. It wasn't what you would call a classic bondage scenario. There were no leather and iron manacles, no whips, no chains, no paddles or cat-o'-nine-tails (although I do possess that last item - don't ask).
 
Before we did anything, we established a code word: Garibaldi. Okay, I know a variety of biscuit is not the most obvious code word you would think of, but it was memorable. And it had the added advantage of not being confused with anything else. I didn't want him to mistakenly stop, thinking I'd had enough. Or if we’d decided on, say, chocolate finger, who knows where one of his digits might have ended up?
 
He instructed me to go up to the bedroom, get undressed (except for a pair of fuck-me-now heels - he loves me in heels. I think they are his number one kink) and lie on the bed and wait for him.
 
I was nervous. Jesus fuck, was I nervous! But I wanted this. I needed to know if I'd enjoy it, needed the experience. It was quite comforting that, when he came in a few minutes later, he looked as nervous as I felt.
 
I watched him as he removed his own clothing and saw with some satisfaction that his cock was already hard and twitching with excitement. It's difficult to put into words just how good it feels to know that your body can have that effect on a man. Let's face it; I'm no spring chicken but do try to stay in trim for him, and to have that work rewarded by such an overt sexual reaction makes me feel so… sexy. It makes me feel like an object of desire, and there's no greater compliment you can pay a woman than that.
 
He had already prepared four silk ties, and went slowly around the bed securing my wrists and ankles. I did have to tell him to tie them tighter. I was liable to escape if I got really excited.
 
And then he produced the feather. The previous night he'd been out walking the dog for over an hour as he scoured the woods and fields for the perfect specimen.
 
I watched as he toyed with it in his fingers, holding the stem with one hand while running it between the thumb and forefinger of the other.
 
'Absolutely sure?' he asked one last time.
 
I just nodded, not smiling, my trepidation attaining new levels.
 
I felt its soft touch on my stomach first of all, and heard myself emit a squeal of discomfort as I lurched away from it. But his reflexes are good and the tip of that feather followed me. I writhed and shrieked, each piercing sound causing him to hesitate, but quickly continue.
 
It tickled like hell, but I wasn't feeling the sexual arousal that I'd hoped I would. And then I realised what the problem was: I had been watching his every move, my eyes tracking the movement of the feather like radar tracking a missile. I needed this to be even more surreal, to be more of an unfamiliar, alien experience.
 
'Darling,' I said. 'Can you blindfold me? Please?'
 
If he'd touched his cock at that moment I'm sure I would have been instantly showered with hot cum, but he went to the wardrobe and extracted another necktie.
 
I smiled to him reassuringly just before the soft silk covered my eyes and he secured it around my head.
 
'Okay, you can begin again,' I said, settling myself. Without warning, my whole body suddenly rocked as I felt the tip of the feather run from the top of my thigh, all the way down to my ankle where a stilettoed heel protected my foot. It ran back up my other leg, more slowly this time, swirling and cutting little 'S' shapes into my writhing leg as it went. It stopped briefly at my knee, flicking at that curiously sensitive area just above the joint.
 
Through gritted teeth I squealed in torment, my body jerking this way and that as I tried to escape that innocuous-looking weapon of torture.
 
Eventually he moved away, the feather meandering up my thigh, concentrating on that patch of flesh on the outside of the limb. It had given me so much pleasure to stroke that place with the lily petal, but this was torment. True torment. The kind of unendurable attention that you just want to end. I knew that all I had to do was scream the word and this would abruptly cease.
 
But I didn't want it to end.
 
That evil little feather moved over my body, concentrating on all those places where he knew I was most sensitive, my screams no longer affecting him. My body lurched and bucked as the tip moved over every exposed inch: under my armpits, the extra soft undersides of my breasts, my neck, my ears, the soft flesh just over my hips, my sides.
 
A small part of my mind was just thankful that I was wearing the stilettos…
 
And then, with a feeling of dread, I felt him slipping the ankle strap of one shoe aside and eased it from my foot.
 
The feather moved in a frenzied dance over my sole and my screams, which I had tried to muffle, reached an ear-splitting intensity. Make it stop, I said silently to myself. Oh, please make it stop!
 
Mercifully, he soon moved across to the other foot, giving me a few moments to recover, but lingered on that one even longer. I jerked and bucked and writhed, now making no attempt to muffle my screams, shrieking with abandon.
 
I don't know how long this torment went on for. It could have been anything from fifteen minutes to half an hour, but eventually, and with a sense of inevitability, the tip of the feather moved to the insides of my thighs. My instinct was to try to snap my legs shut - to deny access to that most sensitive of areas. But as the feather teased those areas mercilessly, my protection was denied.
 
The tip flicked over my pussy lips as easily as a flame, sending little jolts of pleasure through me.
 
Despite the discomfort and the unfamiliarity of the situation, I found myself becoming aroused. I couldn't help it, and I really didn't want to. This was my night, my pleasure, my kinky fantasy. I allowed my body to react in the way that it desired.
 
There was an orgasm inside me. I could feel it, bubbling away in there somewhere. My pussy ached, my clit throbbed with a desperate intensity. It wouldn't take much to send me over the precipice into sexual nirvana.
 
That came soon enough.
 
As he continued to flick the feather over my torso and breasts, he positioned himself between my legs and I felt his tongue make its first tentative licks at my clit. If the feather hadn't been arousing enough, this instantly raised my state of arousal to a new level. That orgasm, which had boiled away beneath the surface, now began to consume me. I didn't cum straightaway, but knew that I needed to relax as the indescribable pleasure of his tongue on my clit mixed with the torment of the feather.
 
I still bucked and writhed, my body failing to become accustomed to the sensations and my man struggling to keep his tongue on that little button of ecstasy. But he did manage it, his tongue delving inside my hole to lap up some of my juices, before returning to my clit. The orgasm rose within me, and soon I was moaning and writhing for a different reason as my body was enveloped in a cocoon of ecstatic bliss.
 
That had been a pretty incredible experience for me, I thought, as my body began to recover from the orgasm and the torture it had been subjected to. When I had cum, it had been powerful. Really powerful. One of those orgasms that hit you like an express train, leaving you feeling as if you were on the verge, quite literally, of exploding.
 
Current is a true gentleman. He allowed me time to recover properly before thrusting his cock inside me and fucking my pussy hard and fast. There wasn't a lot I could do about it; I was still held fast by my bonds. Thankfully, I wasn't terribly bothered by this. Getting fucked is one of my favourite pastimes!
 
A few weeks later, we repeated this exercise. Again, it had been a big success. This time, instead of licking me to orgasm, he had pleasured me with my favourite vibrator. I had cum screaming in ecstasy as before, my exposed and vulnerable body teased with a new feather. The only downside was that it was difficult for him to wield the feather and work my pussy with the vibrator.
 
Don't get me wrong; it was still an incredible experience, but it could have been slightly better.
 
If only we could have an extra pair of hands…
 
To my genuine astonishment, Current was the first to suggest it. The conversation went something like this:
 
'Why don't we enlist some help,' he said (or something along those lines. I don't remember the exact wording).
 
'What do you mean, help?'
 
'You know, get someone to help us. If I use the feather, and we get someone else to use the vibrator - or vice versa - it'd make it a lot easier.'
 
'Oh no,' I said, as if as a reflex action. 'I just want you.'
 
'I'm not saying he should shag you! I wouldn't be comfortable with that.'
 
'Neither would I.'
 
'But we must be able to find someone willing to do this.'
 
I thought about it for a few moments. The good, loyal wife in me only wanted her husband to be a part of this. But the selfish harlot in me had other ideas and didn't want to pass up on the opportunity.
 
'Okay,' I said, the harlot winning the day. 'Let's do it.'
 
'Wait, what? Really?'
 
'Yes. Just as a one off, to see if it works out. But why not? As long as we can find someone who can do this without expecting to shag me, then what's the problem?'
 
'Should we hire someone?' he asked, clearly trying to get his head around this new, exciting and possibly dangerous concept.
 
'No, we'll look in the small ads first. There's bound to be someone interested.'
 
A few days later I finally managed to get hold of a copy of the local paper. I waded through riveting articles on village fetes, the lollipop person of the year, a threatened school closure, and finally made it to the personal adverts. Nestled within 'escort' ads (I still wonder whether these girls ever actually escort anyone anywhere, or whether it is just sex? Answers on a post card please) were a handful of advertisements from bona fide individuals looking for simple, no-questions-asked, no-commitment sex. I scanned the possibilities. Each ad was carefully worded, finding all kinds of ways to avoid saying "I'm desperate for sex".
 
One stood out. "Barry, 49, looking to have fun with broad-minded straight couple. No Tom Cruise but not Danny De Vito either. Apply…"
 
He didn't sound too bad. Bit of a sense of humour as well. There was an email address as well so, once I'd run the ad past Current, I sent him a message. I explained broadly what we required and I included a photo of me, just so he knew what it was he'd be dealing with. It was entirely possible that the sight of me would put him right off. So it was best to get this out of the way early.
 
After an agonising wait of over six hours I received a response, along with an accompanying photograph. Not bad, I thought. Quite stocky but he had lovely eyes. The eyes are very important. But the main thing was, I could see myself being pleasured by him without worrying.
 
Apparently my fears that the sight of me would make him physically sick were unfounded. In fact, he was quite effusive in his praise, saying that I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Yeah, right. I also believe in the Easter Bunny. But he didn't have a problem with the lack of actual sex that would be involved and would play his part without any expectations.
 
Our stipulations were clear: all three of us were to be completely naked, he was allowed to touch me, he was expected to use a vibrator on me, and was free to masturbate if he so wished, as long as it didn't interfere with my pleasure. As we are a faithful couple (we won't mention my little indiscretion at that hotel in Nottingham in March) there was no chance whatsoever of him having sex with me.
 
So the deed was done. It was really going to happen. There was just one tiny little fly in the ointment: we would be on holiday in Devon on the only night that we could all meet. And that's why our holiday only lasted five days instead of the intended seven.
 
In case you were wondering, the holiday was amazing. We had made a pact that be would go without sex for twelve days leading up to it. We weren't even allowed to masturbate. All so that we would be desperate and gagging for it when we got there. People think I'm mad for insisting upon this. I'm normally desperate after just three days, so to go for nearly a fortnight without experiencing an orgasm is just torture! But it is so worth it when we finally can. The last time we did this, he fucked me with a fervour we haven't enjoyed since we first met ten years ago.
 
We spent a very enjoyable few days eating, fucking, sightseeing, fucking, drinking, fucking, exploring, fucking. The first night, I wore the whole regalia: basque, crotchless lace knickers, lace gloves, suspender belt and stilettos. And to put no too finer point on it, it worked wonders. My arse was a little sore the next morning and my body ached after being bent in two, but it had been a night of amazing passion and lust.
 
Well worth a little discomfort the next day.
 
But as desperate as I was to get royally fucked senseless on holiday, I was even more excited by the prospect of our threesome adventure still to come.
 
After all the waiting, the night finally arrived.
 
I had spent quite some time considering what I might wear when Barry arrived. Jeans and a t-shirt? No, too boring. Super-short skirt and backless top? Too slutty (As if being tied to a bed and sodomised with an orange vibrator wasn't slutty!) Stark naked? I actually considered that for while, but eventually settled on a little white dress and white heels. It was short enough to be interesting, the hem ending around halfway up my thighs, but elegant and pretty enough to give an impression of carefree innocence. Innocence. Me! Well, that was the idea, anyway. I didn't bother with underwear. A bra and knickers would only leave unsightly strap lines, and if he happened to catch a glimpse of something I normally keep covered it didn't really matter. He would be seeing everything very soon anyway.
 
Current answered the door and ushered him through to the living room where I waited nervously. We'd never done anything like this before and whereas I had been quite confident in my youth, I now faced this situation with profound trepidation. Surprisingly, I wasn't too worried about the experience itself. I was more concerned about this first meeting. Would I really measure up to his expectations? Had I sent him a photo that was too flattering, belying my actual mediocre looks? Mediocre in my opinion; I've been told I'm better looking than that, but whenever I look in the mirror all I see are the flaws. I wonder if everyone else feels the same way about themselves? But that's an issue for another time.
 
Barry was led into the living room and I stood to greet him, giving him a customary kiss on the cheek. He stepped back to look at me.
 
'Wow,' he said, and I smiled with embarrassment at the attention. 'You look amazing.'
 
Current sorted out drinks for the three of us and we sat and chatted awkwardly for a while. Apparently, he had hooked up with couples several times before so, compared to us, was an old hand at this kind of thing. But he had an easy manner and was quite personable. From the little sideways glances I was attracting from him, I don't think I was too much of a disappointment.
 
We established the ground rules one last time and I told him what was expected and what was permissible. Barry would be allowed to touch me in pretty much any way he wanted.
 
'You understand what it is we want to do? I'm very ticklish, so one of you will tickle me with a feather while the other one uses a vibrator on me.'
 
'Sounds like a lot of fun,' Barry beamed. 'Have you done this before?'
 
'Only with the two of us. But we thought it might be easier if Current here had a little help. Now, you do appreciate that there's no chance that you can . . . Umm . . .'
 
'Have sex with you?' he offered helpfully.
 
'Precisely.'
 
'That's fine. I mean, I'd love to. But I understand and I'm completely happy with that. Can I rub my cock against your leg?' he asked, which threw me for a moment and I glanced over to Current, who simply shrugged and nodded.
 
'Yes, I guess so,' I replied.
 
'Good,' Barry smiled. 'I have a thing for good legs, and if I may say so, yours are fantastic.'
 
I smiled again, unaccustomed to such overt compliments from strange men. Don't get me wrong, Current compliments me all the time. I'm just not used to other people saying the same things.
 
'Well you can touch them as much as you like,' I said, running the palm of my hand up and down my thigh to illustrate the point. 'I think it's time I went upstairs and got ready.'
 
I quickly finished my drink and went upstairs, leaving the two men alone together for a few minutes. I closed the bedroom door behind me and leaned against it with eyes closed for a few moments. What the fuck am I doing? I asked myself. Suddenly it was hitting me what was about to happen. I was terrified, but exhilarated. To be honest, I had been all day. The throb between my thighs, which had been my constant companion during our twelve days of sexual abstinence prior to the holiday, now seemed to beat like a drum. My pussy ached with desire, driving my fears into the background. My pleasure was the object of this exercise. A stranger would be seeing me naked, would be doing things to me that only my husband had done in the last ten years.
 
I tried to relax, to enjoy this without worry. I'd had sex with plenty of men in the past. And this man wouldn't even be fucking me. But the intimacy of this experience would, in a sense, be even more powerful than if her were to have sex with me. Every time I thought about it, I started to shake. I wouldn't just be naked, but spreadeagled and bound. Completely vulnerable and exposed. And there would be nothing I could do about it.
 
The throbbing continued to grow.
 
I had to be ready for them when they came up so shook my head to banish my fears and quickly removed the dress and shoes. I lay on the bed and waited, lying on my side with one hand propping my head up, the other slowly stroking my thigh. I wanted to give them the most alluring possible view as they entered the room.
 
Eventually I heard two pairs of footsteps on the stairs and the door opened. Two pairs of eyes ogled me; one pair were very familiar, the other pair belonging to a stranger.
 
At that moment something clicked in my head - a vague memory from my youth. Two men entering a room while I was naked and waiting. I had done this before. It wasn't like de ja vu. This had actually happened when I was in my early twenties. I'd pulled it off then and could do it again now.
 
And as soon as I saw the look of hunger in Barry's eyes, I knew I would be all right. He wanted me. He wanted me badly. I didn't know what he was used to, but could tell that, regardless of what I thought of myself, he thought I looked something special.
 
It didn't do anything to calm my racing heart, but I knew I could do this now and felt a smidgeon more relaxed.
 
'Hello boys,' I said. 'I thought you might have changed your minds.'
 
'Not likely,' Barry said as he stared at me.
 
His eyes roamed over my body, his excitement winning the battle with his reserve. I glanced down at myself, just to check that everything was in the right place and my tits hadn't suddenly migrated to my knees, but everything seemed satisfactory.
 
I wondered if he could sense my nervousness. I knew that Current could as he gave me a reassuring smile and half a wink.
 
'Are you two going to get undressed?' I asked, raising an eyebrow. Well, it hardly seemed fair to be the only one naked.
 
They both began to disrobe, shoes being kicked away, socks being yanked off, t-shirts being dragged over heads and jeans pulled down. I knew Current's body intimately, but still enjoyed seeing it revealed like this. He has a good body - not the archetypal six-pack and rippling muscles (I'll leave that for works of fiction) but his stomach is flat, his chest covered in a carpet of manly fur. I dragged my eyes from my husband, on this occasion more interested in what Barry was concealing. As the stranger dragged his boxer shorts down his thighs, it immediately became clear why he felt the need to advertise for sexual gratification. His cock immediately sprang up as soon as it was revealed. It would be unkind to call him tiny. But, even fully erect, he can't have had more than four inches to play with. I really do feel pity for men like this, who have been dealt such a cruel hand in life. I almost felt like reaching out and touching that little cock.
 
But that wasn't part of the deal. Tonight was strictly about my pleasure. He was just the hired help, and I was sure that his hand would be occupied for the next week as he relived tonight's experience.
 
'Time to tie you up,' Current said, and I was suddenly reminded of what was about to happen. I lay back flat on the bed, arms outstretched but my legs together for now. I wanted him to pull them apart as he tied me, to make it feel like I was being forced into this in some way. That made it all the more sensual for me.
 
He went to the wardrobe, but instead of reaching for the collection of silk ties, he bent over and removed a small holdall from the floor of the cabinet. I watched him intently as he withdrew four leather straps. These were custom-made for this task: each shackle had two black leather straps, joined in the middle by a metal link.
 
He attached the first to the bedpost to my right, and took my wrist to secure it in place. He walked around the bed, his cock swinging in the air as he went, and strapped my other wrist. And then he set to work on my ankles, pulling my legs apart and securing those as well until I was properly spread at all four corners, unable to move, unable to defend myself.
 
Barry moved to the end of the bed and peered into my exposed pussy. I didn't know what to feel at this point. It was humiliating to be ogled like this, unable to shield myself. But it was also arousing. This is a kink I've only recognised in the past few years. Being naked and exposed is such a turn on for me. I revel in the attention and shame.
 
Soon I would have a lot to feel ashamed about. And that only served to heighten the experience.
 
'I think she's ready,' Current said, and withdrew a long, slender feather from the bag. And my eyes went wide as I saw him remove a second feather. And a third.
 
Oh my God.
 
It hadn't occurred to me that there would be more than one feather to deal with. Now my heart really began to race. I wasn't ready for this. I'd said to myself that I could mentally defend myself against a single feather. I could withstand being tormented in just one area at a time. But three?
 
I was suddenly aware of my bare breasts rising and falling as my breathing became faster and deeper.
 
Lastly, he removed the vibrator. This was a recent acquisition: a Lelo Soraya. £200.00 of state-of-the-art luxury in female pleasure. It's based on the "rabbit" style of vibrator, with a thick, bulbous finger designed to slide into the vagina, and a smaller finger to nestle against the clitoris.
 
Best £200.00 I ever spent!
 
Current handed it to Barry, along with one of the feathers. 'I think we'll play with her for a bit,' he said, an evil look of lust in his eye. 'You concentrate on her feet and legs; I'll do the rest. I'll start first; you can start teasing the other bits when I say so.'
 
Current isn't normally the strong, commanding type - he's usually happy to let me make decisions - but right now he was in complete control of the room and I felt that strength flow from him like an aura of masculinity.
 
He took a feather in each hand. 'Are you ready?' he asked me.
 
I nodded, somehow unable to speak (for once in my life!)
 
I readied myself, my body going tense as I prepared for the onslaught of torment.
 
'Oh!' he said suddenly, 'I almost forgot.'
 
He reached into the bag one last time and withdrew a strip of black velvet. A blindfold. I had also forgotten that, and raised my head for him to wrap it around and he secured it behind my head.
 
'Now I think we're ready.'
 
I lay there waiting, my chest rising and falling quickly as I took rapid, shallow breaths.
 
The first touch was along my side and I fought the urge to make any sound, but my body went taut as the feather did its work.
 
I jerked my body away violently, the restraints cutting into my wrists and ankles, but the feather followed my feeble attempts to evade it. Then the second feather joined the first, brushing over my breasts.
 
I didn't want to scream. Like a genuine torture victim trying in vain to be strong at the hands of her captor, I kept my teeth tightly clamped together. I chided myself silently as I heard that first, high-pitched whimper escape my lips.
 
As the two feathers worked in unison, probing all those areas that I hate to be touched, I bucked and writhed, twisting my naked body this way and that, wishing for nothing more than for this torment to end. It was intolerable and soon I was shrieking openly at every touch of those accursed feather tips.
 
For an instant it stopped, and I lay there panting with the exertion, allowing my body to relax. But it wasn't to last. I heard his voice.
 
'Your turn. Try the soles of her feet first. She'll like that.'
 
You fucking bastard, I thought, but said nothing as I waited.
 
The contact instantly had me kicking wildly, screaming at the top of my voice. This was unendurable, the feather moving in figure-of-eight patterns over the soles of my feet. And if I thought this couldn't get any worse, I felt a feather in each of my armpits.
 
I was screaming and shrieking and writhing and bucking like a chained mare. Barry's feather roamed languidly up my leg, flicking lightly over the bare skin, keeping in contact all the time. The tip's light touch tickled like nothing had ever tickled me before, leaving an infuriating itch in its wake.
 
My body seemed to be on fire, the torture consuming me in its conflagration. I was screaming in torment, my body wrung taut as it twitched up and down, from side to side. And still it continued.
 
I could make it stop. All I had to do was say the word, and this nightmare would end.
 
But the masochist in me didn't want it to stop. I wanted to be subjected to this. I wanted to have these two men do this awful thing to me.
 
Every time my body seemed to become accustomed to the ministrations of the feathers, one would find a new area of flesh that elicited a fresh reaction from me. That reaction was invariably an intensifying of my screams, and even more violent thrashing of my abused body.
 
I don't know how long this went on for. It could have been fifteen minutes; it could have been an hour. I suspect it was somewhere in the middle.
 
I wasn't sure whether I was pleased or afraid when I heard Current instruct our guest to start using the vibrator on me. He was a stranger. He'd already seen me as exposed as I'd ever been, but a part of me - a small part - felt that he was about to do something so personal, so intimate, that it almost felt like a betrayal to my husband.
 
If I thought that Current was going to be too distracted by the sight of the vibrator entering me, I was mistaken. He continued to flick those gossamer tips over my body. He'd found so many areas that were sensitive - some that I hadn't even realised existed. My sides were so sensitive, as were those little ridges just over my hips, the backs of my arms, the undersides of my breasts, the outsides of my thighs, just above my knees, my neck, my ears…
 
He showed no mercy, seeming to relish every fresh bout of screams. I was so preoccupied with enduring the torment that I'd almost forgotten about the vibrator - until I felt the bulbous tip pressing against my pussy lips.
 
Barry continued to make his feather dance over my thighs as he eased the moulded shaft into me, and I continued to writhe in despair. That thick finger of latex slipped all the way in until the stimulator touched my clit. It wasn't even switched on and my body convulsed as my little button of pleasure was touched.
 
I couldn't concentrate on what was happening between my thighs as I desperately tried to endure the feathers that tormented the rest of my body. Current was walking around me, teasing my body with one feather, then bringing the second into play.
 
So it was a shock when I felt the vibrator begin to whirr into action. Spasms of pleasure immediately erupted from my pussy, mingling with the torment the rest of my body was being subjected to.
 
Those spasms were so intense, so powerful that I wasn't sure at first whether I was orgasming or not. I wasn't, I soon realised, but the feeling was sublime.
 
That was just the start. That beautiful little device was pre-programmed to go through a very specific sequence. It began with a rising pulse, sending shockwaves through my body, mingling with the torment now being directed toward my oh-so-sensitive armpits.
 
I continued to writhe, shrieking and squealing as I was rocked by these sensations that bordered on agony. I remember it sounded like I was giggling like a joyous child, but tears streamed from beneath the blindfold.
 
It's impossible to describe just how it feels to receive this double treatment, this sweet-and-sour/heaven-and-hell experience. Not only did I have no control over what was being done to me, I was also losing control over the way I reacted to it. As the tips of the feathers danced lightly over my skin, it almost became pleasurable and those pulsations from between my thighs grew.
 
The vibrator whirred against my clit, the sequence rising in intensity until it reached an apex and buzzed with a violent intensity, almost sending me over the edge into orgasmic bliss. It would begin again, but from a higher point and take me higher until it thundered away inside me.
 
I continued to buck and twist, shrieking with ecstasy and despair, feeling that orgasm rapidly build, enduring the diabolical attention of the feathers.
 
I didn't know how much of this I could stand. I was so close to my limit. I felt that if these sensations became any more intense either my clit would explode, or my heart would.
 
Normally my orgasms build to a certain point and bubble just beneath the surface for a minute or two before boiling over and flinging me into a chasm of ecstatic joy. But this orgasm just continued to grow. There was no plateau. The orgasm trampled through that imaginary barrier and burst forth.
 
My twitching, gyrating body suddenly found a renewed energy as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure swept over me. It was like an explosion, the shockwave propagating outward through my thighs, my lower legs, my toes, and upward through my torso, my breasts and even into my tear-filled eyes.
 
Those squeals that could have started dogs howling in sympathy suddenly changed in pitch, my voice dropping an octave or two as the two forces now combined to bring me the ultimate in pleasure.
 
From nowhere another orgasm hit me, my entire body going taut, arched in a crescent as the feathers swirled in frenzy over my exposed flesh. And another orgasm. It was impossible to tell if these were separate orgasms hitting me, or just fresh waves of the same one.
 
I was in heaven and hell simultaneously, every inch of my skin suddenly becoming more sensitive to any touch and I screamed for it to stop.
 
But they didn't stop.
 
My clit was so sensitive now that even the faintest breath on it would be too much to withstand. I couldn't take any more. I was sure that another second of this would kill me.
 
'STOP!' I cried. 'PLEASE STOP!'
 
But they continued and yet another orgasm consumed me.
 
I couldn't take it. Why wouldn't they release me?
 
I was almost scared.
 
No more.
 
Please, no more.
 
From somewhere, the functioning part of my mind – the part that hadn't gone insane with pleasure and torment – recalled that there was a code word. That was it. Just say the word and they would stop.
 
And an awful thought crossed my abused mind: what was the code word?
 
I writhed, bucked, twisted and jerked my body, trying to free myself of the shackles, trying to evade the feather tips and shake the vibrator from my pussy.
 
All, of course, to no avail.
 
What was it? What was the word? All I could think of was "juggernaut" for some reason.
 
More pleasure; more pain.
 
Gerry? No. Gallipoli? No, you idiot. Gary? Gary blowy? Shit, what was it? Gary… Gary… Garibaldi!
 
'GARIBALDI!" I bellowed and the feathers instantly left my body. The vibrator took longer to disappear as Barry slowed the device until it ground to a shuddering halt and eased it from inside me.
 
I lay there for long moments, gasping for breath and feeling rivulets of sweat running down my skin.
 
'Blindfold,' I whispered and it was removed. I blinked in the sudden brightness until my eyed adjusted to the light. I glanced around. Barry knelt at the foot of the bed, knees parted and a very stiff four-inch cock twitching between his thighs. To my right was Current, still holding the feathers, looking down on me.
 
'Was that good?' he asked.
 
I just nodded and closed my eyes. 'Release me?'
 
Current unfastened the straps holding my wrists while Barry did the same with my ankles. I finally knew the meaning of the phrase "merciful release" as I was able to draw my legs together at last. Boy, would I ache in the morning.
 
I stayed curled up in a ball for a minute or so, simply relishing having control over my limbs once more. But then I looked round at my husband with a grin as I bit my lip. 'Did you enjoy it?'
 
He smiled indulgently. 'Sure did. But - you owe me one for that.'
 
'I owe you ten for that.' I lay there for a few moments longer, just trying to assimilate what had just happened. I'd played the scenario over in my mind so many times over the previous few weeks, but the reality was so much more intense than I'd envisioned. It would take me a long time to come to terms with this.
 
'How about,' Current said, drawing me back to reality, 'you lay there and we wank over you?'
 
I nodded, but then saw Barry, still kneeling at the foot of the bed.
 
'Barry, you did an amazing job,' I said. 'Don't you think he did?'
 
Current nodded. 'You seemed to enjoy it.'
 
I looked at that little cock, still hard and twitching. 'Do you think I could do him a little favour?'
 
This was our special code. Okay, it's not exactly "Enigma", but Current knew precisely what I meant.
 
'If you want to. Sure. Yeah, of course.'
 
It took him that amount of time to assess the proposition and decide that it'd be okay.
 
'Barry,' I said, 'would you like me to suck you off?'
 
Bless him, his face lit up.
 
'I, umm, well… If you really want to. I mean I don't want to tread on anyone's toes.'
 
'Fine by me,' Current said. 'Just as a one off.'
 
There was a message there in what he said. It was okay for now; just don't get used to sucking other men's cocks. I was more than happy with that. I roused myself, already feeling the inevitable aches in my body. I was really going to suffer tomorrow.
 
I assumed a position, my hands and knees sinking into the soft mattress and gestured with a flick of my head for Barry to stand in front of me.
 
I gave his cock a little perusal first, as I always do when confronted with an unfamiliar shaft to suck. It was quite small, there was no getting around that fact. But for this purpose it was perfect; anything more than a mouthful is a waste, right? And as hard as I've tried over the years, I'm just not a deep throater. After many years of practice I can now stand a cock touching the back of my throat without retching, but that's as far as I can go.
 
There wouldn't be any danger of that with this specimen.
 
I raised a hand and stroked the shaft, watching it twitch in concert with my touch. I flicked my eyes upward to glance at him and gave him a smile before returning my attention to his cock. My thumb and forefinger closed around it at the base of the shaft, squeezing it hard enough for me to feel the pulsing of blood passing through it. It felt gloriously hot as I moved my fingers along it, maintaining the pressure, until they were squashing the swollen head.
 
As I'd hoped, a small blob of pre-cum emerged from the pink slit at its tip, hanging there, just waiting to be licked clean. Extending my tongue I leaned forward, just far enough to flick it over the tip of his cock and wipe away the pearly secretion.
 
I was ready to take him into my mouth. But, there was just one thing missing.
 
'Babe?' I said, flicking my head round to glance at Current. 'Fuck my arse, would you darling?' And for good measure I wiggled my bum for him. I heard a laugh and the sound of a drawer opening and closing again. There be lube in that there drawer!
 
I turned back to Barry's cock, still twitching expectantly in front of me. I knew I could leave Current to prepare my arse for its own fun.
 
I smiled up at Barry again, and then swallowed his cock. It felt so weird. When you've been with a man for ten years, you grow accustomed to his cock. I know Current's very, very well. Thinking about it, I have a more fulfilling relationship with that cock (in every sense of the phrase) than I do with any member of my family. I'm accustomed to its taste, the way it twitches, the way it throbs, the feel of its shaft on my lips, the sounds he makes as I take him into my mouth.
 
This cock was totally new, like only ever having tasted chocolate ice cream, and then being confronted with strawberry.
 
'Mmm,' I said as it slipped from my lips, 'tastes good.' Men like a little reassurance on these things.
 
I didn't so much take him inside my mouth again as devour his cock, snatching at it with my mouth and moving forward until I felt his pubic hair brushing my lips.
 
I couldn't help but emit a muffled moan of pleasure at that moment as Current began to smear liberal amounts of lube around and inside my anus. There is (almost) nothing better than having your mouth filled with one cock while another fucks your arse. Well, for me anyway. The only thing that had ever come close had happened to me ten minutes before.
 
He smoothed lubricant around my sphincter, the super-sensitive area tingling with rapturous expectation as his finger expertly ran around the ring and squeezed inside. My pussy still throbbed from the orgasms I'd so recently experienced, and now my arse began to tingle in a similar way.
 
The fingering didn't last long and he soon removed it. The next thing to enter that hole would be his gorgeous, wonderful, hot, throbbing cock. I braced myself, and tried to concentrate on pleasuring Barry. But it wasn't easy. I love sucking cock. I love everything about it, from the moment it enters my mouth for the first time, to the moment it releases its bullet-like charge of cum down my throat. But selfish pleasure consumes me when I'm having my arse fucked as well.
 
I felt the tip of Current's cock nuzzling at my hole and I began to rock back and forth, working the cock in my mouth like a piston and creating a rhythm that would help my husband edge his own shaft into me from behind.
 
It felt wonderful, indescribably good. My arse was penetrated and stretched. His shaft inched into me a little at a time, sending spasmodic pulses of pleasure through my body.
 
Suck the cock, suck the cock, I kept repeating in my mind. But all I could think of were the sensations passing through my arse. I couldn't possibly orgasm again, could I? I would have a damned good try.
 
I gyrated my hips, working him deeper inside me, feeling so full. With a few more gentle thrusts I felt his pubic hairs brushing my bum cheeks and I was happy. In fact I couldn't be much happier. Who wouldn't be in that position? Well, it might not be everybody's cup of tea, but I loved the feeling of a cock in two of my three available orifices.
 
Current's hands were on my hips, gripping them hard as he rocked back and forth.
 
I pulled Barry's cock from my mouth for a moment and gave it a few brisk pumps with my hand, just long enough to utter seven heartfelt words: 'Fuck my arse, baby. Fuck it hard.'
 
He loves it when I talk dirty. Strangely, I don't like it reciprocated. Filthy language from a man always makes me feel just a little bit cheap, and I have enough trouble not thinking of myself that way as it is.
 
Those words didn't just seem to spur my husband on, but our house guest as well. I felt him beginning to tense and prepared for that eruption from his cock. I sucked a little longer, until the last possible moment, and then let my hand finish the task. I don't have any problem with a man cumming in my mouth; I usually love it, but that treat is reserved for Current.
 
And Barry didn't seem to mind as I heard him begin to grunt as the orgasm overtook him. I wanked his cock hard, pointing the tip straight at my face. It wasn't easy keeping it like that as I was buffeted from behind, that telltale slap-slap-slap of flesh against flesh telling me current was also close.
 
A final grunting whimper heralded Barry's orgasm and I pumped his cock for all I was worth, and was soon rewarded with a jet of cum hitting me in the face. It hit my nose, my cheek, a little making it all the way up to my eyebrows. But mercifully none actually went in my eyes. It felt warm, but instantly cooled as it began to drip down my face.
 
Current's pounding of my arse suddenly became frenetic and I knew I was to be denied a final orgasm of the evening. He banged hard into my cheeks, the sensations I was experiencing deliriously good, but not quite enough to elicit another orgasm.
 
He erupted into me, slapping his pelvis hard against my arse, his balls hitting my thighs. It only lasted a few seconds and sadly I felt him slow until he came to a complete stop, his spent cock shrinking away like ice melting in a fire.
 
When he finally slipped it out of my arse, I instantly felt that creamy liquid begin to seep from my hole, slithering down my cheeks and thighs.
 
A few minutes and half a box of tissues later, we were all back downstairs. The boys were dressed again; I'd just thrown on a dressing gown. We had a final drink, all feeling much more comfortable together. Fierce, animal sex is good at breaking down social barriers. We laughed a little, chatted a lot. None of us seemed to be able to fully assimilate what we had just done. It had been amazing for me. Extraordinary. It was truly the most powerful sexual experience I have had in many years.
 
Later, long after Barry had left, I had picked up my laptop and said goodnight to my friends on X. I'm not sure how much sense I made. I was still too stunned to think straight.
 
That is why I have written this story. Putting it all down on paper (even the virtual paper on a computer) helps to organise the thoughts in my head and make sense of the conflicting emotions I have felt since that night.
 
Did I enjoy it? Of course! Would I do it again? I'm not sure. It was truly mind-blowing, but experiences like that can rarely be repeated. Like your first passionate kiss, the first time you taste Baileys over ice, the first time you fall in love, it was uniquely special. To try and emulate those emotions and sensations would quite probably sour the memory.
 
But I dare say it isn't the last time I see that feather. And now I'm curious: what other erotic delights are out there for us to discover?
 
I will enjoy finding out.