A big dustup turns into an undeniably erotic encounter for an adventurous couple.

Pink always makes me think of Lia. When I pass a flower shop filled with pink blossoms, I immediately envision my girlfriend’s glossy lips curved into a smile. If a stranger wanders past me in a pink skirt, I flash back to Lia wearing her favorite hue. She’s as vibrant as the color herself, with a bright personality and a perpetually upbeat attitude.

The fact that she’s a painter who is obsessed with the color only enhances the connection for me. Our front door is painted a dark, glossy rose. Lia drives a fuchsia convertible. The polished stones lining our home’s walkway match the pale petals of the garden’s flowers. Lia’s signature color is everywhere.

But one day it was part of a most unusual scene.

I came home earlier than usual one evening and caught my girl, well, pink-handed.

We locked eyes, and she froze, her cheeks flushed like a candy-colored sunset. She was reclined on the sofa with her legs spread wide, having a little one-on-one time with a pink feather duster.

I burst out laughing. Maybe that was a little insensitive. There she was in her altogether, as exposed to me as she possibly could be. But I couldn’t help myself. I was so surprised by what I saw. I’ve arrived home and found Lia baking in the kitchen, naked except for an apron. I’ve spied her topless sunbathing on our tiny balcony, and I’ve even surprised her watching a dirty movie on the TV.

This was different. This was Lia without a stitch of clothes on, a bright pink feather duster in one hand, her breath coming fast, her midnight-black curls spiralling around her heart-shaped face.

“James,” she whispered. What else could she say? I was feeling a little dirty, so I decided to dust?

“What are you doing?” I asked, when she stammered into silence. Although it was obvious, I had to give her a chance to explain herself. Maybe she had a plausible explanation as to why she was using the feathers on her most intimate areas. If she did have an explanation, I wanted to hear it!

“I was… ” she started.

“Dusting yourself,” I interrupted, unable to bite my tongue.

“Here’s the thing… ” She put down the duster. Then she looked around for her clothes. I saw them. She’d apparently been in quite the hurry. Her lacy bra was dangling from the lampshade. The matching panties were on the ottoman. Her floral sundress was a few feet away from where I stood.

“The thing,” I repeated, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. There really was no way for her to come up with an excuse other than the fact that she’d been using a duster to play with her pussy. Her beautiful, perfectly shaved pussy. A pussy I love to play with, to lick and touch and stroke. She sat up straight and nodded as if she was preparing herself to make a bold statement. She sucked in her breath, met my eyes directly and said, “I like being… ”

“Dusted,” I interrupted.

“Tickled!” she said emphatically. That was the Lia I was used to. Bold and forthcoming, never backing down. An unstoppable force of electricity and energy. And yet, I had not known this. I moved to her side of the sofa and sat down right next to her.

“Tickled,” I murmured. “Like… tickled?” I ran my fingertips under her arms. She shivered. I repeated the motion with a little more force. She giggled. I felt my dick twitch.

“Really tickled,” she said emphatically as she handed me the duster. There was a type of trust in this gesture that tugged at me. She was revealing something clearly important to her. At the same time, this was the most unusual occurrence I’d come across in our relationship thus far. Even though it was an ordinary feather duster, the type you can purchase at any five-and-dime, the item was obviously a treasure to Lia. I’d noticed the duster in our bedroom before — although I’d never actually seen Lia dust until today. And hadn’t I found those feathers in the den once or twice?

I took the duster and moved so I could trail the feathers along the bottoms of her feet — first her right, then her left. She held herself entirely still. I ran the soft feathers over her pedicured toes. She trilled like a songbird. As I used the duster on the backs of her knees, I tried to imagine what the sensation felt like. I am not a fan of being tickled. Not that I dissolve into laughter or cry out, but the concept never made my dick hard.

But tickling Lia did make my dick hard. So what did that mean? That while I knew I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the feathers, I was definitely enjoying tickling my gorgeous Lia and witnessing her transformation from bold girlfriend to giggly mess. She became a flailing creature who could not hold still. I dusted her ribs. She squirmed and thrashed. I sat back and waited. She pulled herself together. Then I brought the duster up and over her shaved mound, and she was impossible after that. She jerked about so forcefully, two of the sofa cushions fell to the floor. Her breathing was punctuated by bursts of laughter.

“If you want me to do this,” I said,  “you have to behave.”

She attempted to calm herself. That’s when I touched her pussy. The wetness pooling there let me know how much she appreciated our activity. She was drenched. I couldn’t remember her ever being this turned on during foreplay before. I resumed tickling her with the duster. She reached up and held on to the back of the sofa, gripping the edge tight enough that her knuckles went white.

“How do I know when you’ve had enough?”

“I’ll come,” she said.

“For real?”

She nodded.

I didn’t ask for permission to continue. The fact that she had her legs spread wide like that, the way that her eyes were begging me, let me know that she wanted this. I continued to tickle her with the feathers and my fingers, alternating between the two sensations. I imagined that, for her, being tickled by someone else was quite different from attempting to tickle herself. She was giving herself over to me. She was not only inviting me into her private fantasies, she was putting me in charge. I would not let her down. I could feel her watching my every move with alert interest.

At first, I dusted her harder and tickled her lightly with my fingers. She whimpered. I used the pink feathers on the insides of her thighs while I flicked her swollen clit with my thumb. She bit her lip. I went wild with the duster, running it erratically up and down her taut body, then finishing with a flourish over her pussy. She came like I’d never seen before. Her curls were bouncing this way and that. She cried out my name, her whole body tightening, and then I watched as she relaxed and released.

There was silence for a moment, but the room felt lit with pink.

I finally asked, “How long has this tickling thing been going on?”

“You make it sound like I’ve been cheating on you with the duster,” she said when she could speak once more.

“Well… ”

“I’m not jealous of your hand,” she said. I gave her a sharp look. “I know you jerk off,” she continued. “I do, too. It’s just that I use the duster, and you use your fist. Right?”

She had me there.

“Tell me more,” I said, and I started up again with the pink plaything, running the tips along her torso in a lazy back and forth. “Tell me what you like.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t speak at all while I was tickling her. I figured that out as she twisted and turned on the sofa, panting and laughing, giggling and begging. I stopped once more. When she could speak again, she continued. “This is my favorite fantasy,” she told me. “It’s what I think about whenever I masturbate, and then sometimes I take things a little beyond that… with the duster.”

“Let’s move this to the bedroom then,” I suggested with delight. Lia scampered to her feet and sprinted ahead of me. I wondered what she was doing, but as soon as I arrived in our doorway, I understood. Had I thought I’d noticed this one feather duster in multiple locations around the house? My mistake. Lia owned a whole slew of them. Her collection was on display, dusters in different sizes and colors which she revealed she’d had hidden under the sweaters in her top dresser drawer.

I assessed the situation for a moment. I picked up two dusters — purple and blue — one for each hand. If we were going to do this, we were going to do this right.

“Lie down,” I ordered, “and hold your hands together over your head.”

Lia did what I said. Her eyes were focused intently on the dusters, and her body was a tight line of anticipation. I started slowly and cautiously. I wasn’t sure how this was going to proceed. I ran the dusters along the soles of her feet. She kicked her legs at first, but then settled back down. She seemed to be doing everything she could to stay still. I, on the other hand, decided to do everything I could to make her flail.

I ran the dusters up the insides of her legs. She barked laughter but didn’t move, a look of steely resolve filling her eyes. This was game on. If the goal was to make her laugh, then squirm, then come, I was definitely down with that.

I let one duster brush over her pussy while the other worked her breasts. Her nipples grew fully erect in seconds. She seemed to be swallowing her laughter, although every once in a while, a giggle would escape from between her lips. I decided to use both dusters on her pussy simultaneously. She raised her hips and spread her legs wide apart. I worried for a second that the feathers would grow wet and matted, but then I glanced back at the massive pile of dusters and realized I didn’t have to be concerned. We had plenty of backups.

I tickled her more and more forcefully, taking breaks to gently tease her feet and underarms, before returning with more seriousness to her pussy. When she climaxed again, she came even harder than she had the first time. She was laughing and crying, begging and bucking. I let her ride out her orgasm while I stripped off my clothes. We weren’t done yet. Not by a long shot. But I needed a little relief of my own.

“On your hands and knees,” I insisted. Lia rolled over and assumed the position. I grabbed two fresh dusters — both pink. Then I started to fuck my lady doggy-style. Her pussy was wetter than I could ever remember it being. Tickling had done this to her. I was shocked but elated at the same time. We’d been together for two years, and I’d never known about her kink. Learning this seductive fact definitely turned my arousal on high.

After slamming into her several times, I started up with the dusters once more. I flicked the feathers from the nape of her neck all the way down her spine. She said, “Oh, fuck. Oh my God.” I used one duster on her clit and danced the other over her ass cheeks. Her inner muscles clenched down on my cock powerfully. Now, I was the one to groan and buck. Lia was saying something to me, something under her breath. I could hardly make out the words until she forcefully repeated them.

“It’s your turn.”

She looked over her shoulder at me and winked. My dick throbbed. Did I actually want to be tickled? I couldn’t decide. Even that was something new. I’d gone from never even considering tickling at all, to actually letting myself imagine what it would be like to…

Lia was suddenly climaxing again. Being dick deep inside her, Lia’s orgasm sent me reeling. Her cunt muscles gripped and released my cock at such a rapid pace that I rocketed off inside her in seconds. I was left shaken by the intensity of our mutual release. I pulled out of her pussy and rolled over, staring up at the ceiling with Lia at my side.

“Don’t you want to know?” she whispered. “Aren’t you the slightest bit curious about what it’s like?” She was poised over my body, trailing little kisses from my collarbone down my chest. I was as still as stone. Lia kept kissing me until she had her lips a sliver away from my cock. Then she surprised me by shaking her head and causing her long curls to gently tickle my dick. My eyes snapped opened wide. All of my senses were suddenly on high alert.

“What do you think?” she asked, carefully wrapping a tendril of hair around two fingers, then dragging the curl slowly along my shaft. I’d never felt anything like that. The experience was shattering somehow, as if I were on the edge of a deep chasm of pleasure. I knew I might very well come if she kept touching me like that.

But she didn’t wait to hear my response before jumping into action. She snatched one of the feather dusters. I pushed up on my elbows and said, “Hey, wait… ” and that’s when she ran the duster down my body to my groin. I groaned.

“You’re tough,” she said, “such a tough guy. Worried about a pink feather duster doing you in?” She was taunting me.

“I can handle the duster,” I assured her, although I had my doubts.

“Let’s see.”

I liked where we were headed but steeled myself for the feathers. She kept almost absentmindedly flicking me with that ferocious duster. Yes, it was ferocious. Her lazily delivered but well-practiced tickling was nearly devastating. Never had I been so consumed by something fluffy and pink before. My eyes were focused on those feathers as Lia lifted them up and down. What is she doing now? Not touching me! That was almost worse than when she was touching me. The anticipation — which I had observed within her — was worse than actually being tickled! And “worse” was such a strange way to describe an experience that I now found myself looking forward to with a mixture of trepidation and desire.

“Let’s see who lasts longer without coming. We’ll take turns.”

She was already dusting my dick.

“Stop that! You’re cheating. I wasn’t ready.” But truly, I didn’t really want her to stop. I loved the way those feathers felt. I finally understood the desire to be tickled, and as I got lost in the sensations… she stopped. How could she stop when I was so close to climaxing?

“If you can last for a minute without coming, then you tickle me for a minute. Then I will do you for two minutes — and on and on we go. We’ll see how far we get. Who lasts the longest.”

I nodded excitedly, laced my fingers together over my head and waited for her to proceed. The minx did not start with my cock this time. She used the feathers under my arms. I collapsed in seconds, begging for mercy. She smirked at me as I made room for her and she took my spot on the bed.

“You didn’t last ten seconds,” she said. “I can beat that.”

Wow. That hadn’t gone the way I’d expected at all. I picked up two feather dusters, gave her a determined look, and then went at her with gusto. I tickled her tits and her armpits, the insides of her thighs, the bottoms of her feet. She kept her lips sealed. She shook, but she didn’t fold. I’d forgotten I was up against a pro.

Intent on breaking her, I dropped the feathers and used the tips of my fingers. That got me a response. Every so often, I’d whisk her with the duster, but mostly I concentrated on tickling her with my fingertips. When I reached her ribs, she cried out for me to stop.

I took my position on the mattress, excited to see how far I’d get during the second round.

She didn’t tickle me. Instead, she let the feather dusters hover over various portions of my body — as if she were going to tickle me — but never quite making contact. Wracked by anticipation, I realized at some point that I was holding my breath. My desire to feel the feathers was growing brighter by the second. When she finally — oh, sweet lord, finally — stroked my cock with the dusters, I didn’t just sigh with relief, I came.

My explosion shocked both of us. I released a geyser of semen, destroying one of the dusters and coating my beautiful lady’s laughing face.

“I win!” she cried gleefully. She seemed extremely pleased with herself. Not only had she won our game, she’d transformed me into a tickle fiend and I was already looking forward to more.

I grabbed a pair of dusters and proposed, “Best out of three?”

Lia grinned and stretched out invitingly across the mattress.
I knew at that moment we had only just begun. We had many years ahead of us, filled with love — and laughter.

Check out the Full Gallery