"Good morning," she whispered, combing my hair with her fingernails.
My first thought wasn't 'Why is she crouched over me on her hands and knees?' Nor did I even consider 'Why are we both naked and where are the covers?' when I knew that since neither of us had been in the mood when we went to bed, we did in fact fall asleep under the sheet, wearing our usual sleeping attire. No, my first thought was like my first thought every morning: to hug her and kiss my Angel good morning. But I couldn't reach her... my wrists were tied to the brass spindles of the headboard.
"What the hell is..." I started, struggling to break the pantyhose that held me captive.
"Shhh... not another word or I'll have to gag you too!" she giggled, twirling her purple panties over my face. "It's payback time for telling me you had a headache last night!"
"Oh my God," I moaned when I saw the feather duster emerge from under the pillow beside me. "And just what do you think you're going to do with that?" I grinned.
"Torture you."
It wasn't the breeze from the opened window that raised goose bumps on my skin. My entire body is an erogenous zone, and she knew just where to start her journey. She sat down across my thighs and with slow-motion like dabs, the soft feathers grazed across my face, then neck and shoulders, then seemed to dance a waltz across my thumping chest. I shivered when she leaned down and tickled my nipples, alternating one with the other, tongue on one--fingertips on the other. My whole body tensed as if suddenly charged with a gazillion watts of raw electricity; my aroused part rested quickly and easily along the fold of her ass cheeks.
"Don't you even think of having a spontaneous combustion now!" she laughed, apparently feeling my morning dew against her flesh there. "It's Labor Day, and we've got all day for this labor of love!"