I wanted to feel brushes on me.
So, invited two friends to stay a weekend, and described what I needed.
We disrobed, kneeling on my futon.
We have seen and explored each other's bodies many times, still,
it is a pleasure to allow a few minutes to appreciate.
They began with normal medium brushes in both hands, either side of me as I sat knees apart,
and one of them suggested I close my eyes as well, as I rested my hands on my ankles behind me.
Slow brush strokes. Across my shoulders, four brushes lightly skipping on my skin.
The same area of my back that hurt so much after injury two days ago.
How strong the sensations and passion becomes, so sudden.
My head tilts back, upper body shudders. I grip my ankles tight as my arms tense.
One of them moves a brush in a low curve down my spine, and around the side of my rib cage toward my navel,
another brush following it then moving up to almost touch the underside of my right breast.
The other strokes one brush from the neck, down my back, her other hand removing the brush from my shoulder
and placing it's tip between my legs, at my most sensitive, and one bold sudden stroke upward to my sternum.
Involuntary response to stimuli. My back arcs and a faint, high pitched whisper.
They keep their brushes on me as I move.
Now I feel brushes quickly flicking along the undersides of my breasts, following toward centre.
I bite my lower lip and they encircle, then cross my nipples.
They back down as two more brushes flick the sides of my rib cage in a similar way,
and then the upper brushes flirt across my nipples again.
I feel them tense, thicken, throb.
The brushes stop.
My anticipation builds in an uneasy pause.
I begin to assimilate all the different sensations on my skin and within me,
allowing myself to relax and breath more naturally.
I gasp with shock, at the cold wet sensation at my throat, and base of my spine between my buttocks.
Before I have time to prepare, what feels like two larger, thicker brushes, stroke very fast,
straight down my front to my sex, and up my back to the base of my skull.
I feel the cold wetness running, and realise they inked the two largest brushes.
Sudden fast strokes of one large brush, across my abdomen, like sword strikes,
not touching skin, but to spatter ink across it.
More, across my breasts. Suddenly, upward from my groin to neck.
Then across my thighs as another across my face.
This continues, in opposing directions from each brush, to confuse my responses to turn one side or the other.
It sends piercing and warm soft sensations deep through me at the same time.
I need to restrain. They both sense this, they know me.
Probably the only people that will ever know my sexual weaknesses and vulnerability.
More at times when we set sensitivity to the maximum possible parameters like this.
The two girls hold my arms down at a 45 degree angle out from my side, along the front of their bodies,
my upper arms held in their cleavage, my hands holding a brush in each, palms resting on their mounds,
the stalk of the brushes low between their lips.
Their hands, brushes in each, continue stroking and slashing.
As though they are cutting me apart, so deep each sudden wave of sensation goes within me.
As we try to absorb each other's tension, the flexing of my arms,
my body's attempts to arc, bend forward, twist to the side,
they push their hips forward, my fingers feeling softness, and realising, wet also.
Maybe it was this, or the increased speed and force of slashing and flickering of brushes,
alternating either sides of my neck, then ribs, thighs, breasts, labia,
Both I think.
Tremors and shudders erupted into convulsion, as I spasm with such force, they could not contain me,
and I arched so fast it felt as though I snapped, breaking structural tissues.
I think I screamed.
We collapsed together, as I fell back on the futon, both of them holding my arms tight in theirs,
still close to their torsos, as they used my spasms as their vibrator..
We lay tangled together, soaking wet, black and red ink splashed all over us and the bed, and across the walls,
like an erotic crime scene.
I do not know how long. I slept better than I could remember in a long time.