As Patty reveled in the inner sensations of warmth and beginning passion at the lewdly locked couples round her, she saw Renault begin to walk slowly around the circle of cushions, coming toward her. He stopped behind her pillow, looking down at her, and as she turned her head to smile up at him she noticed the hard, unmistakable bulge of his erect cock jutting along his right leg. She found herself growing more excited as she stared at his concealed hard-on, and she reached up two exploratory fingers to stroke the prominence lightly. Renault’s eyes lidded and his hand closed over hers, pressing it tightly to his crotch. He said, “Come with me, my dear. I have something I want to show you.”
“This?” she asked coyly, teasing his bloated prick.
“No,” he said. “And yes. Will you come along?”
“Yes, yes, I will.” Patty said. She stood and he took her hand and led her out of the room, down the hallway to another hail which elled off to the right. At the end of that second one was a closed door, and Renault opened it and led her into a dimly lighted bedroom with a huge double bed in its exact center. He closed the door then, turning toward her, his eyes glowing with the heat of his lust.
Patty giggled, stepping forward and touching his cock through his pants again. “Well?" she asked. “What do you have to show me, Rick?”
He grinned obscenely. “Take off your clothes, my dear,” he commanded. “All of them. I want you completely, lusciously nude for my old eyes.”
Patty felt her cuntal muscles begin to contract expectantly. Quickly, she took off her white wool sheath, untying the neck drawstring and pulling it over her head to reveal her smooth white nudity, the dark reddish triangle of her femininity starkly contrasting in the pale light. “There!“ she said. “I didn’t waste any time, did I, Rick?"
Renault licked his lips excitedly. “Lie down on the bed, Patty,” he instructed. “Spread your legs wide so I can see all of your magnificent cunt.”
She did as she was bid, lying on the soft mattress and splaying her beautiful, satiny legs, moving her hips lightly as she watched him walk slowly toward a sliding closet at one wall. He drew back the door, took something from. inside, and then turned and walked to the bed. He stood over her, holding the object in his hand, leering down at her with perverted lust on his aged, wrinkled countenance.
The object was a feather.
A huge, plumed ostrich feather.
The swirling drug-fog in Patty’s brain locked out all thoughts of the complete debasity of what that feather represented. She knew, but refused to admit to herself, what Renault was going to do with it. She watched in lustful fascination as he quickly shed his lounging robe and pants, standing nude over her like some pagan priest above a sacrificial virgin, holding the feather like a heathen dagger, his slender, wrinkled cock jutting out purplishly from his flabby midsection.
“I’m going to tickle your fancy, my dear,” he chuckled croakingly. “Won’t that be nice?”
She squirmed, her cunt on fire now. “Yes!” she moaned. “Oh yes it will be, Rick, it will be!”
“But we must do it slowly,” Renault said in a crooning tone. “Very, very slowly.
“Yes, yes, yes!” Patty’s buttocks were undulating faster and faster on the bed, and her eyes seemed to be riveted almost hypnotically on the gently wavering plume in the old man’s fingers.
Renault waved the feather over the length of her body, not touching her with it, saying soft words in that same strange language he had used at the pot ritual. His eyes glittered with an almost fanatical fire. Then he knelt on the bed beside her and lowered the feather to flutter it at the balls of her feet. Her toes began to twitch and she writhed all the more ecstatically on the bed, her cunt seeming to open and close, open and close, as if it were a starving mouth waiting to be fed the staff of life.
Renault began to move the feather upward, over her ankles and her knees and along her inner thighs. Then he was dusting it lightly along her crotch, along the wet, glistening folds of her gently throbbing pussy until the oscillating phallus of her clit seemed so engorged as to be near bursting.
“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oohhhhh!” Patty wailed in an almost crazed lustfulness.
Renault moved the feather higher, along the flat creaminess of her belly, over one firm, resilient, pink-tipped breast and then over the other, making the nipples as rigid as her bud below. Patty’s hands were clawing at the spread now, and she was grinding her firm, rounded buttocks down on the mattress, her knees drawn up but wide spread, soles of her feet touching and her cunt flowered wide, wide, and flowing her juices in ever-increasing streams down onto the cloth beneath her churning bottom. He continued to brush the feather over her tits, back and forth, again and again, and then he was bringing it back down over her belly, between her legs, teasing and stroking her liquidy furrow until she felt a scream of near madness rise in her throat and burst forth into the stillness of the room;
“Aaaaagggggghhhhh!”
Renault did not stop. Back and forth went the feather, up and down, until Patty thought she would pass out from sheer ecstasy, feeling her cum build inside her like a seething tornado of lubricious, delirious joy. Another few seconds now, another few seconds, and she would be there, she would be cumming, that wonderful beautiful fantastic feather would make her cum… He stopped.
All of a sudden, Renault drew the feather back, holding it high above his head.
Patty’s eyes fluttered open, her hips still wildly rotating. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!“ she pleaded sensuously. “More, more, more, more!”
“No, my dear,” Renault said softly. “Now it’s your turn to give me the same pleasure I have given you."
“But…”
“Hush now,” Renault said authoritatively.
He stretched out beside her, pushing the ostrich feather into her hand. "I know you were almost on the point of climax, and that's why I stopped. We must build my desires, too, so that when I at last fuck you, it will be a coupling of the greatest possible magnitude."
Patty nodded numbly. "All right, Rick, whatever you say."
"There's my girl."
She rolled onto her knees, holding the feather over him as he had done to her. His eyes were fastened on the plume as hers had been, and his tongue flicked out wetly over his puckered lips.
"Shall I start with your feet?" Patty asked.
"Yes," he answered. "But you must ignore my prick and my balls until the very last. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I understand."
"Then-begin!"
Patty began to move the feather slowly, slowly, over the balls of Renault's feet, bringing it up along his legs. His buttocks began to squirm on the bed, just as her firm young ones had, as she swept the feather in a wide path around his pelvis, up along his belly, across his wizened chest. Back down again, pausing at his belly; back up again, around his throat.
"That's it, my dear! That's it, my dear!" he chanted, and thin threads of drool rolled out of the corners of his mouth. His cock stood straight up, quivering with desire, the head lubricated with a wet, glistening seminal film. As she brought the feather down along his sides, Patty could sense her own passion beginning to approach its crest again; there was something infinitely exciting, infinitely debauched, about the use of that great colorful plume on one another's bodies. She stared at his cock, so stiff and blood-purple that it could have been the penis of a young boy instead of that of an older man, and she wanted it inside her pussy, wanted it to reach into the depths of her belly more than she had wanted any cock in her life. But she was under his command, under his spell; she would not have his great member inside her until he deemed it time.