In a dimly lit room, she lay nude and exposed on a massage table, her heart racing with anticipation. He approached with a wicked glint in his eyes, a feather tickler in his hand. As he ran the soft feather along her sensitive skin, giggles turned to gasps of pleasure. His touch was light yet commanding, sending shivers down her spine. Her body arched towards him unconsciously, craving more. Their eyes locked; desire brewed between them like an unquenchable fire. The feather danced teasingly across her nipples, sending electric shocks through her core. She threw her head back in ecstasy, moaning his name. His free hand roamed lower, teasingly caressing her already drenched folds. The room was filled with the sound of ragged breaths and soft pleading. The tickling turned into laughter.
