My goodness, her pussy was already moist. She was getting a head start just from her imagination. Good girl. That apparently earned her a feather under her arm, and fingertips playing across her stomach. A yelp of shock was appreciated when fingers attacked where the thigh met the groin, or around the collarbone, or the soles of the feet if the depths of horror were to be explored.
Sometimes the feather traveled excruciatingly slowly, from breast to breast, down to the stomach, and down the cleft where the precious pearl had not yet made her appearance, but was scheduled for the main event.
The whole body was a canvas and the tickler’s hands were brushes and paints to create a masterpiece. There was apparently no rule against kissing, stimulating, licking, or sucking either, because there were apparently no rules at all. There might be bites. There might be clothespins. Or ice cubes. Or a surprise visit from Mr. Vibrator, who likes to linger and then return again and again.
Vocalizations are not only permitted, but encouraged. The house was seemingly well insulated, the windows triple-paned, and neighbors must be far away. Gags were not a favorite. Communication is a vital part of a good relationship, you know. Squeals, gasps, groans, curses, and sweet nothings should all be expressed spontaneously.
KIK: maris2059