Thomas starts massaging her chest

Beneath the warm cocoon of the towel covering her eyes, Jane surrendered herself to the tender ministrations of Thomas's skilled hands. The gentle kneading of her belly felt like a gentle awakening of her senses, a soothing touch that traversed the boundary between relaxation and subtle excitement. His hands glided effortlessly, leaving a trail of comfort in their wake, each motion drawing her deeper into a state of serene bliss.

As his hands wandered, the soft brush of his touch against the upper curve of her pubic bone ignited a cascade of tingly sensations that radiated through her body. Her breath caught in a fleeting gasp, the intimate touch invoking a flutter of anticipation that she hadn't expected. The electric current of his touch held a quiet promise, a hint of the experiences yet to come.

With a seamless transition, Thomas's hands found their way to her chest, his touch gentle yet purposeful. The initial contact gave way to a steady caress that traversed the expanse between her breasts. A wave of warmth unfurled from within her, like a blossoming flower unfurling its petals to the sun.

Jane felt her heart quicken in rhythm with the dance of his fingers, each delicate stroke a testament to his expertise. His hands moved with the grace of an artist, sculpting the contours of her upper chest and neck. The serenity of the moment seemed to envelop her.

A smile formed on her lips, an involuntary expression of the sheer pleasure she derived from his touch. The symphony of sensations that swirled around her filled her senses with a melody of pure delight. In this sacred space, the boundaries between her body and his touch blurred, allowing her to surrender fully to the experience.

As if in perfect choreography, Thomas's hands embarked on a journey south again. The sensation of his hands being coated with oil created a sensuous prelude, each drop an invitation to a world of intimate exploration.

The tender pressure of his palms on her breasts sent tendrils of pleasure spiraling through her being. Her nipples responded with a delightful tingle, hardening beneath the press of his hands. The rhythm of his massage mirrored the flutter of her heart, a dance that resonated with a melody known only to them.

In this unspoken exchange, Jane felt a veil of vulnerability lift, revealing a landscape of desire that had remained hidden. The contours of her body became a canvas upon which Thomas painted a tapestry of sensations, each stroke, each caress, igniting a symphony of pleasure that echoed through her every nerve.