Spy Tugs
Spy Tugs Pic(s)
The morning sun cast long, golden fingers through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the still air. A profound sense of anticipation settled over the quiet room, a silent promise of impending comfort. My body felt like a tightly wound spring, every muscle humming with a dull, persistent ache from weeks of relentless stress. Then, your hands arrived, warm and sure, a gentle weight upon my weary shoulders. The initial touch was a whisper, a gradual melting of the tension that held me captive. With practiced, deliberate movements, your palms began to smooth the rigid landscape of my upper back, finding each stubborn knot of strain. Fingers of relief traced along the ridges of my spine, unknotting the tangled threads of fatigue woven deep into my frame. A deep, settling warmth spread outward from your touch, seeping into the cold, clenched places within me. The world outside, with all its noise and haste, simply faded into a distant, irrelevant murmur. In that serene stillness, I felt myself finally, completely unravel into a state of peaceful, weightless bliss.
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