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Emily, dressed in tight, perfectly white jeans, and a blue blazer over a blouse with buttons opened to reveal just a hint of cleavage, walked quickly out the front door of Optimal Health Bodyworks, where she had just received a massage.
“Fuck,” she said under her breath.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said as she got into her Volkswagen Golf. Her face was blushed with heat, a heat that ran through her body.
Was she crazy? Had she felt something on that massage table? As she drove, blind to the other cars on the road, she felt convicted: there had been a connection between her and Joni, the young therapist, something indescribable, something without tangible evidence, but real, very real, somehow.
It had been in the way Joni’s dark hair had brushed her back when she leaned in to massage her lower back; it had been in the way her fingers seemed to long to go further when she massaged the tender muscles in her legs, the way they’d crept way up along her inner thigh, stopping achingly short of her soft, wet pussy; it had been in the way her fingers almost brushed her nipples, seemed to linger on her pale, freckled breasts.
She wasn’t crazy. She’d felt it.
She pulled suddenly into her gym’s parking lot, surprising even herself. I’ve got to work out, right now. I’ve got to work out hard.
It had always been this way for Emily. When she was stressed, she worked out until her body was heavy and sore and she could finally sleep.
When she was in high school, she masturbated when she was stressed. And she was stressed all the time, and so whole days were lost; she begged her mother to let her stay home, complaining of a sore stomach, and then spent the whole day in bed, her fingers furiously working her clit until it was raw and swollen. On Friday nights, she told her friends she had to study, and then she spent the stolen hours riding her big, black dildo, her sweaty face contorted with gritted pleasure. It had gotten so compulsive that she fell behind at school, and she began to feel she was fading from the face of the earth, forgotten by all the living souls she’d once known. And that caused her to put her whole hand inside her pussy, one finger at a time, chasing that sweet, sweet relief.
One day, her mother had wondered suspiciously where all the bananas kept disappearing to, a look of startled realization crossing her face at her daughter’s furious blushing. The poor girl had gone red with shame, but couldn’t help but think of the way she loved to Betturkey slide them up into her ass as she worked her cunt until her wrist hurt. On that day, Emily decided she needed to take up running.
For the most part, she’d been able to break her habit. Of course, she didn’t tell anyone that she almost always orgasmed when she ran, and that it was a wonderfully different sensation where she was always moments away from climax, but that she stayed into that sort of delicious purgatory, pushing herself to run faster, harder, until finally on the edge of exhaustion, she felt the flooding relief bubble up through her entire body.
She was stressed now. It was her first year teaching high school, and there were constant demands on her mentally, physically, and emotionally. That’s why she’d gone for a massage. But, now she felt even more wound up.
She grabbed her workout clothes and ran up to the front doors of the gym.
She changed quickly, refusing to look at herself, even as she slipped her shapely ass into her tight yoga pants or pulled her sports bra over her hardened nipples, worried that if she caught sight of herself, she might not be able to resist it.
And so she ran, she ran so hard, feeling pleasure rise in her and warm her body, feeling the sweat soak her clothes, drip down her spinal cord, and collect in her crotch.
Running, planks, weights, squats, and then more running.
She was an hour in, out of breath, exhausted, but still not there yet. That’s when she felt the muscles in her lower back give up and pull painfully.
“Fuck.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said, hobbling to the change room, angrily unsatisfied.
In the shower, she permitted herself, finally, to push her fingers down through her thick bush and into her heavy pussy lips. That was all it took.
But, away from the hot water, naked in the change room, she knew that her back was in trouble. It needed immediate attention. She called Optimal Health Bodyworks.
“My name is Emily,” she said, trying to sound calm, “I’ve hurt my back, I was wondering if I could get a massage. I am Joni’s patient.”
The voice on the other end said that Joni had already gone home for the day. “Is this the same Emily who was here today?”
“Yes, that’s me. I’ve hurt my back.”
“I see. I’m sorry, you were her last appointment for the day. We’re actually closing up now. Can I book you in for later this week?”
“Do you do home care?”
“We Betturkey Giriş do, in some cases. There is an extra cost, however.”
“That is fine. Can I call Joni directly?”
The voice on the other end said that she’d set it up and let her know in a half an hour. As Emily hung up, she noticed a woman looking at her, and realized that she was still naked. For the woman’s benefit, or for her own, she dressed slowly, accentuating her movements to tantalize this stranger; it was a strange reflex, she knew. She was a strange woman.
“Fuck,” she said again, walking out to her car, wondering what kind of woman enjoys the feeling of a stranger leering at her while she dressed.
Joni stepped naked from the shower and heard her phone ring. It was work.
“Who is it?” asked Ethan, stepping out of the shower behind her and wrapping his arms around her. She made the universal signal for, “Quiet, I’m on the phone.”
Drying off, he listened to her accept instructions and agree to terms. Hanging up, she said: “I’ve got to go back to work. I’ve got a home visit.”
“Work?” he exclaimed, disappointed. “I thought we’d spend some time here, watching a little Netflix and, you know.”
She laughed: “You’re insatiable. Don’t you remember a few minutes ago? Besides, my mother will be home at some time, and these kind of jobs really help out, if we’re going to be moving out.”
Jerked back to their scene in the shower-the one where they’d fucked face to face, standing, she impaled on his cock, her dark nipples hard in the cold, breathing into each other’s mouths, the water splashing onto their bodies, making their skin slippery, different somehow-he smiled. “Okay, I’ll call you later.”
Emily was in a bathrobe when Joni finally arrived with the table and supplies.
“Thanks so much for this,” said Emily.
“What did you do?”
“I worked out. I think I overdid it a bit. My back was spasming. I think it might have calmed down a bit, but by then, you were already on your way.”
After Joni set up, she invited Emily to get on, between the sheets. She was about to offer her some privacy, but Emily shucked the bathrobe, dropping it to the floor, again enjoying the gaze of another across her body.
The massage began, but it never really did. Joni sensed the invitation and let her fingers loose. Where before, she’d held back, she extended her strokes to the very base of the spinal cord, pushing her fingers between the other Betturkey Güncel Giriş girl’s soft ass cheeks, circling an oily thumb over her asshole before gently pressing it inside her; when massaging her legs, she didn’t stop short: instead she spread Emily’s legs wider than before and repeatedly brushed her thick bush with increasing force; after turning her over, she caressed those excited nipples with recklessness.
All the while, Emily moaned: “Oh yes, that’s the exact right spot.” Or cooed innocently, “Wow, I didn’t even know I had muscles there.” Emily felt, for the first time in a long time, the only true stress reliever: human contact. How she’d longed for it. How she suddenly realized everything she’d always been chasing could only be hinted at with a dildo or a vibrator. She wanted to be touched by hot, longing fingers, seen by wide eyes.
When the massage was over, Emily sat up. “I feel so much better.” Then, spreading her legs, she pulled Joni between them and kissed her. “Can I offer you a glass of wine?”
“I’d love that.”
Joni watched Emily stretch to the top shelf for the wine glasses and strain against the cork, and Emily relished every moment of it.
They sat at the kitchen table, drinking wine, talking about their lives, Emily naked and Joni watching. “Now,” said Emily, coming around the table at last. “Let’s get you out of these scrubs.”
Before long, they were on the rug, Joni on Emily, pussy to pussy, moving their clits together, moaning.
“Let me taste you,” whispered Joni, turning around pushing her pussy against Emily’s mouth as she bent down to taste what lived beneath her thick bush. She pushed her tongue down hard, causing Emily to gasp and quiver. In response, Joni reached back and pushed Emily’s head back against her pussy. For a long time, they moved in synch, machine-like, in a silence that allowed them to float away from the rug, the apartment, themselves, the world altogether. They were connected, mouth to pussy, in a kind of closed circuit. And then, all at once, like a balloon that gets too high, they both popped and collapsed on the rug in a weak-kneed ecstasy.
“Let’s keep going,” said Joni, after a few moments.
“Let’s,” said Emily, turned and smiling.
“I want to eat your ass.”
Obliging, Emily got onto her knees and elbows, thrusting her ass into the air. “My back seems much, much better,” she giggled.
Joni dove in, tasting the girl, finding with her tongue that mysterious portal to the soul, that little strange button of vulnerability and power. Joni licked her, probed her, poked her, and caressed her while Emily plunged her fingers between her legs, driving her clit onto another shattering orgasm.
“Now, let me do you,” Emily said, switching positions.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32