Marathon Massage

Avi Love limps through the door, pain carved across her face. Valentina Nappi asks what’s wrong. “Pulled something training for a marathon,” Avi mutters. Valentina guides her to a chair, hands her water. Avi drains it in two long gulps. “I need help,” she says. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” Valentina answers. She slips an arm around Avi’s waist and steers her to the table, easing her onto her feet. Undressing first, Valentina peels every garment away slowly, savoring each inch of skin. When Avi’s bare, she reaches behind Valentina, palms skating down her back with obvious hunger. Valentina’s mouth curves in pleasure; Avi’s eyes close as those hands ease her neck, glide along her shoulders, sweep the tight bands of muscle beneath her shoulder blades. Valentina’s fingers glide to Avi’s ass. “What are you doing?” Avi asks, voice thin. “Everything’s connected,” Valentina reminds her. Avi sighs, a small smile breaking. Valentina pulls back, asks her to roll over. Avi settles on her spine. Hands cup her breasts, thumbs tracing slow circles until nipples pebble. Avi jerks; Valentina hushes her, “You have to loosen up or the pain stays.” Avi yields. Valentina pinches and rolls the hard peaks, watches Avi arch. “Feels good,” Avi admits. Fingertips trail lower, skim the stomach, brush the soft lips between her thighs. Avi tenses again; Valentina presses gently, reminding her to breathe. She parts the folds, finds slick heat, circles the swollen clit, then sinks two fingers deep. Avi gasps, hips rolling. When Valentina curls them, Avi moans, “Fuck, yes. So much better.” She drags Valentina onto the table, kisses her hard, then lowers between her legs, tongue lapping in long, deliberate strokes. Valentina answers with her mouth on Avi’s cunt, sucking, licking, eating until both women shudder. Then Avi climbs over, hips grinding in tight, wet circles, tribbing slow and deep. Wet sounds mix with low cries as they rock harder, faster, until orgasm rips through them. They collapse, slick with sweat. Valentina’s fingers trace the dip of Avi’s spine. “How’s your back?” she asks. Avi exhales a shaky laugh. “Better, but not perfect.” Valentina smiles. “Then you’d better book for next week.”