Gift Goof

Ameena Green tells her friend she bought a massage table for Anna Claire Clouds. She wants to give Anna the kind of touch her girlfriend usually gives her. Her friend jokes about throwing out her back. Ameena laughs it off and says she will manage, then ends the call to fetch the table herself. By afternoon the table stands set up in the living room, and Ameena moves like every shift of her shoulder costs her. She straightens her face when Anna walks through the door. Anna stops short. “What is this?” Ameena admits the surprise turned into a pulled muscle when the crate proved heavier than any workout at the gym. Anna’s concern shows in the quick drop of her bag and the hand she places between Ameena’s shoulder blades. “Can you work it out?” Ameena asks, a small wince escaping. Anna nods, already leading her to the bedroom. Anna warms oil between her palms, then slides long strokes down Ameena’s bare back. At first the pressure is clinical—thumbs digging into the tight band beneath each shoulder blade, coaxing the muscle to release. Ameena exhales, low and grateful. As the tension softens, Anna’s hands begin to linger, tracing the curve of each rib, brushing the sides of Ameena’s breasts where they press against the sheet. A playful squeeze at the swell of her ass replaces the final therapeutic stroke. Ameena pushes back into the touch. They trade a look, charged and silent. Anna’s fingers stray lower, finding slick heat between Ameena’s parted thighs. Ameena groans and spreads wider. Anna leans over her, lips grazing the shell of her ear, and slips two fingers deep, thumb circling the swollen clit with the same measured attention she once used on sore muscle. The massage table waits, unused, while they fuck slowly on the bed—Anna thrusting deep and steady, Ameena gasping her pleasure into the pillow, both of them forgetting, for now, which one was supposed to give the surprise.