Milf Therapy

Robby limps into his first appointment and India jumps up, wraps an arm around his waist, and steers him straight to the table. She holds his gaze while her hands check his leg, soft voice dripping concern. He tells her dodgeball did it and she nods, rotating his ankle, bending the knee, every move measured but close. Robby’s tongue sticks; India’s older, hot, focused solely on him, and his dick takes notice. When a cramp seizes his thigh, her palms chase the knot, fingers brushing up the inner leg till they almost graze his cock. She smiles, books him a months-long schedule, then fades out. Next visit he’s still limping. She makes him lie back, hoists the bad leg, moves it every direction till he grits his teeth. Pain finally eases; she tells him to rebook and leaves him aching for more. Third time Robby shows up crisp in a button-down, clutching roses. India melts when he hands them over, plants a kiss on his cheek, sizes him up in the nice clothes. He strips, lies down, and she goes to work. Her thumbs dig higher until she’s an inch from his hard-on. He sits up grinning, leans in, and this time she doesn’t pull away. She knows what the kiss means and sinks into it, heat flaring between them.