Abella Danger bounces into the kitchen with her usual bounce. Codey Steele’s already half-asleep at the counter, coffee in hand. She chirps a good morning, asking how his night went. Codey rubs his shoulder and says he’s wiped out—found some weird bump this morning and has no clue how it got there. Abella shrugs like it’s a mystery, but her lips twitch. Yeah, she knows exactly how it happened. He hesitates, then blurts it out. He used to sleepwalk. Not just wandering, though—full-on massage mode. Hands all over whoever’s around. Thought he kicked the habit years ago, so he never mentioned it when he moved in. The shoulder lump made him wonder if it’s back. Abella asks if he touched her last night. Nope, she lies, heart thumping. Codey gives her the hack: water to the face wakes him every time. Abella jokes about how freaky that is, then slyly asks if he ever oils up during these zombie rubdowns. Codey says if oil’s on his palms, his hands just do their thing. Abella’s already plotting. Oil? Check. That night she pours the slick stuff over his fingers and flops onto her stomach just as they descend. The next evening she slides her face under his hands for a sleepy facial. After that she offers her feet. Codey’s unconscious magic keeps delivering, and Abella sleeps like a queen. Then one late session, Codey mutters, “Mmm, you’re so pretty,” and grabs for her tits. Abella smacks his hands away, snatches the bedside glass, and splashes him cold. He jolts awake, blinking, lost. Abella tells him he wandered in and started massaging. He panics, stammers apologies, sure she’ll boot him like every roommate before her. She stops him. She’s not like the rest. He asks if that makes him a freak; she says her high-school friends called her one when her boobs beat everyone else to the finish line. Everyone’s got quirks, she shrugs—his just happen to give great shoulder rubs. They hug a second too long. Codey pulls back, sheepish, asking if he’s any good at the actual massaging. Abella fibs that it was barely a minute, but his hands felt strong. Then she grins, says the only weird part was him getting grabby. Codey blushes, mumbles sorry. Abella leans closer: no need to apologize—she liked it. The part she minded was the closed eyes. She prefers guys she’s fucking to stay wide awake and pay attention. “Fucking?” Codey gulps. Abella takes his hand. They’re both up now. Might as well have some fun. Just don’t doze off.
Abella Danger bounces into the kitchen with her usual bounce. Codey Steele’s already half-asleep at the counter, coffee in hand. She chirps a good morning, asking how his night went. Codey rubs his shoulder and says he’s wiped out—found some weird bump this morning and has no clue how it got there. Abella shrugs like it’s a mystery, but her lips twitch. Yeah, she knows exactly how it happened. He hesitates, then blurts it out. He used to sleepwalk. Not just wandering, though—full-on massage mode. Hands all over whoever’s around. Thought he kicked the habit years ago, so he never mentioned it when he moved in. The shoulder lump made him wonder if it’s back. Abella asks if he touched her last night. Nope, she lies, heart thumping. Codey gives her the hack: water to the face wakes him every time. Abella jokes about how freaky that is, then slyly asks if he ever oils up during these zombie rubdowns. Codey says if oil’s on his palms, his hands just do their thing. Abella’s already plotting. Oil? Check. That night she pours the slick stuff over his fingers and flops onto her stomach just as they descend. The next evening she slides her face under his hands for a sleepy facial. After that she offers her feet. Codey’s unconscious magic keeps delivering, and Abella sleeps like a queen. Then one late session, Codey mutters, “Mmm, you’re so pretty,” and grabs for her tits. Abella smacks his hands away, snatches the bedside glass, and splashes him cold. He jolts awake, blinking, lost. Abella tells him he wandered in and started massaging. He panics, stammers apologies, sure she’ll boot him like every roommate before her. She stops him. She’s not like the rest. He asks if that makes him a freak; she says her high-school friends called her one when her boobs beat everyone else to the finish line. Everyone’s got quirks, she shrugs—his just happen to give great shoulder rubs. They hug a second too long. Codey pulls back, sheepish, asking if he’s any good at the actual massaging. Abella fibs that it was barely a minute, but his hands felt strong. Then she grins, says the only weird part was him getting grabby. Codey blushes, mumbles sorry. Abella leans closer: no need to apologize—she liked it. The part she minded was the closed eyes. She prefers guys she’s fucking to stay wide awake and pay attention. “Fucking?” Codey gulps. Abella takes his hand. They’re both up now. Might as well have some fun. Just don’t doze off.
