Hesitant Housewife

Brett Rossi steps up to the counter and runs smack into Kenzie Taylor, the old school pal she hasn't laid eyes on since graduation. Eyes go wide, the reunion is pure delight. Chat flies fast and loose until the moment Kenzie asks how Brett's husband is doing. The answer is a quick clipped "he's fine," then a sharp pivot about how the parlor's doing. Kenzie spots the dodge but lets it slide. The subject drifts back to muscles, and Brett blurts that her back is screaming for a pounding, flashing the question whether Kenzie can help. "Of course." Kenzie's answer carries a grin and a quick jerk of the head toward the private room. Door shuts. Kenzie tells Brett to strip so the oil won't stain the clothes. Alone for a minute, Brett peels off, glances around the room like a kid at a sleepover, then climbs onto the table and half-drapes a towel across herself. A fair patch of ass and shaved pussy is left on show. Kenzie knocks, gets invited in, and the moment she steps behind the table her eyes snag on the uncovered territory. One eyebrow shoots up. No way, not with that ring on Brett's finger. Shaking off the thought, she tugs the towel straight, then pours oil and goes to work. Brett melts. Moans roll out like she's riding the last stretch of a good drunk. Nobody has laid hands on her like this. In a haze she mutters that it's downright orgasmic. She coos about the skill only another woman can bring, then admits her last massage had also been from a gorgeous pair of hands. Kenzie perks an ear, flips Brett onto her back, and smooths warm palms over perfect tits. When the moans grow shameless she takes the plunge, fingers tracing down to slick folds. Brett bolts upright like the table shocked her. "What the hell are you doing?!" Kenzie freezes and stammers out apologies, pink-cheeked and babbling that she read the signals wrong. Brett demands to know how she got that idea. The evidence pours out: messy towel, glowing praise for a woman's touch, sudden hush over the husband topic. Both women are mortified. Then Kenzie circles back to the husband dodging. Brett sighs, shoulders slumping. Turns out the recent promotion turned him into a stress case and intimacy vanished months ago. Kenzie offers a different cure: the sure, knowing mouth of an experienced woman. Brett starts to protest that she isn't that way, but words lose traction once Kenzie's tongue replaces her hand. Skepticism dissolves into headboard-rattling gasps as two old friends remember just how much they've both been missing.