Milf Therapy

Robby Echo hobbles into his first appointment, wincing like hell from the pain in his leg. India Summer spots that tortured look on his face and bolts up to help, wrapping her arms around him and guiding him to the massage table. 'What happened, honey?' she asks, her voice dripping with that sweet compassion. She's all nurturing vibes as her hands gently touch him, locking eyes to make sure he feels seen. 'You're gonna walk out of here feeling brand new, I promise,' she says, stroking his arm while he spills how he yanked something in dodgeball. He sits up, and she carefully works his leg, bending it slow. 'Hurt here?' Robby, who's never had an older woman dote on him like this, stammers—India's so damn hot, he's tongue-tied and loving every second of her attention. 'You poor darling,' she coos, rotating his leg until he nods, grimacing. 'Ow, yeah, that kills.' She lays it out: book a bunch of sessions over the next few months, plus some home exercises till next time. He nods eagerly, and we fade to visit two. Robby limps in again later, still favoring that leg. She pulls him close, asking if he can stand on it. 'Yeah, but not long,' he admits. Down on the table, she bends his knee, twists his ankle, then flips him onto his back to hoist his leg high, rotating it every which way. 'How's that feel?' After some minutes, bam—a sharp cramp hits his thigh, and he's wincing hard. Her strong hands knead it out, fingers inching dangerously close to his groin. He blushes beet red. Pain fades, and she grins: 'Stick with those exercises, stud, and book another round before you bolt.' A few sessions down the line, Robby struts in for the third on-screen visit, all cleaned up in a crisp button-up and slacks, clutching a bouquet of flowers like a lovesick puppy. India's surprised when he hands them over—touched, really, her eyes lighting up. 'Without you, I'd still be hobbling like a fool. I feel so much better,' he says. She plants a soft kiss on his cheek and pulls him into a hug, then eyes his outfit. 'Look at you, all sharp and sexy,' she teases, making him flush. She pops the flowers in a vase with water. 'Alright, let's get to work.' Into the office they go. He strips down and stretches out on the table. 'How's it feeling today?' 'Better, but that leg's still tender in spots.' She starts with light strokes up his leg. 'Same hurt here?' Digging into the massage, she declares, 'Gonna need these off,' grabbing a towel to drape him before yanking his underwear. Working that upper thigh, he moans, 'Right there, that's the killer spot.' When he begs for higher, her fingers graze so close to his dick, it's electric. 'Sit up for me.' He pops up grinning like he won the lottery. She smiles back, and he dives in for a kiss. She pulls away, eyebrow raised. 'What're you doing?' 'I really like you, India.' Boom—she sees it, the kid's got real feelings. 'You like me too?' She admits, 'Yeah, but not like that.' Confusion clouds his face. 'But the flowers...?' 'Sweet gesture, hon, that's all I figured.' 'Am I good-looking?' 'Handsome as hell, young man, but I'm way older.' 'Don't care—you're perfect for me.' She's flattered to her core, that cocky charm of his cracking her resolve. He leans in again, and this time, she melts right into the kiss, arms wrapping tight.