NURU Fixes Everything

Abella Danger's running her massage parlor when drip, drip, drip—damn roof's leaking again. She just shelled out for a fix a few weeks back, and now this? Growling under her breath, she dials the handyman service. Before long, Dean Van Damme struts in, ladder slung over one shoulder, toolbox clanking. Abella meets him at the door, flashing a quick smile. 'Gotta knock out some paperwork,' she says. 'Won't bug you.' He drops the ladder and hauls it up the stairs. Two rungs in, he yelps like a kicked dog and stumbles back, spine locked up tight. She rushes over, eyes wide. 'What the hell happened?' He winces, rubbing his lower back. 'Old injury flaring up. Been quiet for ages.' Abella bites her lip. 'Mind if I check it out?' He nods, gritting his teeth. She's all fret and fuss, muttering about her rotten luck—so much on her plate, roof caving first, now a gimpy handyman. Dean smirks through the pain. 'If you think that's bad, swap spots with me.' She winces. 'Shit, sorry, that was dumb.' Her hands go to his shirt. 'Gotta peel this off for a real look.' He's hurting too much to argue. 'Help a guy out?' She tugs it free, fingers probing his lower back, kneading the knots. 'You know, I could fix this with a NURU massage. Slippery, deep—hits the spot.' Dean's eyes light up. 'Hell yeah.' She guides him to the massage room, all sultry sway. 'Pants off, big guy.' He hesitates. 'Really?' 'Trust me, you don't want gel ruining those jeans.' She yanks them down, efficient and teasing, then points to the mat. 'Face down.' He stretches out, vulnerable and buzzing. Abella slicks her hands with NURU gel, unhooks her bra with a wink. 'This gig's all about body-to-body action.' She swings a leg over, straddling his hips, and drizzles the slick stuff down his back. Her perky tits glide over his skin, pressing in, easing those aches with every slide. She works him hard, deep rubs that make him groan. Minutes later, she's tapping his shoulder. 'Flip over.' Off come her panties, tossed aside like yesterday's news. She mounts him again, slathering gel across his chest, her wet curves molding to his body in a slow, filthy grind. Dean sucks in a breath, pure bliss, as her pussy brushes his cock—now rock-hard and begging. Abella's tits drag along his shaft, and damn, she can't hold back. Lips parted, tongue flicking out, she wraps her hand around it, stroking slow and dirty. But that's just the warmup. She dips low, mouth hovering over his throbbing dick, eyes locked on his. Time to make him forget every damn twinge in his back. Dean's the fix-it man, sure—but Abella's about to prove NURU's the ultimate tool, hands-free and then some, curing what ails ya with a wink and a thrust.