One Last Job

McKenzie Lee kicks back in her living room, thumbing through her phone, when a knock rattles the door. Her face twists in confusion—she wasn't expecting company. She swings the door open, and there's Seth Gamble, grinning like a kid on Christmas, asking if she's the legendary masseuse he's obsessed with. He's a therapist himself, he says, and he's stalked her career for years. She owns up to it but shuts him down quick: she's retired, done and dusted. Seth won't quit, though—he wheedles and charms, begging for one last gig to soak up her secrets. She's wary at first, but the guy's persistence wins out. Fine, she thinks, one more ride. In the massage room, McKenzie dusts off that NURU mattress with a theatrical flourish, like unveiling a long-lost lover. 'Strip down and hit the deck, stud,' she says, and Seth complies, sprawling face-first on the gel-ready slab. She peels off her own clothes, no fuss. Then she drenches him—and herself—in that slick NURU gel, letting out a low hum. 'Damn, forgot how this stuff turns everything electric,' she mutters. She climbs on, body gliding over his back. A bit clunky at the start, like shaking off rust from an old bike, but she locks in quick. Smooth as sin now, and Seth's already groaning, lost in the bliss. As things heat up, she taps him: 'Flip for me.' Her curves slide across his chest, his abs, down low—and bam, his cock's standing at full attention, rock-hard and ready. She pauses, inhales deep, then wraps her hand around that throbbing shaft. Yeah, McKenzie's still got the magic touch—no doubt about it.