Gift Goof

Ameena's on the phone with her buddy, spilling the beans about this killer surprise she scored for her girl, Anna Claire Clouds—a shiny new massage table. Anna's the pro masseuse around here, but Ameena's flipping the script this time, dying to lay her hands on Anna and give her a steamy, skin-tingling rubdown that'll leave her begging for more. She's about to jet off and grab the thing, hauling it home pronto. Her friend chuckles, 'Hey, don't wreck yourself lugging that beast around.' Ameena laughs it off, cocky as hell. 'Pfft, I've got this—no sweat.' She hangs up quick and bolts to pick it up. Fast-forward to later that afternoon. The table's all set up in the living room, looking sleek and inviting. But Ameena? She's wincing like she just ran a marathon, rubbing her back on the sly. Damn, that thing weighed a ton more than she figured—sneaky heavy bastard caught her off guard. Just then, Anna strolls in, eyes widening at the sight. 'Whoa, what's this hunk of gorgeous?' Ameena grins through the ache, spilling it: she wanted to blow Anna's mind with a fresh table and a naughty massage from yours truly. But yeah, she tweaked her back wrestling it inside. Anna's all concern, rushing over, hands gentle on Ameena's shoulders. 'Babe, you okay? That sounds rough.' Ameena bats her lashes, sheepish but smirking. 'Think you could work out the kinks for me? Pretty please?' Anna doesn't miss a beat. 'Hell yes, hop up here.' Anna gets to work, her skilled fingers digging into Ameena's tight muscles, easing the soreness like magic. Ameena melts into it, moaning soft as the pain fades. But Anna's got that wicked spark—she amps it up, turning therapeutic strokes into slow, teasing caresses that glide over Ameena's curves, thumbs circling hips, palms sliding up thighs with just the right pressure. Ameena's breath hitches, heat building fast. They lock eyes, playful grins turning hungry. Anna leans in, whispering dirty promises while her hands roam bolder, pinching nipples through fabric till Ameena arches up, begging. Clothes hit the floor in a frenzy—Ameena flips over, spreading wide as Anna dives between her legs, tongue flicking that swollen clit with expert flicks that make Ameena buck and gasp. Fingers plunge deep, curling just right to hit that sweet spot, while Ameena's hands tangle in Anna's hair, pulling her closer. They switch, Ameena pinning Anna down on the table she bought, grinding her soaked pussy against Anna's thigh before scissoring hard, clits rubbing in slick, frantic rhythm. Anna cries out, nails raking Ameena's back as they chase that peak together—bodies slick with sweat, crashing into orgasm with shudders and screams that echo off the walls. Talk about the best kind of surprise twist.