Kidbrooke Kisses
"Physiotherapist Efua heals bodies at her Kidbrooke clinic. When footballer Marcus needs rehab for his knee, she provides treatment that goes far beyond medical textbooks."
The knee injury had ended Marcus's professional career before it started. Depression followed. Then came Efua.
Her Kidbrooke clinic was small but equipped, and she was thoroughly professional—Ghanaian-British, thick curves in medical scrubs, hands that knew exactly where pain lived.
"Your knee I can fix," she said after assessment. "But you're broken in other places. Mind and body together—that's real healing."
"Can you fix all of it?"
"If you let me try."
Months of grueling rehab. Months of her hands on his body, her voice pushing him further. The knee improved, but something else grew too.
"You're looking at me," she said one evening. "Not at your exercises."
"Hard not to."
"Good." She stopped his workout. "Progress requires honesty. What do you want, Marcus? Really?"
"You. I want you."
"Finally." She locked the clinic door. "Now we can heal properly."
She examined him differently now—not medically but intimately. Her hands traced his body, assessing want instead of injury.
"You've been holding this for months. Not healthy." Her hands found him, already hard. "Let me help release it."
She straddled him on the treatment table, her scrubs somehow already loosened. Her thick thighs gripped his hips.
"This is therapeutic. Holistic. Necessary."
"Medically?"
"In every way."
She rode him slowly, professionally, making sure of correct form and alignment even in this. Her thick body moved with precision.
"Breathe. Don't tense. Feel the release coming..."
She guided him through pleasure like she'd guided him through pain, and when he came, it felt like healing—tears mixing with satisfaction.
"More," she said, not stopping. "We have a lot of therapy to complete."
"The floor. I want you on the floor."
He took her on the clinic carpet, her legs over his shoulders, her thick body folding in ways their rehab had made possible.
"Yes! Use those muscles! There!"
She came screaming, and he followed, collapsing beside her among the exercise equipment.
"Best rehab I've ever had," he gasped.
"Treatment continues. Indefinitely." She curled against him. "Doctor's orders."
His Kidbrooke kisses had healed more than his knee. And Marcus had found recovery he never wanted to end.