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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home might not exercise. He disliked their question nearly as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a guy or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a woman, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he usually stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his unusual reaction over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the reality that she kept herself in shape. Her eyes were almond-shaped, her hair black, and her skin the colour of caramel. I'm Ally. I'll be your therapist today, she said.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his personal health appeared to be good and that he had good skin, she was happy. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair based on the back of her neck. Ally led Alan to Room 5. She asked him to undress and lay face-down on the table. She left the room, providing him privacy to disrobe and crawl under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not think of but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing satisfaction that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was strongly brought in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Getting rid of a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to envision a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off provided a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He could determine the length of her upper arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, but in a deep-necked top that hung off one shoulder, exposing the line of her clavicle. In his mind, he saw a bead of sweat meander down her neck prior to following the collar bone to her sternum. And so it went by doing this for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was totally set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to state. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. But at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the place listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last thirty minutes had actually been ample preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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