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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house could not exercise. He hated their question almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a male or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he typically stated. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his odd response over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal the reality that she kept herself fit. 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 client of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be excellent and that he had great skin. 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, offering him personal privacy to disrobe and crawl under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered 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. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't be sure. The fragrance was sweet and moderate. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan could feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he envisioned her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not assist but picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was highly attracted to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to imagine a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off supplied an unrefined type of finder in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan discovered it at the exact same time. Alan was totally erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest down to the location listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She found 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 more than enough preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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