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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home might 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 female or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a female, did it suggest he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he generally said. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange response over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide the truth 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 stated.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal 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 stood 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 space, offering him personal privacy to crawl and disrobe under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The scent was moderate and sweet. 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 heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not assist but imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she observed she might smell him. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly drawn in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something delicious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely 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 gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to picture a more complete picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced supplied a crude kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of heat when she took a step towards the front or back of the table. He envisioned her hips, her smooth stomach and her toned waist above.
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. Run 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 saw it at the exact same time. Alan was fully erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.
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