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Alan had actually 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 carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house might not work out. He hated their concern 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 prefer a female or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he normally stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange 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 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 stated.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his personal health appeared to be good and that he had excellent skin, she was grateful. And when she shook his strong hand and looked 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, providing 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 slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The fragrance 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 imagined her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not think of however help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. 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. Getting rid of a 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. Meanwhile, Alan tried to picture a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released supplied an unrefined kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of warmth when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He pictured 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. He might assess the length of her arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. He pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck. He envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, 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 before following the collar bone to her sternum. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan saw it at the exact same time. Alan was totally put up. 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 attempt to make out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their method from her chest down to the location listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last half an hour had been sufficient preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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