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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 carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house might not exercise. He disliked their question almost as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a lady or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a female, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he usually said. Sometimes, 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 hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his weird response over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to find her; small 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 stated.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be great which he had good 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 space, offering him 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 element of the massage; his other senses almost 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 footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The aroma 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 pictured her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't think of but assist 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, soothing pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Removing a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to picture a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off provided an unrefined type of sonar 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 began to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Therefore it went in this manner for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She raised the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan saw it at the same time. Alan was completely set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. 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 will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She discovered 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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