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Alan had actually 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 the house might not work out. He hated their concern almost as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a female or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a female, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No choice, is what he generally said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his odd action over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to find her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal 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. If she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel, it sounded as. Her voice, alone, aroused him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be good which he had excellent 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 room, 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 disappear, 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 quicker. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not think of but assist 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, relaxing pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she observed she might smell him. It was just him and it was more attractive 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 functioned as her eyes. Removing a little 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 thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. On the other hand, Alan attempted to picture a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that dealt with him. The heat Ally released supplied an unrefined kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took an action towards the front or back of the table, he felt a mild wave of warmth. He imagined her hips, her smooth tummy and her toned waist above.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He could gauge the length of her arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and started 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 wore, however 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 breast bone. And so 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 lifted the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was fully erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in circumstances 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. With any other client, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the set down 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 prepared to have sex.
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