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Sensual Massage Parlours All Saints EX13

 

Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others might bring their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home might not work out. He disliked their concern 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 prefer a lady or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a woman, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?

No preference, is what he usually said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his weird response over the phone previously, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the truth 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 customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal health seemed to be great 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 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 escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, 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 footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The fragrance was mild 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 heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't help however picture 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 pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she observed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was strongly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she discharged a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Removing 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 attempted to imagine a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off offered a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world.

When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might determine the length of her arm, and he pictured the perky breasts that hung just above his spinal column. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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. 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 lifted the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan saw it at the same time. Alan was completely set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't know 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 scenarios like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was prepared to have sex.

 

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