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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may bring their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home 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 woman or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he typically said. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his strange reaction over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal the fact 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 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 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 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 almost vanish, leaving him with a severe 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.
Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan could not help but envision Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing pleasure that directly contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could 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. Removing a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands notified. Alan tried to envision a more total image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided an unrefined type of finder 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 pictured 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 discovered it at the same time. Alan was fully set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. 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 circumstances like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. However at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest to the place below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour had actually been ample preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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