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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many 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 tension that even his foam roller in your 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 choose a man or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a female, 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 preference, is what he usually said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised 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 ignored his odd reaction over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform 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, excited him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be good and that 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 room, offering him privacy to crawl and disrobe under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, 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 steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The aroma 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 envisioned her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not think of however assist 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, relaxing enjoyment that straight contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely 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 sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Meanwhile, Alan attempted to think of a more complete picture of the body connected to the hands that dealt with him. The heat Ally produced offered a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world. When she took a step towards the front or back of the table, he felt a mild wave of warmth. He visualized 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 upper arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung simply above his spine. He imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck. He imagined 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 prior to following the collar bone to her sternum. And so it went this way 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 much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was totally set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile 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 frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their method from her chest down 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 make love. The last half an hour had actually been sufficient preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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