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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might bring their stress 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 disliked their concern nearly as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a guy or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose 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 expected a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he typically stated. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual action over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the reality that she kept herself fit. 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.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be excellent and that he had great skin, she was glad. 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 space, providing 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 element of the massage; his other senses nearly 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. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The fragrance was sweet and mild. 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 heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't imagine however assist 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, calming enjoyment that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she saw she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh sounded 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 worked as her eyes. Eliminating a little the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his calves, hamstrings, and inner-thighs, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. On the other hand, Alan attempted to envision a more complete photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced offered an unrefined 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 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. 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. Therefore 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 easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was fully put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. 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 is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their method from her chest to the location below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the 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 been sufficient preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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