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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 might bring their tension in their stomachs, he carried 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 question 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 woman or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he typically said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange reaction over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover 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. 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 customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be good which he had excellent skin. And when she shook his strong hand and looked 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, giving him personal 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 vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered 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 much faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not be sure. The fragrance was sweet and moderate. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan might feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he pictured her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not picture however assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing satisfaction that straight opposed 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 merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. 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. Mildly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Getting rid of 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 inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to envision a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off provided an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He could evaluate 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 began to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He imagined 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. And so it went by doing this for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was totally put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. 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 scenarios like these. Maybe that's what she will 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 horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their method from her chest down to the place below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last thirty minutes had actually been ample preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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