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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house could not exercise. He disliked their concern almost 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 prefer a woman or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a female, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?
No preference, is what he generally said. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his strange response over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent 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. 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 individual hygiene appeared to be great and that he had great 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses almost disappear, leaving him with an intense 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 started to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The scent 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 envisioned her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't picture however assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to 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 observed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, 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 covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating 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 tried to envision a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off supplied 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. 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 in this manner 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 back down, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was fully put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct out 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 client's groin in scenarios like these. Possibly that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest to the location below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the 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 more than enough preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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