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Sensual Massage Parlours An Gleann Ur HS2

 

Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may carry their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home could not work out. He disliked their question nearly 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 prefer a female or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a happy ending?

No preference, is what he generally said. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his strange response over the phone previously, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide 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. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. 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 health appeared 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, offering 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 feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. 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 could not assist but envision Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing satisfaction that directly contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly attracted to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something delicious. 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 attempted to envision a more total picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world.

When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might assess the length of her arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. He envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck. He envisioned 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 prior to following the collar bone to her breast bone. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan saw it at the exact same time. Alan was fully 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 make out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer'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 cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their method from her chest to the location below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered 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 been sufficient preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.

 

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