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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 carry their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home might not exercise. He disliked their question almost as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had said 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 duplicated. If he stated he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No choice, is what he generally stated. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his odd response over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find 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 client of the day. When she saw his individual health appeared to be good and that he had great skin, she was thankful. 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 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 footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't assist however think of Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was strongly drawn in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she discharged a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan tried to picture a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off supplied an unrefined type of finder in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He could gauge the length of her arm, and he pictured 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 began 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 sternum. 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 noticed it at the same time. Alan was totally erect. 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 attempt to make out Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she is about to 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. But at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest down to the location listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any 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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