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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 might carry their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house could not work out. He hated their question almost 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 guy or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a woman, did it suggest he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he generally said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, 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 odd reaction over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the truth 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 stated.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be excellent and that he had great skin. 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 room, offering 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 slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make certain. The aroma was sweet and mild. 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 assist but imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly brought in 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 seemed like tasting something delicious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Removing a little the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to think of a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced provided a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took a step towards the front or back of the table, he felt a gentle wave of heat. He pictured her hips, her smooth stomach 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 started to knead his neck, he imagined 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 simpler for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was totally set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try 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 heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Possibly that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest down to the place below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the very 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 ample preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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