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Alan had actually 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 your home could not work out. He disliked 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 prefer a lady or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No choice, is what he generally said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, 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 unusual response over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent 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 said. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. Her voice, alone, aroused 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 health appeared to be great and that he had good 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 space, providing him 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 almost vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The fragrance was sweet and moderate. 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 pictured her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't think of however help 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 satisfaction that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she saw she could smell him. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was highly attracted to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something scrumptious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Getting rid of 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 picture a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced supplied an unrefined type of finder in his pitch-black world. When she took an action towards the front or back of the table, he felt a gentle wave of heat. He imagined 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. He could assess the length of her upper arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He pictured her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, however 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. Therefore it went by doing this 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 raised the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was fully 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 try to make out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware 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. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.
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