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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many 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 typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house might not work out. He disliked their concern almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a guy or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he chose a male, 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 indicate he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he normally said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come 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 room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; small 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.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be great and that he had excellent skin, she was thankful. And when she shook his strong hand and looked into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair based 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 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 element of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan could not assist however envision Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something delicious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Removing a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs went into his calves, hamstrings, and inner-thighs, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to imagine a more complete image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off offered a crude kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of warmth when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He pictured her hips, her smooth belly 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 began to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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 observed it at the very same time. Alan was fully erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct 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 circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed 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 minute, with Alan, the perched 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 prepared to have sex.
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