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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home could not exercise. He disliked their concern 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 male or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it imply 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 delighted ending?
No preference, is what he typically said. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his unusual reaction over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the truth 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.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be good and that he had good skin, she was grateful. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed 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 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 vanish, leaving him with a severe 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 faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make sure. The scent was mild and sweet. 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 warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not help but picture 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 might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Eliminating a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan attempted to think of a more complete image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off provided 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 determine the length of her upper arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He envisioned 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 before following the collar bone to her breast bone. Scoot 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 very same time. Alan was totally erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to state. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in circumstances 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. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.
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