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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 bring their stress 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 could not exercise. 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 choose a guy or a female? 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 preferred a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?
No choice, is what he generally said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his strange action over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide the fact 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 stated.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be good and that he had excellent skin, she was pleased. And when she shook his strong hand and looked 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 escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. 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 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 couldn't be sure. The fragrance 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 envisioned her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not envision however assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing pleasure that directly contradicted the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands worked 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 sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his hamstrings, inner-thighs, and calves, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to envision a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off offered 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. 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. And so 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 lifted the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was totally put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement 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 all set to have sex.
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