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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home might not exercise. He disliked their question nearly 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 male or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he normally stated. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his unusual response 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 find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the reality 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. If she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel, it sounded as. Her voice, alone, excited 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 personal hygiene seemed to be good and that he had great skin. 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, giving 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 nearly vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help but envision 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 enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she saw she could smell him. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could 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 served as her eyes. Eliminating 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. On the other hand, Alan attempted to imagine a more complete picture of the body attached to the hands that dealt with him. The heat Ally emitted offered an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of heat when she took a step towards the front or back of the table. He pictured her hips, her smooth tummy 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 pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. And so 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 raised the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was completely erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to state. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually 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 appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was prepared to have sex.
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