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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 carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home could not exercise. He hated 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 woman or a guy? 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 female, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he usually stated. Often, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual reaction over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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. 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 personal hygiene appeared to be great and that he had excellent skin. 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 space, giving him privacy to crawl and disrobe 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 disappear, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make certain. The scent 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 imagined her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not help however imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing enjoyment that directly contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to envision a more total picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced offered an unrefined kind 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 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 started to knead his neck, he pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. And so it went in this manner for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She raised the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan saw it at the same time. Alan was totally erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. Then, he heard her leave, 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. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly finished 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 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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