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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 may bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home could not work out. He hated their question 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 female or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he normally said. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his odd action 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; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal the fact 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, aroused him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal health appeared to be great which 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 room, 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 escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses almost vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat much faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan could not think of but assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she saw she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was just 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 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 gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan tried to picture a more complete picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally emitted offered a crude kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of warmth when she took a step 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. He could assess the length of her arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung just above his spinal column. 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 imagined her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, but 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. 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 actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was completely put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct out Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their method from her chest to the location below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last half an hour had been more than enough preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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