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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home might not work out. He hated 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 lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a female, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he normally said. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange response over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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 health seemed to be great and that he had excellent skin, she was thankful. 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, giving 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 slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an intense awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The scent was sweet and mild. 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 pictured her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not help but think of 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, calming enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she saw she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever stated. 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 gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to picture a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally emitted supplied a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a gentle wave of heat 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. 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. Run 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 saw it at the very same time. Alan was completely set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't understand 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 customer's groin in circumstances like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to 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. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the place below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last thirty minutes had actually been sufficient preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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