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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 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 could not exercise. He hated their concern almost 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 prefer a guy or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a lady, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he usually said. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come 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, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal 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 said.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his personal health seemed to be good and that he had great 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 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, offering 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 element 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 started to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much 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 might 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 imagine but assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever stated. 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 little 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. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his hamstrings, calves, and inner-thighs, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Meanwhile, Alan attempted to picture a more complete picture of the body connected to the hands that dealt with him. The heat Ally produced offered a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of warmth when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. 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 began to knead his neck, he envisioned 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. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was totally put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't understand 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 situations like these. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest to the location below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. 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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