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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 bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house might not work out. He disliked their concern 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 lady or a man? 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 found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he usually said. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his weird action over the phone previously, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the truth 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. 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. When she saw his personal health seemed to be great and that he had great skin, she was grateful. And when she shook his strong hand and gazed 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, offering 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 escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. The fragrance was moderate and sweet. 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 couldn't assist but imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that directly opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she might 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 could have ever said. Ally was strongly brought in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Getting rid of a little 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 inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Meanwhile, Alan tried to imagine a more complete picture of the body attached 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 a step 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 started to knead his neck, he envisioned 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 discovered it at the same time. Alan was totally put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She wanted 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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