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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 tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home could not exercise. He hated 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 woman or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a woman, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?

No choice, is what he normally said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, 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 strange action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the reality 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. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be excellent which he had good skin. 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 escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an acute 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 footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make sure. The scent was sweet and moderate. 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 heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't help but think of 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, calming pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she saw she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands worked 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 drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. On the other hand, Alan tried to envision a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released provided an unrefined type of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took a step towards the front or back of the table, he felt a gentle wave of warmth. He envisioned her hips, her smooth stomach and her toned waist above.

When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might assess the length of her arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung simply above his spine. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, however 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 sternum. And so it went this way 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 easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was fully put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in situations 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 client, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. However at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest to the place listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last half an hour had been ample preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.

 

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