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Sensual Massage Parlours Avielochan PH22

 

Alan had gone to massage therapists for many 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 might not exercise. He disliked their question nearly as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a woman or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a woman, 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 preference, is what he normally stated. Often, 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 wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his strange action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide 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. She was glad when she saw his personal health appeared to be great and that he had good 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, providing him personal 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 nearly disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its sensations. 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 began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make sure. The aroma 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 however imagine 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, soothing enjoyment that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was strongly brought in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something delicious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Getting rid of a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to envision a more total picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off offered a crude type of finder in his pitch-black world.

When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He could gauge the length of her arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and started 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 wore, 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 prior to following the collar bone to her sternum. Scoot 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 same time. Alan was fully erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Possibly that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She found 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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