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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 might carry 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 could not exercise. He disliked their question 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 choose a male or a lady? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he said he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a female, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No choice, is what he usually said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange response over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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 stated. If she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel, it sounded as. Her voice, alone, excited him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual health seemed 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 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 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 nearly vanish, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. But 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 believed. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help but picture 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, calming enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she saw she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Ally was strongly brought in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something scrumptious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to envision a more complete image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off supplied a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might gauge the length of her upper arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung simply above his spinal column. He imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck. He pictured 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. Therefore it went this way for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She raised the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was totally put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Maybe that's what she will 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 moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.
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