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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 may carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home might not work out. He disliked their concern almost as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you choose a man 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 chose a lady, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No preference, is what he generally said. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his strange action over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent 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.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be good and that he had great skin, she was grateful. 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 space, offering 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 slipped away 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 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 much faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't assist but think of Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, soothing enjoyment that directly opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she saw 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 might have ever said. Ally was highly brought in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something delicious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Getting rid of 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. Alan attempted to imagine a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered 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 could determine the length of her upper arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, 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 before following the collar bone to her breast bone. Therefore it went by doing this 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 lifted the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was completely set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's response. He didn't understand what to state. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in situations like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest down to the place listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last thirty minutes had been more than enough preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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