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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home could not work out. He disliked their question 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 male or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he usually stated. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his weird reaction 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 magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide the fact 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 said.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be good and that he had excellent 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, giving 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 almost disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat quicker. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan could not envision however help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face simply as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that directly contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she saw she might smell him. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was strongly brought in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something scrumptious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served 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. Alan attempted to think of a more total photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off supplied 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. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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 observed it at the very same time. Alan was completely erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to 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 horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly finished the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their method from her chest to the location below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour had been more than enough preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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