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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others might carry their tension in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house could not work out. He hated their concern almost as much as the phrase that every masseuse he had ever had said to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a lady or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a lady, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No choice, is what he normally stated. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he questioned. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his weird response over the phone until now, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal the fact 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. When she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be excellent and that he had great skin, she was pleased. And when she shook his strong hand and looked 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 room, providing 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 almost disappear, leaving him with an acute 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 started to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't think of but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing enjoyment that directly opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to think of a more complete photo of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off provided 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 began to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Run 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 same time. Alan was fully set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try 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 heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in situations like these. Maybe that's what she is about to 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 customer, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.
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