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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may carry their tension 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 exercise. He disliked their concern 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 lady or a guy? 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 suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he usually said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his strange response over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide 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. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. Her voice, alone, aroused him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual health appeared to be great and that he had good 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 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with an acute 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 steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat quicker. Uncommon, 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 couldn't help however picture 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, soothing enjoyment that directly opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly drawn in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something delicious. 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 gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to imagine a more complete photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided 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 evaluate the length of her upper arm, and he pictured the perky breasts that hung simply above his spinal column. 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 envisioned her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, 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 breast bone. And so it went in this manner for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it simpler for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was totally set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's response. He didn't know what to say. Then, 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. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other customer, she would have been horrified, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. But at this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their method from her chest to the location below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found 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 half an hour had actually been sufficient preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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