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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may carry their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home could not work out. He disliked their concern almost 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 choose a man or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he normally said. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his odd action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his magazine to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal the reality 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 said. 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. She was glad when she saw his personal health seemed to be excellent which he had excellent 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 room, providing him privacy to crawl and disrobe 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 almost vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make sure. The scent was sweet and moderate. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan might feel her heat on him. Enshrouded in his dark, lightless world, he pictured her warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not assist however imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing enjoyment that straight opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Alan heard it. 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 excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. On the other hand, Alan attempted to picture a more total photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally released supplied a crude type of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of heat when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He pictured her hips, her smooth stomach and her toned waist above.
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 pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Run down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan discovered it at the exact same time. Alan was completely set up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in situations like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance 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 down to the place listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She found that, for the 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 sufficient preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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