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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 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 at home might not exercise. He hated their question 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 female or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a woman, did it imply he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he generally said. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his strange action over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform 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 said. 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. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be excellent and that he had good skin. 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, 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 vanish, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He found 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 faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan might feel her heat on him. Alan could not assist 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 satisfaction that straight opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she observed she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was highly brought in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something delicious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands functioned as her eyes. Eliminating a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands notified. Meanwhile, Alan tried to envision a more total image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally emitted offered an unrefined kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. When she took a step towards the front or back of the table, he felt a mild wave of warmth. He pictured her hips, her smooth tummy 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 started to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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 raised the sheet to make it easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan observed it at the same time. Alan was completely set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a 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. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer'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. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered 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 thirty minutes had actually been more than enough preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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