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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may carry their stress 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 exercise. He disliked their question 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 choose a man or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a woman, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No choice, is what he usually stated. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual reaction 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 publication to discover her; petite yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal 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.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his personal health seemed to be excellent and that he had great skin, she was delighted. 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 space, giving 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 nearly disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered 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 believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The fragrance was moderate and sweet. 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 envisioned her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't think of however help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she observed she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Ally was strongly drawn in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something tasty. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands functioned as her eyes. Getting rid of a little the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his calves, hamstrings, and inner-thighs, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan attempted to picture a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off supplied an unrefined 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 assess 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 envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He pictured her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, 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 sternum. 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 saw it at the exact 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 try to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He became aware of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.
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