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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 bring 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 might not exercise. He hated their concern nearly as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had stated to him after a massage: How do you feel? Sir, do you prefer a woman or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it suggest he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No preference, is what he usually said. Sometimes, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told 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 unusual reaction over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't conceal the truth that she kept herself in shape. 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. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be good and that he had great skin. 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 room, offering him privacy to crawl and disrobe under the sheet. With his head in the massage table's cradle, his eyes closed, Alan's world escaped into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses almost 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 footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat much faster. 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 could not help but think of 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, calming satisfaction that straight contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Alan heard it. The sound covered itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Removing a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, calves, and hamstrings, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to picture a more total image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave 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. When Ally sat on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. And so it went by doing this for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She raised the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan noticed it at the same time. Alan was completely put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to attempt to construct 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 pile of towels on a client's groin in situations like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, 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 very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.
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