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Alan had gone to massage therapists for many 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 often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home could not work out. He hated 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 chose a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he preferred a woman, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?
No choice, is what he usually stated. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan shocked himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his unusual action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform 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 said. If she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel, it sounded as. 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 personal hygiene appeared to be excellent and that he had excellent skin, she was grateful. 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 intense awareness of his body and its sensations. He found it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally returning in, his heart began to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan could not be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help but imagine 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, calming enjoyment that directly contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was strongly attracted to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something scrumptious. 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. Removing a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to think of a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally emitted provided a crude kind of finder in his pitch-black world. When she took an action towards the front or back of the table, he felt a gentle wave of warmth. He imagined 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. Scoot 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 saw it at the very same time. Alan was totally erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely 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 state. Then, he heard her leave, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a client's groin in circumstances like these. Maybe that's what she will do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex.
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