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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others might bring their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in your home could not work out. He hated their question 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 lady or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a woman, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he usually stated. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he struck the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his odd response over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to discover her; small 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. 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 good and that he had great 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, giving him personal 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 nearly disappear, leaving him with an acute 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 started to beat faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The fragrance was sweet and mild. 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 heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not help but imagine Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing pleasure that straight contradicted the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she observed she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was highly brought in to her client. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands functioned as her eyes. Getting rid of 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. Later, as her thumbs went into his hamstrings, inner-thighs, and calves, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to envision a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally produced provided 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 gentle wave of heat. He imagined her hips, her smooth belly and her toned waist above.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might evaluate the length of her arm, and he thought of the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and began to knead his neck, he pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He imagined her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, 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 breast bone. Scoot 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 noticed it at the exact same time. Alan was totally erect. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to make out Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. He heard her walk away, 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. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this moment, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies discovered their way from her chest to the place below her navel. She wanted Alan. She found that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour 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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