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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 might carry their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house could not work out. He disliked their question almost 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 choose a female 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 said he chose a female, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it imply he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he generally stated. Sometimes, 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 fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten his unusual response over the phone previously, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; petite yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the fact 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. 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 customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his personal health appeared to be excellent which he had excellent 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 space, providing 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 element of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with a severe 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. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan could not picture but assist Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, relaxing pleasure that straight opposed the stimulation that had actually started in his loins), she saw she might 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 believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served 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 sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to picture a more complete photo of the body connected 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 started to knead his neck, he pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. 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 discovered it at the exact same time. Alan was fully set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's response. He didn't know what to state. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a pile of towels on a customer's groin in circumstances like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest down to the place listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last half an hour had been sufficient preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.
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