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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern 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 tension that even his foam roller at home could not work out. He disliked their concern nearly as much as the expression that every masseuse he had ever had said 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 repeated. If he said he preferred a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a woman, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who anticipated a happy ending?

No choice, is what he normally said. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his weird action over the phone previously, sitting 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 reality 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. If she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel, it sounded as. Her voice, alone, excited him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.

Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be good and that he had excellent skin, she was grateful. 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, 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 nearly vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its sensations. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't be sure. The fragrance was moderate and sweet. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan could 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 help however picture Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near her pubis. As Ally worked for her turn over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming satisfaction that straight opposed 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 just him and it was more appealing 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 blurted a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh sounded like tasting something tasty. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands acted as her eyes. Eliminating a little the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his inner-thighs, hamstrings, and calves, she pictured the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan attempted to imagine a more total picture of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally offered off offered an unrefined type of finder 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 imagined 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 noticed it at the very same time. Alan was totally put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was terribly ashamed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's response. He didn't understand what to say. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in situations like these. Maybe that's what she is about to 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. At this minute, with Alan, the set down sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the place listed below her navel. 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 make love. The last half an hour had been sufficient preparation. She was ready, best then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.

 

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