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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought concern upon himself, and while others may bring their stress in their stomachs, he carried his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house might not work out. He disliked their concern nearly as much as the phrase 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 guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he preferred a male, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it imply he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who expected a delighted ending?

No preference, is what he typically stated. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A lady, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his weird action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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. 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. 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 space, offering 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 slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He found it to be deeply meditative. When he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart began to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was expected to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.

He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The fragrance was mild 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 imagined her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan couldn't assist but imagine 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, relaxing pleasure that directly opposed the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she observed she might smell him. It was simply him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever stated. Ally was highly attracted to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Slightly raspy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. The sound covered itself around him and Alan believed, I am insanely smitten by this masseuse.

As she worked his body, her hands worked as her eyes. Removing a little the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his calves, inner-thighs, and hamstrings, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan attempted to picture a more total photo of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off provided 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. He might gauge the length of her arm, and he imagined the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. He imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck. He pictured her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, 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 sternum. 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 completely set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct out Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to say. 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 scenarios like these. Possibly that's what she will 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 minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the location listed below her navel. She desired Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, without any foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to make love. The last half an hour had been more than enough preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that moment pass.

 

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