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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 tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home might not work out. He hated their question 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 choose a male or a woman? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No preference, is what he generally stated. Sometimes, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A woman, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he hit the gym, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual action over the phone previously, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't conceal 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 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 customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene appeared to be good and that he had great skin. And when she shook his strong hand and looked into his baby blue eyes, butterflies fluttered in her chest and the hair based 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 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 almost disappear, leaving him with an acute 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 footsteps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat much faster. Unusual, Alan believed. He was supposed to melt, deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
Alan couldn't be sure. Alan could feel her heat on him. Alan couldn't help however picture 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 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 just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan might have ever said. Alan heard it. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating a bit of the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Alan tried to picture a more total image of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off supplied 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 began to knead his neck, he envisioned her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. Therefore it went this way for half an hour. It was time for her to massage his chest, arms, and quadriceps. Scoot down for me, Alan, she whispered, and turn onto your back. She lifted the sheet to make it much easier for him. When he had moved, and she let the sheet back down, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was totally put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to try to construct out Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to say. He heard her walk away, to the corner of the room. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a client's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she will do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Listed below her, Alan's dick grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been horrified, disgusted. She would have begrudgingly ended up the massage, keeping her range from his crotch. 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 all set to have sex.
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