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Alan had gone to massage therapists for several years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others may bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller at home could not exercise. He disliked their concern 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 prefer a lady or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he chose a female, did it indicate he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a delighted ending?
No preference, is what he generally stated. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan surprised himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual action over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to find her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent 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. 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 customer of the day. She was glad when she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be great which 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, 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 aspect of the massage; his other senses nearly disappear, leaving him with a severe 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 began to beat faster. Unusual, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not make 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 pictured her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not envision but help Ally's tight, round ass inches from his head, his face just as near 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 noticed she could smell him. It was merely 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. Removing a little bit of the sheet to work his lower back and excess, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she attracted her mind. Later on, as her thumbs went into his hamstrings, calves, and inner-thighs, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands informed. On the other hand, Alan tried to imagine a more total image of the body attached to the hands that dealt with him. The heat Ally released offered a crude kind of sonar in his pitch-black world. He felt a mild wave of heat when she took an action towards the front or back of the table. He envisioned 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 could determine the length of her arm, and he envisioned the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. He pictured her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke when Ally sat on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck. He imagined her not in the nurse's scrubs that she used, but 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. Therefore it went in this manner 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 easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan saw it at the same time. Alan was completely set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He declined to open his eyes to attempt to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't understand 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 customer's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's cock reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. But at this moment, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their way from her chest to the location below her navel. She wanted 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 actually been sufficient preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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