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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 bring their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles typically were a ball of tension that even his foam roller in the house might not exercise. He hated their question almost 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 choose a man or a female? the receptionist on the other end of the phone repeated. If he stated he chose a guy, did that mean he was sexist? If he said he chose a female, did it indicate he was a creep who discovered some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it suggest he was a fool who anticipated a pleased ending?
No choice, is what he normally stated. Often, 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 health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual reaction over the phone until now, sitting in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide the truth 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 stated. It sounded as if she were tasting each word like each syllable were a caramel. Her voice, alone, excited him. He shook her hand, and her skin was baby-soft.
Alan was Ally's last customer of the day. When she saw his individual hygiene seemed to be great and that he had good skin, she was glad. 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 personal 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 disappear, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its sensations. 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 began to beat faster. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make sure. The scent was mild and sweet. Ally stood near the table, dimming the lights, rubbing oil into her hands. Alan might 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 close to her pubis. As Ally worked for her hands over Alan's muscular back, (bringing him a smooth, calming enjoyment that straight contradicted the stimulation that had actually begun in his loins), she noticed she could smell him. It was just him and it was more attractive than anything Alan could have ever said. 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 acted as her eyes. Getting rid of a little bit of 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 went into his calves, hamstrings, and inner-thighs, she envisioned the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands informed. Alan tried to imagine a more total image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally provided off provided a crude 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 determine the length of her arm, and he pictured the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and started to knead his neck, he imagined her strong shoulders rolling forward with each stroke. He imagined her not in the nurse's scrubs that she wore, 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 prior to following the collar bone to her breast bone. And so 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 much easier for him. When he had actually moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was completely erect. It raised the sheet, comically, like a camping tent. Alan was extremely embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to make out Ally's reaction. He didn't know what to state. Then, 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 situations like these. Possibly that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had frozen. Below her, Alan's cock 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 discovered their way from her chest to the place listed below her navel. She wanted Alan. She discovered that, for the first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was ready to have sex. The last thirty minutes had been ample preparation. She was ready, right then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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