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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for many years. He was a workaholic who brought worry upon himself, and while others might bring their stress in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles frequently were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in the house could 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 prefer a female or a male? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he chose a male, 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 sensuous in his deep-tissue massages? Did it mean he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No preference, is what he generally said. In some cases, he would add, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he informed the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he wondered. After work, he hit the health club, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had ignored his odd action over the phone previously, being in the waiting room, he heard a sweet, casually seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his magazine to find her; small yet well proportioned, her consistent scrubs didn't hide 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 said.
Alan was Ally's last client of the day. When she saw his individual health appeared to be great and that he had great skin, she was pleased. 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 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 slipped away into darkness. Alan enjoyed this element of the massage; his other senses almost vanish, leaving him with an acute 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 quicker. Uncommon, Alan believed. He was expected to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan couldn't make certain. 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 warmth as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not envision but assist 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, calming satisfaction that directly opposed the stimulation that had begun in his loins), she discovered she might smell him. It was just him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever said. Ally was strongly drawn in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she let out a quiet chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan thought, I am insanely 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 sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Alan attempted to imagine a more complete image of the body attached to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally emitted offered an unrefined kind of finder in his pitch-black world. When she took an action towards the front or back of the table, he felt a gentle wave of warmth. He visualized her hips, her smooth tummy and her toned waist above.
When she worked his upper back, she leaned forward, digging into him with her elbow. He might determine the length of her upper arm, and he pictured the perky breasts that hung just above his spine. When Ally rested on a stool near his head and began 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 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 prior to following the collar bone to her sternum. Scoot 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 exact same time. Alan was fully set up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was terribly embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't know 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 circumstances 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. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her enjoyment and shortness of breath. She desired Alan. She found that, for the very first time in her life, without kissing, with no foreplay to prepare her, she was all set to have sex.
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