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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 may carry their tension in their stomachs, he brought his in his body. His muscles often were a ball of tension that even his foam roller at home might not exercise. He hated 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 choose a woman or a man? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he stated he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, 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 delighted ending?
No preference, is what he usually said. Often, he would add, Whoever is best at unwinding muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that originated from? he wondered. After work, he hit 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, delicately seductive voice call out, Alan? Alan looked up from his publication to discover her; petite 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 stated. 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. When she saw his personal hygiene seemed to be great and that he had excellent skin, she was delighted. 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 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 element of the massage; his other senses nearly vanish, leaving him with an acute awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. However when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft footsteps of Ally returning in, his heart started to beat much 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 certain. The scent was sweet and mild. 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 imagine however 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 satisfaction that directly contradicted the stimulation that had started in his loins), she discovered she could smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't perfume, it wasn't aftershave. It was simply him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was highly brought in to her customer. She smiled to herself as she accepted that fact, and she blurted a peaceful chuckle. Alan heard it. Mildly scratchy, even her laugh seemed like tasting something scrumptious. The sound wrapped itself around him and Alan believed, I am outrageously smitten by this masseuse.
As she worked his body, her hands served as her eyes. Eliminating a little the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the powerful figure she drew in her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his hamstrings, inner-thighs, and calves, she imagined the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit location. She liked what her hands notified. Alan tried to imagine a more complete picture of the body connected to the hands that worked on him. The heat Ally gave off supplied a crude type of sonar 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. Run 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 totally put up. It raised the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was awfully embarrassed, his cheeks flushing with colour. He refused to open his eyes to try to construct Ally's reaction. He didn't understand what to state. 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. Maybe that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Before she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's cock grabbed her through the sheet, through the dim light. With any other client, she would have been appalled, revolted. She would have begrudgingly completed the massage, keeping her distance from his crotch. At this minute, with Alan, the perched sheet brought her excitement and shortness of breath. The butterflies found their method from her chest to the location listed 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 have sex. The last half an hour had actually been ample preparation. She was ready, ideal then, at that moment. And she would not let that minute pass.
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