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Alan had actually gone to massage therapists for several 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 typically were a ball of stress that even his foam roller in your home might not exercise. He hated their question nearly 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 prefer a woman or a guy? the receptionist on the other end of the phone duplicated. If he said he preferred a man, did that mean he was sexist? If he stated he preferred a lady, did it suggest he was a creep who found some thing sexually sensual in his deep-tissue massages? Did it indicate he was a fool who expected a happy ending?
No preference, is what he normally said. In some cases, he would include, Whoever is best at relaxing muscles. Alan amazed himself today when he told the receptionist, A female, please. Where did that come from? he questioned. After work, he struck the fitness center, showered, then drove to the massage parlour. He had forgotten about his unusual reaction over the phone until now, being in the waiting space, he heard a sweet, delicately sexy voice call out, Alan? Alan searched for from his publication to find her; small yet well proportioned, her uniform scrubs didn't hide the truth 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, 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 personal health appeared to be good which he had good skin. 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 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 nearly vanish, leaving him with a severe awareness of his body and its feelings. He discovered it to be deeply meditative. But when he heard the door to Room 5 open, the soft steps of Ally coming back in, his heart started to beat quicker. Uncommon, Alan thought. He was supposed to melt, much deeper into dreamlike relaxation.
He could smell Ally: flowers, or strawberries? Alan could not be 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 imagined her heat as subtle waves of orange that brushed his neck, shoulders, and cheeks. Alan could not help however think of 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 pleasure that straight opposed the stimulation that had started in his loins), she noticed she might smell him. And she liked it. It wasn't cologne, it wasn't aftershave. It was merely him and it was more appealing than anything Alan could have ever stated. Ally was highly drawn 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 sounded like tasting something tasty. 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. Getting rid of a little the sheet to work his lower back and gluts, the butt s of her palms traced the sinewy figure she drew in her mind. Later, as her thumbs dug into his hamstrings, inner-thighs, and calves, she thought of the pieces as a whole, standing, naked, in a well-lit place. She liked what her hands notified. Alan attempted to think of 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. Therefore it went by doing this 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 moved, and she let the sheet pull back, she and Alan discovered it at the same time. Alan was totally put up. It lifted the sheet, comically, like a tent. Alan was extremely 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. Then, he heard her walk away, to the corner of the space. He heard of masseuses who put a stack of towels on a customer's groin in scenarios like these. Perhaps that's what she is about to do, he hoped. Prior to she stepped away, Ally had actually frozen. Below her, Alan's dick reached for her through the sheet, through the dim light. At this moment, with Alan, the set down 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 ready to have sex.
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